A CROWN FOR A CONQUEROR; AND TOO LATE TO CALL bacl YESTERDAY.  
Two Poems, The one Divine, the other Moral.  
By R. D.  
LONDON: Printed by E. P. for Francis Constable, and are to be sold at his shop, under Saint Martin's Church, at Ludgate▪ 163●.   

A CROWN FOR A CONQVEROUR: Made apparent in these words.  Behold I come quickly, and my reward is with me, REV. 20. 12. 

BEhold? why Lord, is thy approach so rare,  
That it deserves an Ecce? Ecces are  
Ushers to admirable things. 'Tis true,  
If I (with spirit-ravished john) take view,  
Of th●e in thy celestial seat, thy sight  
Is clear as Crystal, as the Sardin bright,  
And rounded with a rainbow; twice 12 seats,  
(Whereon the shine of thy fair brightness beats,)  
Bearing these four and twenty Elders, all  
With white robes, Palms, and Crowns Imperial,  
This sure deserves an Ecce. Or at thy last  
And general coming Lord, when thou shalt cast  
A●●onishment on all things, and descend  
With an Earth-shaking shout, when hills shall bend  
And rocks dissolve at the Arch-Angels voice,  
And towers tremble at the Trumpets noise,  
This sure deserves an Ecce. But my Lord,  
(Give Dust and Ashes leave to speak, afford  
My frailey so much favour) when thou doom'st  
A sick Saint on his bed to death, and com'st  
In a particular judgement, Lord unfold  
Where lies this word of wonder then, BEHOLD?   

Christ. When your sick saint lies gasping, and his soul,  
Forsaken of the senses, when his soul  
And deadly foe trumphs in h●s temptations,  
And with distrustsand frequent perturbations  
Buffets his panting faith, and shows his sins  
Had in their circumstances, and gins  
To blast the beauty of his hope, from thence,  
Implying that soul piercing consequence  
Of condign justice, from my deserved rod,  
And asks your sick saint, where is now thy God?  
Then, and even then, when his fear shaken faith,  
(Save, sighs and greanes) no plea for pardon hath;  
Even when your saith doth faint, and in this throng  
Of fiery trials, can but truly long  
For my salvation, then when Giants war  
Against his weckenesse, when the heathen are  
Within my heritage his heart, and he  
Looking upon his right hand, but can see  
None that will pity him, and on his left,  
But none compassionates, seeming bereft  
Of help and hope, then gets his trembling soul  
To me his God, right humbly, and doth roll  
If self upon me, as the Hart doth pant  
After the brook so doth his saith, being faint  
With these hot pursuits, thirst for me his God.  
Then lay I by my exercising rod,  
And lend my staff of comfort, this bruised reed  
I break not, but support; whilst he doth bleed,  
I bring him balm from Gilead: tell me you  
That modestly, yet questioned, is there not due,  
To such great grace an Ecce? Even when  
Your Saint lies languagelesse, being left of men,  
Tempted within, his faith, even like to dye,  
Doth sore-sicke of a spiritual ague lie▪  
When nature fails, and conscience gives his doom,  
God hath forgot thee, then BEHOLD I come.   

I Come.  
TWo ways I come: yet as in fields we see  
Divers paths pointed upon one style be;  
So, every way I to mine own appear,  
Tends to Eternity. First I draw near  
By my sweet Spirit, the noblest company  
That can be kept, and the deep mystery  
Of your sick Saints salvation he makes plain,  
Teaching him more than's whole life could attain.  
When I bid death go, than I come indeed,  
And show him my salvation, than the good speed,  
Of Faith and Patience comes, and makes him cry,  
Oh large rewa●d for little industry.   

Quickly.  
But drink set in a thirsty labourer's eye,  
And not in's reach, augments his misery.  
Or say a friend do bring it, each delay  
Lessens the courtesy, and makes more way  
To tother's torment: therefore (thou sad soul  
That sighest to be dissolved, and dost condole  
My long thought stay) BEHOLD! as I with grace  
Do come, so I come QVICKLY, I whose face  
The Builders spat on, I the refused stone,  
(Their scourge,) will be to thee a Saviour shown.   

Christian. O wounded Master! now I know 'tis thee  
Eagle-eyed faith informs me, she doth see  
The wide wound in thy side, thy holy head  
Thrust through with thorns, when all thy body bled.  
Com'st thou dear master? com'st thou quickly too?  
Look soul, what he, for whom thoust sighed doth do!  
He comes, and he comes for thee, fairly greet him,  
It is the Bridegroom, soul, go forth and me●t him.   

And my reward is with me.  
The world saith still, The more haste, the worse speed,  
Haste makes no waste with me; what was decreed,  
To guerdon thy sharp sufferings, I have not  
Sent by a swifter convoy, nor forgot.  
As I come quickly, so, Behold; I bring  
My reward with me, Triumph for suffering.   

Christian.  
Thy reward Lord? 'tis thine yet, but for me  
Thou brought'st it sure, if thine, 'tis mine, for we  
Were long since troth plight to each other wrong,  
I sing else of thee in the sweet Love-songe.  
There I protest in a truth all divine,  
I my beloved's am, and he is mine.  
But (my hearts noble Master) what may it be  
Thou call'st here thy Reward? Me thinks I see  
In thy white, liberal hand a Crown, and set  
With seven celestial stones (none counterfeit.)  
Bearing these names, Election, Creation,  
Redemption, and that middle gem Vocation.  
Sanctification, justification, and  
Glorification. These seven stones do stand  
About this Crown more glorious than the stars  
And this is their Reward, die in thy wars.  
For me this crown? oh what sweet pains I prove!  
Grace gives the Wound, and I lie sick of Love.  
Alas Lord, my unworthiness!   

Christ. Forbear.  
Though you to Heaven might pass through humble tears  
Yet in Me all your worthiness is come  
Before my Father. I have given in the sum  
Of all your sufferings, all your sighs, your tears,  
Your gracious groan, your faith-vanquisht fears;  
Your prayers, your alms, your earning bowels, when  
 known me hungry, in poor helpless men.  
Your pious acts, which shall preserve your name  
Sweet as a perfume in the mouth of Fame.  
What think you this (summed up in heaven) will be?  
Truly the Totall is Eternity.  
Have you not heard of one Onesimus.  
Paul did but write for him, I will speak thus  
For you my dear one, Father I beseech  
Thy Mercy for this sinner. Let my speech 
Phile-   
Be prevalent, as with him was my word,  
Which unto Faith begot him: yet afford  
Me audience Holy Father; in times past  
He was unprofitable, but this last  
Part of his life (full of sincerity)  
Was fruitful to the faithful and to me.  
'Twas for a season he went from thee sure,  
That thou for ever mightst receive him; Cure  
His wounded conscience, and accept him now,  
Not as a servant LORD, to him allow,  
The liberty of a beloved Son.  
Oh righteous Father! if this Saint hath run  
In areares with thee, if be own thee aught,  
Put it to my accounts, for I have bought  
Him highly, yet that thou sustain no loss,  
Dear Father, score his debt upon my Cross.  
Thus will I speak for him whom sin casts down,  
Thus plead his Cause to whom I give this Crown.   Christian. 
But Lord, before I of this grace be sped, Admit my Faith fail, than I lose the head, (down, Should wear this wreath, faith beats all enemies And overcomes the world, to such this Crown By promise appertains.  Christ. 
With patience sit, I that keep it for thee, keep thee for it.  Christian. 
Then I receive it with all due regard, Not as my merit (Lord) but thy reward.  
FINIS.   

TOO LATE TO CALL bacl YESTERDAY.  
AND, TOMORROW COMES NOT YET.  
The words fancied in a DIALOGUE, supposed between A LOVER AND THE DAY.  
By R. D.  NOLI ALTUM 〈◊〉  printer's device of Elizabeth Purslowe 
LONDON Printed by E.P. for Francis Constable 163●.   

TO MY NOBLE FRIENDS, Mr RICHARD ROBINSON, And Mr MICHAEL BOWYER.  
THese Poems (true and Noble Friends) being some expense of my time at Sea, I have thus habited, to present them as my true love to you on the Land. In one morning I present you with two poems. They are Virgins that never before kissed the Press, yet now come ready pressed to kiss your hands. I have phrased them rather with a native familiarity, than an impertinent Elegancy, lest by disregulating Art, I had made nature monstrous. Yet where the dignity of the subject duly invites a higher-valued language, I have (to my ability) endeavoured a redemption. Were I versed in the trick of flattery, I should have Decked my dedication with some protestations of your worthiness and my love But I suppose honest faithfulness rather blemished then embellishedwith those adulterated beauties; Favour me to read this Messenger of my love; and more, to Accept it as the fruits of those fair respects in which (as I ever was) I am always,  
At your commandment a servant, ROB. DAVENPORT.   

TOO LATE TO CALL BACK YESTERDAY; AND TOMORROW COMES NOT YET.  

He yesterday a Lover was,  
Tomorrow comes to Age,  
He calls, both fail: towards Heaven today  
He points his pilgrimage.   Lover 
HO! yesterday!  Yester. 
Who calls?  Lover. 
A Lover.  Yester. 
Why?  Lover. 
Dear yesterday come back.  Yester. 
Lover not I,  
I dare not so transgress against times glass,  Lover 
One word— but one word  Yester. 
Not one: let me pass.  
By the Dews that decked thy locks,  
By the Herds, and by the Flocks,  
By Times oft Wel-taken Lock.  
By the Swallow, Cy the Coke  
That told the Ploughman thy approach,  
And that the Sun was taking Coach,  
By the Dainty-languaged Lark.  
By every thing that hates the Dark,  
Good yesterday come back.  
By thy fair and lovely Face,  
And by the Sun which gave that grace  
Sweet Yesterday come back.  Yeast. 
What should I do?  Lov. 
I gave my Mistress vows, nay and tears to;  
Bring them all back, for (oh sad truth to say!)  
She seemed true then, I find her false Today.  Yesterday. 
What's this to me? their griefs they past cure find,  
Who (to give love eyes) strike their Reason blind.  Lov. 
I stained thy fair face with a foul sin, bring  
But that then back.  Yeast. 
Fool! hope for no such thing.  
Go grieve, go weep; & let thy teare-stained face  
Court Mercy, and beget thee new to grace.  
For, to repent is ne'er too late, all say.  
But 'tis Too late to call back yesterday.  Lov. 
Why then (my blinded Reason to restore)  
I'll leave to Love, and love to sin no more.  
TOMORROW COMES NOT YET.  Lov. 
Since than yesterday is gone,  Tomorrow! 
wing thee, haste, come on.  Tom. 
I must not look Today i'th' face.  Lov. 
Yet good Tomorrow mend thy pace.  Tom. 
I dare not.  Lov. 
Why?  Tom. 
If I too swiftly pass,  
I press Time's sands too hard, and break his glass.  Lov. 
By my Hopes to thee extended.  
By the Fears of men condemned.  
By the joys thou briug'st along.  
By the Griefs that with thee throng.  
By the promised meetings made.  
By the money thou'lt see paid.  
By their gladness that receive it.  
By their sadness that do hear it.  
By thosweet Maids languish  
To whose beds thine Evening brings  
Kind husbands, Tomorrow make haste.  To-Mo. 
Why?  Lov. 
Shall I tell thee merrily?  
With thee my lands come to my hands,  
and sums of money store.  
With thee I'll laugh, caper and quaff,  
and never mind a Mistress more.  To-Mo. 
This hasts not me. I must perforce refuse thee  
Better not see, then see me and abuse me.  Lov. 
Why then Tomorrow make a friendly haste,  
And my wild, rough, old WILL I will new cast.  
I, that Today am practised in the trade  
Of sin, I will Tomorrow be new made.  
Therefore Tomorrow make haste.  To-Mo. 
Thus some say,  
Who are found worse Tomorrow than Today.  
When Verbalists subdue our easy trust,  
We plough in sand, and write our hopes in dust.  
Dissembler cease; swift vows we soon forget,  
Repent Today Tomorrow comes not yet.  Lov. 
Why then (to shun succession of my sorrow)  
I'll be new made Today, yet mend Tomorrow.  
TODAY WHILE I MAY.  Lov. 
Well met Today. Why such great haste?  Today. 
To please  
The longing eyes of the Antipodes.  
Yesterday is their Day, in joy and sorrow.  
And I, thatam thy Day, I am their Morrow.  
The round faced world is looked on by us three,  
I pursue Yesterday, Tomorrow me.  Lo. 
Yet good Today do not so swiftly slide.  
By the causes this Day tried.  
By thy beauty And. by all.  
Thy dainty Deckings. By the fall  
Of thy sweet fertile showers. And by  
Thy again unclouded eye.  
By the Birds that sing thy grace.  
By the winds that fan thy face,  
By thy four and twenty steps.  
By thy minutes active leaps,  
By my intended goodness. And  
By times strickt-observed sand.  
Since 'tis too late, as all men say,  
To call back gadding yesterday.  
And since Tomorrow comes not yet,  
To my pain a period set.  
Being left alone to thee,  
Good Today stay, be kind and pity me.  To D. 
And why, important pleader, should I stay?  Lover 
I feel a noble change methinks to day,  
My souls dear Lover calls for me his choice,  
And I desire to day to hear his voice.  
Enlarge not then my griefs by thy neglect,  
But let my high cause court thy kind respect.  To D. 
This stops not me, Farewell, I must away.  
Lovers call for me past America.  Love. 
Why then dear lover of my soul,  
(Since I cannot time's control)  
Seek thy sheep, lost in this world's brackey ground,  
Seek him that doth desire to be found.  Christ. 
Why wooest thou me? have sinners hope to speed?  Lov. 
True Lord, a sinner, yet a broken Kneed.  Christ. 
Thy life is spotted, foul, and black as night  Lov. 
True Master, but thy life was virgin white.  
By thy Love my heart's Delight.  
By thy unmatched excellence.  
By thy victorious Patience.  
By thy comely silence, when  
Thou (my God) wert scorned of men.  
By that sweet, and saving look  
Thou didst cast back on Peter's Book  
Me in thy mercy. Let thy grace abound.  
Seek him, that doth desire to be found.  Chr. 
Tell me oh thou for whom I bled, (I see  
A Majesty in thy Humility)  
And therefore tell me my lost sheep, be true,  
And tell me where thou feedest. A tear or two  
Will bring thee back. Or, if thou'rt gone astray,  
I'll send A voice behind thee, that shall say  
This is the, way walk in't.  Lov. 
I am not in  
Thy SPICY GARDEN, but a Sea of sin.  
I feed not Lord amongst the LILIES, No;  
I feast with mine own follies. Since 'tis so  
That YESTERDAY I was lost in this ground,  
And being not sure TOMORROW to be found;  
Dear Master, and good Shepherd; mind thy gains,  
Find me TODAY, and take me for thy pains.  
FINIS.