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My thoughts awhile, like you, imprison'd lay;
Great joys, as well as sorrows, make a stay;
They hinder one another in the crowd,
And none are heard, whilst all would speak aloud.
Should every man's officious gladness haste,
And be afraid to show itself the last,
The throng of gratulations now would be
Another loss to you of liberty.
When of your freedom men the news did hear,
Where it was wish'd-for, that is every where,
'Twas like the speech which from your lips does
fall ; -
As soon as it was heard, it ravish'd all.
So eloquent Tully did from exile come;
Thus long'd for he return'd, and cherish'd Rome;
Which could no more his tongue and counsels miss;
Rome, the world's head, was nothing without his.
Wrong to those sacred ashes, I should do,
Should I compare any to him but you;
You, to whom Art and Nature did dispense
The consulship of wit and eloquence.
Nor did your fate differ from his at all,
Because the doom of exile was his fall;
For the whole world, without a native home,
is nothing but a prison of larger room.
But like a melting woman suffer'd he,
He who before out-did humanity;
Nor could his spirit constant and stedfast prove.
Whose art 't had been, and greatest end, to move.
You put ill-fortune in so good a dress,
That it out-shone other men's happiness:
Had your prosperity always clearly gone,
As your high merits would have laid it on,
You’ad half been lost, and an example then
But for the happy—the least part of men.
Your very sufferings did so graceful shew,
That some strait envy'd your affliction too;
For a clear conscience and heroic mind
In ills their business and their glory find.
So, though less worthy stones are drown'd in night,
The faithful diamond keeps his native light,
And is oblig'd to darkness for a ray, -
That would be more oppress'd than help'd by day.
Your soul then most show'd her unconquer'd pow-
er,
Was stronger and more armed than the Tower.
Sure unkind Fate will tempt your spirit no more;
Sh' has try'd her weakness and your strength
before.
Toppose him still, who once has conquer'd so,
Were now to be your rebel, not your foe;
Fortune henceforth will more of providence have,
Ahd rather be your friend than be your slave.

TO A LADY

who Made Posies for RINGS.

I trile thought the time would ever be,

That I should wit in dwarfish posies see.
As all words in few letters live,
Thou to few words all sense dost give.
'Twas Nature taught you this rare art,
In such a little much to shew ;
Who, all the good she did impart

To womankind, epitomiz'd in you.

If, as the ancients did not doubt to sing,
The turning years be well compar'd to a ring,

We'll write whate'er from you we hear;
For that's the posy of the year.
This difference only will remain–
That Time his former face does shew,
Winding into himself again;
But your unweary'd witis always new.
'Tis said, that conjurers have an art found out
To carry spirits confin'd in rings about:
The wonder now will less appear,
When we behold your magic here.
You, by your rings, do prisoners take,
And chain them with your mystic spells,
And, the strong witchcraft full to make,
Love, the great Devil, charm'd to those circles,
dwells.

They, who above do various circles find,

Say, like a ring, th' equator Heaven does bind.
When Heaven shall be adorn'd by thee
(Which then more Heaven than 'tis will be)
'Tis thou must write the posy there,
For it wanteth one as yet,
Though the Sun pass through't twice a year

The Sun, who is esteem'd the god of wit.

Happy the hands which wear thy sacred rings,
They'll teach those hands to write mysterious
things.
Let other rings, with jewels bright,
Cast around their costly light;
Let them want no noble stone,
By nature rich and art refin'd;
Yet shall thy rings give place to none,
But only that which must thy marriage bind.

PROLOGUE TO THE GUARDIAy,

beform the Prince.

Wito says the times do learning disallow?
'Tis false; 'twas never honour’d so as now.
When you appear, great prince our night is done;
You are our morning-star, and shall be our sun.
But our scene's London now ; and by the rout
we perish, if the Round-heads be about:
For now no ornament the head must wear,
No bays, no mitre, not so much as hair.
How can a play pass safely, when we know
Cheapside-cross falls for making but a show 2
Our only hope is this, that it may be
A play may pass too, made extempore.
Though other arts poor and neglected grow,
They'll admit poesy, which was always so.
But we contemn the fury of these days.
And scorn no less their censure than their praise;
Our Muse, blest prince' does only on you rely;
would gladly live, but not refuse to die.
Accept our hasty zeal! a thing that's play'd
Ere 'tis a play, and acted ere’tis made.
Our ignorance, but our duty too, we show ;
I would all ignorant people would do sol
At other times expect our wit or art;
This comedy is acted by the heart.

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Sitecum mihi, chare Martialis, &c.
L. v. Ep. xx.

Ir, dearest friend, it my good fate might be
To enjoy at onee a quiet life and thee;
If we for happiness could leisure find,
And wandering Time into a method bind;
We should not sure the great-men's favour need,
Nor on long hopes, the court's thin diet, feed;
We should not patience find daily to hear
The calumnies and flatteries spoken there ;
We should not the lords’ tables humbly use,
Or talk in ladies' chambers love and news;
But books, and wise discourse, gardens and fields.
And all the joys that unmixt Nature yields;
Thick summer shades, where winter still does lic,
Bright winter fires, that summer's part supply:
Sleep, not control’d by cares, confin'd to night,
Or bound in any rule but appetite:
Free, but not savage or ungracious mirth,
Rich wines, to give it quick and easy birth;
A few companions, which ourselves should chuse,
A gentle mistress, and a gentler Muse.
Sucho friend! such, without doubt, should

Our place, our business, and our company.
Now to himself, alas ! does neither live.
But sees good suns, of which we are to give
A strict account, set and march thick away:
Knows a man how to live, and does he stay?

THE CHRONICLE. A BALL AD.

Manganrra first possest,
If I remember well, my breast,
Margarita first of all ;

But when awhile the wanton maid

With my restless heart had play’d,
Martha took the flying ball.

Martha soon did it resign
To the beauteous Catharine.
Beauteous Catharine gave place

(Though loth and angry she to part

With the possession of my heart)
To Eliza's conquering face.

Elizatill this hour might reign,
Had she not evil counsels ta'en.
Fundamental laws she broke,

And still new favourites she chose,

Till up in arms my passions rose,
And cast away her yoke.

Mary then, and gentle Anne,
Both to reign at once began;

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TO SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT,

Upon his Two first books of Gondrbear, FINISHED BEFORE his voy. AGE TO AMERICA.

METhisks heroic poesy till now, Like some fantastic fairy-land did show; Gods, devils, nymphs, witches, and giants' race, And all but man, in man's chief work had place. Thou, like some worthy knight with sacred arms, Dost drive the monsters thence, and end the charms, Instead of those dost men and manners plant, The things which that rich soil did chiefly want. Yet ev'n thy mortals do their gods excel, Taught by thy Muse to fight and love so well. By fatal hands whilst present empires fall, Thine from the grave past monarchies recall ; So much more thanks frem human-kind docs merit The poet's fury than the zealot's spirit: And from the grave thou mak'st this empire rise, Not like some dreadful ghost, t' affright our eyes, But with more lustre and triumphant state, Than when it crown'd at proud Verona sate. So will our God rebuild man's perish'd frame, And raise him up much better, yet the same: So god-like poets do past things rehearse, Not change, but heighten, Nature by their verse. With shame, methinks, great Italy must see Her conquerors rais'd to life again by thee: Rais'd by such powerful verse, that ancient Rome May blush no less to see her wit o'ercome. Some men their fancies, like their faith, derive, And think all ill but that which Rome does give; The marks of old and Catholic would find; To the same chair would truth and fiction bind. Thou in those beaten paths disdain'st to tread, And scorn'st to live by robbing of the dead. Since Time does all things change, thou think'st not fit This latter age should see all new but wit; Thy fancy, like a flame, its way does make, And leave bright tracts for following pens to take. Sure 'twas this noble boldness of the Muse Did thy desire to seek new worlds infuse; And ne'er did Heaven so much a voyage bless, If thou canst plant but there with like success.

as asswer to .4 COPY OF PERSES sent Mp to Jersey.

As to a northern people (whom the Sun
Uses just as the Romish church has done
Her prophane laity, and does assign
Bread only both to serve for bread and wine)
A rich Canary fleet welcome arrives;
Such comfort to us here your letter gives,
Frought with brisk racy verses; in which we
The soil from whence they came taste, smell, and

see; Such is your present to us; for you must know, Sir, that verse does not in this island grow, No more than sack: one lately did not fear (Without the Muses' leave) to plant it here ; But it produc’d such base, rough, crabbed, hedge, Rhymes, as ev'n set the hearers' ears on edge: Written by — esquire, the Year of our Lord six hundred thirty-three.

Brave Jersey Muse! and he’s for this high style Call'd to this day the Homer of the isle. Alas! to men here no words less hard be To rhyme with, than 4 Mount Orgueil is to me; Mount Orgueil 1 which, in scorn o' th' Muses law, With no yoke-fellow word will deign to draw. Stubborn Mount Orgueil ' ' tis a work to make it Come into rhyme, more hard than 'twere to take it. Alas! to bring your tropes and figures here, Strange as to bring camels and elephants were; And metaphor is so unknown a thing, 'Twould need the preface of God save the king. Yet this I'll say, for th’ honour of the place, That, by God's extraordinary grace (Which shows the people have judgment, if not wit) The land is undefil'd with clinches yet; Which, in my poor opinion, I confess, Is a most singular blessing, and no less Than Ireland's wanting spiders. And, so far From th’ actual sin of bombast too they are, (That other crying sin o' th' English Muse) That even Satan himself can accuse None here (no not so much as the divines) For th’ motus primö primi to strong lines. Well, since the soil then does not naturally bear Verse, who (a devil) should import it here? For that to me would seem as strange a thing As who did first wild beasts int' islands bring; Unless you think that it might taken be, As Green did Gondibert, in a prize at sea: But that's a fortune falls not every day; 'Tis true Green was made by it ; for they say The parl'ament did a noble bounty do, And gave him the whole prize, their tenths and

fifteenths too.

THE TREE OF K.W’OWWLEDGE. that There is no knowledge. Against the Dogmatists.

The sacred tree midst the fair orchard grew ;
The Phoenix Truth did on it rest,
And built his perfum’d nest:
That right Porphyrian tree which did true logic
shew.
Each leaf did learned notions give,
And th' apples were demonstrative:
So clear their colour and divine,
The very shade they cast did other lights out-shine.

“Taste not,” said God, “ tis mine and angels'
meat;
A certain death doth sit,
Like an ill worm, i' th' core of it.
Ye cannot know and live, nor live or know, and eat.”
Thus spoke God, yet man did go
Ignorantly on to know;
Grew so more blind, and she
Who tempted him to this grew yet more blind
than he.
The only science man by this did get,
Was but to know he nothing knew:
He straight his nakedness did view,
His ignorant poor estate, and was asham'd of it.
Yet searches probabilities,
And rhetoric, and fallacies,
f

* The name of one of the castles in Jersey.

And seeks by useless pride, With slight and withering leaves that nakedness to hide.

“Henceforth,” said God, “the wretched sons of Earth

Shall sweat for food in vain,

That will not long sustain ;

And bring with labour forth each fond abortive birth.
That serpent too, their pride,
Which aims at things deny'd;
That learn’d and cloquent lust;

Instead of mounting high, shall creep upon the dust.” -

REASON,

The USE of IT IN DIVINE MATTErs.

Some blind themselves, 'cause possibly they may
Be led by others a right way;
They build on sands, which if unulov'd they find,
'Tis but because there was no wind.
Less hard 'tis, not to err ourselves, than know
If our forefathers err'd or no.
When we trust men concerning God, we then
Trust not God concerning men.

Visions and inspirations some expect
Their course here to direct;
Like senseless chymists their own wealth destroy,
Imaginary gold to enjoy:
So stars appear to drop to us from sky,
And gild the passage as they fly;
But when they fall, and meet th' opposing ground,
What but a sordid slime is found 2

Sometimes their sancies they 'bove reason set,
And fast, that they may dream of meat;
Sometimes ill spirits their sickly souls delude,
And bastard forms obtrude;
So Endor's wretched sorceress, although
She Saul through his disguise did know,
Yet, when the devil comes up disguis'd, she cries,
** Behold ! the Gods arise.”

In vain alas ! these outward hopes are try’d;
Reason within's our only guide;
Reason, which (God be prais'd ') still walks, for all
Its old orig’nal fall;
And, since itself the boundless Godhead join'd
With a reasonable mind,
It plainly shows that mysteries divine
May with our reason join.

The holy book,like the eighth sphere, does shine
With thousand lights of truth divine:
So numberless the stars, that to the eye
It makes but all one galaxy.
Yet Reason must assist too; for, in seas
So vast and dangerous as these,
Our course by stars above we cannot know,
Without the compass too below.

Though Reason cannot through Faith's mysteries

see, It sees that there and such they be ; Leads to Heaven's door,and there does humbly keep, And there through chunks and key-holes peep; Though it, like Moses, by a sad command, Must not come into th’ Holy Land, Yet thither it infallibly does guide, And from afar ’tis all descry’d.

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