Poems, Poems 1
ON THE MORNING OF Chriſt's Nativity.
I.
THis is the Month, and this the happy morn
Wherein the Son of Heav'ns eternal King,
Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born,
Our great Redemption from above did bring;
For ſo the holy Sages once did ſing,
That he our deadly forfeit ſhould releaſe,
And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.
II.
That glorious Form, that Light unſufferable,
And that far-beaming blaze of Majeſty,
Wherewith he wont at Heav'ns high Councel-Table,
To ſit the midſt of Trinal Unity,
He laid aſide; and here with us to be,
Forſook the Courts of everlaſting Day,
And choſe with us a darkſom Houſe of mortal Clay.
III.
Say Heav'nly Muſe, ſhall not thy ſacred vein
Afford a Preſent to the Infant God?
Haſt thou no verſe, no hymn, or ſolemn ſtrein,
To welcome him to this his new abode,
Now while the Heav'n by the Suns team untrod,
Hath took no print of the approaching light,
And and all the ſpangled hoſt keep watch in ſquadrons bright?
IV.
See how from far upon the Eaſtern rode
The Star-led Wiſards haſte with odours ſweet,
O run, prevent them with thy humble ode,
And lay it lowly at his bleſſed feet;
Have thou the honour firſt, thy Lord to greet,
And joyn thy voice unto the Angel Quire,
From out his ſecret Altar toucht with hallow'd fire.
The Hymn.
I.
IT was the Winter wilde,
While the Heav'n-born-childe,
All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;
Nature in awe to him
Had doff't her gawdy trim,
With her great Maſter ſo to ſympathize:
It was no ſeaſon then for her
To wanton with the Sun her luſty Paramour.
II.
Only with ſpeeches fair
She woo's the gentle Air
To hide her guilty front with innocent Snow,
And on her naked ſhame,
Pollute with ſinfull blame,
The Saintly Veil of Maiden white to throw,
Confounded, that her Makers eyes
Should look ſo near upon her foul deformities.
III.
But he her fears to ceaſe,
Sent down the meek-ey'd Peace,
She crown'd with Olive green, came ſoftly ſliding
Down through the turning ſphear
His ready Harbinger,
With Turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing,
And waving wide her mirtle wand,
She ſtrikes a univerſal Peace through Sea and Land.
IV.
No War, or Battels ſound
Was heard the World around
The idle Spear and Shield were high up hung,
The hooked Chariot ſtood
Unſtain'd with hoſtile blood,
The Trumpet ſpake not to the armed throng,
And Kings ſate ſtill with awfull eye,
As if they ſurely knew their ſovran Lord was by.
V.
But peacefull was the night
Wherein the Prince of light
His raign of peace upon the earth began:
The Winds with wonder whiſt,
Smoothly the waters kiſt,
Whiſpering new joyes to the milde Ocean,
Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
While Birds of Calm ſit brooding on the charmed wave.
VI.
The Stars with deep amaze
Stand fixt in ſtedfaſt gaze,
Bending one way their pretious influence,
And will not take their flight,
For all the morning light,
Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence;
But in their glimmering Orbs did glow,
Untill their Lord himſelf beſpake, and bid them go.
VII.
And though the ſhady gloom
Had given day her room,
The Sun himſelf with-held his wonted ſpeed,
And hid his head for ſhame,
As his inferiour flame,
The new enlightn'd world no more ſhould need;
He ſaw a greater Sun appear
Then his-bright Throne, or burning Axletree could bear.
VIII.
The Shepherds on the Lawn,
Or ere the point of dawn,
State ſimply chatting in a ruſtick row;
Full little thought they than,
That the mighty Pan
Was kindly come to live with them below;
Perhaps their loves, or elſe their ſheep,
Was all that did their ſilly thoughts ſo buſie keep.
IX.
When ſuch muſick ſweet
Their hearts and ears did greet,
As never was by mortal finger ſtrook,
Divinely-warbl'd voice
Anſwering the ſtringed noiſe,
As all their ſouls in bliſsfull rapture took:
The Air ſuch pleaſure loth to loſe,
With thouſand echo's ſtill prolongs each heav'nly cloſe.
X.
Nature that heard ſuch ſound
Beneath the hollow round
Of Cynthia's ſeat, the Airy region thrilling,
Now was almoſt won
To think her part was done,
And that her reign had here its laſt fulfilling;
She knew ſuch harmony alone
Could hold all Heav'n and Earth in happier union.
XI.
At laſt ſurrounds their ſight
A Globe of circular light,
That with long beams the ſhame-fac't night array'd,
The helmed Cherubim
And ſworded Seraphim,
Are ſeen in glittering ranks with wings diſplaid,
Harping in loud and ſolemn quite,
With unexpreſſive notes to Heav'ns new-born Heir.
XII.
Such Muſick (as'tis ſaid)
Before was never made,
But when of old the ſons of morning ſung,
While the Creator great
His Conſtellations ſet,
And the well-ballanc't world on hinges hung,
And caſt the dark foundations deep,
And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel keep.
XIII.
Ring out ye Cryſtall ſphears,
Once bleſs our humane ears,
(If ye have power to touch our ſenſes ſo)
And let your ſilver chime
Move in melodious time;
And let the Baſe of Heav'ns deep Organ blow,
And with your ninefold harmony
Make up full conſort to th'Angelike ſymphony.
XIV
For if ſuch holy Song
Enwrap our fancy long,
Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold,
And ſpeckl'd vanity
Will ſicken ſoon and die,
And leprous ſin will melt from earthly mould,
And Hell it ſelf will paſs away,
And leave her dolorous manſions to the peering day.
XV.
Yea Truth, and Juſtice then
Will down return to men,
Orb'd in a Rain-bow; and like glories wearing
Mercy will ſit between,
Thron'd in Celeſtial ſheen,
With radiant feet the tiſſued clouds down ſtearing,
And Heav'n as at ſome Feſtivall,
Will open wide the Gates of her high Palace Hall.
XVI.
But wiſeſt Fate ſayes no,
This muſt not yet be ſo,
The Babe lies yet in ſmiling Infancy,
That on the bitter croſs
Muſt redeem our loſs;
So both himſelf and us to glorifie:
Yet firſt to thoſe ychain'd in ſleep,
The wakeful trump of doom muſt thunder through the deep.
XVII.
With ſuch a horrid clang
As on mount Sinai rang
While the red fire, and ſmouldring clouds out brake:
The aged Earth agaſt
With terrour of that blaſt,
Shall from the ſurface to the center ſhake;
When at the world laſt ſeſſion,
The dreadful Judge in middle Air ſhall ſpread his throne.
XVIII.
And then at laſt our bliſs
Full and perfet is,
But now begins; for from this happy
Th'old Dragon under ground
In ſtraiter limits bound,
Not half ſo far caſts his uſurped ſway,
And wroth to ſee his Kingdom fail,
Swindges the ſcaly Horrour of his foulded tail.
XIX.
The Oracles are dum,
No voice or hideous humm
Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving.
Apollo from his ſhrine
Can no more divine,
With hollow ſhreik the ſteep of Delphos leaving.
No nightly trance, or breathed ſpell,
Inſpires the pale-ey'd Prieſt from the prophetic cell.
XX.
The lonely mountains o're,
And the reſounding ſhore,
A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;
From haunted ſpring, and dale
Edg'd with poplar pale,
The parting Genius is with ſighing ſent,
With flowre-inwov'n treſſes torn
The Nimphs in twilight ſhade of tangled thickets mourn.
XXI.
In conſecrated Earth,
And on the holy Hearth,
The Lars, and Lemures moan with midnight plaint,
In Urns, and Altars round,
A drear and dying ſound
Affrights the Flamins at their ſervice quaint;
And the chill Marble ſeems to ſweat,
While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted ſeat.
XXII.
Peor, and Baalim,
Forſake their Temples dim,
With that twice batter'd god of Paleſtine
And mooned Aſhtaroth,
Heav'ns Queen and Mother both,
Now ſits not girt with Tapers holy ſhine,
The Libyc Hammon ſhrinks his horn,
In vain the Tyrian Maids their wounded Thamuz mourn.
XXIII.
And ſullen Moloch fled,
Hath left in ſhadows dred,
His burning Idol all of blackeſt hue;
In vain with Cymbals ring,
They call the griſly King,
In diſmal dance about the furnace blue;
The brutiſh gods of Nile as faſt,
Iſis and Orus, and the Dog Anubis haſt.
XXIV.
Nor is Oſiris ſeen
In Memphian Grove, or Green,
Trampling the unſhowr'd Graſs with lowings loud:
Nor can he be at reſt
Within his ſacred cheſt,
Naught but profoundeſt Hell can be his ſhroud,
In vain with Timbrel'd Anthems dark
The ſable ſtoled Sorcerers bear his worſhipt Ark.
XXV.
He feels from Juda's Land
The dredded Infants hand,
The rayes of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;
Nor all the Gods beſide,
Longer dare abide,
Not Typhon huge ending in ſnaky twine:
Our Babe to ſhew his Godhead true,
Can in his ſwadling bands controul the damned crew.
XXVI.
So when the Sun in bed,
Curtain'd with cloudy red,
Pillows his chin upon an Orient wave,
The flocking ſhadows pale,
Troop to th'infernal Jail,
Each fetter'd Ghoſt ſlips to his ſeveral grave,
And the yellow-skirted Fayes,
Fly after the Night-ſteeds, leaving their Moon-lov'd maze.
XXVII.
But ſee the Virgin bleſt,
Hath laid her Babe to reſt.
Time is our tedious Song ſhould here have ending:
Heav'ns youngeſt teemed Star,
Hath fixt her poliſht Car,
Her ſleeping Lord with Handmaid Lamp attending:
And all about the Courtly Stable,
Bright-harneſt Angels ſit in order ſerviceable.
A Paraphraſe on Pſalm 114.
This and the following Pſalm were done by the Author at fifteen years old.
WHen the bleſt ſeed of Terah's faithful Son,
After long toil their liberty had won,
And paſt from Pharian Fields to Canaan Land,
Led by the ſtrength of the Almighties hand,
Jehovah's wonders were in Iſrael ſhown,
His praiſe and glory was in Iſrael known.
That ſaw the troubled Sea, and ſhivering fled,
And ſought to hide his froth becurled head
Low in the earth, Jordans clear ſtreams recoil,
As a faint Hoſt that hath receiv'd the foil.
The high, huge-bellied Mountains skip like Rams
Amongſt their Ews, the little Hills like Lambs.
Why fled the Ocean? And why skipt the Mountains?
Why turned Jordan toward his Chryſtal Fountains?
Shake earth, and at the preſence be agaſt
Of him that ever was, and ay ſhall laſt,
That glaſſy flouds from rugged rocks can cruſh,
And make ſoft rills from fiery flint ſtones guſh.
Pſalm 136.
LEt us with a gladſom mind
Praiſe the Lord, for he is kind
For his mercies ay endure,
Ever faithfull, ever ſure.
Let us blaze his Name abroad,
For of gods he is the God;
For his, &c.
O let us his praiſes tell,
Who doth the wrathfull tyrants quell.
For his, &c.
Who with his miracles doth make
Amazed Heav'n and Earth to ſhake.
For his, &c.
Who by his wiſdom did create
The painted Heav'ns ſo full of ſtate.
For his, &c.
Who did the ſolid Earth ordain
To riſe above the watry plain.
For his, &c.
Who by his all-commanding might,
Did fill the new-made world with light
For his, &c.
And caus'd the Golden-treſſed Sun,
All the day long his courſe to run.
For his, &c.
The horned Moon to ſhine by night,
Amongſt her ſpangled ſiſters bright.
For his, &c.
He with his thunder-claſping hand,
Smote the firſt-born of Egypt Land.
For his, &c.
And in deſpight of Pharao fell,
He brought from thence his Iſrael.
For, &c.
The ruddy waves he cleft in twain,
Of the Erythraean main.
For, &c.
The flouds ſtood ſtill like Walls of Glaſs,
While the Hebrew Bands did paſs.
For, &c.
But full ſoon they did devour
The Tawny King with all his power.
For, &c.
His choſen people he did bleſs
In the waſtfull Wilderneſs.
For, &c.
In bloudy battel he brought down
Kings of proweſs and renown.
For, &c.
He foild bold Seon and his hoſt.
That rul'd the Amorrean coaſt.
For, &c.
And large-limb'd Og he did ſubdue,
With all his over-hardy crew.
For, &c.
And to his Servant Iſrael,
He gave their Land therein to dwell.
For, &c.
He hath with a piteous eye
Beheld us in in our miſery.
For, &c.
And freed us from the ſlavery
Of the invading enemy.
For, &c.
All living creatures he doth feed,
And with full hand ſupplies their need.
For, &c.
Let us therefore warble forth
His mighty Majeſty and worth.
For, &c.
That his manſion hath on high
Above the reach of mortal eye.
For his mercies ay endure,
Ever faithfull, ever ſure.
Anno aetatis 17.
On the Death of a fair Infant dying of a Cough
I.
OFaireſt flower no ſooner blown but blaſted,
Soft ſilken Primroſe fading timeleſslie,
Summers chief honour if thou hadſt out-laſted,
Bleak winters force that made thy bloſſome drie;
For he being amorous on that lovely die
That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiſs
But kill'd alas, and then bewayl'd his fatal bliſs.
II.
For ſince grim Aquilo his charioter
By boiſtrous rape th' Athenian damſel got,
He thought it toucht his Deitie full neer,
If likewiſe he ſome fair one wedded not,
Thereby to wipe away th'infamous blot,
Of long-uncoupled bed, and childleſs eld,
Which'mongſt the wanton gods a foul reproach was held.
III.
So mounting up in ycie-pearled carr,
Through middle empire of the freezing aire
He wanderd long, till thee he ſpy'd from farr,
There ended was his queſt, there ceaſt his care.
Down he deſcended from his Snow-ſoft chaire,
But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace
Unhous'd thy Virgin Soul from her fair biding place.
IV.
Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate;
For ſo Apollo, with unweeting hand
Whilome did ſlay his dearly-loved mate
Young Hyacinth born on Eurota's ſtrand
Young Hyacinth the pride of Spartan land;
But then transform'd him to a purple flower
Alack that ſo to change thee winter had no power.
V.
Yet can I not perſwade me thou art dead
Or that thy coarſe corrupts in earths dark wombe,
Or that thy beauties lie in wormie bed,
Hid from the world in a low delved tombe;
Could Heav'n for pittie thee ſo ſtrictly doom?
Oh no? for ſomething in thy face did ſhine
Above mortalitie that ſhew'd thou waſt divine.
VI.
Reſolve me then oh Soul moſt ſurely bleſt
(If ſo it be that thou theſe plaints doſt hear)
Tell me bright Spirit where e're thou hovereſt
Whether above that high firſt-moving Spheare
Or in the Eliſian fields (if ſuch there were.)
Oh ſay me true if thou wert mortal wight
And why from us ſo quickly thou didſt take thy flight.
VII.
Wert thou ſome Starr which from the ruin'd roofe
Of ſhak't Olympus by miſchance didſt fall;
Which carefull Jove in natures true behoofe
Took up, and in fit place did reinſtall?
Or did of late earths Sonnes beſiege the wall
Of ſheenie Heav'n, and thou ſome goddeſs fled
Amongſt us here below to hide thy nectar'd head.
VIII.
Or wert thou that juſt Maid who once before
Forſook the hated earth, O tell me ſooth
And cam'ſt again to viſit us once more?
Or wert thou that ſweet ſmiling Youth!
Or that cown'd Matron ſage white-robed truth?
Or any other of that heav'nly brood
Let down in clowdie throne to do the world ſome good.
IX.
Or wert thou of the golden-winged hoaſt,
Who having clad thy ſelf in humane weed,
To earth from thy praefixed ſeat didſt poaſt,
And after ſhort abode flie back with ſpeed,
As if to ſhew what creatures Heav'n doth breed,
Thereby to ſet the hearts of men on fire
To ſcorn the ſordid world, and unto Heav'n aſpire.
X.
But oh why didſt thou not ſtay here below
To bleſs us with thy heav'n lov'd innocence,
To ſlake his wrath whom ſin hath made our ſoe
To turn Swift-ruſhing black perdition hence,
Or drive away the ſlaughtering peſtilence,
To ſtand 'twixt us and our deferved ſmart
But thou canſt beſt perform that office where thou art.
XI.
Then thou the mother of ſo ſweet a child
Her falſe imagin'd loſs ceaſe to lament,
And wiſely learn to curb thy ſorrows wild;
Think what a preſent thou to God haſt ſent,
And render him with patience what he lent;
This if thou do he will an off-ſpring give,
That till the worlds laſt-end ſhall make thy name to live.
The Paſſion.
I.
ERe-while of Muſick, and Ethereal mirth,
Wherewith the ſtage of Ayr and Earth did ring,
And joyous news of heav'nly Infants birth,
My muſe with Angels did divide to ſing;
But headlong joy is ever on the wing,
In Wintry ſolſtice like the ſhortn'd light
Soon ſwallow'd up in dark and long out-living night.
II.
For now to ſorrow muſt I tune my ſong,
And ſet my Harp to notes of ſaddeſt wo,
Which on our deareſt Lord did ſeaſe er'e long,
Dangers, and ſnares, and wrongs, and worſe then ſo,
Which he for us did freely undergo.
Moſt perfect Heroe, try'd in heavieſt plight
Of labours huge and hard, too hard for human wight.
III.
He ſov ran Prieſt ſtooping his regal head
That dropt with odorous oil down his fair eyes,
Poor fleſhly Tabernacle entered,
His ſtarry front low-rooft beneath the skies;
O what a mask was there, what a diſguiſe!
Yet more; the ſtroke of death he muſt abide,
Then lies him meekly down faſt by his Brethrens ſide.
IV.
Theſe lateſt ſcenes confine my roving vers,
To this Horizon is my Phoebus bound,
His Godlike acts; and his temptations fierce,
And former ſufferings other where are found;
Loud o're the reſt Cremona's Trump doth ſound;
Me ſofter airs befit, and ſofter ſtrings
Of Lute, or Viol ſtill, more apt for mournful things.
V.
Befriend me night beſt Patroneſs of grief,
Over the Pole thy thickeſt mantle throw,
And work my flatter'd fancy to belief,
That Heav'n and Earth are colour'd with my wo;
My ſorrows are too dark for day to know:
The leaves ſhould all be black wheron I write,
And letters where my tears have waſht a wanniſh white.
VI.
See ſee the Chariot, and thoſe ruſhing wheels,
That whirl'd the Prophet up at Chebar flood,
My ſpirit ſom tranſporting Cherub feels,
To bear me where the Towers of Salem ſtood,
Once glorious Towers, now ſunk in guiltleſs blood;
There doth my ſoul in holy viſion ſit
In penſive trance, and anguiſh, and ecſtatick fit,
VII.
Mine eye hath found that ſad Sepulchral rock
That was the Casket of Heav'ns richeſt ſtore,
And here though grief my feeble hands up lock,
Yet on the ſoftned Quarry would I ſcore
My plaining vers as lively as before;
For ſure ſo well inſtructed are my tears,
That they would fitly fall in order'd Characters.
VIII.
Or ſhould I thence hurried on viewles wing,
Take up a weeping on the Mountains wilde,
The gentle neighbourhood of grove and ſpring
Would ſoon unboſom all their Echoes mildè,
And I (for grief is eaſily beguild)
Might think th' infection of my ſorrows loud,
Had got a race of mourners on ſom pregnant cloud.
This Subject the Author finding to be above the yeers he had, when he wrote it, and nothing ſatis…'d with what was begun, leſs it unfiniſht.
On Time.
FLy envious Time, till thou run out thy race,
Call on the lazy leaden-ſtepping hours,
Whoſe ſpeed is but the heavy Plummets pace;
And glut thy ſelf with what thy womb devours,
Which is no more then what is falſe and vain,
And meerly mortal droſs;
So little is our loſs,
So little is thy gain.
For when as each thing bad thou haſt entomb'd,
And laſt of all thy greedy ſelf conſum'd,
Then long Eternity ſhall greet our bliſs
With an individual kiſs;
And Joy ſhall overtake us as a flood,
When every thing that is ſincerely good
And perfectly divine,
With Truth, and Peace, and Love ſhall ever ſhine
About the ſupreme Throne
Of him, t'whoſe happy-making ſight alone,
When once our heav'nly-guided ſoul ſhall clime,
Then all this Earthy groſneſs quit,
Attir'd with Stars, we ſhall for ever sit,
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time.
Upon the Circumciſion.
YE flaming Powers, and winged Warriours bright,
That erſt with Muſick, and triumphant ſong
Firſt heard by happy watchful Shepherds ear,
So ſweetly ſung your Joy the Clouds along
Through the ſoft ſilence of the liſt'ning night;
Now mourn, and if ſad ſhare with us to bear
Your fiery eſſence can diſtill no tear,
Burn in your ſighs, and borrow
Seas wept from our deep ſorrow,
He who with all Heav'ns heraldry whilear
Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us eaſe;
Alas, how ſoon our sin
Sore doth begin
His Infancy to ſeaſe!
O more exceeding love or law more juſt?
Juſt law indeed, but more exceeding love!
For we by rightful doom remediles
Were loſt in death, till he that dwelt above
High thron'd in ſecret bliſs, for us frail duſt
Emptied his glory, ev'n to nakednes;
And that great Cov'nant which we ſtill tranſgreſs
Intirely ſatisfi'd,
And the full wrath beſide
Of vengeful Juſtice bore for our exceſs,
And ſeals obedience firſt with wounding ſmart
This day, but O ere long
Huge pangs and ſtrong
Will pierce more near his heart.
At a ſolemn Muſick.
BLeſt pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav'ns joy,
Sphear-born harmonious Siſters, Voice, and Vers,
Wed your divine ſounds, and mixt power employ
Dead things with inbreath'd ſenſe able to pierce,
And to our high-rais'd phantaſie preſent,
That undiſturbed Song of pure concent,
Ay ſung before the ſaphire-colour'd throne
To him that sits thereon
With Saintly ſhout, and ſolemn Jubily,
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row
Their loud up-lifted Angel trumpets blow,
And the Cherubick hoſt in thouſand quires
Touch their immortal Harps of golden wires,
With thoſe juſt Spirits that wear victorious Palms,
Hymns devout and holy Pſalms
Singing everlaſtingly;
That we on Earth with undiſcording voice
May rightly anſwer that melodious noiſe;
As once we did, till diſproportion'd ſin
Jarr'd againſt natures chime, and with harſh din
Broke the fair muſick that all creatures made
To their great Lord, whoſe love their motion ſway'd
In perfet Diapaſon, whilſt they ſtood
In firſt obedience, and their ſtate of good.
O may we ſoon again renew that Song,
And keep in tune with Heav'n, till God ere long
To his celeſtial conſort us unite,
To live with him, and ſing in endles morn of light.
An Epitaph on the Marchioneſs of Wincheſter.
THis rich Marble doth enterr
The honour'd Wife of Wincheſter,
A Vicounts daughter, an Ealrs heir,
Beſides what her vertues fair
Added to her noble birth,
More then ſhe could own from Earth.
Summers three times eight ſave one
She had told, … too ſoon,
After ſo ſhort time of breath,
To houſe with darkneſs, and with death.
Yet had the number of her days
Bin as compleat as was her praiſe,
Nature and fate had had no ſtrife
In giving limit to her life.
Her high birth, and her graces ſweet,
Quickly found a lover meet;
The Virgin quire for her requeſt
The God that sits at marriage feaſt;
He at their invoking came
But with a ſcarce-wel-lighted flame;
And in his Garland as he ſtood,
Ye might diſcern a Cypreſs bud.
Once had the early Matrons run
To greet her of a lovely ſon,
And now with ſecond hope ſhe goes,
And calls Lucina to her throws;
But whether by miſchance or blame
Atropos for Lucina came;
And with remorſles cruelty,
Spoil'd at once both fruit and tree:
The haples Babe before his birth
Had burial, yet not laid in earth,
And the languiſht Mothers Womb
Was not long a living Tomb.
So have I ſeen ſome tender ſlip
Sav'd with care from Winters nip,
The pride of her carnation train,
Pluck't up by ſom unheedy ſwain,
Who onelyonly thought to crop the flowr
New ſhot up from vernal ſhowr;
But the fair bloſſom hangs the head
Side-ways as on a dying bed,
And thoſe Pearls of dew ſhe wears,
Prove to be preſaging tears
Which the ſad morn had let fall
On her haſt'ning funerall.
Gentle Lady may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have;
After this thy travel ſore
Sweet reſt ſeaſe thee evermore,
That to give the world encreaſe,
Shortned haſt thy own lives leaſe;
Here, beſides the ſorrowing
That thy noble Houſe doth bring,
Here be tears of perfect moan
Weept for thee in Helicon,
And ſom Flowers, and ſome Bays,
For thy Hears to ſtrew the ways,
Sent thee from the banks of Came,
Devoted to thy vertuous name;
Whilſt thou bright Saint high ſit'ſt in glory.
Next her much like to thee in ſtory,
That fair Syrian Shepherdeſs,
Who after yeers of barrenneſs,
The highly favour'd Joſeph bore
To him that ſerv'd for her before,
And at her next birth much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,
Far within the booſom bright
Of blazing Majeſty and Light,
There with thee, new welcom Saint,
Like fortunes may her ſoul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant ſheen,
No Marchioneſs, but now a Queen.
SONG.
On May Morning.
NOw the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger,
Comes dancing from the Eaſt, and leads with her
The Flowry May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow Cowſlip, and the pale Primroſe.
Hail bounteous May that doſt inſpire
Mirth and youth and warm deſire,
Woods and Groves are of thy dreſſing,
Hill and Dale doth boaſt thy bleſſing.
Thus we ſalute thee with our early Song,
And welcom thee, and wiſh thee long.
On Shakeſpear. 1630.
WHat needs my Shakeſpear for his honour'd Bones,
The labour of an age in piled Stones,
Or that his hallow'd reliques ſhould be hid
Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid?
Dear ſon of memory, great heir of Fame,
What need'ſt thou ſuch weak witneſs of thy name?
Thou in our wonder and aſtoniſhment
Haſt built thy ſelf a live-long Monument.
For whilſt to th'ſhame of ſlow-endeavouring art,
Thy eaſie numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the le…res of thy unvalu'd Book,
Thoſe Delphick lines with deep impreſſion took,
Then thou our fancy of it ſelf bereaving,
Doſt make us Marble with too much conceaving;
And ſo Sepulcher'd in ſuch pomp doſt lie,
That Kings for ſuch a Tomb would wiſh to die.
On the Univerſity Carrier, who ſickn'd in the time of his vacancy, being forbid to go to London, by reaſon of the Plague.
HEre lies old Hobſon, Death hath broke his girt,
And here alas, hath laid him in the dirt,
Or elſe the ways being foul, twenty to one,
He's here ſtuck in a ſlough, and overthrown.
'Twas ſuch a ſhifter, that if truth were known,
Death was half glad when he had got him down;
For he had any time this ten yeers full,
Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull.
And ſurely, Death could never have prevail'd,
Had not his weekly courſe of carriage fail'd;
But lately finding him ſo long at home,
And thinking now his journeys end was …
And that he had tane up his lateſt …
In the kind office of a Chamberlin
Shew'd him his room where he muſt lodge that night,
Pull'd off his Boots, and took away the light:
If any ask for him, it ſhall be fed,
Hobſon has ſupt, and's newly gon to bed.
Another on the ſame.
HEre lieth one who did moſt truly prove,
That he could never die while he could move,
So hung his deſtiny never to rot
While he might ſtill jogg on and keep his trot,
Made of ſphear-metal, never to decay
Untill his revolution was at ſtay.
Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime
'Gainſt old truth) motion number'd out his time:
And like an Engin mov'd with wheel and waight,
His principles being ceaſt, he ended ſtrait,
Reſt that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath;
Nor were it contradiction to affirm
Too long vacation haſtned on his term.
Meerly to drive the …ime away he ſickn'd,
Fainted, and died, nor would with Ale be quickn'd,
Nay, quoth he, on his ſwooning bed out-ſtretch'd,
If I may not carry, ſure I'le ne're be fetch'd,
But vow though the croſs Doctors all ſtood hearers,
For one Carrier put down to make ſix bearers.
Eaſe was his chief diſeaſe, and to judge right,
He di'd for heavinefs that his Cart went light,
His leaſure told him that his time was com,
And lack of load, made his life burdenſom,
That even to his laſt breath (ther be that ſay't)
As he were preſt to death, he cry'd more waight;
But had his doings laſted as they were,
He had been an immortal Carrier.
Obedient to the Moon he ſpent his date
In cours reciprocal, and had his fate
Linkt to the mutual flowing of the Seas,
Yet (ſtrange to think) his wain was his increaſe:
His Letters are deliver'd all and gon,
Only remains this ſuperſcription.
L' Allegro.
HEnce loathed Melancholy
Of Cerberus, and blacke… …dnight born,
In Stygian Cave forlorn.
'Mongſt horrid ſhapes, and ſhreiks, and fights unholy,
Find out ſome uncouth cell,
Where brooding darkneſs ſpreads his jealous wings,
And the night-Raven ſings;
There under Ebon ſhades, and low-brow'd Rocks,
As ragged as thy Locks,
In dark Cimmerian deſert ever dwell.
But com thou Goddeſs fair and free,
In Heav'n ycleap'd Euphroſyne,
And by men, heart-eaſing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
With two ſiſter Graces more
To Ivy-crowned Bacchus bore;
Or whether (as ſom Sager ſing)
The frolick Wind that breathes the Spring.
Zephir with Aurora playing,
As he met her once a Maying,
There on Beds of Violets blew,
And freſh-blown Roſes waſht in dew,
Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair,
So …ſom, blith, and debonair.
Haſte thee … and bring with thee
Jeſt and youthful Jollity,
Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wiles,
Nods, and Becks, and Wreathed Smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple ſleek;
Sport that wrincled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his ſides.
Com, and trip it as you go
On the light fantaſtick toe,
And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The Mountain Nymph, ſweet Liberty;
And if I give thee honour due,
Mirth, admit me of thy crue
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreproved pleaſures free;
To hear the Lark begin his flight,
And ſinging ſtartle the dull night,
From his watch-towre in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth riſe;
Then to com in ſpight of ſorrow,
And at my window bid good morrow,
Through the weet-Briar, or the Vine,
Or the twiſted Eglantine.
While the Cock with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darknes thin,
And to the ſtack, or the Barn dore,
Stoutly ſtruts his Dames before,
Oft liſt'ning how the Hounds and Horn
Chearly rouſe the ſlumbring morn,
From the ſide of ſom Hoar Hill,
Through the high wood echoing ſhrill.
Som time walking not unſeen
By Hedge-row Elms, on Hillocks green,
Right againſt the Eaſtern gate,
Where the great Sun begins his ſtate,
Roab'd in flames, and Amber light,
The clouds in thouſand Liveries dight,
While the Plowman neer at hand,
Whiſtles ore the Furrow'd Land,
And the Milkmaid ſingeth blithe,
And the Mower whets his ſithe,
And every Shepherd tells his tale
Under the Hawthorn in the dale.
Streit mine eye hath caught new pleaſures
Whilſt the Lantskip round it meaſures,
Run… Lawns, and Fallows Gray,
Where … flocks do ſtray,
Mountains on whoſe …rren breſt
The labouring clouds do often reſt:
Meadows trim with Daiſies pide,
Shallow Brooks, and Rivers wide.
Towers, and Battlements it ſees
Booſom'd high in tufted Trees,
Wher perhaps ſom beauty lies,
The Cynoſure of neighbouring eyes.
Hard by, a Cottage chimney ſmokes,
From betwixt two aged Okes,
Where Corydon and Thyrſis met,
Are at their ſavory dinner ſet
Of Hearbs, and other Country Meſſes,
Which the neat-handed Phillis dreſſes;
And then in haſte her Bowre ſhe leaves,
With Theſtylis to bind the Sheaves;
Or if the earlier ſeaſon lead
To the tann'd Haycock in the Mead,
Some times with ſecure delight
The up-land Hamlets will invite,
When the merry Bells ring round,
And the jocond rebecks ſound
To many a y…h, and many a maid,
Dancing in the Chequer'd ſhade;
And young and old com forth to pla…
On a Sunſhine Holyday,
Till the live-long day-light fail,
Then to the Spicy Nut-brown Ale,
With ſtories told of many a feat,
How Faery Mab the junkets eat,
She was pincht, and pull'd ſhe ſed,
And by the Friars Lanthorn led
Tells how the drudging Goblin ſwet,
To ern his Cream-bowle duly ſet,
When in one night, ere glimps of morn,
His ſhadowy Flale hath threſh'd the Corn,
That ten day-labourers could not end,
Then lies him down the Lubbar Fend.
And ſtretch'd out all the Chimney's length,
Basks at the fire his hairy ſtrength;
And Crop-full out of dores he flings,
Ere the firſt Cock his Mattin rings.
Thus done the Tales, to bed they creep,
By whiſpering Winds ſoon lull'd aſleep.
Towred Cities pleaſe us then,
And the buſie humm of men,
VVhere throngs of Knights and Barons…
In wards of Peace high triumphs hold,
With ſtore …, whoſe bright eies
Rain influence, and judge the priſe,
Of Wit, or Arms, while both contend
To win her Grace, whorn all commend,
There let Hymen oft appear
In Saffron robe, with Taper clear,
And pomp, and feaſt, and revelry,
With mask, and antique Pageantry,
Such ſights as youthful Poets dream
On Summer eeves by haunted ſtream.
Then to the well-trod ſtage anon,
If Jonſons learned Sock be on,
Or ſweeteſt Shakeſpear fancies childe,
Warble his native Wood-notes wilde,
And ever againſt eating Cares,
Lap me in ſoft Lydian Aires,
Married to immortal verſe
Such as the meeting ſoul may pierce
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of lincked ſweetneſs long drawn out,
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running;
Untwiſting …e chains that ty
The hidden ſoul of harmony.
That Orpheus ſelf may heave his h…
From golden ſlumber on a bed
Of heapt Elyſian flowres, and hear
Such ſtreins as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite ſet free
His half regain'd Eurydice.
Theſe delights, if thou canſt give,
Mirth with thee, I mean to live.
Il Penſeroſo.
HEnce vain deluding joyes,
The brood of folly without father bred,
How little you beſted,
Or fill the fixed mind with all your toyes;
Dwell in ſome idle brain,
And fancies fond with gaudy ſhapes poſſeſs,
As thick and numberleſs
As the gay motes that people the Sun Beams,
Or likeſt hovering dreams
The fickle Penſioners of Morpheus train.
…ail thou Goddeſs, ſage and holy,
Hail divineſt Melancholy,
Whoſe Saintly … is too bright
To hit the Senſe of human ſight;
And therefore to our weaker view,
Ore laid with black ſtaid Wiſdoms hue.
Black, but ſuch as in eſteem,
Prince Memnons ſiſter might beſeem,
Or that ſtarr'd Ethiope Queen that ſtrove
To ſet her beauties praiſe above
The Sea Nymphs, and their powers offended,
Yet thou art higher far deſcended,
Thee bright-hair'd Veſta long of yore,
To ſolitary Saturn bore;
His daughter ſhe (in Saturns raign,
Such mixture was not held a ſtain)
Oft in glimmering Bowres, and glades
He met her, and in ſecret ſhades
Of woody Ida's inmoſt grove,
While yet there was no fear of Jove.
Com penſive Nun, devout and pure,
Sober, ſtedfaſt, and demure,
All in a robe of darkeſt grain,
Flowing with majeſtick train,
And ſable ſtole of Cipres Lawn,
Over thy decent ſhoulders drawn.
Com, but keep thy wonted ſtate,
With eev'n ſtep, and muſing gate,
And looks commercing with the skies,
Thy rapt ſoul ſitting in thine eyes:
There held in holy paſſion ſtill,
Forget thy ſelf to Marble, till
With a ſad Leaden downward caſt,
Thou fix them on the earth as faſt.
And joyn with thee calm Peace, and Quiet,
Spare Faſt, that oft with gods doth diet,
And hears the Muſes in a ring,
Ay round about Joves Altar ſing.
And adde to theſe retired leaſure;
That in trim Gardens takes his pleaſure;
But firſt, and chiefeſt, with thee bring,
Him that you soars on golden wing,
Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne,
The Cherub Contemplation,
And the mute Silence hist along,
'Leſs Philomel will deign a Song,
In her ſweeteſt, ſaddeſt plight,
Smoothing the rugged brow of night,
…e Cynthia checks her Dragon yoke,
Gen…'re th'accuſtom'd Oke;
Sweet Bird that …nn'ſt the noiſe of folly,
Moſt muſical, moſt Melancholy!
Thee Chauntreſs oft the Woods among,
I woo to hear thy Even-Song;
And miſſing thee, I walk unſeen
On the dry ſmooth-ſhaven Green,
To behold the wandring Moon,
Riding neer her higheſt noon,
Like one that had bin led aſtray
Through the Heav'ns wide pathles way;
And oft, as if her head ſhe bow'd,
Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
Oft on a Plat of riſing ground,
I hear the far-off Curfeu ſound,
Over ſome wide-water'd ſhoar,
Swinging ſlow with ſullen roar;
Or if the Ayr will not permit,
Som ſtill removed place will fit,
Where glowing Embers through the room
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,
Far from all reſort of mirth.
Save the Cricket on the hearth,
Or the Belmans drowſie charm,
To bleſs the dores from nightly harm:
Or let my Lamp at midnight hour,
Be ſeen in ſome high lonely Towr
Where I may oft out-watch the Bear,
With thrice great Hermes, or unſphear.
The ſpirit of Plato to unfold
What Worlds, or what vaſt Regions hold
The immortal mind that hath forſook
Her manſion in this fleſhly nook:
And of thoſe Daemons that are found
In fire, air, flood, or under ground,
Whoſe power hath a true conſent
With Planet, or with Element.
Som time let Gorgeous Tragedy
In Scepter'd Pall com ſweeping by,
Preſenting Thebs, or Pelops line,
Or the tale of Troy divine.
Or what (though rare) of later age,
Ennobled hath the Buskind ſtage.
But, O ſad Virgin, that thy power
Might raiſe Muſaeus from his bower,
Or bid the ſoul of Orpheus ſing
Such notes as warbled to the ſtring,
Drew Iron tears down Pluto's cheek,
And …de Hell grant what Love did ſeek.
Or call up … left half told
The ſtory of Cambu…can bold,
Of Camball, and of Algarſife,
And who had Canace to wife,
That own'd the vertuous Ring and Glaſs,
And of the wondrous Hors of Braſs,
On which the Tartar King did ride;
And if ought els, great Bards beſide,
In ſage and ſolemn tunes have ſung,
Of Turneys and of Trophies hung;
Of Foreſts, and inchantments drear,
Where more is meant then meets the ear,
Thus night oft ſee me in thy pale career,
Till civil-ſuited Morn appeer,
Not trickt and frounc't as ſhe was wont,
With the Attick Boy to hunt,
But Cherchef't in a comely Cloud,
While rocking Winds are Piping loud,
Or uſher'd with a ſhower ſtill,
When the guſt hath blown his fill,
Ending on the ruſsling Leaves,
With minute drops from off the Eaves.
And when the Sun begins to fling
His flaring beams, me Goddeſs bring
To arched walks of twilight groves.
And ſhadows brown that Sylvan …
Of Pine, or monumental Oake,
Where the rude Ax with heaved ſtroke,
Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt,
Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
There in cloſe covert by ſome Brook,
Where no prophaner eye may look,
Hide me from Day's gariſh eie,
While the Bee with Honied thie,
That at her flowry work doth ſing,
And the Waters murmuring
With ſuch conſort as they keep,
Entice the dewy-feather'd Sleep;
And let ſom ſtrange myſterious dream,
Wave at his Wings in Airy ſtream,
Of lively portrature diſplay'd,
Softly on my eye-lids laid.
And as I wake, ſweet muſick breath
Above, about, or underneath,
Sent by ſom ſpirit to mortals good,
Or th'unſeen Genius of the Wood.
But let my due feet never fail,
To walk the ſtudious Cloyſters pale.
And love the high embowed Roof,
With antick Pillars maſſy proof,
And ſtoried Windows richly dight,
Caſting a dimm religious light.
There let the pealing Organ blow,
To the full voic'd Quire below,
In Service high, and Anthems cleer,
As may with ſweetneſs, through mine car,
Diſſolve me into extaſies,
And bring all Heav'n before mine eyes.
And may at laſt my weary age
Find out the peacefull hermitage,
The Hairy Gown and Moſſy Cell,
Where I may ſit and rightly ſpell
Of every Star that Heav'n doth ſhew,
And every Herb that ſips the dew;
Till old experience do attain
To ſomething like Prophetic ſtrain.
Theſe pleaſures Melancholy give,
And I with thee will chooſe to live.