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"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 years full
Dodged 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,

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And thinking now his journey's end was come,
And that he had ta'en up his latest inn,

In the kind office of a chamberlain

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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 said,

Hobson has supp'd, and 's newly gone to bed.

XII.

ANOTHER ON THE SAME.

HERE lieth one, who did most truly prove
That he could never die while he could move;

So hung bis 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.

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Time numbers notion, 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

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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 out-stretch'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 burthensome,

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That even to his last breath (there be that say 't)

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As he were press'd to death, he cry'd 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.

XIII.

AD PYRRHAM.-ODE v.

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Horatius ex Pyrrhæ illecebris tanquam è naufragio enataverat, cujus amore irretitos, affirmat esse miseros.

QUIS multa gracilis te puer in rosa
Perfusus liquidis urget odoribus,
Grato, Pyrrha, sub antro?

Cui flavam religas comam

Simplex munditiis? heu quoties fidem

Mutatosque deos flebit, et aspera

Nigris æquora ventis

Emirabitur insolens!

Qui nunc te fruitur credulus aurea,

Qui semper vacuam semper amabilem

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Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa, rendered almost word for word, without rhyme, according to the Latin measure, as near as the language will permit. 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

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

My dank and dropping weeds

To the stern God of sea.

XIV.

ON THE NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE, UNDER THE

LONG PARLIAMENT.

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 Rotherford?

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Men whose life, learning, faith, and pure intent, Would have been held in high esteem with Paul, 10 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.

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I.

TO THE NIGHTINGALE.

O NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill, While the jolly Hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes, that close the eye of day,

First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill, Portend success in love; O if Jove's will Have link'd that amorous power to thy soft lay, Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh; 10 As thou from year to year hast sung too late

For my relief, yet hadst no reason why:

Whether the Muse, or Love, call thee his mate, Both them I serve, and of their train am I.

II.

DONNA leggiadra il cui bel nome honora

L'herbosa val di Rheno, e il nobil varco,

Bene è colui d'ogni valore scarco

Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora,
Che dolcemente mostra si di fuora

De sui atti soavi giamai parco

E i don', che son d'amor saette ed arco,

La onde l'alta tua virtu s'infiora.

Quando tu vaga parli, o lieta canti Che mover possa duro alpestre legno,

Guardi ciascun a gli occhi, ed a gli orecchi Le'entranta, chi di te si truova indegno;

Gratia sola di su gli vaglia, inanti Che'l disio amoroso al cuor s'invecchi.

III.

QUAL in colle aspro, al imbrunir di sera
L'avezza giovinetta pastorella

Va bagnando l'herbetta strana e bella
Che mal si spande a disusata spera

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Fuor di sua natia alma primavera,
Cosi Amor meco insù la lingua snella
Desta il fior novo di strania favella,
Mentre io di te, vezzosamente altera,

Canto, dal mio buon popol non inteso
E'l bel Tamigi cangio col bel Arno.
Amor lo volse, ed io a l'altrui peso
Seppi ch' Amor cosa mai volse indarno.

Deh! foss' il mio cuor lento e'l duro seno
A chi pianta dal ciel si buon terreno.

CANZONE.

RIDONSI donne e giovani amorosi

M'accostandosi attorno, e perche scrivi,
Perche tu scrivi in lingua ignota e strana
Verseggiando d' amor, e come t' osi?
Dinne, se la tua speme sia mai vana,
E de pensieri lo miglior t' arrivi;
Cosi mi van burlando, altri rivi
Altri lidi t' aspettan, et altre onde
Nelle cui verdi sponde

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Spuntati ad hor, ad hor a la tua chioma

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L'immortal guiderdon d' eterne frondi

Perche alle spalle tue soverchia soma?

Canzon dirotti, e tu per me rispondi

Dice mia Donna, e'l suo dir, é il mio cuore
Questa e lingua di cui si vanta Amore.

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IV.

DIODATI, e te'l dirò con maraviglia,

Quel ritroso io ch'amor spreggiar soléa
E de suoi lacci spesso mi ridéa

Gia caddi, ov'huom dabben talhor s'impiglia.
Ne treccie d' oro, ne guancia vermiglia
M'abbaglian si, ma sotto nova idea
Pellegrina bellezza che'l cuor bea,
Portamenti alti honesti, e nelle ciglia
Quel sereno fulgor d' amabil nero,
Parole adorne di lingua piu d' una,

E'l cantar che di mezzo l'hemispero
Traviar ben puo la faticosa Luna,

E degli occhi suoi auventa si gran fuoco Che l'incerar gli orecchi mi fa poco.

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