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So hung his destiny, never to rot,
While he might still jog on and keep his trot;
Made of sphere-metal, never to decay,
Until his revolution was at stay.
Time numbers motion, yet without a crime
'Gainst old truth motion number'd out his time;
And like an engine moved with wheel and weight,
His principles being ceased, he ended straight.
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 hasten'd on his term.
Merely to drive the time away he sicken'd,
Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd;
"Nay," quoth he, "on his swooning bed outstretch'd,
If I mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er 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 died for heaviness, that his cart went light;
His leisure told him, that his time was come,
And lack of load made his life hurdensome,
That e'n to his last breath, there be that say it,
As he were press'd to death, he cried, “ More weight;"
But had his doings lasted as they were,
He had been an immortal carrier.
Obedient to the moon, he spent his date
In course reciprocal, and had his fate
Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas,
Yet, strange to think, his wain was his increase:
His' letters are deliver'd all, and gone,
Only remains this superscription.


BECAUSE you have thrown off your Prelate-Lord,

And with stiff vows, renounced his Liturgy,
To seize the widow'd whore Plurality,

From them whose sin ye envied, not abhorr’d,
Dare ye, for this, adjure the civil sword,

To force our consciences, that Christ set free ;
And ride us with a classic hierarchy,

Taught ye by mere A. S.* and Rutherford ?-
Men, whose life, learning, faith, and pure intent,

Would have been held in high esteem with Paul,

Must now be named and printed Heretics, By shallow Edwards; and Scotch what d'ye call :// But we do hope to find out all your tricks, Your plots and packing, worse than those of Trent ;

That so the Parliament May, with their wholesome and preventive shears, Clip your phylacteries, though balk your ears,

And succour our just fears, When they shall read this clearly in your charge, New Presbyter is but Old Priest, writ large.

* Adam Steuart, a Divine of the Church of Scotland. + Samuel Rutherford, one of the chief Commissioners of the Church of Scotland, and Professor of Divinity in the University of St. Andrew's.

| Thomas Edwards, minister, a pamphleteering opponent of Milton.

|| Perhaps Henderson, or Gillespie, Scotch divines



What slender youth, bedew'd with liquid odours, Courts thee on roses, in some pleasant cave,

Pyrrha ? For whom bind'st thou

In wreaths thy golden hair,
Plain in thy neatness ? O, how oft shall he
On faith and changed gods complain, and seas

Rough with black winds, and storms

Unwonted, shall admire!
Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold,
Who, always vacant, always amiable,

Hopes thee, of flattering gales

Unmindful. Hapless they, (vow'd
To whom thou, untried, seem'st fair. Me, in my
Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung

My dank and dropping weeds,
To the stern god of sea.


BRUTUS thus addresses Diana in the country

of LEOGECIA. Goddess of shades, and huntress, who at will Walk'st on the rolling spheres, and through the deep; On thy third reign, the earth, look now, and tell What land, what seat of rest, thou bidst me seek, What certain seat, where I may worship thee For aye, with temples vow'd and virgin quires. To whom, sleeping before the altar, Diana answers

in a vision the same night. BRUTUS, far to the west, in th ocean wide, Beyond the realm of Gaul, a land there lies, Seagirt it lies, where giants dwelt of old ;

Hist. Brit. i. xi. “ Diva potens nemorum,” &c.

Now void, it fits thy people : thither bend
Thy course; there shalt thou find a lasting seat ;
There to thy sons another Troy shall rise,
And kings be born of thee, whose dreadful might
Shall awe the world, and conquer nations bold.


Ah, Constantine, of how much ill was cause,
Not thy conversion, but those rich domains
That the first wealthy pope received of thee.


Founded in chaste and humble poverty,
'Gainst them that rais’d thee dost thou list thy horn,
Impudent whore, where hast thou plac'd thy hope ?
In thy adulterers, or thy ill-got wealth?
Another Constantine comes not in haste.

Then pass'd he to a flowery mountain green,
Which once smelt sweet, now stinks as odiously :
This was the gift, if you the truth will have,
That Constantine to good Sylvester gave.


Whom do we count a good man? Whom but he
Who keeps the laws and statutes of the senate,
Who judges in great suits and controversies,
Whose witness and opinion wins the cause ?
But his own house, and the whole neighbourhood,
Sees his foul inside through his whited skin.


This is true liberty, when freeborn men,
Having t’ advise the public, may speak free;
Which he who can, and will, deserves high praise.
Who neither can, nor will, may hold his peace ;
What can be juster in a state than this?


-Laughing, to teach the truth,
What hinders? As some teachers give to boys
Junkets and knacks, that they may learn apace


-Joking decides great things, Stronger and better oft than earnest can,


that say it, not I. You do the deeds, And your ungodly deeds find me the words


There can be slain
No sacrifice to God more acceptable,
Than an unjust and wicked king.

Done in verse,

Blessed is the man who hath not walk'd astray
In counsel of the wicked, and in the way
Of sinners hath not stood, and in the seat
Of scorners hath not sat.

But in the great
Jehovah's law is ever his delight,
And in his law he studies day and night.
He shall be as a tree which planted grows
By watery streams, and in his season knows
To yield his fruit, and his leaf shall not fall,
And what he takes in hand shall


Not so the wicked, but as chaff which fann'd
The wind drives, so the wicked shall not stand
In judgment, or abide their trial then,
Nor sinners in the assembly of just men.
For the Lord knows th' upright way of the just
And the way of bad men to ruin must.


Done Aug. 8, 1653. Terzetti.
Why do the Gentiles tumult, and the Nations

Muse a vain thing, the kings of the earth upstand

With power, and princes in their congregations Lay deep their plots together through each land

Against the Lord and his Messiah dear?

Let us break off, say they, by strength of hand Their bonds, and cast from us, no more to wear,

Their twisted cords: He who in Heaven doth dwell

Shall laugh, the Lord shall scoff them, then severe Speak to them in his wrath, and in his fell And fierce ire trouble them; but I, saith he,

Anointed have my King (though ye rebel)
On Sion my holy hill. A firm decree

I will declare; The Lord to me hath said
Thou art my Son, I have begotten thee

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