English Puritan & Reformed

Poems 2

John Milton (1608-1674) · 30,434 words · 135 min

The source for this document is https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo/A89149.0001.001

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The source of this document is the Early English Books Online (EEBO-TCP) website. Those books were transcribed in a character for character manner and can be very cumbersome to read since there was no standard spelling during that time. Many spelling variations such as "unlesse", "vnlesse", and "vnles" regularly appear.

This project was conceived to clean up those books as much as possible and make them more accessible to the interested reader, leading to the creation of a massive list of variant spellings and their corrections. This was used to clean up the text, but is of course only as complete as the list itself. Because of the nature of the original transcription, some words have missing characters or places where the original language (e.g., Greek) was not transcribed. This effort does not change that. Be aware that the original transcription can also be faulty and in some cases entire sentences may be missing.

Although this is no substitute for a properly compared, proofed, and scholarly edition, I believe that the result is a document which is far more accessible, particularly for searching for terms using standard spelling. The document has been cleaned and presented in what I hope is a pleasing and useful format for the vast majority of Christian brothers and sisters who just want access to read these spiritually nourishing works.

However, a word of warning: The Puritans were a very diverse group of people and their age was characterized with godliness, but also much upheaval, disputation and strife. They disagreed on many doctrines and some of these works contain less orthodox or Scriptural views than others. The reader is strongly advised to read with discernment, particularly if it is unknown whether author is trustworthy.

This project took a huge amount of time and skill to bring to fruition. I would particularly like to thank David Jonescue for the initial list of Puritans he found on EEBO and the concept behind this project as well as the continuous, unceasing efforts toward seeing this complete. Without his labor, this would not be available. Alex Sarrouf was invaluable in providing the initial list of over 7,000 spelling variations he had identified and corrected, as well as continuing to review more than 16,000 additions to that list for any typos.

Logan West
(with David Jonescue and Alex Sarrouf)
www.puritansearch.org

POEMS OF Mr. John Milton, BOTH ENGLISH and LATIN, Compos'd at several times.

Printed by his true Copies.

The SONGS were set in Music by Mr. HENRY LAWES Gentleman of the KINGS Chapel, and one of His MAIESTIES Private Music.

—Baccare frontem

Cingite, ne vati noceat mala lingua futuro,

Virgil, Eclog. 7.

Printed and published according to ORDER.

LONDON, Printed by Ruth Raworth for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at the sign of the Princes Arms in S. Paul's Church-yard. 1645.

[illustration]
Melpomene.
Erato.
IOANNIS MILTONI ANGLI EFFIGIES ANNO AETATIS viGess: Pri:
Urania.
Clio.
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 .
W. M. sculp

〈1 page duplicate〉

THE STATIONER TO THE READER.

I T is not any private respect of gain, Gentle Reader, for the slightest Pamphlet is nowadays more vendible then the Works of learnedest men; but it is the love I have to our own Language that hath made me diligent to collect, and set forth such Peeces both in Prose and Vers, as may renew the wonted honor and esteem of our English tongue: and it's the worth of these both English and Latin Poems, not the flourish of any prefixed encomions that can invite thee to buy them, though these are not without the highest Commendations and Applause of the learnedst Academics, both domestic and foreign: And amongst those of our own Country, the unparalleled attestation of that renowned Provost of Eaton, Sir Henry Wootton: I know not thy palate how it relishes such dainties, nor how harmonious thy soul is; perhaps more trivial Airs may please thee better. But howsoever thy opinion is spent upon these, that encouragement I have already received from the most ingenious men in their clear and courteous entertainment of Mr. Wallers late choice Peeces, hath once more made me adventure into the World, presenting it with these ever-green, and not to be blasted Laurels. The Authors more peculiar excellency in these studies, was too well known to conceal his Papers, or to keep me from attempting to solicit them from him. Let the event guide itself which way it will, I shall deserve of the age, by bringing into the Light as true a Birth, as the Muses have brought forth since our famous Spencer wrote; whose Poems in these English ones are as rarely imitated, as sweetly excel'd. Reader if thou art Eagle-eied to censure their worth, I am not fearful to expose them to thy exactest perusal.

Thine to command HUMPH. MOSELEY.

On the morning of CHRIST'S Nativity. Compos'd 1629.

       I.
       
        THis is the Month, and this the happy morn
       
        Wherein the Son of Heavens 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 sar-beaming blaze of Majesty,
       
        Wherwith he wont at Heavens high Council-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 strain,
       
        To welcome him to this his new abode,
       
        Now while the Heaven by the Suns team untrod,
       
        Hath took no print of the approaching light,
       
        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 odors sweet:
       
        O run, prevent them with thy humble ode,
       
        And lay it lowly at his blessed feet;
       
        Have thou the honor first, thy Lord to greet,
       
        And join thy voice unto the Angel Choir,
       
        From out his secret Altar touched with hallow'd fire.

The Hymn.

       I.
       
        IT was the Winter wild,
       
        While the Heaven-born-child,
       
        All meanly wrapped in the rude manger lies▪
       
        Nature in awe to him
       
        Had doffit her gaudy 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 sinful blame,
       
        The Saintly Vail 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-eyd Peace,
       
        She crowned with Olive green, came softly sliding
       
        Down through the turning sphere
       
        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 Battails 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 sat still with awful eye,
       
        As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.

       V.
       
        But peaceful was the night
       
        Wherein the Prince of light
       
        His reign of peace upon the earth began:
       
        The Winds with wonder whist,
       
        Smoothly the waters kist,
       
        Whispering new joys to the mild 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 fixed in steadfast gaze,
       
        Bending one way their precious influence,
       
        And will not take their flight,
       
        For all the morning light,
       
        Or
        
         Lucifer
        
        that often warned 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 withheld his wonted speed,
       
        And hid his head for shame,
       
        As his inferior 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,
       
        Sate simply chatting in a rustic 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 busy keep.

       IX.
       
        When such music sweet
       
        Their hearts and ears did greet,
       
        As never was by mortal finger struck,
       
        Divinely-warbled voice
       
        Answering the stringed noise,
       
         〈…〉
        
        all their souls in blissful rapture took▪
       
        The Air such pleasure loath to lose,
       
        With thousand echo's still prolongs each heavenly 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 don,
       
        And that her reign had here its last fulfilling;
       
        She knew such harmony alone
       
        Could hold all Heaven 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 displayed.
       
        Harping in loud and solemn quire,
       
        With unexpressive notes to Heavens new-born Heir.

       XII.
       
        Such Music (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-ballancit world on hinges hung,
       
        And cast the dark foundations deep,
       
        And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep.

       XIII.
       
        Ring out ye Crystall spheres,
       
        Once bless our human ears,
       
        (If ye have power to touch our senses so)
       
        And let your silver chime
       
        Move in melodious time;
       
        And let the Base of Heavens 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 itself will pass away,
       
        And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.

       XV.
       
        Yea Truth, and Justice then
       
        Will down return to men,
       
        Th'enameld
        
         Arras
        
        of the Rainbow wearing,
       
        And Mercy set between,
       
        Throne'd in Celestial sheen,
       
        With radiant feet the tissued clouds down stearing,
       
        And Heaven as at some festival,
       
        Will open wide the Gates of her high Palace Hall.

       XVI.
       
        But wisest Fate says 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 glorify:
       
        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 terror of that blast,
       
        Shall from the surface to the center shake;
       
        When at the worlds last session,
       
        The dreadful Judge in middle Air shall spread his throne.

       XVIII.
       
        And then at last our bliss
       
        Full and perfect is,
       
        But now begins; for from this happy day
       
        Th'old Dragon under ground
       
        In straiter limits bound,
       
        Not half so far casts his usurped sway,
       
        And wrath to see his Kingdom fail,
       
        Swindges the scaly Horrour of his foulded tail.

       XIX.
       
        The Oracles are dumm,
       
        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
        
         D
         
          •
         
         lphos
        
        leaving.
       
        No nightly trance, or breathed spell,
       
        Inspire's the pale-ey'd Priest from the prophetic cell.

       XX.
       
        The lonely mountains over,
       
        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 flower-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 battered god of
        
         Palestine,
        
        And mooned
        
         Ashtaroth,
        
        Heavens 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 worshipped Ark.

       XXV.
       
        He feels from
        
         Judah
        
        's Land
       
        The dredded Infants hand,
       
        The rays of
        
         Bethlehem
        
        blind his dusky eyn;
       
        Nor all the gods beside,
       
        Longer dare abide,
       
        Not
        
         Typhon
        
        huge ending in snaky twine:
       
        Our Babe to show his Godhead true,
       
        Can in his swaddling bands control the damned
        
         •
        
        rew.

       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 fettered Ghost slips to his several grave,
       
        And the yellow-skirted
        
         Fayes,
        
        Fly after the Night-steeds, leaving their Moon-loved maze.

       XXVII.
       
        But see the Virgin blest,
       
        Hath laid her Babe to rest.
       
        Time is our tedious Song should here have ending,
       
        Heavens youngest teemed Star,
       
        Hath fixed her polished 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 don 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 Almighty's hand,
       
         hovah
        
        's wonders were in
        
         Israel
        
        shown,
       
        is praise and glory was in
        
         Israel
        
        known.
       
         •
        
        at saw the troubled Sea, and shivering fled,
       
        nd sought to hide his froth-becurled head
       
        ow in the earth,
        
         Jordans
        
        clear streams recoil,
       
        As a faint host that hath received 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 Crystall Fountains?
       
         •
        
        hake earth, and at the presence be agast
       
        Of him that ever was, and ay shall last,
       
        That glassy floods from rugged rocks can crush,
       
        And make soft rills from fiery flint-stones gush▪

Psalm 136.

        LEt us with a gladsome mind▪
       
        Praise the Lord, for he is kind,
       
        For his mercies ay endure,
       
        Ever faithful, ever sure.

         •
        
        et us blaze his Name abroad,
       
         •
        
        or of gods he is the God▪
       
        For &c.

        O let us his praises tell,
       
        That doth the wrathful tyrants quell.
       
        For, &c.

        That with his miracles doth make
       
        Amazed Heaven and Earth to shake.
       
        For, &c.

        That by his wisdom did create
       
        The painted Heavens so full of state▪
       
        For his, &c.

        That did the solid Earth ordain
       
        To rise above the watery plain.
       
        For his, &c.

        That by his all-commanding might,
       
        Did fill the new-made world with light.
       
        For his, &c.

        And caused the Golden-tressed Sun,
       
        All the day long his cours 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,
       
        mote the first▪born of
        
         Egypt
        
        Land▪
       
        For his, &c.

        And in despite of
        
         Pharaoh
        
        fell,
       
        He brought from thence his
        
         Israel.
        
        For, &c.

        The ruddy waves he cleft in twain,
       
        Of the
        
         Erythraean
        
        main.
       
        For, &c.

        The floods 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 wasteful Wildernes.
       
        For, &c.

        In bloody battle he brought down
       
        Kings of prowess and renown.
       
        For, &c.

        He foild bold
        
         Seon
        
        and his host,
       
        That ruled the
        
         Amorrean
        
        coast.
       
        For, &c.

        And large-lim'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 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 ey.
       
        For his mercies ay endure,
       
        Ever faithful, ever sure.

The Passion.

       I.
       
        ERe-while of Music, and Ethereal mirth,
       
        Wherwith the stage of Air and Earth did ring▪
       
        And joyous news of heavenly 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 swallowed up in dark and long out-living nigh
        
         •
        
        .

       II.
       
        For now to sorrow must I tune my song,
       
        And set my Harp to notes of saddest woe,
       
        Which on our dearest Lord did cease ere long,
       
        Dangers, and snares, and wrongs, and worse then so▪
       
        Which he for us did freely undergo.
       
        Most perfect
        
         Heroe,
        
        tried in heaviest plight
       
        Of labors 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 Brethren's side.

       IV.
       
        These latter scenes confine my roving verse,
       
        To this Horizon is my
        
         Phoebus
        
        bound,
       
        His Godlike acts, and his temptations fierce,
       
        And former sufferings other where are found;
       
        Loud over 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 flattered fancy to belief,
       
        That Heaven and Earth are color'd with my woe;
       
        My sorrows are too dark for day to know:
       
        The leaves should all be black whereon I write,
       
        And letters where my tears have washed a wannish white.

       VI.
       
        See see the Chariot, and those rushing wheels,
       
        That whirl d the Prophet up at
        
         Chebar
        
        flood,
       
        My spirit some 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 Heavens richest store,
       
        And here though grief my feeble hands up-lock,
       
        Yet on the softened Quarry would I score
       
        My plaining verse as lively as before;
       
        For sure so well instructed are my tears,
       
        That they would fitly fall in order's Characters.

       VIII.
       
        Or should I thence hurried on viewles wing▪
       
        Take up a weeping on the Mountains wild,
       
        The gentle neighbourhood of grove and spring
       
        Would soon unboosom all thir Echoes mild,
       
        And I (for grief is easily beguild)
       
        Might think th'infection of my sorrows loud,
       
        Had got a race of mourners on some pregnant cloud.

This Subject the Author finding to be above the years he had, when he wrote it, and nothing satisfied with what was begun, left 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 thyself with what thy womb devours▪
       
        Which is no more then what is false and vain,
       
        And merely 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 consumed,
       
        Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss
       
        With an individual kiss;
       
        And Joy shall overtake us as a flood,
       
        When everything that is sincerely good
       
        And perfectly divine,
       
        With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine
       
        About the supreme Throne
       
        Of him, towhose happy-making sight alone,
       
        When once our heavenly-guided soul shall clime,
       
        Then all this Earthy grosnes quit,
       
        Attir'd with Stars, we shall forever sit,
       
        Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time▪

Upon the Circumcision.

        YE flaming Powers, and winged Warriours bright,
       
        That erst with Music, 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 fighs, and borrow
       
        Seas wept from our deep sorrow,
       
        He who with all Heavens heraldry whileare
       
        Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease;
       
        Alas, how soon our sin
       
        Sore doth begin
       
        His Infancy to cease!
       
        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, even to nakedness;
       
        And that great Cov'nant which we still transgress
       
        Intirely satisfied,
       
        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 Music.

        BLest pair of
        
         Sirens,
        
        pledges of Heavens joy,
       
        Sphere-born harmonious Sisters, Voice, and Vers,
       
        Wed your divine sounds, and mixed power employ
       
        Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce,
       
        And to our high-raised fantasy present,
       
        That undisturbed Song of pure content,
       
        Ay sung before the saphire-color'd throne
       
        To him that sits theron
       
        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 music that all creatures made
       
        To their great Lord, whose love their motion swayed
       
        In perfect 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 Heaven▪ till God ere long
       
        To his celestial consort us unite,
       
        To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light.

An Epitaph on the Marchioness of Winchester.

        THis rich Marble doth enterr
       
        The honor'd Wife of
        
         Winchester,
        
        A Vicounts daughter, an Earls heir,
       
        Besides what her virtues fair
       
        Added to her noble birth,
       
        More then she could own from Earth.
       
        Summers three times eight save one
       
        She had told, alas too soon,
       
        After so short time of breath,
       
        To house with darkness, and with death.
       
        Yet had the number of her days
       
        Bin as complete 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 quite for her request
       
        The God that sits at marriage feast;
       
        He at their invoking came
       
        But with a scarce-well lighted flame;
       
        And in his Garland as he stood,
       
        Ye might discern a Cipress 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 remorfles 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,
       
        Pluckit up by some unheedy swain,
       
        Who only thought to crop the flower
       
        New shot up from vernall shower;
       
        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 funeral.
       
        Gentle Lady may thy grave
       
        Peace and quiet ever have;
       
        After this thy travail sore
       
        Sweet rest cease thee evermore,
       
        That to give the world increase,
       
        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 some Flowers, and some Bays,
       
        For thy Hears to strew the ways,
       
        Sent thee from the banks of
        
         Came,
        
        Devoted to thy virtuous name;
       
        Whilst thou bright Saint high sit'st in glory▪
       
        Next her much like to thee in story,
       
        That fair
        
         Syrian
        
        Shepherdess,
       
        Who after years of barrenners,
       
        The highly favor'd
        
         Joseph
        
        bore
       
        To him that served 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 welcome 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, Days harbinger,
       
        Comes dancing from the
        
         •
        
        ast, 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 welcome thee, and wish thee long.

On Shakespear. 1630.

        WHat needs my
        
         Shakespear
        
        for his honor'd Bones,
       
        The labor of an age in piled Stones,
       
        Or that his hallow'd relics should be hid
       
        Under a Star-ypointing
        
         Pyramid?
        
        Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame,
       
        What needest thou such weak witness of thy name?
       
        Thou in our wonder and astonishment
       
        Hast built thyself a live-long Monument.
       
        For whilst toth'shame of slow-endeavoring art,
       
        Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart
       
        Hath from the leaves of thy unvalu'd Book,
       
        Those Delphic lines with deep impression took,
       
        Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving,
       
        Dost make us Marble with too much conceiving;
       
        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,
       
        A 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 years full,
       
        Dodg'd with him, betwixt
        
         Cambridge
        
        and the Bull.
       
        And surely, Death could never have prevailed,
       
        Had not his weekly cours of carriage failed;
       
        But lately finding him so long at home,
       
        And thinking now his journeys end was come,
       
        And that he had tane up his latest Inn,
       
        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 sed,
       
         Hobson
        
        has supt, and's newly gone 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 sphere-metal, never to decay
       
        Untill his revolution was at stay.
       
        Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime
       
        'Gainst old truth) motion numbered out his time;
       
        And like an Engin moved with wheel and weight,
       
        His principles being ceased, he ended strait,
       
        Re
        
         •
        
        t 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 hastened on his term.
       
        Meerly to drive the time away he sickn'd,
       
        Fainted, and died, nor would with Ale be quickn'd;
       
        Nay, quoth he, on his swooning bed outstretch'd,
       
        If I may not carry, sure I will never be fetched,
       
        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 did for heaviness that his Cart went light,
       
        His leisure told him that his time was come▪
       
        And lack of load, made his life burdensome,
       
        That even to his last breath (there be that sayit)
       
        As he were pressed 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 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 delivered all and gone,
       
        Only remains this superscription.

L'Allegro.

        HEnce loathed Melancholy
       
        Of
        
         Cerberus,
        
        and blackest midnight born,
       
        In
        
         Stygian
        
        Cave forlorn
       
        'Mongst horrid shapes, and shreiks, and sights unholy,
       
        Find out some uncouth cell,
       
        Wher 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
        
        defert ever dwell.
       
        But come thou God's fair and free,
       
        In Heaven 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 some Sager sing)
       
        The frolic 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 washed in dew,
       
        Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair.
       
        So bucksom, blith, and debonair.
       
        Haste thee nymph, 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 ye go
       
        On the light fantastic toe▪
       
        And in thy right hand lead with thee,
       
        The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty;
       
        And if I give thee honor due▪
       
        Mirth, admit me of thy crew
       
        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-tower in the skies,
       
        Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
       
        Then to come in spite of sorrow,
       
        And at my window bid good morrow,
       
        Through the Sweet-Briar, or the Vine,
       
        Or the twisted Eglantine.
       
        While the Cock with lively din,
       
        Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
       
        And to the stack, or the Barn door,
       
        Stoutly struts his Dames before,
       
        Oft list'ning how the Hounds and horn,
       
        Chearly rouse the slumbering morn,
       
        From the side of some 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,
       
        Wher the great Sun begins his state,
       
        Rob'd in flames, and Amber light,
       
        The clouds in thousand Liveries dight▪
       
        While the Plowman near 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,
       
        Russet Lawns, and Fallows Gray,
       
        Where the nibbling flocks do stray,
       
        Mountains on whose barren breast
       
        The laboring clouds do often rest:
       
        Meadows trim with Daisie
        
         •
        
        pide,
       
        Shallow Brooks, and Rivers wide.
       
        Towers, and Battlements it sees
       
        Boosom'd high in tufted Trees,
       
        Wher perhaps some 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,
       
        Som times with secure delight
       
        The up-land Hamlets will invite,
       
        When the merry Bells ring round▪
       
        And the jocond rebecks sound
       
        To many a youth, and many a maid,
       
        Dancing in the Chequer'd shade;
       
        And young and old come forth to play
       
        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 pinched, and pulled she sed,
       
        And he by Friars Lanthorn led
       
        Tells how the drudging
        
         Goblin
        
        sweet,
       
        To ern his Cream-bowle duly set,
       
        When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,
       
        His shadowy Flale hath thresh'd the Corn
       
        That ten day laborers could not end,
       
        Then lies him down the Lubbar Fend.
       
        And stretched out all the Chimney's length,
       
        Basks at the fire his hairy strength;
       
        And Crop-full out of doors he flings,
       
        Ere the first Cock his Mattin rings.
       
        Thus don the Tales, to bed they creep,
       
        By whispering Winds soon lulled asleep.
       
        Towred Cities please us then,
       
        And the busy humm of men,
       
        Where throngs of Knights and Barons bold,
       
        In weeds of Peace high triumphs hold,
       
        With store of Ladies, whose bright eyes
       
        Rain influence, and judge the prize
       
        Of Wit, or Arms, while both contend
       
        To win her Grace, whom 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 child,
       
        Warble his native Wood-notes wild,
       
        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 linked sweetness long drawn out,
       
        With wanton heed, and giddy cunning▪
       
        The melting voice through mazes running;
       
        Untwisting all the chains that ty
       
        The hidden soul of harmony.
       
        That
        
         Orpheus
        
        self may heave his head
       
        From golden slumber on a bed
       
        Of heaped
        
         Elysian
        
        flowers, 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 joys,
       
        The brood of folly without father bred,
       
        How little you bested,
       
        Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys;
       
        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.
       
        But hail thou God's, sage and holy,
       
        Hail divinest Melancholy,
       
        Whose Saintly visage 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
        
        reign,
       
        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, steadfast, and demure,
       
        All in a robe of darkest grain,
       
        Flowing with majestic 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 wrapped soul sitting in thine eyes:
       
        There held in holy passion still,
       
        Forget thyself to Marble, till
       
        With a sad Leaden downward cast,
       
        Thou fix them on the earth as fast.
       
        And join 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 add to these retired leisure,
       
        That in trim Gardens takes his pleasure;
       
        But first, and chiefest, with thee bring,
       
        Him that yon soars on golden wing,
       
        Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne,
       
        The Cherub Contemplation,
       
        And the mute Silence hist along,
       
        'Less
        
         Philomel
        
        will daign a Song,
       
        Id her sweetest, saddest plight,
       
        Smoothing the rugged brow of night,
       
        While
        
         Cynthia
        
        checks her Dragon yoke,
       
        Gently over th'accustomed Oke;
       
        Sweet Bird that shunn'st the noise of folly,
       
        Most musical, most melancholy▪
       
        Thee Chauntress oft the Woods among,
       
        I woo to hear thy eeven-Song;
       
        And missing thee, I walk unseen
       
        On the dry smooth-shaven Green▪
       
        To behold the wandering Moon▪
       
        Riding near her highest noon,
       
        Like one that had been led astray
       
        Through the Heavens wide pathles way;
       
        And oft, as if her head she bowed,
       
        Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
       
        Oft on a Plat of rising ground,
       
        I hear the far-off
        
         Curfeu
        
        sound,
       
        Over some wide-watered shore,
       
        Swinging slow with sullen roar;
       
        Or if the Air 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 drowsy charm,
       
        To bless the doors 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 come 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 made Hell grant what Love did seek.
       
        Or call up him that left half told
       
        The story of
        
         Cambuscan
        
        bold,
       
        Of
        
         Camball,
        
        and of
        
         Algarsife,
        
        And who had
        
         Canace
        
        to wife,
       
        That owned the virtuous Ring and Glass.
       
        And of the wondrous Hors of Brass,
       
        On which the
        
         Tartar
        
        King did ride;
       
        And if ought else, great
        
         Bards
        
        beside▪
       
        In sage and solemn tunes have sung▪
       
        Of Turneys and of Trophies hung▪
       
        Of Forests, and enchantments drear,
       
        Where more is meant then meets the ear.
       
        Thus night oft see me in thy pale career,
       
        Till civil-suited Morn appear,
       
        Not tricked and frouncit as she was wont,
       
        With the Attick Boy to hunt,
       
        But Cherchefit in a comely Cloud,
       
        While rocking Winds are Piping loud,
       
        Or ushered 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 God's bring
       
        To arched walks of twilight groves,
       
        And shadows brown that
        
         Sylvan
        
        loves
       
        Of Pine, or monumental Oak,
       
        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 profaner eye may look,
       
        Hide me from Day's garish eye,
       
        While the Be with Honied thie,
       
        That at her flowery work doth sing▪
       
        And the Waters murmuring
       
        With such consort as they keep,
       
        Entice the dewy-feather'd Sleep;
       
        And let some strange mysterious dream,
       
        Wave at his Wings in Airy stream,
       
        Of lively portrature displayed,
       
        Softly on my eye-lids laid.
       
        And as I wake, sweet music breath
       
        Above, about, or underneath,
       
        Sent by some spirit to mortals good,
       
        Or th'unseen Genius of the Wood.
       
        But let my due feet never fail,
       
        To walk the studious Cloisters pale,
       
        And love the high embowed Roof,
       
        With antick Pillars massy proof,
       
        And storied Windows richly dight,
       
        Casting a dim religious light.
       
        There let the pealing Organ blow,
       
        To the full voic'd Choir below,
       
        In Service high, and Anthems clear,
       
        As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
       
        Dissolve me into ecstasies,
       
        And bring all Heaven before mine eyes▪
       
        And may at last my weary age
       
        Find out the peaceful hermitage,
       
        The Hairy Gown and Mossy Cell,
       
        Where I may sit and rightly spell,
       
        Of every Star that Heaven doth show,
       
        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.

SONNETS.

       I.
       
        O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy Spray
       
        Warbl'st at eeve, when all the Woods are still,
       
        Thou with fresh hope the Lovers 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 Cuccoo's bill
       
        Portend success in love; O if
        
         Jove
        
        's will
       
        Have linked that amorous power to thy soft lay,
       
        Now timely sing, ere the rude Bird of Hate
       
        Foretell my hopeless doom in some Grove ny:
       
        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 honor
        
         •
        
        L'herbosa val di Rheno, e il
        
         •
        
        obil varc
        
         •
        
        ▪
       
        Ben e colui d'ogni valore scarco
       
        Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora,
       
        Che dolcemente mostra si di fuora
       
        De suoi atti soavi giamai parco,
       
        E i don', che son d'amor saette ed arc
        
         •
        
        ,
       
        L
        
         •
        
        onde l'alta tua virtù s'infiora.
       
        Quando tu vaga parli, o lieta canti
       
        Che mover possa duro alpestre legno,
       
        Guardi ciascun a gli occhi, ed a gli orecchi
       
        L'entrata, chi di te si truova indegno;
       
        Gratia sola di sù gli vaglia, inanti
       
        Che'l disio amoroso all cuor s'invecchi.

       III.
       
        Qual in colle aspro, all imbrunir di sera
       
        L'avezza giovinetta pastorella
       
        Va bagnando l'herbetta strana e bella
       
        Che mal si spande a disusata spera
       
        Fuor di sua natia alma primavera,
       
        Cosi Amor meco ins
        
         •
        
        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 may volse indarno.
       
        Deh! foss'il mio cuor lento e'l duro sen
        
         •
        
        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 stra
        
         •
        
        a
       
        Verseggiando d'amor, e come toosi?
       
        Dinne, se la tua speme sia may vana,
       
        E depensieri lo miglior toarrivi;
       
        Cosi mi van burlando, altri rivi
       
        Altri lidi toaspettan, & altre onde
       
        Nelle cui verdi sponde
       
        Spuntati ad hor, ad hor a la tua chioma
       
        L'immortal guiderdon d'eterne frondi
       
        Perche alle spalle tue soverchia soma?
       
         •
        
        anzon dirotti, e tu per me rispond
        
         •
        
        Dicemia Donna, e'l su
        
         •
        
        dir, e il mio cuore
       
        Questa e lingua di cui si vanta Amore.

       IV.
       
        Diodati, e te'l diro con maraviglia,
       
        Quel ritroso io ch'amor spreggiar solea
       
        E de suoi lacci spesso mi ridea
       
        Gia caddi, ov'huom dabben talhor s'impiglia▪
       
        Ne treccie d'oro, ne guancia vermiglia
       
        M'abbaglian si, ma sotto nova idea
       
        Pellegrin a bellezza che'l cuor bea,
       
        Portamenti alti honesti, e nelle ciglia
       
        Quel sereno fulgor d'amabil nero,
       
        Parole adorn 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 fuo
        
         •
        
        o
       
        Che l'incerar gli orecchi mi fia poco.

       V.
       
        Per certo i bei vostr'occhi Donna mi
        
         •
        
        Esser non puo che non
        
         •
        
        ian lo mio sole
       
        Si mi percuoton forte, come ei suol
        
         •
        
        Per l'arene di Libia chi s'invia▪
       
        Mentre un caldo vapor (ne senti pria)
       
        Da quel lato si spinge ove mi duole,
       
        Che forse amanti nelle lor parole
       
        Chiaman sospir; io non so che si sia:
       
        Parte rinchiusa, e turbida fi cela
       
        Scosso mi il petto, e poi n'uscendo poco
       
        Quivi d'attorno o s'agghiaccia, o s'ingiela;
       
        Ma quanto a gli occhi giunge a trovar loco
       
        Tutte le notti a me suol far piovose
       
        Finche mia Alba rivien colma di rose.

       VI.
       
        Giovane piano, e semplicetto amante
       
        Poi che fuggir me stesso in dubbio sono,
       
        Madonna a voi del mio cuor l'humil dono
       
        Faro divoto; io certo a prove tante
       
        L'hebbi fedele, intrepido, costa
        
         •
        
        te,
       
        De pensieri leggiadro, accorto, e buono;
       
        Quando rugge il gran mondo, e scocca il tuono,
       
        S'arma di se, e d' intero diamante,
       
        Tanto del forse, e d' invidia sicuro,
       
        Di timori, e speranze all popol use
       
        Quanto d'ingegno, e d'alto valor vago,
       
        E di cetra sonora, e delle muse:
       
        Sol troverete in tal parte men duro
       
        Ove Amor mise l'insanabil ago.

       VII.
       
        How soon hath Time the suttle thief of youth,
       
        Stoln on his wing my three and twentieth year!
       
        My hasting days fly on with full career,
       
        But my late spring no bud or blossom show'th.
       
        Perhaps my femblance might deceive the truth,
       
        That I to manhood am arrived so near,
       
        And inward ripeness doth much less appear,
       
        That some more timely-happy spirits indu'th▪
       
        Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,
       
        It shall be still in strictest measure eev'n,
       
        To that same lot, however mean, or high,
       
        Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven;
       
        All is, if I have grace to use it so,
       
        As ever in my great task Masters eye.

       VIII.
       
        Captain or Colonel, or Knight in Arms,
       
        Whose chance on these defenceless doors may cease,
       
        If ever deed of honor did thee please,
       
        Guard them, and him within protect from harms▪
       
        He can requite thee, for he knows the charms
       
        That call Fame on such gentle acts as these,
       
        And he can spread thy Name over Lands and Seas,
       
        What ever clime the Suns bright circle warms.
       
        Lift not thy spear against the Muses Bowre,
       
        The great
        
         Emathian
        
        Conqueror bid spare
       
        The house of
        
         Pindarus,
        
        when Temple and Tower
       
        Went to the ground: And the repeated air
       
        Of sad
        
         Electra's
        
        Poet had the power
       
        To save th'
        
         Athenian
        
        Walls from ruin bare.

       IX.
       
        Lady that in the prime of earliest youth,
       
        Wisely hast shunned the broad way and the green,
       
        And with those few art eminently seen,
       
        That labor up the Hill of heavenly Truth,
       
        The better part with
        
         Mary,
        
        and the
        
         Ruth,
        
        Chosen thou hast, and they that overween,
       
        And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen,
       
        No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth.
       
        Thy care is fixed, and zealously attends
       
        To fill thy odorous Lamp with deeds of light,
       
        And Hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure
       
        Thou, when the Bridegroom with his seastfull friends
       
        Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night,
       
        Hast gained thy entrance, Virgin wise and pure.

       X.
       
        Daughter to that good Earl, once President
       
        Of
        
         England's
        
        Counsel, and her Treasury,
       
        Who lived in both, unstained with gold or fee,
       
        And left them both, more in himself content,
       
        Till the sad breaking of that Parliament
       
        Broke him, as that dishonest victory
       
        At
        
         Chaeron
         
          •
         
         a,
        
        fatal to liberty
       
        Kil'd with report that Old man eloquent,
       
        Though later born, then to have known the days
       
        Wherein your Father flourished, yet by you
       
        Madam, me thinks I see him living yet;
       
        So well your words his noble virtues praise,
       
        That all both judge you to relate them true,
       
        And to possess them, Honor'd
        
         Margaret▪

Arcades.

Part of an entertainment presented to the Countess Dowager of Darby at Harefi • ld, by some Noble persons of her Family, who appear on the Scene in pastoral habit, moving toward the seat of State, with this Song.

1. SONG.

         LOok Nymphs, and Shepherds look,
        
         What sudden blaze of majesty
        
         Is that which we from hence descry
        
         Too divine to be mistook:
        
         This this is she
        
         To whom our vows and wishes bend,
        
         Heer our solemn search hath end.
        
          Fame
         
         that her high worth to raise,
        
         Seem'd erst so lavish and profuse,
        
         We may justly now accuse
        
         Of detraction from her praise,
        
         Less then half we find expressed,
        
          Envy
         
         bid conceal the rest.
        
         Ma
         
          •
         
         k what radiant state she spreds,
        
         In circle round her shining throne,
        
         Shooting her beams like silver threads,
        
         This this is she alone,
        
         Sitting like a God's bright,
        
         In the center of her light.
        
         Might she the wise
         
          Latona
         
         be,
        
         Or the towred
         
          Cybele,
         
         Mother of a hunderd gods;
        
          Juno
         
         dare's not give her odds;
        
         Who had thought this clime had held
        
         A deity so unparalel'd▪

As they come forward, the Genius of the Wood appears, and turning toward them, speaks.

         GEn.
        
         Stay gentle Swains, for though in this disguise,
        
         I see bright honor sparkle through your eyes,
        
         Of famous
         
          Ar
          
           •
          
          ady
         
         ye are, and sprung
        
         Of that renowned flood, so often sung,
        
         Divine
         
          Alpheus,
         
         who by secret sluse,
        
         Stole under Seas to meet his
         
          Arethuse;
         
         And ye the breathing Roses of the Wood,
        
         Fair silver-buskind Nymphs as great and good,
        
         I know this quest of yours, and free intent
        
         Was all in honor and devotion meant
        
         To the great Mistress of yon princely shrine,
        
         Whom with low reverence I adore as mine,
        
         And with all helpful service will comply
        
         To further this nights glad solemnity;
        
         And lead ye where ye may more near behold
        
         What shallow-searching
         
          Fame
         
         hath left untold▪
        
         Which I full oft amidst these shades alone
        
         Have sat to wonder at, and gaze upon:
        
         For know by lot from
         
          Jove
         
         I am the pour
        
         Of this fair Wood, and live in Oak'n bowr▪
        
         To nurse the Saplings tall, and curl the grove
        
         With Ringlets quaint, and wanton windings wove.
        
         And all my Plants I save from nightly ill,
        
         Of noisome winds, and blasting vapors chill.
        
         And from the Boughs brush off the evil dew,
        
         And heal the harms of thwarting thunder blew,
        
         Or what the cross dire-looking Planet smites,
        
         Or hurtful Worm with canker d venom bites.
        
         When Eev'ning gray doth rise, I fetch my round
        
         Over the mount, and all this hallow'd ground▪
        
         And early ere the odorous breath of morn
        
         Awakes the slumbering leaves, or tasseld horn
        
         Shakes the high thicket, haste I all about,
        
         Number my ranks, and visit every sprout
        
         With puissant words, and murmurs made to bless,
        
         But else in deep of night when drowsiness
        
         Hath locked up mortal sense, then listen I
        
         To the celestial
         
          Sirens
         
         harmony,
        
         That sit upon the nine enfolded Sphears,
        
         And sing to those that hold the vital shears,
        
         And turn the Adamantine spindle round,
        
         On which the fate of gods and men is wound.
        
         Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie,
        
         To lull the daughters of
         
          Necessity,
         
         And keep unsteddy Nature to her law,
        
         And the low world in measured motion draw
        
         After the heavenly tune, which none can hear
        
         Of human mould with gross unpurged ear;
        
         And yet such music worthiest were to blaze
        
         The peerles height of her immortal praise,
        
         Whose luster leads us, and for her most fit,
        
         If my inferior hand or voice could hit
        
         Inimitable sounds, yet as we go,
        
         What ere the skill of lesser gods can show▪
        
         I will assay, her worth to celebrate,
        
         And so attend ye toward her glittering state;
        
         Where ye may all that are of noble stemm
        
         Approach, and kiss her sacred vestures hemm▪

2. SONG.

         O'Re the smooth enameld green
        
         Where no print of step hath been,
        
         Follow me as I sing,
        
         And touch the warbled string.
        
         Under the shady roof
        
         Of branching Elm Star-proof.
        
         Follow me,
        
         I will bring you where she fits,
        
         Clad in splendor as befits
        
         Her deity.
        
         Such a rural Queen
        
         All
         
          Arcadia
         
         hath not seen.

3. SONG.

         NYmphs and Shepherds dance no more
        
         By sandy
         
          Ladons
         
         Lillied banks.
        
         On old
         
          Lycaeus
         
         or
         
          Cyllene
         
         hoar,
        
         Trip no more in twilight ranks,
        
         Though
         
          Erymanth
         
         your loss deplore,
        
         A better soil shall give ye thanks.
        
         From the stony
         
          Maenalus,
         
         Bring your Flocks, and live with us,
        
         Here ye shall have greater grace,
        
         To serve the Lady of this place.
        
         Though
         
          Syrinx
         
         your
         
          Paus
         
         Mistress were,
        
         Yet
         
          Syrinx
         
         well might wait on her.
        
         Such a rural Queen
        
         All
         
          Arcadia
         
         hath not seen.

Lycidas.

In this Monody the Author bewails a learned Friend, unfortunatly drowned in his Passage from Chester on the Irish Seas, 1637. And by occasion foretells the ruin of our corrupted Clergy then in their height.

        YEt once more, O ye Laurels, and once more
       
        Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never-sear,
       
        I come to pluck your Berries harsh and crude,
       
        And with forced fingers rude,
       
        Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year▪
       
        Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,
       
        Compels me to disturb your season due:
       
        For
        
         Lycidas
        
        is dead, dead ere his prime
       
        Young
        
         Lycidas,
        
        and hath not left his peer▪
       
        Who would not sing for
        
         Lycidas?
        
        he knew
       
        Himself to sing, and build the losty rhyme.
       
        He must not flote upon his watery bear
       
        Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,
       
        Without the meed of some melodious tear.

        Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well,
       
        That from beneath the seat of
        
         Jove
        
        doth spring,
       
        Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.
       
        Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse,
       
        So may some gentle Muse
       
        With lucky words favor my destined Urn,
       
        And as he passes turn,
       
        And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud.
       
        For we were nursed upon the self-same hill,
       
        Fed the same flock; by fountain, shade, and rill.

        Together both, ere the high Lawns appeared
       
        Under the opening eye-lids of the morn,
       
        We drove a field, and both together heard
       
        What time the Gray-fly winds her sultry horn,
       
        Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night,
       
        Oft till the Star that rose, at Ev'ning, bright
       
        Toward Heavens descent had slop'd his westering wheel.
       
        Mean while the Rural ditties were not mute,
       
        Temper'd to th'Oaten Flute,
       
        Rough
        
         S
         
          •
         
         tyrs
        
        danc'd, and
        
         Fauns
        
        with clov'n heel,
       
        From the glad sound would not be absent long,
       
        And old
        
         Damoetas
        
        loved to
        
         •
        
        ear our song.

        But O the heavy change, now thou art gone,
       
        Now thou art gone, and never must return▪
       
        Thee Shepherd, thee the Woods, and desert Caves▪
       
        With wild Thyme and the gadding Vine o
        
         •
        
        regrown,
       
        And all their echoes mourn.
       
        The Willows, and the Hazle Copses green,
       
        Shall now no more be seen,
       
        Fanning their joyous Leaves to thy soft lays.
       
        As killing as the Canker to the Rose,
       
        Or Taint-worm to the weanling Herds that graze.
       
        Or Frost to Flowers, that their gay wardrop wear,
       
        When first the White thorn blows;
       
        Such,
        
         Lycidas,
        
        thy loss to Shepherds ear.

        Where were ye Nymphs when the remorseless deep
       
        Clos'd over the head of your loved
        
         Lycidas?
        
        For neither were ye playing on the steep,
       
        Where your old
        
         Bards,
        
        the famous
        
         Druids
        
        ▪lie,
       
        Nor on the shaggy top of
        
         Mona
        
        high,
       
        Nor yet where
        
         Deva
        
        spreads her wisard stream:
       
        Ay me, I fondly dream!
       
        Had ye been there—for what could that have don?
       
        What could the Muse herself that
        
         Orpheus
        
        bore,
       
        The Muse herself, for her enchanting son
       
        Whom Universal nature did lament,
       
        When by the rout that made the hideous roar,
       
        His goary visage down the stream was sent,
       
        Down the swift
        
         Hebrus
        
        to the
        
         Letbian
        
        shore.

        Alas! What boots it with uncessant care
       
        To tend the homely slighted Shepherds trade,
       
        And strictly meditate the thankles Muse,
       
        Were it not better don as others use,
       
        To sport with
        
         Amaryllis
        
        in the shade,
       
        Or with the tangles of
        
         Neaera
        
        's hair?
       
         Fame
        
        is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
       
        (That last infirmity of Noble mind)
       
        To scorn delights, and live laborious days;
       
        But the fair Guerdon when we hope to find,
       
        And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
       
        Comes the blind
        
         Fury
        
        with th'abhorred shears,
       
        And slits the thin spun life. But not the praise,
       
         Phoebus
        
        replied, and touched my trembling ears;
       
         Fame
        
        is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
       
        Nor in the glistering foil
       
        Set off to th'world, nor in broad rumour lies,
       
        But lives and spreds aloft by those pure eyes,
       
        And perfetwitnes of all judging
        
         Jove;
        
        As he pronounces lastly on each deed,
       
        Of so much fame in Heaven expect thy meed.

        O Fountain
        
         Arcthuse,
        
        and thou honor'd flood,
       
        Smooth-sliding
        
         Mincius,
        
        crowned with vocal reeds.
       
        That strain I heard was of a higher mood:
       
        But now my Oate proceeds,
       
        And listens to the Herald of the Sea
       
        That came in
        
         Neptune's
        
        plea,
       
        He asked the Waves, and asked the Fellon winds,
       
        What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain?
       
        And questioned every gust of rugged wings
       
        That blows from off each beaked Promontory,
       
        They knew not of his story,
       
        And sage
        
         Hippotades
        
        their answer brings,
       
        That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd,
       
        The Air was calm, and on the level brine,
       
        Sleek
        
         Panope
        
        with all her sisters played.
       
        It was that fatal and perfidious Bark
       
        Built in th'eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,
       
        That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.

        Next
        
         Camus,
        
        reverend Sire, went footing slow,
       
        His Mantle hairy, and his Bonnet sedge,
       
        Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge
       
        Like to that sanguine flower inscrib'd with woe.
       
        Ah! Who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge?
       
        Last came, and last did go,
       
        The Pilot of the
        
         Galilean
        
        lake,
       
        Two massy Keys he bore of metals twain,
       
        (The Golden opes, the Iron shuts amain)
       
        He shook his Miter'd locks, and stern bespake,
       
        How well could I have spared for thee young swain.
       
        Anow of such as for their bellies sake,
       
        Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold?
       
        Of other care they little reck'ning make,
       
        Then how to scramble at the shearers feast,
       
        And shove away the worthy bidden guest.
       
        Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold
       
        A Sheep-hook, or have learned ought else the least
       
        That to the faithful Herdmans art belongs!
       
        What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;
       
        And when they list, their lean and flashy songs
       
        Grate on their scrannel Pipes of wretched straw,
       
        The hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed,
       
        But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw,
       
        Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread:
       
        Besides what the grim Woolf with privy paw
       
        Daily devours apace, and nothing sed,
       
        But that two-handed engine at the door,
       
        Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.

        Return
        
         Alpheus,
        
        the dread voice is past,
       
        That shrunk thy streams; Return
        
         Si
         
          •
         
         ilian
        
        Muse,
       
        And call the Vales, and bid them hither cast
       
        Their Bels, and Flourets of a thousand hues.
       
        Ye valleys low where the mild whispers use,
       
        Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,
       
        On whose fresh lap the swart Star sparely looks,
       
        Throw hither all your quaint enameld eyes,
       
        That on the green terf suck the honey
        
         •
        
        showers,
       
        And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
       
        Bring the rathe Primrose that forsaken dies.
       
        The tufted Crow-toe, and pale Gessamine,
       
        The white Pink, and the Pansie freakt with jeat,
       
        The glowing Violet.
       
        The Musk-rose, and the well attir'd Woodbine,
       
        With Cowslips wan that hang the pensive hed,
       
        And every flower that sad embroidery wears:
       
        Bid
        
         Amaranthus
        
        all his beauty shed,
       
        And Daffadillies fill their cups with tears,
       
        To strew the Laureat Herse where
        
         Lycid
        
        lies.
       
        For so to interpose a little ease,
       
        Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.
       
        Ay me! Whilst thee the shores, and sounding Seas
       
        Wash far away, where ere thy bones are hurld,
       
        Whether beyond the stormy
        
         Hebrides,
        
        Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide
       
        Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world;
       
        Or whether thou to our moist vows denied,
       
        Sleep'st by the fable of
        
         Bellerus
        
        old,
       
        Where the great vision of the guarded Mount
       
        Looks toward
        
         Namancos
        
        and
        
         Bayona
        
        's hold;
       
        Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth.
       
        And, O ye
        
         Dolphins,
        
        waft the haples youth.

        Weep no more, woeful Shepherds weep no more▪
       
        For
        
         Lycidas
        
        your sorrow is not dead,
       
        Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor,
       
        So sinks the day-star in the Ocean bed,
       
        And yet anon repairs his drooping head,
       
        And tricks his beams, and with new spangled Ore,
       
        Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
       
        So
        
         Lycidas
        
        sunk low, but mounted high,
       
        Through the dear might of him that walked the waves
       
        Where other groves, and other streams along,
       
        With
        
         Nectar
        
        pure his oozy Lock's he laves,
       
        And hears the unexpressive nuptial Song,
       
        In the blest Kingdoms meek of joy and love.
       
        There entertain him all the Saints above▪
       
        In solemn troops, and sweet Societies
       
        That sing, and singing in their glory move,
       
        And wipe the tears forever from his eyes▪
       
        Now
        
         Lycidas
        
        the Shepherds weep no more▪
       
        Hence forth thou art the Genius of the shore▪
       
        In thy large recompense, and shalt be good
       
        To all that wander in that perilous flood.

        Thus sang the uncouth Swain to th'Okes and rills▪
       
        While the still morn went out with Sandals gray,
       
        He touched the tender stops of various Quills,
       
        With eager thought warbling his
        
         Dorick
        
        lay:
       
        And now the Sun had stretched out all the hills,
       
        And now was dropt into the Western bay;
       
        At last he rose, and twitch'd his Mantle blew:
       
        To morrow to fresh Woods, and Pastures new▪

A MASK Of the same AUTHOR PRESENTED At LUDLOW -Castle, 1634.

Before The Earl of BRIDGEWATER Then President of WALES.

Anno Dom. 1645.

now to offer it up in all rightful devotion to those fair Hopes, and rare Endowments of your much-promising Youth, which give a full assurance, to all that know you, of a future excellence. Live sweet Lord to be the honor of your Name, and receive this as your own, from the hands of him, who hath by many favors been long obliged to your most honor'd Parents, and as in this representation your attendant Thyrsis, so now in all real expression

Your faithful, and most humble Servant
H. LAWES.

The Copy of a Letter Writt'n By Sir HENRY WOOTTON, To the Author, upon the following Poem.

From the College, this 13. of April, 1638.

SIR,

I T was a special favor, when you lately bestowed upon me here, the first taste of your acquaintance, though no longer then to make me know that I wanted more time to value it, and to enjoy it rightly; and in truth, if I could then have imagined your farther stay in these parts, which I understood afterwards by Mr. H., I would have been bold in our vulgar phrase to mend my draught (for you left me with an extreme thirst) and to have begged your conversation again, jointly with your said learned Friend, at a poor meal or two, that we might have banded together some good Authors of the ancient time: Among which, I observed you to have been familiar.

Since your going, you have charged me with new Obligations, both for a very kind Letter from you dated the sixth of this Month, and for a dainty piece of entertainment which came therewith. Wherein I should much commend the Tragical part, if the Lyrical did not ravish me with a certain Dorique delicacy in your Songs and Odes, whereunto I must plainly confess to have seen yet nothing parallel in our Language: Ipsa mollities. But I must not omit to tell you, that I now only owe you thanks for intimating unto me (how modestly soever) the true Artificer. For the work itself, I had viewed some good while before, with singular delight, having received it from our common Friend Mr. R. in the very close of the late R 's Poems, Printed at Oxford, whereunto it was added (as I now suppose) that the Accessory might help out the Principal, according to the Art of Stationers, and to leave the Reader Con la bocca dolce.

Now Sir, concerning your travels, wherein I may challenge a little more privilege of Discours with you; I suppose you will not blanch Paris in your way; therefore I have been bold to trouble you with a few lines to Mr. M. B. whom you shall easily find attending the young Lord S. as his Governor, and you may surely receive from him good directions for the shaping of your farther journey into Italy, where he did reside by my choice some time for the King, after mine own recess from Venice.

I should think that your best Line will be thorough the whole length of France to Marseilles, and thence by Sea to Genoa, whence the passage into Tuscany is as Diurnal as a Gravesend Barge: I hasten as you do to Florence, or Siena, the rather to tell you a short story from the interest you have given me in your safety.

At Siena I was tabled in the House of one Alberto Scipioni an old Roman Courtier in dangerous times, having been Steward to the Duca di Pagliano, who with all his Family were strangled, save this only man that escaped by foresight of the Tempest: With him I had often much chat of those affairs; Into which he took pleasure to look back from his Native Harbor; and at my departure toward Rome (which had been the center of his experience) I had wonn confidence enough to beg his advice, how I might carry myself securely there, without offense of others, or of mine own conscience. Signor Arrigo mio (says he) I pensieri stretti, & il viso sciolto will go safely over the whole World: Of which Delphian Oracle (for so I have found it) your judgment doth need no commentary; and therefore (Sir) I will commit you with it to the best of all securities, God's dear love, remaining

Your Friend as much at command as any of longer date
Henry Wootton.

Postscript.

SIR, I have expressly sent this my Foot-boy to prevent your departure without some acknowledgement from me of the receipt of your obliging Letter, having myself through some business, I know not how, neglected the ordinary conveyance. In any part where I shall understand you fixed, I shall be glad, and diligent to entertain you with Home-Novelties; even for some fomentation of our friendship, too soon interrupted in the Cradle.

The Persons.

The attendant Spirit afterwards in in the habit of Thyrsis.

Comus with his crew.

The Lady.
1. Brother.
2. Brother.
Sabrina the Nymph.

The chief persons which presented, were
The Lord Bracly,
Mr. Thomas Egerton his Brother,
The Lady Alice Egerton.

A MASK PRESENTED At LUDLOW-Castle, 1634. &c.

The first Scene discovers a wild Wood.

The attendant Spirit descends or enters.

         B
        
        Efore the starry threshold of
        
         Joves
        
        Court
       
        My mansion is, where those immortal shapes
       
        Of bright aëreal Spirits live insphear'd
       
        In Regions mild of calm and serene Air,
       
        Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot,
       
        Which men call Earth, and with low-thoughted care
       
        Confin'd, and pestered in this pin-fold here▪
       
        Strive to keep up a frail, and Feaverish being
       
        Unmindfull of the crown that Virtue gives
       
        After this mortal change, to her true Servants
       
        Amongst the enthron'd gods on Sainted seats.
       
        Yet some there be that by due steps aspire
       
        To lay their just hands on that Golden Key
       
        That ope's the Palace of Eternity:
       
        To snch my errand is, and but for such,
       
        I would not soil these pure Ambrosial weeds,
       
        With the rank vapors of this Sin-worn mould.

        But to my task.
        
         Neptune
        
        besides the sway
       
        Of every salt Flood, and each ebbing Stream,
       
        Took in by lot 'twixt high, and nether
        
         Jove,
        
        Imperial rule of all the Sea-girt Isles
       
        That like to rich, and various gems inlay
       
        The unadorned boosom of the Deep,
       
        Which he to grace his tributary gods
       
        By course commits to several government,
       
        And gives them leave to wear their Sapphire crowns▪
       
        And wield their little tridents, but this I will
       
        The greatest, and the best of all the main
       
        He quarters to his blu hair'd deities,
       
        And all this tract that front the falling Sun
       
        A noble Peer of mickle trust, and power
       
        Has in his charge, with tempered awe to guide
       
        An old, and haughty Nation proud in Arms:
       
        Where his fair offspring nursit in Princely lore,
       
        Are coming to attend their Fathers state,
       
        And new-entrusted Scepter, but their way
       
        Lies through the perplexit paths of this drear Wood▪
       
        The nodding horror of whose shady brows
       
        Threats the forlorn and wandering Passinger.
       
        And here their tender age might suffer peril,
       
        But that by quick command from Soveran
        
         Jove
        
        I'was dispatched for their defense, and guard;
       
        And listen why, for I will tell ye now
       
        What never yet was heard in Tale or Song
       
        From old, or modern Bard in Hall, or Bowr.

         Baccbus
        
        that first from out the purple Grape,
       
        Crushit the sweet poison of mis-used Wine
       
        After the
        
         Tuscan
        
        Mariners transformed
       
        Coasting the
        
         Tyrrhene
        
        shore, as the winds listed,
       
        On
        
         Circes
        
        Island fell (who knows not
        
         Circe
        
        The daughter of the Sun? Whose charmed Cup
       
        Whoever tasted, lost his upright shape,
       
        And downward fell into a groveling Swine)
       
        This Nymph that gaz'd upon his clustring locks,
       
        With Ivy berries wreath'd, and his blithe youth,
       
        Had by him, ere he parted thence, a Son
       
        Much like his Father, but his Mother more,
       
        Whom therefore she brought up and
        
         Comus
        
        named,
       
        Who ripe, and frolic of his full grown age,
       
        Roaving the
        
         Celtick,
        
        and
        
         Iberian
        
        fields,
       
        At last betakes him to this ominous Wood,
       
        And in thick shelter of black shades imbowr'd,
       
        Excells hi
        
         •
        
        Mother at her mighty Art,
       
         •
        
        ffring to every weary Travailer,
       
        His orient liquor in a Crystal Glass,
       
        To quench the drouth of
        
         Phoebus,
        
        which as they taste
       
        (For most do
        
         •
        
        as
        
         •
        
        e through fond intemperate thirst)
       
        Soon as the Potion works, their human count'rance,
       
        Th'express resemblance of the gods, is changed
       
        Into some brutish form of Woolf, or Bear,
       
        Or Ounce, or Tiger, Hog, or bearded Goat,
       
        All other parts remaining as they were,
       
        And they, so perfect is their misery,
       
        Not once perceive their foul disfigurement,
       
        But boast themselves more comely then before
       
        And all their friends, and native home forget
       
        To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty.
       
        Therefore when any favor'd of high
        
         Jove,
        
        Chances to pass through this adventrous glade,
       
        Swift as the Sparkle of a glancing Star,
       
        I shoot from Heaven to give him safe convoy,
       
        As now I do: But first I must put off
       
        These my skierobes spun out of
        
         Iris
        
        Wooff,
       
        And take the Weeds and likeness of a Swain,
       
        That to the service of this house belongs,
       
        Who with his sost Pipe, and smooth-dittied Song,
       
        Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar,
       
        And hush the waving Woods, nor of less faith,
       
        And in this office of his Mountain watch,
       
        Likeliest, and nearest to the present aid
       
        Of this occasion. But I hear the tread
       
        Of hateful steps, I must be viewles now.

Comus enters with a Charming Rod in one hand, his Glass in the other, with him a rout of Monsters headed like sundry sorts of wild Beasts, but otherwise like Men and Women, their Apparel glistering, they come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with Torches in their hands.

        Comus.
       
        The Star that bids the Shepherd fold,
       
        Now the top of Heaven doth hold,
       
        And the gilded Car of Day,
       
        His glowing Axle doth allay
       
        In the steep
        
         Atlantic
        
        stream,
       
        And the slope Sun his upward beam
       
        Shoots against the dusky Pole▪
       
        Pacing toward the other gole
       
        Of his Chamber in the East.
       
        Mean while welcome Joy, and Feast,
       
        Midnight shout, and revelry,
       
        Tipsie dance, and Jollity.
       
        Braid your Locks with rosie Twine
       
        Dropping odors, dropping Wine.
       
        Rigor now is gone to bed,
       
        And Advice with scrupulous head,
       
        Strict Age, and sour Severity,
       
        With their grave Saws in slumber lie.
       
        We that are of purer fire▪
       
        I mitate the Starry Choir,
       
        Who in their nightly watchful Sphears,
       
        Lead in swift round the Months and Years.
       
        The Sounds, and Seas with all their finny drove
       
        Now to the Moon in wavering Morrice move,
       
        And on the Tawny Sands and Shelves,
       
        Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves;
       
        By dimpled Brook, and Fountain brim,
       
        The Wood-Nymohs decked with Daisies trim,
       
        Their merry wakes and pastimes keep▪
       
        What hath night to do with sleep?
       
        Night hath better sweets to prove,
       
         Venus
        
        now wakes, and wak'ns Love.
       
        Com let us our rights begin,
       
        It is only day-light that makes Sin
       
        Which these dun shades will never report.
       
        Hail Goddess of Nocturnal sport
       
        Dark vaild
        
         Cotytto,
        
        towhom the secret flame
       
        Of mid-night Torches burns; mysterious Dame
       
        That never art called, but when the Dragon woom
       
        Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom,
       
        And makes one blot of all the air,
       
        Stay thy cloudy Ebon chair,
       
        Wherein thou rid'st with
        
         Hecat',
        
        and befriend
       
        Us thy vowed Priests, till utmost end
       
        Of all thy due be done, and none left out▪
       
        Ere the blabbing Eastern scout,
       
        The nice Morn on th'
        
         Indian
        
        steep
       
        From her cabin'd loop hole peep,
       
        And to the tell-tale Sun descry
       
        Our concealed Solemnity.
       
        Com, knit hands, and beat the ground,
       
        In a light fantastic round.
       
        The Measure.
       
        Break off, break off, I feel the different pace,
       
        Of some chaste footing near about this ground,
       
        Run to your shrouds, within these Brakes and Trees,
       
        Our number may affright: Som Virgin sure
       
        (For so can distinguish by mine Art)
       
        Benighted in these Woods. Now to my charms,
       
        And to my wily trains, I shall e're long
       
        Be well stockit with as fair a herd as graz'd
       
        About my Mother
        
         Circe.
        
        Thus I hurl
       
        My dazzling Spells into the spongy air,
       
        Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion,
       
        And give it false presentments, lest the place
       
        And my quaint habits breed astonishment,
       
        And put the Damsel to suspicious flight,
       
        Which must not be, for that's against my course;
       
        I under fair pretence of friendly ends,
       
        And well placit words of glozing courtesy
       
        Baited with reasons not unplausible
       
        Wind me into the easy-hearted man,
       
        And hug him into snares. When once her eye
       
        Hath met the virtue of this Magic dust,
       
        I shall appear some harmless Villager
       
        Whom thrift keeps up about his Country gear▪
       
        But here she comes, I fairly step aside
       
        And hearken, if I may, her business here.
       
        The Lady enters.
       
        This way the noise was, if mine ear be true,
       
        My best guide now, me thought it was the sound
       
        Of Riot, and ill managed Merriment,
       
        Such as the jocond Flute, or gamesom Pipe
       
        Stirs up among the loose unleter'd Hinds,
       
        When for their teeming Flocks, and granges full
       
        In wanton dance they praise the bounteous
        
         Pan,
        
        And thank the gods amiss. I should be loath
       
        To meet the rudeness, and swill'd insolence
       
        Of such late Wassailers; yet O where else
       
        Shall I inform my unacquainted feet
       
        In the blind maze of this tangl'd Wood?
       
        My Brothers when they saw me wearied out
       
        With this long way, resolving here to lodge
       
        Under the spreading favor of these Pines,
       
        Stept as they se'd to the next Thicket side
       
        To bring me Berries, or such cooling fruit
       
        As the kind hospitable Woods provide.
       
        They left me then, when the gray-hooded Eev'n
       
        Like a sad Votarist in Palmers weed
       
        Rose from the hindmost wheels of
        
         Phoebus
        
        wain.
       
        But where they are, and why they came not back,
       
        Is now the labor of my thoughts, 'tis likeliest
       
        They had engaged their wandering steps too far,
       
        And envious darkness, e're they could return,
       
        Had stole them from me, else O thievish Night
       
        Why shouldst thou, but for some fellonious end,
       
        In thy dark lantern thus close up the Stars,
       
        That nature hung in Heaven, and filled their Lamps
       
        With everlasting oil, to give due light
       
        To the misled and lonely Travailer?
       
        This is the place, as well as I may guess,
       
        Whence eev'n now the tumult of loud Mirth
       
        Was rife, and perfet in my list'ning ear,
       
        Yet naught but single darkness do I find▪
       
        What might this be? A thousand fantasies
       
        Begin to throng into my memory
       
        Of calling shapes, and beckning shadows dire,
       
        And airy tongues, that syllable men's names
       
        On Sands, and Shoars, and desert Wildernesses.
       
        These thoughts may startle well, but not astound
       
        The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended
       
        By a strong siding champion Conscience.—
       
        O welcome pure ey'd Faith, white-handed Hope,
       
        Thou hovering Angel girt with golden wings,
       
        And thou unblemishit form of Chastity,
       
        I see ye visibly, and now believe
       
        That he, the Supreme good, towhom all things ill
       
        Are but as slavish officers of vengeance,
       
        Would send a glistering Guardian if need were
       
        To keep my life and honor unassail'd.
       
        Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud
       
        Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
       
        I did not err, there does a sable cloud
       
        Turn forth her silver lining on the night,
       
        And casts a gleam over this tufted Grove.
       
        I cannot hallow to my Brothers, but
       
        Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest
       
        I will venter, for my new enliv'nd spirits
       
        Prompt me; and they perhaps are not far off.

SONG.

         Sweet Echo, sweetest Nympb that liv'st unseen
        
         Within thy airy shell
        
         By slow
         
          Meander's
         
         margent green,
        
         And in the violet imbroider'd vale
        
         Where the love-lorn Nightingale
        
         Nightly to thee her sad Song mourneth well.
        
         C
         
          ••
         
         st thou not tell me of a gentle Pair
        
         That likest thy
         
          Narcissus
         
         are?
        
         O if thou have
        
         Hid them in some flowery Cave,
        
         Tell me but where
        
         Sweet Queen of Parly, Daughter of the Sphere▪
        
         So mayest thou be translated to the skies,
        
         And give resounding grace to all Heavens Harmonies.

         Com.
        
         Can any mortai mixture of Earths mould
        
         Breath such Divine enchanting ravishment?
        
         Sure something holy lodges in that breast,
        
         And with these raptures moves the vocal air
        
         To testify his hidd'n residence;
        
         How sweetly did they float upon the wings
        
         Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night
        
         At every fall smoothing the Raven down
        
         Of darkness till it smiled: I have oft heard
        
         My Mother
         
          Circe
         
         with the Sirens three,
        
         Amidst the flowery-kirtl'd
         
          Naiades
         
         Culling their Potent herbs, and balefull drugs,
        
         Who as they sung, would take the prison'd soul,
        
         And lap it in
         
          Elysium, Scylla
         
         wept,
        
         And chid her barking waves into attention,
        
         And fell
         
          Charybdis
         
         murmur'd soft applause:
        
         Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled the sense,
        
         And in sweet madness robbed it of itself,
        
         But such a sacred▪ and home-felt delight,
        
         Such sober certainty of waking bliss
        
         I never heard till now. I will speak to her
        
         And she shall be my Queen. Hail foreign wonder
        
         Whom certain these rough shades did never breed
        
         Unless the God's that in rural shrine
        
         Dwell st here with
         
          Pan,
         
         or
         
          Silvan,
         
         by blest Song
        
         Forbidding every bleak unkindly Fog
        
         To touch the prosperous growth of this tall Wood▪

         La
        
         Nay gentle Shepherd ill is lost that praise
        
         That is addrest to unattending Ears,
        
         Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift
        
         How to regain my severed company
        
         Compel'd me to awake the courteous Echo
        
         To give me answer from her mossie Couch.

Co.

What chance good Lady hath bereft you thus?

La.

Dim darkness, and this leavy Labyrinth.

Co.

Could that divide you from near-ushering guides?

La.

They left me weary on a grassie terf.

Co.

By falsehood, or discourtesy▪ or why?

La.

To seek in the valley some cool friendly Spring.

Co.

And left your fair side all unguarded Lady?

La.

They were but twain, and purposed quick return.

Co.

Perhaps fore-stalling night prevented them.

La.

How easy my misfortune is to hit!

Co.

Imports their loss, beside the present need?

La.

No less then if I should my brothers loose.

Co.

Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom?

La.

As smooth as Hebe 's their unrazor'd lips.

         Co.
        
         Two such I saw, what time the labor'd Ox
        
         In his loose traces from the furrow came,
        
         And the swinkit hedger at his Supper sat;
        
         I saw them under a green mantling vine
        
         That crawls along the side of yon small hill,
        
         Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots,
        
         Their port was more then human, as they stood▪
        
         I took it for a faery vision
        
         Of some gay creatures of the element
        
         That in the colors of the Rainbow live
        
         And play in the plighted clouds. I was awe-struck,
        
         And as I past, I worshipped; if those you seek
        
         It were a journey like the path to Heaven,
        
         To help you find them.

La.

Gentle villager

What readiest way would bring me to that place?

Co.

Due west it rises from this shrubby point.

La.

To find out that, good Shepherd, I suppose,

In such a scant allowance of Star-light,

Would overtask the best Land-Pilots art,

Without the sure guess of well-practiz'd feet.

         Co.
        
         I know each lane, and every alley green
        
         Dingle, or bushy dell of this wild Wood,
        
         And every bosky bourn from side to side
        
         My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood▪
        
         And if your stray attendance be yet lodged,
        
         Or shroud within these limits, I shall know
        
         Ere morrow wake, or the low roosted lark
        
         From her thachit palate rouse, if otherwise▪
        
         I can conduct you Lady to a low
        
         But loyal cottage, where you may be safe
        
         Till further quest'.

         La.
        
         Shepherd I take thy word,
        
         And trust thy honest offered courtesy,
        
         Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds
        
         With smoky rafters, then in tapstry Halls
        
         And Courts of Princes, where it first was named,
        
         And yet is most pretended: In a place
        
         Less warranted then this, or less secure
        
         I cannot be, that I should fear to change it,
        
         Eie me blest Providence, and square my trial
        
         To my proportioned strength. Shepherd lead on.

The two Brothers.

         Eld. Bro.
        
         Unmuffle ye faintstars, and thou fair Moon
        
         That wontst to love the travelers benizon,
        
         Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud,
        
         And disinherit
         
          Chaos,
         
         that reigns here
        
         In double night of darkness, and of shades;
        
         Or if your influence be quite damm'd up
        
         With black usurping mists, some gentle taper
        
         Though a rush Candle from the wicker hole
        
         Of some clay habitation visit us
        
         With thy long level'd rule of streaming light,
        
         And thou shalt be our star of
         
          Arcady,
         
         Or
         
          Tyrian
         
         Cynosure▪ 2
         
          Bro.
         
         Or if our eyes
        
         Be bar'd that happiness, might we but hear
        
         The folded flocks penned in their watled cotes,
        
         Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops,
        
         Or whistle from the Lodge, or village cock
        
         Count the night watches to his feathery Dames,
        
         T'would be some solace yet, some little cheering
        
         In this close dungeon of innumerous bows.
        
         But O that haples virgin our lost sister
        
         Where may she wander now, whether betake her
        
         From the chill dew, amongst rude burrs and thistles?
        
         Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now
        
         Oragainst the rugged bark of some broad Elm
        
         Leans her unpillow'd head fraught with sad fears.
        
         What if in wild amazement, and affright,
        
         Or while we speak within the direful grasp
        
         Of Savage hunger, or of Savage heat▪

         Eld. Bro.
        
         Peace brother, be not over-exquisite
        
         To cast the fashion of uncertain evils;
        
         For grant they be so, while they rest unknown,
        
         What need a man forestall his date of grief,
        
         And run to meet what he would most avoid?
        
         Or if they be but false alarms of Fear,
        
         How bitter is such self-delusion?
        
         I do not think my sister so to seek,
        
         Or so unprincipl'd in virtues book,
        
         And the sweet peace that goodness boosoms ever,
        
         As that the single want of light and noise
        
         (Not being in danger, as I trust she is not)
        
         Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts,
        
         And put them into mis-becoming plight.
        
         Virtue could see to do what virtue would
        
         By her own radiant light, though Sun and Moon
        
         Were in the flat Sea sunk. And Wisdoms self
        
         Oft seeks to sweet retired Solitude,
        
         Where with her best nurse Contemplation
        
         She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings
        
         That in the various bussle of resort
        
         Were all to ruffl'd, and sometimes impaired.
        
         He that has light within his own clear breast
        
         May sit in the center, and enjoy bright day,
        
         But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts
        
         Benighted walks under the mid-day Sun;
        
         Himself is his own dungeon.

         2.
         
          Bro.
         
         It is most true
        
         That musing meditation most affects
        
         The Pensive secrecy of desert cell,
        
         Far from the cheerful haunt of men, and herds,
        
         And sits as safe as in a Senate house,
        
         For who would rob a Hermit of his Weeds,
        
         His few Books, or his Beads, or Maple Dish,
        
         Or do his gray hairs any violence?
        
         But beauty like the fair Hesperian Tree
        
         Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard
        
         Of dragon watch with uninchanted eye,
        
         To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit
        
         From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.
        
         You may as well spread out the unsun'd heaps
        
         Of Misers treasure by an out-laws den,
        
         And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope
        
         Danger will wink on Opportunity,
        
         And let a single helpless maiden pass
        
         Uninjur'd in this wild surrounding wast.
        
         Of night, or lonelines it recks me not,
        
         I fear the dred events that dog them both,
        
         Lest some ill greeting touch attempt the person
        
         Of our unowned sister.

         Eld. Bro.
        
         I do not, brother,
        
         Inferr, as if I thought my sisters state
        
         Secure without all doubt, or controversy:
        
         Yet where an equal poise of hope and fear
        
         Does arbitrate th'event, my nature is
        
         That I incline to hope, rather then fear,
        
         And gladly banish squint suspicion.
        
         My sister is not so defenceless left
        
         As you imagine, she has a hidden strength
        
         Which you remember not.

2. Bro.

What hidden strength,

Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that?

         Eld. Bro.
        
         I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength
        
         Which if Heaven gave it, may be termed her own:
        
         'It is chastity, my brother, chastity:
        
         She that has that, is clad in complete steel,
        
         And like a quiver'd Nymph with Arrows keen
        
         May trace huge Forests, and unharbour'd Heaths,
        
         Infamous Hills, and sandy perilous wildes,
        
         Where through the sacred rays of Chastity,
        
         No savage fierce, Bandite, or mountaneer
        
         Will dare to soil her Virgin purity,
        
         Yea there, where very desolation dwells
        
         By grots, and caverns shag'd with horrid shades,
        
         She may pass on with unblenchit majesty,
        
         Be it not don in pride, or in presumption.
        
         Som say no evil thing that walks by night
        
         In fog, or fire, by lake, or moorish fen,
        
         Blew meager Hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost,
        
         That breaks his magic chains at
         
          curfeu
         
         time▪
        
         No goblin, or swart Faëry of the mine,
        
         Hath hurtful power over true virginity.
        
         Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call
        
         Antiquity from the old Schools of Greece
        
         To testify the arms of Chastity?
        
         Hence had the huntress
         
          Dian
         
         her dred bow
        
         Fair silver-shafted Queen forever chaste,
        
         Wherwith she tamed the brinded lioness
        
         And spotted mountain pard, but set at naught
        
         The frivolous bolt of
         
          Cupid,
         
         gods and men
        
         Fear'd her stern frown, and she was queen of theWoods.
        
         What was that snaky-headed
         
          Gorgon
         
         shield
        
         That wise
         
          Minerva
         
         wore, unconquer d Virgin,
        
         Wherwith she freez'd her foes to congeal'd stone?
        
         But rigid looks of Chast austerity,
        
         And noble grace that dashit brute violence
        
         With sudden adoration, and blank awe.
        
         So dear to Heaven is Saintly chastity,
        
         That when a soul is found sincerely so,
        
         A thousand liveried Angels lacky her,
        
         Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,
        
         And in clear dream, and solemn vision
        
         Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear,
        
         Till oft convers with heavenly habitants
        
         Begin to cast a beam on th'outward shape,
        
         The unpolluted temple of the mind,
        
         And turns it by degrees to the souls essence,
        
         Till all be made immortal: but when lust
        
         By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,
        
         But most by lewd and lavish act of sin,
        
         Lets in defilement to the inward parts,
        
         The soul grows clotted by contagion,
        
         Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite loose
        
         The divine property of her first being.
        
         Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp
        
         Oft seen in Charnell vaults, and Sepulchers
        
         Lingering, and sitting by a new made grave,
        
         As loath to leave the body that it loved,
        
         And linkit itself by carnal sensualty
        
         To a degenerate and degraded state.

         2.
         
          Bro.
         
         How charming is divine Philosophy▪
        
         Not harsh, and crabbed as dull fools suppose,
        
         But musical as is
         
          Apollo
         
         's lute,
        
         And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets,
        
         Where no crude surfeit reigns.

Eld. Bro.

List, list, I hear

Som far off hallow break the silent Air.

2. Bro.

Me thought so too; what should it be?

Eld. Bro.

For certain

Either someone like us night-founder'd here,

Or else some neighbor Wood-man, or at worst,

Som roaving Robber calling to his fellows.

2 Bro.

Heaven keep my sister, agen agen and near,

Best draw, and stand upon our guard.

Eld. Bro.

I will hallow,

If he be friendly he comes well, if not,

Defense is a good cause, and Heaven be for us.

The attendant Spirit habited like a Shepherd.

That hallow I should know, what are you? speak;

Com not too near, you fall on iron stakes else.

Spir.

What voice is that, my young Lord? speak agen •

2. Bro.

O brother, 'tis my father Shepherd sure.

         El. Bro.
        
          Thyrsis?
         
         Whose artful strains have oft delaid
        
         The huddling brook to hear his madrigal,
        
         And sweetened every muskrose of the dale,
        
         How camest thou here good Swain? hath any ram
        
         Slipit from the fold, or young Kid lost his dam,
        
         Or straggling weather the penit flock forsook▪
        
         How couldst thou find this dark sequester'd nook?

         Spir.
        
         O my loved masters heir, and his next joy,
        
         I came not here on such a trivial toy
        
         As a stray'd Ewe, or to pursue the stealth
        
         Of pilfering Woolf, not all the fleecy wealth
        
         That doth enrich these Downs, is worth a thought
        
         To this my errand, and the care it brought.
        
         But O my Virgin Lady, where is she?
        
         How chance she is not in your company?

Eld. Bro.

To tell thee sadly Shepherd, without blame,

Or our neglect, we lost her as we came▪

Spir.

Ay me unhappy then my fears are true.

El. Bro.

What fears good Thyrsis? Prethee briefly show.

         Spir.
        
         I will tell ye, 'tis not vain, or fabulous,
        
         (Though so esteemed by shallow ignorance)
        
         What the sage Poets taught by th'heavenly Muse,
        
         Storied of old in high immortal verse
        
         Of dire
         
          Chimera
         
         's and enchanted Isles,
        
         And
         
          •
         
         ifted Rocks whose entrance leads to hell,
        
         For such there be, but unbelief is blind.
        
         Within the navil of this hideous Wood,
        
         Immur'd in cypress shades a Sorcerer dwells
        
         Of
         
          Bacchus,
         
         and of
         
          Circe
         
         born, great
         
          Comus,
         
         Deep skilled in all his mothers witcheries,
        
         And here to every thirsty wanderer,
        
         By sly enticement gives his baneful cup,
        
         With many murmurs mixed, whose pleasing poison
        
         The visage quite transforms of him that drinks,
        
         And the inglorious likeness of a beast
        
         Fixes instead, unmoulding reasons mintage
        
         Character'd in the face; this have I learned
        
         Tending my flocks hard by in the hilly crofts,
        
         That brow this bottom glade, whence night by night
        
         He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl
        
         Like stabl'd wolves, or tigers at their prey,
        
         Doing abhorred rites to
         
          Hecate
         
         In their obscured haunts of inmost bowres.
        
         Yet have they many baits, and guileful spells
        
         To inveigle and invite th'unwary sense
        
         Of them that pass unweeting by the way▪
        
         This evening late by then the chewing flocks
        
         Had ta'n their supper on the savoury Herb
        
         Of Knot-grass dew
         
          •
         
         besprent, and were in fold▪
        
         I sat me down to watch upon a bank
        
         With Ivy canopied, and interwove
        
         With flaunting Honey-suckle, and began
        
         Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy
        
         To meditate my rural minstrelsie,
        
         Till fancy had her fill, but ere a close
        
         The wonted roar was up amidst the Woods,
        
         And filled the Air with barbarous dissonance▪
        
         At which I ceasit, and listen'd them a while,
        
         Till an unusual stop of sudden silence
        
         Gave respite to the drowsy frighted steeds
        
         That draw the litter of close-curtain'd sleep.
        
         At last a soft and solemn breathing sound
        
         Rose like a steam of rich distill d Perfumes,
        
         And stole upon the Air, that even Silence
        
         Was took e're she was ware, and wishit she might
        
         Deny her nature, and be never more
        
         Still to be so displacit. I was all ear,
        
         And took in strains that might create a soul
        
         Under the ribs of Death, but O ere long
        
         Too well I did perceive it was the voice
        
         Of my most honor'd Lady, your dear sister.
        
         Amaz'd I stood, harrow'd with grief and fear,
        
         And O poor hapless Nightingale thought I,
        
         How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare!
        
         Then down the Lawns I ran with headlong hast
        
         Through paths, and turnings oft'n trod by day,
        
         Till guided by mine ear I found the place
        
         Where that damned wisard hid in sly disguise
        
         (For so by certain signs I knew) had met
        
         Already, ere my best speed could praevent,
        
         The aidless innocent Lady his wishit prey,
        
         Who gently asked if he had seen such two,
        
         Supposing him some neighb our villager;
        
         Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guessit
        
         Ye were the two she meanit, with that I sprung
        
         Into swift flight, till I had found you here,
        
         But further know I not.

         2.
         
          Bro.
         
         O night and shades,
        
         How are ye join'd with hell in triple knot
        
         Against th'unarmed weakness of one Virgin
        
         Alone, and helpless! Is this the confidence
        
         You gave me Brother?

         Eld. Bro.
        
         Yes, and keep it still,
        
         Lean on it safely, not a period
        
         Shall be unsaid for me: against the threats
        
         Of malice or of sorcery, or that power
        
         Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firm,
        
         Virtue may be assail'd, but never hurt,
        
         Surpriz'd by unjust force, but not enthrall'd,
        
         Yea even that which mischief meant most harm,
        
         Shall in the happy trial prove most glory.
        
         But evil on itself shall back recoyl,
        
         And mix no more with goodness, when at last
        
         Gather'd like scum, and setl'd to itself
        
         It shall be in eternal restless change
        
         Self-fed, and self-consumed, if this fail,
        
         The pillar'd firmament is rott'nness,
        
         And earths base built on stubble. But come let's on▪
        
         Against th'opposing will and arm of Heaven
        
         May never this just sword be lifted up,
        
         But for that damned magician, let him be girt
        
         With all the greisly legions that troop
        
         Under the sooty flag of
         
          Acheron,
         
          Harpyies
         
         and
         
          Hydra
         
         's, or all the monstrous forms
        
         'Twixt
         
          Africa,
         
         and
         
          Jude,
         
         I will find him out,
        
         And force him to restore his purchase back,
        
         Or drag him by the curls, to a foul death,
        
         Curs d as his life.

         Spir.
        
         Alas good venturous youth,
        
         I love thy courage yet, and bold Emprise,
        
         But here thy sword can do thee little stead,
        
         Far other aries, and other weapons must
        
         Be those that
         
          〈…〉
         
         of hellish charms,
        
         He with his bare wand can untared thy joints,
        
         And crumble all thy sinews.

Eld. Bro.

Why prithee Shepherd

How durst thou then thyself approach so near

As to make this relation?

         Spir.
        
         Care and utmost shifts
        
         How to secure the Lady from surprisal,
        
         Brought to my mind a certain Shepherd Lad
        
         Of small regard to see to, yet well skilled
        
         In every virtuous plant and healing herb
        
         That spreds her verdant leaf to th'morning ray,
        
         He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing,
        
         Which when I did, he on the tender grass
        
         Would sit, and hearken even to ecstacy,
        
         And in requital ope his leather'n scrip,
        
         And show me simples of a thousand names
        
         Telling their strange and vigorous faculties;
        
         Amongst the rest a small unsightly root,
        
         But of divine effect, he culled me out;
        
         The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it,
        
         But in another Country, as he said,
        
         Bore a bright golden flower, but not in this soil:
        
         Unknown, and like esteemed, and the dull swayn
        
         Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon,
        
         And yet more medicinal is it then that
         
          Moly
         
         That
         
          Hermes
         
         once to wise
         
          Ulysses
         
         gave;
        
         He called it
         
          H
          
           •
          
          emony,
         
         and gave it me,
        
         And bad me keep it as of sovran use
        
         'Gainst all enchantments, mildew blast, or damp
        
         Or gastly furies apparition;
        
         I pursit it up, but little reck'ning made,
        
         Till now that this extremity compel'd,
        
         But now I find it true; for by this means
        
         I knew the foul enchanter though disguised,
        
         Enter'd the very lime-twigs of his spells,
        
         And yet came off: if you have this about you
        
         (As I will give you when we go) you may
        
         Boldly assault the necromancers hall;
        
         Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood,
        
         And brandishit blade rush on him, break his glass,
        
         And shed the lushious liquor on the ground,
        
         But cease his wand, though he and his cursed crew
        
         Feirce sign of battle make, and menace high,
        
         Or like the sons of
         
          Vulcan
         
         vomit smoke,
        
         Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink.

Eld. Bro.

Thyrsis lead on apace, I will follow thee,

And some good angel bear a shield before us.

The Scene changes to a stately Palace, set out with all manner of deliciousness: soft Music, Tables spread with all dainties. Comus appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an enchanted Chair, to whom he offers his Glass, which she puts by, and goes about to rise.

Comus.

Nay Lady sit; if I but wave this wand,

Your nervs are all chained up in Alablaster,

And you a statue; or as Daphne was

Root-bound, that fled Apollo,

La.

Fool do not boast,

Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind

Withall thy charms, although this corporal rind▪

Thou haste immanacl'd, while Heaven sees good.

         Co.
        
         Why are you vext Lady? why do you frown?
        
         Here dwell no frowns, nor anger, from these gates
        
         Sorrow flies far: See here be all the pleasures
        
         That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts,
        
         When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns
        
         Brisk as the
         
          April
         
         buds in Primrose-season,
        
         And first behold this cordial Julep here
        
         That flames, and dances in his crystal bounds
        
         With spirits of balm, and fragrant Syrops mixed▪
        
         Not that
         
          Nepenthes
         
         which the wife of
         
          Thone,
         
         In
         
          Egypt
         
         gave to
         
          Jove
         
         -born
         
          Helena
         
         Is of such power to stir up joy as this,
        
         To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst▪
        
         Why should you be so cruel to yourself,
        
         And to those dainty limms which nature lent
        
         For gentle usage, and soft delicacy?
        
         But you invert the cov'nants of her trust,
        
         And harshly deal like an ill borrower
        
         With that which you received on other terms,
        
         Scorning the unexempt condition
        
         By which all mortal frailty must subsist,
        
         Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,
        
         That have been tired all day without repast,
        
         And timely rest have wanted, but fair Virgin
        
         This will restore all soon.

         La.
        
         'Twill not false traitor,
        
         'Twill not restore the truth and honesty
        
         That thou hast banishit from thy tongue with lies,
        
         Was this the cottage, and the safe abode
        
         Thou told'st me of? What grim aspects are these,
        
         These oughly-headed Monsters? Mercy guard me!
        
         Hence with thy brewed enchantments, foul deceiver,
        
         Hast thou betrai'd my credulous innocence
        
         With visor'd falsehood, and base forgery,
        
         And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here
        
         With lickerish baits fit to ensnare a brute?
        
         Were it a draft for
         
          Juno
         
         when she banquets,
        
         I would not taste thy treasonous offer; none
        
         But such as are good men can give good things,
        
         And that which is not good, is not delicious
        
         To a well governed and wise appetite.

         Co.
        
         O foolishness of men! that lend their ears
        
         To those budge doctors of the
         
          Stoic
         
         Furr,
        
         And fetch their precepts from the
         
          Cynic
         
         Tub,
        
         Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence.
        
         Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth,
        
         With such a full and unwithdrawing hand,
        
         Covering the earth with odors, fruits, and flocks,
        
         Thronging the Seas with spawn innumerable,
        
         But all to please, and sat the curious taste?
        
         And set to work millions of spinning Worms,
        
         That in their green shops weave the smooth-hair'd silk
        
         To deck her Sons, and that no corner might
        
         Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins
        
         She hutchit th'all-worshipped ore, and precious gems
        
         To store her children with; if all the world
        
         Should in a pet of temperance feed on Pulse,
        
         Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but Freize,
        
         Th'all-giver would be unthankit, would be unprais'd,
        
         Not half his riches known, and yet despised,
        
         And we should serve him as a grudging master,
        
         As a penurious niggard of his wealth,
        
         And live like Natures bastards, not her sons,
        
         Who would be quite surcharg'd with her own weight,
        
         And strangl'd with her waste fertility;
        
         Th'earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air darkit with plumes,
        
         The herds would over-multitude their Lord's,
        
         The Sea o'refraught would swell, & th'unsought diamonds
        
         Would so emblaze the forehead of the Deep,
        
         And so bestudd with Stars, that they below
        
         Would grow inur'd to light, and come at last
        
         To gaze upon the Sun with shameless brows.
        
         List Lady be not coy, and be not cosen'd
        
         With that same vaunted name Virginity,
        
         Beauty is natures coin, must not be hoarded.
        
         But must be currant, and the good thereof
        
         Consists in mutual and partak'n bliss,
        
         Unsavoury in th'enjoyment of itself
        
         If you let slip time, like a neglected rose
        
         It withers on the stalk with languishit head.
        
         Beauty is natures brag, and must be shown
        
         In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities
        
         Where most may wonder at the workmanship;
        
         It is for homely features to keep home,
        
         They had their name thence; course complexions
        
         And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply
        
         The sampler, and to teize the huswifes wool.
        
         What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that
        
         Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the Morn?
        
         There was another meaning in these gifts,
        
         Think what, and be adviz'd, you are but young yet.

         La.
        
         I had not thought to have unlocked my lips
        
         In this unhallow'd air, but that this Juggler
        
         Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes
        
         Obtruding false rules pranckt in reasons garb.
        
         I hate when vice can bolt her arguments,
        
         And virtue has no tongue to check her pride:
        
         Impostor do not charge most innocent nature,
        
         As if she would her children should be riotous
        
         With her abundance, she good cateress
        
         Means her provision only to the good
        
         That live according to her sober laws,
        
         And holy dictate of spare Temperance:
        
         If every just man that now pines with want
        
         Had but a moderate and beseeming share▪
        
         Of that which lewdly-pampered Luxury
        
         Now heaps upon some few with vast excess,
        
         Natures full blessings would be well dispencit
        
         In unsuperfluous eeven proportion,
        
         And she no whit encumber'd with her store,
        
         And then the giver would be better thankit,
        
         His praise due paid, for swinish gluttony
        
         Ne're looks to Heaven amidst his gorgeous feast,
        
         But with besotted base ingratitude
        
         Cramms, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on?
        
         Or have I said enough? To him that dares
        
         Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words
        
         Against the Sun-clad power of Chastity,
        
         Fain would I something say, yet to what end?
        
         Thou hast nor Eare, nor Soul to apprehend
        
         The sublime notion, and high mystery
        
         That must be uttered to unfold the sage
        
         And serious doctrine of Virginity,
        
         And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know
        
         More happiness then this thy present lot.
        
         Enjoy your deer Wit, and gay Rhetoric
        
         That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence,
        
         Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced;
        
         Yet should I try, the uncontrolled worth
        
         Of this pure cause would kindle my rapit spirits
        
         To such a flame of sacred vehemence,
        
         That dumb things would be moved to sympathize,
        
         And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,
        
         Till all thy magic structures reared so high,
        
         Were shattered into heap over thy false head.

         Co.
        
         She fa
         
          ••••
         
         not, I feel that I do fear
        
         Her words
         
          •
         
         t off by some superior power;
        
         And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddring dew
        
         Dips me all over, as when the wrath of
         
          Jove
         
         Speaks thunder, and the chain
         
          •
         
         of
         
          Erebus
         
         To some of
         
          Saturns
         
         crew. I must dissemble,
        
         And try her yet more strongly. Com, no more,
        
         This is mere moral babble, and direct
        
         Against the canon laws of our foundation;
        
         I must not suffer this, yet 'tis but the lees
        
         And s
         
          •
         
         tling
         
          •
         
         of a melancholy blood;
        
         But this will cure all straight, one sip of this
        
         Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight
        
          •
         
         eyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste.—

The Brothers rush in with Swords drawn, wrest his Glass out of his hand, and break it against the ground; his rout make sign of resistance, but are all driven in; The attendant Spirit comes in.

         Spir.
        
         What, have you let the false enchanter scape?
        
         O ye mistook, ye should have s
         
          •
         
         atcht his wand
        
         And bound him fast; without his rod reversit,
        
         And backward mutters of dissevering power,
        
         We cannot free the Lady that sits here
        
         In stony fetters fixed, and motionless;
        
         Yet stay, be not disturbed, now I bethink me,
        
         Som other means I have which may be used,
        
         Which once of
         
          Melibaeus
         
         old I learnt
        
         The soothest Shepherd that ere pipit on plains.
        
         There is a gentle Nymph not fair from hence,
        
         That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream,
        
          Sabrina
         
         is her name, a Virgin pure,
        
         Whilom she was the daughter of
         
          Locrine,
         
         That had the Scepter from his father
         
          Brute.
         
         She guiltless damsel flying the mad pursuit
        
         Of her enraged stepdam
         
          Guendolen,
         
         Commended her fair innocence to the flood
        
         That stayed her flight with his cross flowing course,
        
         The water Nymphs that in the bottom plaid,
        
         Held up their pearled wrists and took her in,
        
         Bearing her straight to aged
         
          Nereus
         
         Hall,
        
         Who piteous of her woes, reared her lank head,
        
         And gave her to his daughters to imbathe
        
         In nectar'd lavers strewed with Asphodil,
        
         And through the porch and inlet of each fence
        
         Dropt in Ambrosial Oils till she revived,
        
         And underwent a quick immortal change
        
         Made Goddess of the River; still she retains
        
         Her maid'n gentleness, and oft at Eeve
        
         Visits the herds along the twilight meadows,
        
         Helping all urchin blasts, and ill luck signs
        
         That the shrewd meddling Elfe delights to make,
        
         Which she with precious viold liquors heals.
        
         For which the Shepherds at their festivals
        
         Carrol her goodness loud in rustic lays,
        
         And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream
        
         Of pancies, pinks, and gaudy Daffadils.
        
         And, as the old Swain said, she can unlock
        
         The clasping charm, and thaw the numming spell,
        
         If she be right invokit in warbled Song,
        
         For maid'nhood she loves, and will be swift
        
         To aid a Virgin, such as was herself
        
         In hard besetting need, this will I try
        
         And add the power of some adjuring verse.

SONG.

         Sabrina fair
        
         Listen where thou art fitting
        
         Under the glassie, cool, translucent wave▪
        
         In twisted braids of Lilies knitting
        
         The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair▪
        
         Listen for dear honors sake,
        
         Goddess of the silver lake,
        
         Listen and save.

         Listen and appear to us
        
         In name of great
         
          Oceanus,
         
         By the earth-shaking
         
          Neptune
         
         's mace,
        
         And
         
          Tethys
         
         grave majestic pace,
        
         By hoary
         
          Nereus
         
         wrincled look,
        
         And the
         
          Carpathian
         
         wizards hook,
        
         By scaly
         
          Tritons
         
         winding shell,
        
         And old sooth-saying
         
          Glaucus
         
         spell,
        
         By
         
          Leucothea
         
         's lovely hands,
        
         And her son that rules the strands,
        
         By
         
          Thetis
         
         tinsel-slipper'd feet,
        
         And the Songs of
         
          Sirens
         
         sweet,
        
         By dead
         
          Parthenope
         
         's dear tomb,
        
         And fair
         
          Ligea
         
         's golden comb,
        
         Wherwith she sits on diamond rocks
        
         Sleeking her soft alluring locks,
        
         By all the
         
          Nymphs
         
         that nightly dance
        
         Upon thy streams with wily glance,
        
         Rise, rise, and heave thy rosie head
        
         From thy coral pav'
         
          •
         
         bed,
        
         And bridle in thy headlong wave,
        
         Till thou our summons answered have.
        
         Listen and save.

Sabrina rises, attended by water-Nymphes, and sings.

         By the rushy-fringed bank,
        
         Where grows the Willow and the Osier dank▪
        
         My sliding Chariot stays,
        
         Thick set with Agat, and th
         
          ••
         
         azurn sheen
        
         Of Turkis blew, and Emrauld green
        
         That in the channel strayes,
        
         Whilst from off the waters fleet
        
         Thus I set my printless feet
        
         O're the Cowslips Velvet head,
        
         That bends not as I tread,
        
         Gentle swain at thy request
        
         I am here.

         Spir.
        
         Goddess dear
        
         We implore thy powerful hand
        
         To undo the charmed band
        
         Of true Virgin here distrest,
        
         Through the force, and through the wile
        
         Of unblest enchanter vile.

         Sab.
        
         Shepherd 'tis my office best
        
         To help ensnared chastity;
        
         Brightest Lady look on me,
        
         Thus I sprinkle on thy breast
        
         Drops that from my fountain pure,
        
         I have kept of precious cure,
        
         Thrice upon thy fingers tip,
        
         Thrice upon thy rubied lip,
        
         Next this marble venom'd seat
        
         Smear'd with gumms of glutenous heat
        
         I touch with chaste palms moist and cold,
        
         Now the spell hath lost his hold;
        
         And I must haste ere morning hour
        
         To wait in
         
          Amphitrite
         
         's bowr.

Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat.

         Spir.
        
         Virgin, daughter of
         
          Locrine
         
         Sprung of old
         
          Anchises
         
         line,
        
         May thy brimmed waves for this
        
         Their full tribute never miss
        
         From a thousand petty rills,
        
         That tumble down the snowy hills:
        
         Summer drouth, or singed air
        
         Never scorch thy tresses fair,
        
         Nor wet
         
          Octobers
         
         torrent flood
        
         Thy molten crystal fill with mudd,
        
         May thy billows roll ashoar
        
         The beryl, and the golden ore,
        
         May thy lofty head be crowned
        
         With many a tower and terrass round,
        
         And here and there thy banks upon
        
         With Groves of myrrh, and cinnamon.
        
         Com Lady while Heaven lends us grace,
        
         Let us fly this cursed place,
        
         Lest the Sorcerer us entice
        
         With some other new device.
        
         Not a waste, or needless sound
        
         Till we come to holier ground,
        
         I shall be your faithful guide
        
         Through this gloomy covert wide,
        
         And not many furlongs thence
        
         Is your Fathers residence,
        
         Where this night are met in state
        
         Many a friend to gratulate
        
         His wishit presence, and beside
        
         All the Swains that there abide,
        
         With Jiggs, and rural dance resort,
        
         We shall catch them at their sport,
        
         And our sudden coming there
        
         Will double all their mirth and chere;
        
         Com let us haste, the Stars grow high,
        
         But night sits monarch yet in the mid sky.

The Scene changes presenting Ludlow Town and the Presidents Castle, then come in Country-Dancers, after them the attendant Spirit, with the two Brothers and the Lady.

SONG.

         Spir.
        
         Back Shepherds, back, enough your play,
        
         Till next Sun-shine holiday,
        
         Here be without duck or nod
        
         Other trippings to hetrod
        
         Of lighter toes, and such Court guise
        
         As
         
          Mercury
         
         did first devise
        
         With the mincing
         
          Dryades
         
         On the Lawns, and on the Leas.

This second Song presents them to their father and mother.

         Noble Lord, and Lady bright,
        
         I have brought ye new delight,
        
         Here behold so goodly grown
        
         Three fair branches of your own,
        
         Heaven hath timely tried their youth,
        
         Their saith, their patience, and their truth.
        
         And sent them here through hard assays
        
         With a crown of deathless Praise,
        
         To triumph in victorious dance
        
         O're sensual Folly, and Intemperance.

The dances ended, the Spirit Epilognizer.

         Spir.
        
         To the Ocean now I fly,
        
         And those happy climes that lie
        
         Where day never shuts his eye,
        
         Up in the broad fields of the sky:
        
         There I suck the liquid air
        
         All amidst the Gardens fair
        
         Of
         
          Hesperus,
         
         and his daughters three
        
         That sing about the golden tree:
        
         Along the crisped shades and bowres
        
         Revels the spruce and jocond Spring,
        
         The Graces, and the rosie-boosom'd Howres▪
        
         Thither all their bounties bring,
        
         That there eternal Summer dwells,
        
         And West winds, with musky wing
        
         About the cedar'n alleys fling
        
          Nard,
         
         and
         
          Cassia
         
         's balmy smells.
        
          Iris
         
         there with humid bow,
        
         Waters the odorous banks that blow
        
         Flowers of more mingled hew
        
         Then her purf
         
          •
         
         d scarf can show,
        
         And drenches with
         
          Elysian
         
         dew
        
         (List mortals, if your ears be true)
        
         Beds of
         
          Hyacinth,
         
         and roses
        
         Where young
         
          Adonis
         
         oft reposes,
        
         Waxing well of his deep wound
        
         In slumber soft, and on the ground
        
         Sadly sits th'
         
          Assyrian
         
         Queen;
        
         But far above in spangled sheen
        
         Celestial
         
          Cupid
         
         her famed Son advancit,
        
         Holds his dear
         
          Psyche
         
         sweet intrancit
        
         After her wandering labors long,
        
         Till free consent the gods among
        
         Make her his eternal Bride,
        
         And from her fair unspotted side
        
         Two blissful twins are to be born,
        
         Youth and Joy; so
         
          Jove
         
         hath sworn.
        
         But now my task is smoothly don,
        
         I can fly, or I can run
        
         Quickly to the green earths end,
        
         Where the bowed welkin slow doth bend,
        
         And from thence can soar as soon
        
         To the corners of the Moon.
        
         Mortals that would follow me,
        
         Love virtue, she alone is free,
        
         She can teach ye how to clime
        
         Higher then the Spheary chime▪
        
         Or if Virtue feeble were,
        
         Heaven itself would stoop to her.

The End.

Joannis Miltoni LONDINENSIS POEMATA▪

Quorum pleraque intra Annum aetatis Vigesimum Conscripsit.

Nunc primum Edita.

LONDINI, Typis R. R. Prostant ad Insignia Principis, in Coemeterio D. Pauli, ar ud Humphredum Moseley. 1645.

H AEc quae sequuntur de Authore testimonia, tametsi ipse intelligebat non tam de se quàm supra se esse dicta, eo quod preclaro ingenio viri, nec non amici ita fere solent laudare, ut omnia suis potius virtutibus, quàm veritati congruentia nimis cupide affingant, noluit tamen horum egregiam in se voluntatem non esse notam; Cum alii praesertim ut id faceret magnopere suaderent. Dum enim nimiae laudis invidiam totis ab se viribus amolitur, sibique quod plus aequo est non attributum esse mavult, judicium interim hominum cordatorum atque illustrium quin summo sibi honori ducat, negare non potest.

Joannes Baptista Mansus, Marchio Villensis Neapolitanus ad Joannem Miltonium Anglum.

UT men's, forma, decor, facies, mos, si pietas sie,

Non Anglus, verùm hercle Angelus ipse sores.

       Ad Joannem Miltonem Anglum triplici poeseos laureâ coronandum Graecâ nimirum, Latinâ, atque Hetruscâ, Epigramma Joannis Salsilli Romani.
       
        CEde Meles, cedat depressa Mincius urna;
       
        Sebetus Tassum desinat usque loqui;
       
        At Thamesis victor cunctis ferat altior undas
       
        Nam per te Milto par tribus unus erit.

Ad Joannem Miltonum.

GRaecia Maeonidem, jactet sibi Roma Maronem,

Anglia Miltonum jactat utrique parem. Selvaggi.

Al Signor Gio. Miltoni Nobile Inglese.

ODE.

        ERgimi ali' Etra o Clio
       
        Perche di stelle intrecciero corona
       
        Non più del Biondo Dio
       
        La Fronde eterna in Pindo, e in Elicona,
       
        Diensi a merto maggior, maggiori i fregi,
       
        A'celeste virtù celesti pregi.

        Non puo del tempo edace
       
        Rimaner preda, eterno alto valore
       
        Non puo l'oblio rapace
       
        Furar dalle memory eccelso onore,
       
        Su l'arco di mia cetra un dardo forte
       
        Virtù m'adatti, e feriro la morte.

        Del Ocean profondo
       
        Cinta dagli ampi gorghi Anglia risiede
       
        Separata dal mondo,
       
        Pero che il suo valor l'umano ec
        
         •
        
        ede
       
        Questa feconda sà produrre Eroi,
       
        Ch' hanno a ragion del sovruman tra noi.

        Alla virtù sbandita
       
        Danno ne i petti lor fido ricetto,
       
        Quella gli e sol gradita,
       
        Perche in lei san trovar gioia, e diletto;
       
        Ridillo tu Giovanni e mostra in tanto
       
        Con tua vera virtù, vero il mio Canto.

        Lungi dal Patrio lido
       
        Spinse Zeusi l'industre ardent brama;
       
        Ch' udio d' Helena il grido
       
        Con aurea tromba rimbombar la fama,
       
        E per poterla effigiare all paro
       
        Dalle più belle Idee trasse il priù raro.

        Cosi l' Ape Ingegnosa
       
        Trae con industria il suo liquor pregiato
       
        Dal giglio e dalla rosa,
       
        E quanti vaghi fiori ornano il prato;
       
        Formano un dolce suon diverse Chorde,
       
        Fan vary voci melodia concord.

        Di bella gloria amante
       
        Milion dal Ciel natio per vary parti
       
        Le peregrine piante
       
        Volgesti a ricercar scienze, ed arti;
       
        Del Gallo regnator vedesti i Regni,
       
        E dell' Italia ancor gl'Eroi piu degni.

        Fabro quasi divino
       
        Sol virtù rintracciando il tuo pensiero
       
        Vide in ogni confino
       
        Chi di nobil valor calcail sentiero;
       
        L' ottimo dal miglior dopo scegliea
       
        Per fabbricar a'ogni virtu l' Idea.

        Quanti nacquero in Flora
       
        O in lei del parlar Tosco appreser l'art,
       
        La cui memoria onora
       
        Il mondo fatta eterna in dotte carte,
       
        Volesti ricercar per tuo tesoro,
       
        E parlasti con lor nell' opre loro.

        Nell' altera Babelle
       
        Per te il parlar confuse Giove in vano,
       
        Che per vary favelle
       
        Di se stessa trofeo cadde su'l piano:
       
        Ch' Ode oltr' all Anglia il suo piu degno Idioma
       
        Spagna, Francia, Toscana, e Grecia e Roma▪

        I piu profondi arcani
       
        Ch' occulta la natura e in eielo e in terra
       
        Ch'á Ingegni sovrumani
       
        Troppo avar a tal'hor gli chiude, e serra,
       
        Chiaramente conosci, e giungi all fine
       
        Della moral virtud▪ all gran confine.

        Non batta il Tempo l' ale,
       
        Fermisi immoto, e in un fermin si gl' anni,
       
        Che di virtù immortale
       
        S
        
         •
        
        orron di troppo ingiuriosi a i danni▪
       
        Ch
        
         •
        
        s'opre d
        
         •
        
        gne di Poema o storia
       
        Furon gia, l'hai presenti alla memoria,

        Dammi tua dolce Cetra
       
        Se vuoi ch'io dica del tuo dolce canto,
       
        Ch' inalzandoti all' Etra
       
        Di farti huomo celeste otticne il vanto,
       
        Il Tamigi il dir à che gl' e concesso
       
        Per te suo cigno pareggiar Permesso.

        I o che in riva del Arno
       
        Tento spiegar tuo merto alto, e preclaro
       
        So che fatico indarno,
       
        E ad ammir ar, non a lodar lo imparo;
       
        Freno dunque la lingua, e ascolto il core
       
        Che ti prende a lodar con lo stupore.

Del sig. Antonio Francini gentilhuomo Fiorentino.

JOANNI MILTONI LONDINIENSI.

Juveni Patria, virtutibus eximio,

VIro qui multa peregrinatione, studio cuncta orbis terrararum loca perspexit, ut novus Ulysses omnia ubique ab omnibus apprehenderet.

Polyglotto, in cujus ore linguae jam deperditae sic reviviscunt, ut idiomata omnia sint in ejus laudibus infacunda; Et jure ea percallet ut admirationes & plausus populorum ab propria sapientia excitatos, intelligat.

Illi, cujus animi dotes corporisque, sensus ad admirationem commovent, & per ipsam motum cuique auferunt; cujus opera ad plausus hortantur, sed vastitate vocem laudatoribus adimunt.

Cui in Memoria totus Orbis: In intellectu Sapientia. in voluntate ardor gloriae. in ore Eloquentia: Harmoni cos celestium Sphaerarum sonitus Astronomia Duce audieuti, Characteres mirabilium naturae per quos Dei magnitudo describitur magistra Philosophia legenti; Antiquitatum latebras, vetustatis excidia, eruditionis ambages comite assidua autorum Lectione.

Exquirenti, restauranti, percurrenti.

At cur nitor in arduum?

Illi in cujus virtutibus evulgandis ora Famae non sufficiant, nec hominum stupor in laud and is satis est, Reverentiae & amoris ergo hoc ejus meritis debitum admirationis tributum offert Carolus Datus Patricius Florentinus.

Tanto homini servus, tantae virtutis amator.

ELEGIARUM Liber primus.

Elegia prima ad Carolum Diodatum.

          T
         
         Andem, chare, tuae mihi pervenere tabellae,
        
         Pertulit & voces nuntia charta tuas,
        
         Pertulit occiduâ Devae Cestrensis ab orâ
        
         Vergivium prono qu
         
          •
         
         petit amne salum.
        
         Multùm creed juvat terras aluisse remotas
        
         Pectus amans nostri, tamque fidele caput,
        
         Quodque mihi lepidum tellus longinqua sodalem
        
         Debet, at unde brevi reddere jussa velit.
        
         Me tenet urbs refluâ quam Thamesis alluit undâ▪
        
         Meque nec invitum patria dulcis habet.
        
         Jam nec arundiferum mihi cura revisere Camum,
        
         Nec dudum vetiti melaris angit amor.
        
         Nuda nec arva placent, umbrasque negantia molle
        
         Quàm male Phoebicolis convenit ill locus!
        
         Nec duri libet usque minas perferre magistri
        
         Caeteraque ingenio non subeunda meo,
        
         Si sit hoc exilium patrios adiisse penates,
        
         Et vacuum curis otia grata sequi,
        
         Non ego vel p
         
          •
         
         ofugi nomen, sortemve recuso,
        
         Laetus & exilii conditione fruor.
        
         O utinam vates nunquam graviora tulisset
        
         Ille Tomitano flebilis exul agro;
        
         Non tunc Jonio quicquam cessisset Homero
        
         Neve foret victo I
         
          •
         
         us tibi prima Maro.
        
         Tempora nam licet hic placidis dare libera Musis,
        
         Et totum rapiunt me mea vita libri.
        
         Excipit hinc fessum sinuosi pompa theatri,
        
         Et vocat ad plausus garrula scena suos.
        
         Seu catus auditur senior, seu prodigus haeres,
        
         Seu procus, aut posit
         
          •
         
         casside miles adest,
        
         Sive decennali foecundus lite patronus
        
         Detonat inculto barbara verba foro,
        
         Saepe vafer gnato succurrit servus amanti,
        
         Et nasum rigidi fallit ubique Patris;
        
         Saepe novos illic virgo mirata calores
        
         Quid sit amor nescit, dum quoque nescit, amat▪
        
         Sive cruentatum furiosa Tragoedia sceptrum
        
         Quassat, & effusis crinibus ora rotat,
        
         Et dolet, & specto, juvat & spectasse dolendo,
        
         Interdum & lacrymis dulcis amaror inest:
        
         Seu pure infelix indelibata reliquit
        
         Gaudia, & abrupto flendus amore eadit,
        
         Seu ferus e tenebris iterat Styga criminis ultor
        
         Conscia funereo pectora torre movens,
        
         Seu maeret Pelopeia domus, seu nobilis Ili,
        
         Aut luit incestos aula Creontis avos.
        
         Sed neque sub tecto semper nec in urbe latemus,
        
         Irrita nec nobis tempora veris eunt.
        
         Nos quoque lucus habet vicinâ consitus ulmo
        
         Atque suburbani nobilis umbra loci.
        
         Saepius hic blandas spirantia sydera flammas
        
         Virgineos videas praeteriisse choros.
        
         Ah quoties dignae stupui miracula formae
        
         Quae posset senium vel reparare Iovis;
        
         Ah quoties vidi superantia lumina gemmas,
        
         Atque faces quotquot volvit uterque polus;
        
         Collaque bis vivi Pelopis quae brachia vincant,
        
         Quae que fluit puro nectare tincta via,
        
         Et decus eximium frontis▪ tremulosque capillos,
        
         Aurea quae fallax retia tendit Amor.
        
         Pellacesque genas, ad quas hyacinthina sordet
        
         Purpura, & ipse tui floris, Adoni, rubor.
        
         Cedite laudatae toties Heroides olim,
        
         Et quaecunque vagum cepit amica Jovem,
        
         Cedite Achaemeniae turritâ front puellae,
        
         Et quot Susa colunt, Memnoniamque Ninon.
        
         Vos etiam Danaae fasces submittite Nymphae,
        
         Et vos Iliacae, Romuleaeque nurus.
        
         Nec Pompeianas Tarpëia Musa columnas
        
         Jactet, & Ausoniis plena theatra stolis.
        
         Gloria Virginibus debetur prima Britannis,
        
         Extera sat tibi sit foemina posse sequi.
        
         Tuque urbs Dardaniis Londinum structa colonis
        
         Turrigerum late conspicienda caput,
        
         Tu nimium felix intra tua moenia claudis
        
         Quicquid formosi pendulus orbis habet.
        
         Non tibi tot caelo scintillant astra sereno
        
         Endymioneae turba ministra deae,
        
         Quot tibi conspicuae formáque auróque puellae
        
         Per medias radiant turba videnda vias.
        
         Creditur huc geminis venisse invecta columbis
        
         Alma pharetrigero milite cincta Venus,
        
         Huic Cnidon, & riguas Simoentis flumine valles,
        
         Huic Paphon, & roseam posthabitura Cypron.
        
         Ast ego, dum pueri sinit indulgentia caeci,
        
         Moenia quàm subito linquere fausta paro▪
        
         Et vitare procul malefidae infamia Circes
        
         Atria, divini Molyos usus ope.
        
         Stat quoque juncosas Cami remeare paludes,
        
         Atque iterum raucae murmur adire Scholae.
        
         Interea fidi parvum cape munus amici,
        
         Paucaque in alternos verba coacta modos.

Elegia secunda, Anno aetatis 17.

In obitum Praeconis Academici Cantabrigiensis.

         TE, qui conspicuus baculo fulgente solebas
        
         Palladium toties ore ciere gregem,
        
         Ultima praeconum praeconem te quoque saeva
        
         Mors rapit, officio nec favet ipsa suo.
        
         Candidiora licet fuerint tibi tempora plumis
        
         Sub quibus accipimus delituisse Jovem,
        
         O dignus tamen Haemonio juvenescere succo,
        
         Dignus in Aesonios vivere posse dies,
        
         Dignus quem Stygiis medicâ revocaret ab undis
        
         Art Coronides, saepe rogante dea.
        
         Tu si jussus eras acies accire togatas,
        
         Et celer a Phoebo nuntius ire tuo
        
         Talis in Iliacâ stabat Cyllenius aula
        
         Alipes, aethereâ missus ab arce Patris.
        
         Talis & Eurybates ante ora furentis Achillei
        
         Rettulit Atridae jussa severa ducis.
        
         Magna sepulchrorum regina, satelles Averni
        
         Saeva nimis Musis, Palladi saeva nimis,
        
         Quin illos rapias qui pondus inutile terrae,
        
         Turba quidem est telis ista petenda tuis.
        
         Vestibus hunc igitur pullis Academia luge,
        
         Et madeant lachrymis nigra feretra tuis.
        
         Fundat & ipsa modos querebunda Elegeia tristes,
        
         Personet & totis naenia moesta scholis.

Elegia tertia, Anno aetatis 17.

In obitum Praesulis Wintoniensis.

         Moestus eram, & tacitus nullo comitante sedebam,
        
         Haerebantque animo tristia plura meo,
        
         Protinus en subiit funestae cladis imago
        
         Fecit in Angliaco quam Libitina solo;
        
         Dum procerum ingressa est splendentes marmore turres
        
         Dira sepulchrali mors metuenda face;
        
         Pulsavitque auro gravidos & jaspide muros,
        
         Nec metuit satrapum sternere falce greges.
        
         Tunc memini clarique ducis, fratrisque verendi
        
         Intempestivis ossa cremata rogis▪
        
         Et memini Heroum quos vidit ad aethera raptos,
        
         Flevit & amissos Belgium tota duces.
        
         At te praecipue luxi dignissime praesul,
        
         Wintoniaeque olim gloria magna tuae;
        
         Delicui fletu, & tristi sic ore querebar,
        
         Mors fera Tartareo diva secunda Jovi,
        
         Nonne satis quod sylva tuas pe
         
          •
         
         senriat iras,
        
         Et quod in herbosos j
         
          •
         
         s tibi detur agros,
        
         Quodque afflata tuo marcescant lilia tabo,
        
         Et crocus, & pulchrae Cypridi sacra rosa,
        
         Nec sinis ut semper fluvio contermina quercus
        
         Miretur lapsus praetereuntis aquae?
        
         Et tibi succumbit liquido quae plurima caelo
        
         Evehitur pennis quamlibet augur avis,
        
         Et quae mille nigris errant animalia sylvis,
        
         Et quod alunt mutum Proteos antra pecus,
        
         Invida, tanta tibi cum sit concessa potestas;
        
         Quid juvat humanâ tingere caede manus?
        
         Nobileque in pectus certas acuisse sagittas,
        
         Semideamque animam seed fugâsse suà?
        
         Talia dum lacrymans alto sub pectore volvo,
        
         Roscidus occiduis Hesperus exit aquis,
        
         Et Tartessiaco submerserat aequore currum
        
         Phoebus ab eöo littore mensus iter.
        
         Nec mora, membra cavo posui refovenda cubili,
        
         Condiderant oculos noxque soporque meos.
        
         Cum mihi visus eram lato spatiarier agro,
        
         Heu nequit ingenium visa refer meum.
        
         Illic puniceâ radiabant omnia luce,
        
         Ut matutino cum juga sole rubent.
        
         Ac veluti cum pandit opes Thaumantia proles,
        
         Vestitu nituit multicolore solum.
        
         Non dea tam variis ornavit floribus hortos
        
         Alcinoi, Zephyro Chloris amata levi.
        
         Flumina vernantes lambunt argentea campos,
        
         Ditior Hesperio flavet arena Tago.
        
         Serpit odoriferas per opes levis aura Favoni,
        
         Aura sub innumeris humida nata rosis.
        
         Talis in extremis terrae Gangetidis oris
        
         Luciferi regis fingitur esse domus.
        
         Ipse racemiferis dum densas vitibus umbras
        
         Et pellucentes miror ubique locos,
        
         Ecce mihi subito praesul Wintonius astat,
        
         Sydereum nitido sulsit in ore jubar;
        
         Vestis ad auratos defluxit candida talos,
        
         Infula divinum cinxerat alba caput.
        
         Dumque senex tali incedit venerandus amictu,
        
         Intremuit laeto florea terra sono.
        
         Agmina gemmatis plaudunt caelestia pennis,
        
         Pura triumphali personat aethra tubâ.
        
         Quisque novum amplexu comitem cantuque saluta
         
          •
         
         ,
        
         Hosque aliquis placido misit ab ore sonos;
        
         Nate veni, & patrii felix cape gaudia regni,
        
         Semper ab hinc duro, nate, labor vaca.
        
         Dixit, & aligerae tetigerunt nablia turmae,
        
         At mihi cum tenebris aurea pulsa quies.
        
         Flebam turbatos Cephaleiâ pellice somnos;
        
         Talia contingant somnia saepe mihi.

Elegia quarta. Anno aetatis 18.

Ad Thomam Junium praeceptore • suum apud mercatores Anglicos Hamburgae agents Pastoris munere fungentem.

         CUrre per immensum subito mea littera pontum▪
        
         I, pete Teutonicos laeve per aequor agros,
        
         Segnes rump moras, & nil, precor, obstet eunti,
        
         Et festinantis nil remoreturiter.
        
         Ipse ego Sicanio fraenantem carcere ventos
        
         Aeolon, & virides sollicitabo Deos;
        
         Caeruleamque suis comitatam Dorida Nymphis,
        
         Ut tibi dent placidam per sua regna v
         
          •
         
         am.
        
         At tu, si poteris, celeres tibi sum jugales,
        
         Vecta quibus Colchis fugit ab ore viri.
        
         Aut queis Triptolemus Scythicas devenit in oras
        
         Gratus Eleusinâ missus ab urbe pure.
        
         Atque ubi Germanas flavere videbis arenas
        
         Ditis ad Hamburgae moenia flecte gradum,
        
         Dicitur occiso quae ducere nomen ab Hamâ,
        
         Cimbrica quem fertur clava dedisse neci.
        
         Vivit ibi antiquae clarus pieta tis honor
        
         Praesul Christicolas pascere doctus oves;
        
         Ille quidem est animae plusquam pars altera nostrae,
        
         Dimidio vitae vivere cogor ego.
        
         Hei mihi quot pelagi, quot montes interjecti
        
         Me faciunt aliâ parte carere mei!
        
         Charior ill mihi quam tu doctissime Graium
        
         Cliniadi, pronepos qui Telamonis erat.
        
         Quámque Stagirites generoso magnus alumno,
        
         Quem peperit Libyco Chaonis alma Jovi.
        
         Qualis Amyntorides, qualis Philyrëius Heros
        
         Myrmidonum regi, talis & ill mihi.
        
         Primus ego Aonios illo praeeunte recessus
        
         Lustrabam, & bifidi sacra vireta jugi,
        
         Pieriosque hausi latices, Clioque favente,
        
         Castalio sparsi laeta ter ora mero.
        
         Flammeus at signum ter viderat arietis Aethon,
        
         Jnduxitque auro lanea terga novo,
        
         Bisque novo terram sparsisti Chlori senilem
        
         Gramine, bisque tuas abstulit Auster opes:
        
         Necdum ejus licuit mihi lumina pascere vultu,
        
         Aut linguae dulces aure bibisse sonos.
        
         Vade igitur, cursuque Eurum praeverte sonorum,
        
         Qu
         
          •
         
         m sit opus monitis res docet, ipsa vides.
        
         Invenies dulci cum conjuge forte sedentem,
        
         Mulcentem gremio pignora chara suo,
        
         Forsitan aut veterum praelarga volumina patrum
        
         Versantem, aut veri biblia sacra Dei.
        
         Caelestive animas saturantem roar tenellas,
        
         Grande salutiferae religions opus.
        
         Utque solet, multam, sit dicere cura salutem,
        
         Dicere quam decuit, si modo adesset, herum.
        
         Haec quoque paulum oculos in humum defixa modestos,
        
         Verba verecundo sis memor ore loqui:
        
         Haec tibi, si teneris vacat inter praelia Musis
        
         Mittitab Angliaco littore fida manus.
        
         Accipe sinceram, quamvis sit sera, salutem
        
         Fiat & hoc ipso gratior illa tibi.
        
         Sera quidem, sed vera fuit, quam casta recepit▪
        
         Icaris a lento Penelopeia viro.
        
         Ast ego quid volui manifestum tollere crimen,
        
         Ipse quod ex omni parte levare nequit.
        
         Arguitur tardus merito, noxamque fatetur,
        
         Et pudet officium deseruisse suum.
        
         Tu modo da veniam fasso, veniamque roganti,
        
         Crimina diminui, quae patuere, solent.
        
         Non ferus in pavidos rictus diducit hiantes,
        
         Vulnifico pronos nec rapit ungue leo.
        
         Saepe farissiferi crudelia pectora Thracis
        
         Supplicis ad moestas delicuere preces.
        
         Extensaeque manus avertunt fulminis ictus,
        
         Placat & iratos hostia parva Deos.
        
         Jamque diu scripsisse tibi fuit impetus illi,
        
         Neve mora ultra ducere passus Amor.
        
         Nam vaga Fama refert, heu nuntia vera malorum!
        
         In tibi finitimis bella tumere locis,
        
         Teque tuàmque urbem truculento milite cingi,
        
         Et jam Saxonicos arma parasse duces.
        
         Te circum late campos populatur Enyo,
        
         Et sata carne virum jam cruor arva rigat.
        
         Germanisque suum concessit Thracia Martem,
        
         Illuc Odrysios Mars pater egit equos.
        
         Perpetuóque comans jam deslorescit oliva,
        
         Fugit & aerisonam Diva perosa tubam,
        
         Fugit io terris, & jam non ultima virgo
        
         Creditur ad superas justa volasse domos.
        
         Te tamen intereà belli circumsonat horror,
        
         Vivis & ignoto solus inópsque solo;
        
         Et, tibi quam patrii non exhibuere penates
        
         Sede peregrinâ quaeris egenus opem.
        
         Patria dura parens, & saxis saevior albis
        
         Spumea quae pulsat littoris unda tui,
        
         Siccine te decet innocuos exponere faetus,
        
         Siccine in externam ferrea cogis humum,
        
         Et sinis ut terris quaerant alimenta remotis
        
         Quos tibi prospiciens miserat ipse Deus,
        
         Et qui laeta ferunt de caelo nuntia, quique
        
         Quae via post cineres ducat ad astra, docent?
        
         Digna quidem Stygii
         
          •
         
         quae viva
         
          •
         
         clausa tenebris,
        
         Aeternâque animae digna perire fame!
        
         Haud aliter va
         
          •
         
         es terrae Thesbitidis olim
        
         Pressit inassueto devia tesqua pede,
        
         Desertasque Arabum salebras, dum regis Achabi
        
         Effugit atque tuas, Sidoni dira, manus.
        
         Talis & horrisono laceratus membra flagello,
        
         Paulus ab Aemathiâ pellitur urbe Cilix.
        
         Piscosaeque ipsum Gergessae civis Jesu
         
          •
         
         Finibus ingratus jussit abire suis.
        
         At tu sum animos, nec spes cadat anxia curis
        
         Nec tua concutiat decolor ossa metus.
        
         Sis eteni
         
          •
         
         quamvis fulgentibus obsitus armis,
        
         Intententque tibi millia tela necem,
        
         At nullis vel in
         
          •
         
         rme latus violabitur armis,
        
         Deque tuo cuspis nullo cruore bibet.
        
         Namque eris ipse Dei radiante sub aegide tutus,
        
         Ille tibi custos, & pugil ill tibi;
        
         Ille Zion
         
          ••
         
         ae qui tot sub
         
          •
         
         oenibus arcis
        
         Assyrios f
         
          ••
         
         it nocte silente viros,
        
         Inque fugam vertit quos in Samaritidas oras
        
         Misit ab antiquis prisca Damascus agris,
        
         Terruit & densas
         
          ••
         
         vido cum rege cohortes,
        
         Aere dum vacuo buccina clara sonat,
        
         Cornea pulvereum dum verberat ungula campum,
        
         Currus arenosam dum quatit actus humum,
        
         Auditurque hinnitus equorum ad bella ruentúm,
        
         Et strepitus ferri, murmuraque alta virûm.
        
         Et tu (quod superest miseris) sperare memento,
        
         Et tua magnanimo pectore vince mala.
        
         Nec dubites quandoque frui melioribus annis,
        
         Atque iterum patrios posse videre lares.

Elegia quinta, Anno aetatis 20.

In adventum veris.

         IN se perpetuo Tempus revolubile gyro
        
         Jam revocat Zephyros vere tepen
         
          •
         
         e novos.
        
         Induiturque brevem Tellus reparata juventam,
        
         Jamque soluta gelu dulce virescit humus.
        
         Fallor? an & nobis redeunt in carmina vires,
        
         Ingeniumque mihi munere veris adest?
        
         Munere veris adest, iterumque vigescit ab illo
        
         (Quis putet) atque aliquod jam sibi poscit opus,
        
         Castalis ante oculos, bifidumque cacumen oberrat.
        
         Et mihi Pyrenen somnia nocte ferunt.
        
         Concitaque arcano fervent mihi pectora motu,
        
         Et furor, & sonitus me sacer intùs agit.
        
         Delius ipse venit, video Penëide lauro
        
         Implicitos crines, Delius ipse venit.
        
         Jam mihi men's liquidi raptatur in ardua coeli,
        
         Perque vagas nubes corpore liber eo.
        
         Perque umbras, perque antra feror penetralia vatum,
        
         Et mihi fana patent interiora Deûm.
        
         Intuiturque animus toto quid agatur Olympo,
        
         Nec fugiunt oculos Tartara caeca meos.
        
         Quid tam grande sonat distento spiritus ore?
        
         Quid parit haec rabies, quid sacer iste furor?
        
         Ver mihi, quod dedit ingenium, cantab
         
          •
         
         tur illo;
        
         Profuerint isto reddita dona modo.
        
         Jam Philomela tuos foliis adoperta novellis
        
         Instituis modulos, dum silet omne nemus.
        
         Urbe ego, tu sylvâ simul incipiamus utrique▪
        
         Et simul adventum veris uterque canat.
        
         Veris io rediere vices, celebremus honores
        
         Veris, & hoc subeat Musa quotannis opus.
        
         Jam sol Aet iopas fugiens Titnoniaque arva,
        
         Flectit ad Arctöas aurea lora plagas.
        
         Est breve noctis iter, brevis est mora noctis opacae
        
         Horrida cum tenebris exulat illa suis.
        
         Jamque Lycaonius plaustrum caeleste Boötes
        
         Non longâ sequitur fessus ut ante viâ,
        
         Nunc etiam solitas circum Jovis atria toto
        
         Excubias agitant sydera rara polo.
        
         Nam dolus & caedes, & vis cum nocte recessit,
        
         Neve Giganteum Dii timuere scelus.
        
         Forte aliquis scopuli recubans in vertice pastor,
        
         Roscida cum primo sole rubescit humus,
        
         Hac, ait▪ hac certe caruisti nocte puellâ
        
         Phoebe tuâ, celeres quae retineret equos.
        
         Laeta suas repetit sylvas, pharetramque resumit
        
         Cynthia, Luciferas ut videtalta rotas,
        
         Et tenues ponens radios gaudere videtur
        
         Officium fieri tam breve fratris ope.
        
         Desere, Phoebus ait, thalamos Aurora seniles,
        
         Quid juvat effoeto procubuisse toro?
        
         Te manet Aeolides viridi venator in herba,
        
         Surge, tuos ignes altus Hymettus habet.
        
         Flava verecundo dea crimen in ore fatetur,
        
         Et matutinos ocyus urget equos.
        
         Exuit invisam Tellus rediviva senectam,
        
         Et cupit amplexus Phoebe subire tuos;
        
         Et cupit, & digna est, quid enim formosius ill
         
          •
         
         ,
        
         Pandit ut omniferos luxuriosa sinus,
        
         Atque Arabum spirat messes, & ab ore venusto
        
         Mitia cum Paphiis fundit amoma rosis.
        
         Ecce coronatur sacro frons ardua luco,
        
         Cingit ut Idaeam pinea turris Opim;
        
         Et vario madidos intexit flour capillos,
        
         Floribus & visa est posse placere suis.
        
         Floribus effusos ut erat redimita capillos
        
         Taenario placuit diva Sicana Deo.
        
         A
         
          •
         
         pice Phoebe tibi faciles hortantur amores,
        
         Mellitasque movent flamina verna preces.
        
         Cinnameâ Zephyrus leve plaudit odorifer alâ,
        
         Blanditiasque tibi ferre videntur aves.
        
         Nec sine dote tuos temeraria quaerit amores
        
         Terra, nec optatos poscit egena toros,
        
         Alma salutiferum medicos tibi gramen in usus
        
         Praebet, & hinc titulos adjuvat ipsa tuos.
        
         Quod si te pretium, si te fulgentia tangunt
        
         Munera, (muneribus faepe coemptus Amor)
        
         Illa tibi osten
         
          ••
         
         t quascunque sub aequore vasto▪
        
         Et superinjectis montibus abdit opes.
        
         Ah quoties cum tu
         
          •
         
         livoso fessus Olympo
        
         In vespertinas praecipitaris aquas,
        
         Cur te, inquit, cursu languentem Phoebe diurno
        
         Hesperiis recipit Caerula mater aquis?
        
         Quid tibi cum Tethy? Quid cum Tartesside lymphâ,
        
         Dia quid immundo perluis ora salo?
        
         Frigora Phoebe meâ melius captabis in umbrâ,
        
         Huc ades, ardentes imbue roar comas.
        
         Mollior egelidâ veniet tibi somnus in herbâ,
        
         Huc ades, & gremio lumina pone meo.
        
         Quáque jaces circum mulcebit lene susurrans
        
         Aura per humentes corpora fusa rosas.
        
         Nec me (creed mihi) terrent Semeleia fata,
        
         Nec Phäetonteo fumidus axis equo;
        
         Cum tu Phoebe tuo sapientius uteris igni,
        
         Huc ades & gremio lumina pone meo.
        
         Sic Tellus lasciva suos suspirat amores;
        
         Matris in exemplum caetera turba ruunt.
        
         Nunc etenim toto currit vagus orbe Cupido,
        
         Languentesque fovet solis ab igne faces.
        
         Insonuere novis lethalia cornua nervis,
        
         Triste micant ferro tela corusca novo.
        
         Jamque vel invictam tentat superasse Dianam,
        
         Quaeque sedet sacro Vesta pudica foco.
        
         Ipsa senescentem reparat Venus annua formam,
        
         Atque iterum tepido creditor orta mari.
        
         Marmoreas juvenes clamant Hymenaee per urbes,
        
         Littus io Hymen, & cava saxa sonant.
        
         Cultior ill venit tunicâque decentior aptâ,
        
         Puniceum redolet vestis odora crocum.
        
         Egrediturque frequens ad amoeni gaudia veris
        
         Virgineas auro cincta puella sinus.
        
         Votum est cuique suum, votum est tamen omnibus unum▪
        
         Un sibi quem cupiat, det Cytherea virum.
        
         Nunc quoque septenâ modulatur arundine pastor,
        
         Et sua quae jungat carmina Phyllis habet.
        
         Navita nocturno placat sua sydera cantu,
        
         Delphinasque leves ad vada summa vocat.
        
         Jupiter ipse alto cum conjuge ludit Olympo,
        
         Convocat & famulos ad sua festa Deos.
        
         Nunc etiam Satyri cum sera crepuscula surgunt▪
        
         Pervolitant celeri florea rura choro;
        
         Sylvanusque suâ Cyparissi fronde revinctus,
        
         Semicaperque Deus, semideusque caper.
        
         Quaeque sub arboribus Dryades latuere vetustis
        
         Per juga, per solos expatiantur agros.
        
         Per sata luxuriat fruticetaque Maenalius Pan,
        
         Vix Cybele mater, vix sibi tuta Ceres,
        
         Atque aliquam cupidus praedatur Oreada Faunus▪
        
         Consulit in trepidos dum sibi Nympha pedes▪
        
         Jamque latet, latitansque cupit male tecta videri▪
        
         Et fugit, & fugiens pervelit ipsa capi.
        
         Dii quoque non dubitant caelo praeponere sylvas,
        
         Et sua quisque sibi numina lucus habet.
        
         Et sua quisque diu sibi numina lucus habeto,
        
         Nec vos arboreâ dii precor ite domo.
        
         Te referant miseris te Jupiter aurea terris
        
         Saecla, quid ad nimbos aspera tela redis?
        
         Tu saltem lente rapidos age Phoebe jugales
        
         Quà potes, & sensim tempora veris eant.
        
         Brumaque productas tarde ferat hispida noctes,
        
         Ingruat & nostro serior umbra polo.

Elegia sexta.

Ad Carolum Diodatum ruri commorantem.

Qui cum idibus Decemb. scripsisset, & sua carmina excusari postulasset si solito minus essent bona, quod inter lautitias quibus er at ab amic is exceptus, haud satis felicem operam Musis dare se posse affirmabat, hunc habuit responsum.

         MItto tibi sanam non pleno ventre salutem▪
        
         Quâ tu distento forte carere potes.
        
         At tua quid nostram prolectat Musa camoenam,
        
         Nec sinit optatas posse sequi tenebras?
        
         Carmine seire velis quàm te redamemque colámque▪
        
         Crede mihi vix hoc carmine scire queas.
        
         Nam neque noster amor modulis includitur arctis,
        
         Nec venit ad claudos integer ipse pedes.
        
         Quàm been solennes epulas, hilaremque Decembrim
        
         Festaque coelifugam quae coluere Deum,
        
         Deliciasque refers, hyberni gaudia ruris,
        
         Haustaque per lepidos Gallica musta focos.
        
         Quid quereris refugam vino dapibusque poesin?
        
         Carmen amat Bacchum, Carmina Bacchus amat.
        
         Nec puduit Phoebum virides gestasse corymbos▪
        
         Atque hederam lauro praeposuisse suae.
        
         Saepius Aoniis clamavit collibus Euoe
        
         Mista Thyonêo turba novena choro.
        
         Naso Corallaeis mala carmina misit ab agris:
        
         Non illic epulae non sata vitis erat.
        
         Quid nisi vina, rosasque racemiferumque Lyaeum
        
         Cantavit brevibus Tëia Musa modis▪
        
         Pindaricosque inflat numeros Teumesius Euan,
        
         Et redolet sumptum pagina quaeque merum.
        
         Dum gravis everso currus crepat axe supinus,
        
         Etvolat Eleo pulvere fu
         
          •
         
         cus eques.
        
         Quadrimoque madens Lyricen Romanus Jaccho
        
         Dulce cannot Glyceran, flavicomamque Chloen.
        
         Jam quoque lauta tibi generoso mensa paratu,
        
         Mentis alit vires, ingeniumque fovet.
        
         Massica foecundam despumant pocula venam,
        
         Fundis & ex ipso condita metra cado.
        
         Addimus his arts, fusumque per intima Phoebum
        
         Corda, favent uni Bacchus, Apollo, Ceres.
        
         Scilicet haud mirum tam dulcia carmina per te
        
         Numine composito tres peperisse Deos.
        
         Nunc quoque Thressa tibi caelato barbitos auro
        
         Insonat argutâ molliter icta manu;
        
         Auditurque chelys suspensa tapetia circum,
        
         Virgineos tremulâ quae regat art pedes.
        
         Illa tuas saltem teneant spectacula Musas,
        
         Et revocent, quantum crapula pellit iners.
        
         Crede mihi dum psallit ebur, comitataque plectrum
        
         Implet odoratos festa chorea tholos,
        
         Percipies tacitum per pectora serpere Phoebum,
        
         Quale repentinus permeat ossa calor,
        
         Perque puellares oculos digitumque sonantem
        
         Irruet in totos lapsa Thalia sinus.
        
         Namque Elegia levis multorum cura deorum est,
        
         Et vocat ad numeros quemlibet illa suos;
        
         Liber adest elegis, Eratoque, Ceresque, Venusque▪
        
         Et cum purpureâ matre tenellus Amor.
        
         Talibus inde licent convivia larga poetis,
        
         Saepius & veteri commaduisse mero.
        
         At qui bella refert, & adulto sub Jove caelum▪
        
         Heroasque pios, semideosque duces,
        
         Et nunc sancta cannot superum consulta deorum▪
        
         Nunc latrata fero regna profunda cane,
        
         Ille quidem parce Samii pro more magistri
        
         Vivat, & innocuos praebeat herba cibos;
        
         Stet prope fagineo pellucida lympha catillo,
        
         Sobriaque e puro pocula fonte bibat.
        
         Additur huic scelerisque vacans, & casta juventus,
        
         Et rigidi mores, & sine labe manus.
        
         Qualis vest nitens sacrâ, & lustralibus undis
        
         Surgis ad infensos augur iture Deos.
        
         Hoc ritu vixisse ferunt post rapta sagacem
        
         Lumina Tiresian, Ogygiumque Linon,
        
         Et lare devoto profugum Calchanta, senemque
        
         Orpheon edomitis sola per antra feris;
        
         Sic dapis exiguus, sic rivi potor Homerus
        
         Dulichium vexit per freta longa virum,
        
         Et per monstrificam Perseiae Phoebados aulam,
        
         Et vada foemineis insidiosa sonis,
        
         Perque tuas rex ime domos, ubi sanguine nigro
        
         Dicitur umbrarum detinuisse greges.
        
         Diis etenim sacer est vates, divûmque sacerdos,
        
         Spirat & occultum pectus, & ora Jovern.
        
         At tu siquid agam, scitabere (si modo saltem
        
         Esse putas tanti noscere siquid agam)
        
         Paciferum canimus caelesti semine regem,
        
         Faustaque sacratis saecula pacta libris,
        
         Vagitumque Dei, & stabulantem paupere tecto
        
         Qui suprema suo cum patre regna colit.
        
         Stelliparumque polum, modulantesque aethere turmas,
        
         Et subito elisos ad sua fana Deos.
        
         Dona quidem dedimus Christi natalibus illa,
        
         Illa sub auroram lux mihi prima tulit.
        
         Te quoque pressa manent patriis meditata cicutis▪
        
         Tu mihi, cui recitem, judicis instar eris.

Elegia septima, Anno aetatis undevigesimo.

         NOndum blanda tuas leges Amathusia nor
         
          •
         
         m▪
        
         Et Paphio vacuum pectus ab igne suit,
        
         Saepe cupidineas, puerilia tela, sagittas,
        
         Atque tuum sprevi maxim, numen, Amor▪
        
         Tu pure imbelles dixi transfige columbas▪
        
         Conveniunt tenero mollia bella duci.
        
         Aut de passeribus tumidos age, parve, triumphos,
        
         Haec sunt militiae digna trophaea tuae.
        
         In genus humanum quid inania dirigis arma?
        
         Non valet in fortes ista pharetra viros.
        
         Non tulit hoc Cyprius, (neque enim Deus ullus ad iras
        
         Promptior) & duplici jam ferus igne calet.
        
         Ver erat, & summae radians per culmina villae
        
         Attulerat primam lux tibi Maie diem:
        
         At mihi adhuc refugam quaerebant lumina noctem
        
         Nec matutinum sustinuere jubar.
        
         Astat Amor lecto, pictis Amor impiger alis,
        
         Prodidit astantem mota pharetra Deum:
        
         Prodidit & facies, & dulce minantis ocelli,
        
         Et quicquid puero, dignum & Amore fuit.
        
         Talis in aererno juvenis Sigeius Olympo
        
         Miscet amatori pocula plena Jovi▪
        
         Aut qui formosas pellexit ad oscula nymphas
        
         Thiodamantaeus Naiade raptus Hylas;
        
         Addideratque iras, sed & has decuisse putares,
        
         Addideratque truces, nec sine felle minas.
        
         Et miser exemplo sapuisses tutiùs, inquit,
        
         Nunc mea quid possit dextera testis eris.
        
         Inter & expertos vires numerabere nostras,
        
         Et faciam vero per tua damna fidem.
        
         Ipse ego si nescis strato Pythone superbum
        
         Edomui Phoebum, cessit & ill mihi;
        
         Et quoties meminit Peneidos, ipse fatetur
        
         Certiùs & graviùs tela nocere mea.
        
         Me nequit adductum curvare peritiùs arcum,
        
         Qui post terga solet vincere Parthus eques.
        
         Cydoniusque mihi cedit venator, & ill
        
         Inscius uxori qui necis author erat.
        
         Est etiam nobis ingens quoque victus Orion,
        
         Herculeaeque manus, Herculeusque comes.
        
         Jupiter ipse licet sua fulmina torqueat in me,
        
         Haerebuntlateri spicula nostra Jovis.
        
         Caetera quae dubitas meliùs mea tela docebunt,
        
         Et tua non leviter corda petenda mihi.
        
         Nec te stulte tuae poterunt defendere Musae,
        
         Nec tibi Phoebaeus porriget anguis opem.
        
         Dixit, & aurato quatiens mucrone sagittam,
        
         Evolat in tepidos Cypridos ill sinus.
        
         At mihi risuro tonuit ferus ore minaci,
        
         Et mihi de puero non metus ullus erat.
        
         Et modo qu
         
          •
         
         nostri spatiantur in urbe Quirites
        
         Et modo villarum proxima rura placent.
        
         Turba frequens, facieque simillima turba dearum
        
         Splendida per medias itque reditque vias.
        
         Auctaqueluce dies gemino fulgore coruscat,
        
         Fallor? an & radios hinc quoque Phoebus habet.
        
         Haec ego non fugi spectacula grata severus,
        
         Impetus & quo me fert juvenilis, agor.
        
         Lumina luminibus male providus obvia misi,
        
         Neve oculos potui continuisse meos.
        
         Unam forte aliis supereminuisse notabam,
        
         Principium nostri lux erat illa mali.
        
         Sic Venus optaret mortalibus ipsa videri,
        
         Sic regina Deûm conspicienda fuit.
        
         Hanc memor objecit nobis malus ill Cupido,
        
         Solus & hos nobis texuit ante dolos.
        
         Nec procul ipse vafer Iatuit, multaeque sagittae,
        
         Et facis a tergo grande pependit onus.
        
         Nec mora, nunc ciliis haesit, nunc virginis ori,
        
         Insilit hinc labiis, insidet inde genis:
        
         Et quascunque agilis partes jaculator oberrat,
        
         Hei mihi, mille locis pectus inerme ferit.
        
         Protinus insoliti subierunt corda furores,
        
         Uror amans intùs, flammaque totus eram.
        
         Interea misero quae jam mihi sola placebat,
        
         Ablata est oculis non reditura meis.
        
         Ast ego progredior tacit querebundus, & excors,
        
         Et dubius volui saepe refer pedem.
        
         Findor, & haec remanet, sequitur pars altera votum,
        
         Raptaque tàm subito gaudia flere juvat.
        
         Sic dolet amissum proles Junonia coelum,
        
         Inter Lemniacos praecipitata focos.
        
         Talis & abreptum solemn respexit, ad Orcum
        
         Vectus ab attonitis Amphiaraus equis.
        
         Quid faciam infelix, & luctu victus, amores
        
         Neclicet inceptos ponere, neve sequi.
        
         O utinam spectare semel mihi detur amatos
        
         Vultus, & coràm tristia verba loqui;
        
         Forsitan & duro non est adamante creata,
        
         Forte nec ad nostras surdeat illa preces.
        
         Crede mihi nullus sic infeliciter arsit,
        
         Ponar in exemplo primus & unus ego.
        
         Parce precor teneri cum sis Deus ales amoris,
        
         Pugnent officio nec tua facta tuo.
        
         Jam tuus O certe est mihi formidabilis arcus,
        
         Nate deâ, jaculis nec minus igne potens:
        
         Et tua fumabunt nostris altaria donis,
        
         Solus & in superis tu mihi summus eris.
        
         Deme meos tandem, verùm nec deme furores,
        
         Nescio cur, miser est suaviter omnis amans:
        
         Tu modo da facilis, posthaec mea siqua futura est▪
        
         Cuspis amaturos figat ut una duos.

         HAec ego mente olim laevâ, studioque supino
        
         Nequitiae posui vana trophaea meae.
        
         Scilicet abreptum sic me malus impulit error,
        
         Indocilisque aetas prava magistra fuit.
        
         Donec Socraticos umbrosa Academia rivos
        
         Praebuit, admissum dedocuitque jugum.
        
         Protinus extinctis ex illo tempore flammis,
        
         Cincta rigent multo pectora nostra gelu.
        
         Unde suis frigus metuit pure ipse Sagittis,
        
         Et Diomedeam vim timet ipsa Venus▪

In proditionem Bombardicam.

         CUm simul in regem nuper satrapasque Britannos
        
         Ausus es infandum perfide Fauxe nefas,
        
         Fallor? an & mitis voluisti ex parte videri,
        
         Et pensare malâ cum pietate scelus;
        
         Scilicet hos alti missurus ad atria caeli,
        
         Sulphureo curru flammivolisque rotis.
        
         Qualiter ill feris caput inviolabile Parcis
        
         Liquit Jordanios turbine raptus agros.

In eandem.

         SIccine tentasti caelo donâsse Jacobum
        
         Quae septemgemino Bellua monte lates?
        
         Ni meliora tuum poterit dare munera numen,
        
         Parce precor donis insidiosa tuis.
        
         Ille quidem sine te consortia serus adivit
        
         Astra, nec inferni pulveris usus ope.
        
         Sic potiùs foedos in caelum pelle cucullos,
        
         Et quot habet brutos Roma profana Deos,
        
         Namque hac aut aliâ nisi quemque adjuveris art,
        
         Crede mihi caeli vix been scandet iter.

In eandem.

         PUrgatorem animae derisit Jacobus ignem,
        
         Et sine quo superûm non adeunda domus.
        
         Frenduit hoc trinâ monstrum Latiale coronâ
        
         Movit & horrificùm cornua dena minax.
        
         Et nec inultus ait temnes mea sacra Britanne,
        
         Supplicium spretá relligione dabis.
        
         Et si stelligeras unquam penetraveris arces,
        
         Non nisi per flammas triste patebit iter.
        
         O quàm funesto cecinisti proxima vero,
        
         Verbaque ponderibus vix caritura suis!
        
         Nam prope Tartareo sublime rotatus ab igni
        
         Ibat ad aethereas umbra perusta plagas.

In eandem.

         QUem modo Roma suis devoverat impia diris.
        
         Et Styge damnarât Taenarioque sinu,
        
         Hunc vice mutatâ jam tollere gestit ad astra,
        
         Et cupit ad superos evehere usque Deos.

In inventorem Bombardae.

         JApetionidem laudavit caeca vetustas,
        
         Qui tulit aetheream solis ab axe facem;
        
         At mihi major erit, qui lurida creditor arma,
        
         Et trifidum fulmen surripuisse Jovi.

Ad Leonoram Romae canentem.

         ANgelus unicuique suus (sic credit gentes)
        
         Obtigit aethereis ales ab ordinibus.
        
         Quid mirum? Leonora tibi si gloria major,
        
         Nam tua praesentem vox sonat ipsa Deum.
        
         Aut Deus, aut vacui certe men's tertia coeli
        
         Per tua secreto guttura serpit agens;
        
         Serpit agens, facilisque docet mortalia corda
        
         Sensim immortali assuescere posse sono.
        
         Quod si cuncta quidem Deus est, per cunctaque fusus,
        
         In te unâ loquitur, caetera mutus habet.

Ad eandem.

         ALtera Torquatum cepit Leonora Poëtam,
        
         Cujus ab insano cessit amore furens.
        
         Ah miser ill tuo quanto feliciùs aevo
        
         Perditus, & propter te Leonora foret!
        
         Et te Pieriâ sensisset voice canentem
        
         Aurea maternae fila movere lyrae,
        
         Quamvis Dircaeo torsisset lumina Pentheo
        
         Saevior, aut totus desipuiiset iners▪
        
         Tu tamen errantes caecâ vertigine sensus
        
         Voce eadem poteras composuisse tuâ;
        
         Et poteras aegro spirans sub cord quietem
        
         Flexanimo cantu restituisse sibi.

Ad eandem.

         CRedula quid liquidam Sirena Neapoli jactas,
        
         Claraque Parthenopes fana Achelöiados,
        
         Littoreamque tuâ defunctam Naiada ripâ
        
         Corpora Chalcidico sacra dedisse rogo?
        
         Illa quidem vivitque, & amoenâ Tibridis und
         
          •
         
         Mutavit rauci murmura Pausilipi.
        
         Illic Romulidûm studiis ornata secundis,
        
         Atque homines cantu detinet atque Deos.

Elegiarum Finis.

Sylvarum Liber.

Anno aetatis 16. In obitum Procancellarii medioi.

         PArere fati discite legibus,
        
         Manusque Parcae jam date supplices,
        
         Qui pendulum telluris orbem
        
         Japeti colitis nepotes.
        
         Vos si relicto mors vaga Taenaro
        
         Semel vocârit flebilis, heu morae
        
         Tentantur incassùm dolique;
        
         Per tenebras Stygis ire certum est.
        
         Si destinatam pellere dextera
        
         Mortem valeret, non ferus Hercules
        
         Nessi venenatus cruore
        
         Aemathiâ jacuisset Oetâ.
        
         Nec fraud turpi Palladis invidae
        
         Vidisset occisum Ilion Hectora, aut
        
         Quem larva Pelidis peremit
        
         Ense Locro, Jove lacrymante▪
        
         Si triste fatum verba Hecatëia
        
         Fugare possint, Telegoni parens
        
         Vixisset infamis, potentique
        
         Aegiali soror usa virgâ.
        
         Numenque trinum fallere si queant
        
         Arts medentûm, ignotaque gramina,
        
         Non gnarus herbarum Machaon
        
         Eurypyli cecidisset hastâ.
        
         Laesisset & nec te Philyreie
        
         Sa
         
          •
         
         itta echidnae perlita sanguine,
        
         Nec tela te fulmenque avitum
        
         Caese pure genitricis alvo.
        
         Tuque O alumno major Apolline,
        
         Gentis togatae cui regimen datum,
        
         Frondosa quem nunc Cirrha luget▪
        
         Et mediis Helicon in undis,
        
          •
         
         am praefuisses Palladio gregi
        
         laetus, superstes, nec sine gloria,
        
         Nec puppe lustrasses Charontis
        
         Horribiles barathri recessus▪
        
         At fila rupit Persephone tua
        
          •
         
         ata, cum te viderit artibus
        
         Succoque pollenti tot atris
        
         Faucibus eripuisse mortis.
        
         Colende praeses, membra precor tua
        
         Molli quiescant cespite, & ex tuo
        
         Crescant rosae, calthaeque busto,
        
         Purpureoque hyacinthus ore.
        
         Sit mite de te judicium Aeaci,
        
         Subrideatque Aetnaea Proserpina,
        
         Interque felices perennis
        
         Elysio spatiere campo.

In quintum Novembris, Anno aetatis 17.

         JAm pius extremâ veniens Jâcobus ab arcto
        
         Teucrigenas populos, lateque patentia regna
        
         Albionum tenuit, jamque inviolabile foedus
        
         Sceptra Caledoniis conjunxerat Anglica Scotis:
        
         Pacificusque novo felix divesque sedebat
        
         In solio, occultique doli securus & hostis:
        
         Cum ferus ignifluo regnans Acheronte tyrannus,
        
         Eumenidum pater, aethereo vagus exul Olympo,
        
         Forte per immensum terrarum erraverat orbem,
        
         Dinumerans sceleris socios, vernasque fideles,
        
         Participes regni post funera moesta futuros;
        
         Hic tempestates medio ciet aëre ditas,
        
         Illic unanimes odium struit inter amicos,
        
         Armat & invictas in mutua viscera gentes;
        
         Regnaque olivifera vertit florentia pace,
        
         Et quoscunque videt purae virtutis amantes,
        
         Hos cupit adjicere imperio, fraudumque magister
        
         Tentat inaccessum sceleri corrumpere pectus,
        
         Insidiasque locat tacitas, cassesque latentes
        
         Tendit, ut incautos rapiat, seu Caspia Tigris
        
         Insequitur trepidam deserta per avia praedam
        
         Nocte sub illuni, & somno nictantibus astris.
        
         Talibus infestat populos Summanus & urbes
        
         Cinctus caeruleae fumanti turbine flammae.
        
         Jamque fluentisonis albentia rupibus arva
        
         Apparent, & terra Deo dilecta marino,
        
         Cui nomen dederat quondam Neptunia proles
        
         Amphitryoniaden qui non dubitavit atrocem
        
         Aequore tranato furiali poscere bello,
        
         Ante expugnatae crudelia saecula Troiae.

         At simul hanc opibusque & festâ pace beatam
        
         Aspicit, & pingues donis Cerealibus agros,
        
         Quodque magis doluit, venerantem numina veri
        
         Sancta Dei populum, tandem suspiria rupit
        
         Tartareos ignes & luridum olentia sulphur.
        
         Qualia Trinacriâ trux ab Jove clausus in Aetna
        
         Efflat tabifico monstrosus ab ore Tiphoeus.
        
         Ignescunt oculi, stridetque adamantinus ordo
        
         Dentis, ut armorum fragor, ictaque cuspide cuspis.
        
         Atque pererrato solum hoc lacrymabile mundo
        
         Inveni, dixit, gens haec mihi sola rebellis,
        
         Contemtrixque jugi, nostrâque potentior art.
        
         Illa tamen, mea si quicquam tentamina possunt,
        
         Non feret hoc impune diu, non ibit inulta,
        
         Hactenus; & piceis liquido natat aëre pennis;
        
         Qu
         
          •
         
         volat, adversi praecursant agmine venti,
        
         Densantur nubes, & crebra tonitrua fulgent.

         Jamque pruinosas velox superaverat alpes,
        
         Et tenet Ausoniae fines, à parte sinistrâ
        
         Nimbifer Appenninus erat, priscique Sabini,
        
         Dextra veneficiis infamis Hetruria, nec non
        
         Te furtiva Tibris Thetidi videt oscula dantem;
        
         Hinc Mavortigenae consistit in arce Quirini.
        
         Reddiderant dubiam jam sera crepuscula lucem,
        
         Cum circumgreditur totam Tricoronifer urbem,
        
         Panificosque Deos portat, scapulisque virorum
        
         Evehitur, praeeunt summisso poplite reges,
        
         Et mendicantum series longissima fratrum;
        
         Cereaque in manibus gestant funalia caeci,
        
         Cimmeriis nati in tenebris, vitamque t
         
          •
         
         ahentes,
        
         Templa dein multis subeunt lucentia taedis
        
         (Vesper erat sacer iste Petro) fremitúsque canentum
        
         Saepe tholos implet vacuos, & inane locorum.
        
         Qualiter exululat Bromius, Bromiique caterva,
        
         Orgia cantantes in Echionio Ara cyntho,
        
         Dum tremit attonitus vitreis Asopus in undis,
        
         Et procul ipse cavâ responsat rupe Cithaeron.

         His igitur tandem solenni more peractis,
        
         Nox senis amplexus Erebi taciturna reliquit,
        
         Praecipitesque impellit equos stimulante flagello,
        
         Captum oculis Typhlonta, Melanchaetemque ferocem,
        
         Atque Acherontaeo prognatam patre Siopen
        
         Torpidam, & hirsutis horrentem Phrica capillis.
        
         Interea regum domitor, Phlegetontius haeres
        
         Ingreditur thalamos (neque enim secretus adulter
        
         Producit steriles molli sine pellice noctes)
        
         At vix compositos somnus claudebat ocellos,
        
         Cum niger umbrarum dominus, rectorque silentum,
        
         Praedatorque hominum falsâ sub imagine tectus
        
         Astitit, assumptis micuerunt tempora canis,
        
         Barba sinus promissa tegit, cineracea longo
        
         Syrmate verrit humum vestis, pendetque cucullus
        
         Vertice de raso, & ne quicquam desit ad arts,
        
         Cannabeo lumbos constrinxit fune salaces,
        
         Tarda fenestratis figens vestigia calceis.
        
         Talis, uti fama est,
         
          •
         
         astâ Franciscus eremo
        
         Tetra vagabatur solus per lustra ferarum,
        
         Sylvestrique tulit genti pia verba salutis
        
         Impius, atque lupos domuit, Lybicosque leones.

         Subdolus at tali Serpens velatus amictu
        
         Solvit in has fallax ora execrantia voces;
        
         Dormis nate? Etiamne tuos sopor opprimit artus
        
         Immemor O fidei, pecorumque oblite tuorum,
        
         Dum cathedram venerande tuam, diademaque triplex
        
         Ridet Hyperboreo gens barbara nata sub axe,
        
         Dumque pharetrati spernunt tua jura Britanni;
        
         Surge, age, surge piger, Latius quem Caesar adorat,
        
         Cui reserata patet convexi janua caeli,
        
         Turgentes animos, & fastus frange procaces,
        
         Sacrilegique sciant, tua quid maledictio possit,
        
         Et quid Apostolicae possit custodia clavis;
        
         Et memor Hesperiae dis jectam ulciscere classem,
        
         Mersaque Iberorum lato vexilla profundo,
        
         Sanctorumque cruci tot corpora fixa probrosae,
        
         Thermodoontea nuper regnante puella.
        
         At tu si tenero mavis torpescere lecto
        
         Crescentesque negas hosti contundere vires,
        
         Tyrrhenum implebit numeroso milite Pontum,
        
         Signaque Aventino ponet fulgentia colle:
        
         Relliquias veterum franget, flammisque cremabit,
        
         Sacraque calcabit pedibus tua colla profanis,
        
         Cujus gaudebant soleis dare basia reges.
        
         Nec tamen hunc bellis & aperto Marte Iacesses▪
        
         Irritus ill labor, tu callidus utere fraud,
        
         Quaelibet haereticis disponere retia fas est;
        
         Jamque ad consilium extremis rex magnus ab oris
        
         Patricios vocat, & procerum de stirpe creatos,
        
         Grandaevosque patres trabeâ, canisque verendos;
        
         Hos tu membratim poteris conspergere in auras,
        
         Atque dare in cineres, nitrati pulveris igne
        
         Aedibus injecto, quà convenere, sub imis.
        
         Protinus ipse igitur quoscumque habet Anglia fido
         
          •
         
         Propositi, factique mone, quisquámne tuorum
        
         Audebit summi non jussa facessere Papae.
        
         Perculsosque metu subito, casúque stupentes
        
         Invadat vel Gallus atrox, vel saevus Iberus.
        
         Saecula sic illic tandem Mariana redibunt,
        
         Tuque in belligeros iterum dominaberis Anglos.
        
         Et nequid timeas, divos divasque secundas
        
         Accipe, quotque tuis celebrantur numina fastis▪
        
         Dixit & adscitos ponens malefidus amictus
        
         Fugit ad infandam, reguum illaetabile, Leth
         
          •
         
         n.

         Jam rosea Eoas pandens Tithonia portas
        
         Vestit inauratas redeunti lumine terras;
        
         Maestaque adhuc nigri deplorans funera nati
        
         Irrigat ambrosiis montana cacumina guttis▪
        
         Cum somnos pepulit stellatae janitor aulae
        
         Nocturnos visus, & somnia grata revolvens.

         Est locus aeternâ septus caligine noctis
        
         Vasta ruinosi quondam fundamina tecti,
        
         Nunc torvi spelunca Phoni, Prodotaeque bilinguis
        
         Effera quos uno peperit Discordia partu.
        
         Hic inter caementa jacent semifractaque saxa,
        
         Ossa inhumata virûm, & trajecta cadavera ferro;
        
         Hic Dolus intortis semper sedetater ocellis,
        
         Jurgiaque, & stimulis armata Calumnia fauces,
        
         Et Furor, atque viae moriendi mille videntur▪
        
         Et Timor, exanguisque locum circumvolat Horror,
        
         Perpetuoque leves per muta silentia Manes
        
         Exululant, tellus & sanguine conscia stagnat.
        
         Ipsi etiam pavidi latitant penetralibus antri
        
         Et Phonos, & Prodotes, nulloque sequente per antrum
        
         Antrum horrens, scopulosum, atrum feralibus umbris
        
         Diffugi
         
          •
         
         nt sontes, & retro lumina vortunt,
        
         Hos pugiles Romae per saecula longa fideles
        
         Evocat antistes Babylonius, atque ita fatur.
        
         Finibus occiduis circumfusum incolit aequor
        
         Gens exosa mihi, prudens natura negavit
        
         Indignam penitùs nostro conjungere mundo;
        
         Illuc▪ sic jubeo, celeri contendite gressu,
        
         Tartareoque leves difflentur pulvere in auras
        
         Et rex & pariter satrapae, scelerata propago
        
         Et quotquot fidei caluere cupidine verae
        
         Consilii socios adhibete, operisque ministros.
        
         Finierat, rigidi cupide paruere gemelli.

         Interea longo flectens curvamine caelos
        
         Despicit aethere â dominus qui fulg
         
          •
         
         rat arce,
        
         Vanaque perversae ridet conamina turbae,
        
         Atque sui causam populi volet ipse tueri.

         Esse ferunt spatium, quà distat ab Aside terra
        
         Fertilis Europe, & spectat Mareotidas undas;
        
         Hic turris posita est Titanidos ardua Famae
        
         Aerea, lata, sonans, rutilis vicinior astris
        
         Quàm superimpositum vel Athos vel Pelion Ossae
        
         Mille sores aditusque patent, totidemque fenestrae,
        
         Amplaque per tenues translucent atria muros;
        
         Excitat hic varios plebs agglomerata susurros;
        
         Qualiter instrepitant circum mulctralia bombis
        
         Agmina muscarum, aut texto per ovilia junco,
        
         Dum Canis aestivum coeli petit ardua culmen
        
         Ipsa quidem summâ sedet ultrix matris in arce,
        
         Auribus innumeris cinctum caput eminet olli,
        
         Queis sonitum exiguum trahit, atque levissima capta
         
          •
         
         Murmura, ab extremis patuli confinibus orbis.
        
         Nec tot Aristoride servator inique juvencae
        
         Isidos, immiti volvebas lumina vultu,
        
         Lumina non unquam tacito nutantia somno,
        
         Lumina subjectas late spectantia terras.
        
         Istis illa solet loca luce carentia saepe
        
         Perlustrare, etiam radianti impervia soli.
        
         Millenisque loquax auditaque visaque linguis
        
         Cuilibet effundit temeraria, veráque mendax
        
         Nunc minuit, modo confictis sermonibus auget.
        
         Sed tamen a nostro meruisti carmine laudes
        
         Fama, bonum quo non aliud veracius ullum,
        
         Nobis digna cani, nec te memorasse pigebit
        
         Carmine tam longo, servati scilicet Angli
        
         Officiis vaga diva tuis, tibi reddimus aequa.
        
         Te Deus aeternos motu qui temperat ignes,
        
         Fulmine praemisso alloquitur, terrâque tremente:
        
         Fama files? an te latet impia Papistarum
        
         Conjurata cohors in meque meosque Britannos,
        
         Et nova sceptrigero caedes meditata Jacobo:
        
         Nec plura, illa statim sensit mandata Tonantis,
        
         Et satis ante fugax stridentes induit alas,
        
         Induit & variis exilia corpora plumis;
        
         Dextra tubam gestat Temesaeo ex aere sonoram.
        
         Nec mora jam pennis cedentes remigat auras,
        
         Atque parum est curfu celeres praevertere nubes,
        
         Jam ventos, jam solis equos post terga reliquit:
        
         Et primo Angliacas solito de more per urbes
        
         Ambiguas voces, incertaque murmura spargit,
        
         Mox arguta dolos, & detestabile vulgat
        
         Proditionis opus, nec non facta horrida dictu,
        
         Authoresque addit sceleris, nec garrula caecis
        
         Insidiis loca structa silet; stupuere relatis,
        
         Et pariter juvenes, pariter tremuere puellae▪
        
         Effaetique senes pariter, tantaeque ruinae
        
         Sensus ad aetatem subito penetraverat omnem
        
         Attamen interea populi miserescit ab alto
        
         Aethereus pater, & crudelibus obstitit ausis
        
         Papicolûm; capti poenas raptantur ad acres;
        
         At pia thura Deo, & grati solvuntur honores;
        
         Compita laeta focis genialibus omnia fumant,
        
         Turba choros juvenilis agit: Quintoque Novembris
        
         Nulla Dies toto occurrit celebratior anno.

Anno aetatis 17. In obitum Praesulis Eliensis.

         ADhuc madentes roar squalebant genae,
        
         Et sicca nondum lumina
        
         Adhuc liquentis imbre turgebant salis,
        
         Quem nuper effudi pius,
        
         Dum maesta charo justa persolvi rogo
        
         Wintoniensis praesulis.
        
         Cum centilinguis Fama (proh semper mali
        
         Cladisque vera nuntia)
        
         Spargit per urbes divitis Britanniae,
        
         Populosque Neptuno satos,
        
         Cessisse morti, & ferreis sororibus
        
         Te generis humani decus,
        
         Qui rex sacrorum illâ fuisti in insulâ
        
         Quae nomen Anguillae tenet.
        
         Tunc inquietum pectus irá protinus
        
         Ebulliebat fervidâ,
        
         Tumulis potentem saepe devovens deam:
        
         Nec vota Naso in Ibida
        
         Concepit alto diriora pectore,
        
         Graiusque vates parciùs
        
         Turpem Lycambis execratus est dolum▪
        
         Sponsamqne Neobolen suam.
        
         At ecce diras ipse dum fundo graves,
        
         Et imprecor neci necem,
        
         Audisse tales videor attonitus sonos
        
         Leni, sub aurâ, flamine:
        
         Caecos furores pone, pone vitream
        
         Bilemque & irritas minas,
        
         Quid temere violas non nocenda numina,
        
         Subitoque ad iras percita.
        
         Non est, ut arbitraris elusus miser,
        
         Mors atra Noctis filia,
        
         Erebóve patre creta, sive Erinnye,
        
         Vastóve nata sub Chao:
        
         Ast illa caelo missa stellato, Dei
        
         Messes ubique colligit;
        
         Animasque mole carneâ reconditas
        
         In lucem & auras evocat:
        
         Ut cum fugaces excitant Horae diem
        
         Themidos Jovisque filiae;
        
         Et sempiterni ducit ad vultus patris;
        
         At justa raptat impios
        
         Sub regna furvi luctuosa Tartari,
        
         Sedesque subterraneas
        
         Hane ut vocantem laetus audivi, cito
        
         Foedum reliqui carcerem,
        
         Volatilesque faustus inter milites
        
         Ad astra sublimis feror:
        
         Vates ut olim raptus ad coelum senex
        
         Auriga currus ignei,
        
         Non me Boötis terruere lucidi
        
         Sarraca tarda frigore, aut
        
         Formidolosi Scorpionis brachia,
        
         Non ensis Orion tuus.
        
         Praetervolavi fulgidi solis globum,
        
         Longeque sub pedibus deam
        
         Vidi triformem, dum coercebat suos
        
         Fraenis dracones aureis.
        
         Erraticorum syderum per ordines,
        
         Per lacteas vehor plagas,
        
         Velocitatem saepe miratus novam,
        
         Donec nitentes ad sores
        
         Ventum est Olympi, & regiam Crystallinam, &
        
         Stratum smaragdis Atrium.
        
         Sed hic tacebo, nam quis effari queat
        
         Oriundus humano patre
        
         Amoenitates illius loci, mihi
        
         Sat est in aeternum frui.

Naturam non pati senium.

         HEu qu
         
          •
         
         m perpetuis erroribus acta fatiscit
        
         Avia men's hominum, tenebrisque immersa profundis
        
         Oedipodioniam volvit sub pectore noctem!
        
         Quae vesana suis metiri facta deorum
        
         Audet, & incisas leges adamante perenni
        
         Assimilare suis, nulloque solubile saeclo
        
         Consilum fati perituris alligat horis.

         Ergóne marcescet sulcantibus obsita rugis
        
         Naturae facies, & rerum publica mater
        
         Omniparum contracta uterum sterilescet ab aevo?
        
         Et se fassa senem male certis passibus ibit
        
         Sidereum tremebunda caput? num tetra vetustas
        
         Annorumque aeterna fames, squalorque situsque
        
         Sidera vexabunt? an & insatiabile Tempus
        
         Esuriet Caelum, rapietque in viscera patrem?
        
         Heu, potuitne suas imprudens Jupiter arces
        
         Hoc contra munisse nefas, & Temporis isto
        
         Exemisse malo, gyrosque dedisse perennes?
        
         Ergo erit ut quandoque sono dilapsa tremendo
        
         Convexi tabulata ruant, atque obvius ictu
        
         Stridat uterque polus, superâque ut Olympius aulâ
        
         Decidat, horribilisque retectâ Gorgone Pallas.
        
         Qualis in Aegaeam proles Junonia Lemnon
        
         Deturbata sacro cecidit de limine caeli.
        
         Tu quoque Phoebe tui casus imitabere nati
        
         Praecipiti curru, subitáque ferere ruinâ
        
         Pronus, & extinctâ fumabit lampade Nereus,
        
         Et dabit attonito feralia sibila ponto.
        
         Tune etiam aërei divulsis sedibus Haemi
        
         Dissultabit apex, imoque allisa barathro
        
         Terrebunt Stygium dejecta Ceraunia Ditem
        
         In superos quibus usus erat, fraternaque bell
         
          •
         
         .

         At Pater omnipotence fundatis fortius astris
        
         Consuluit rerum summae, certoque peregit
        
         Pondere fatorum lances, atque ordine summo
        
         Singula perpetuum jussit servare tenorem.
        
         Volvitur hinc lapsu mundi rota prima diurno;
        
         Raptat, & ambitos sociâ vertigine caelos.
        
         Tardior haud solito Saturnus, & acer ut olim
        
         Fulmineùm rutilat cristatâ casside Mavors.
        
         Floridus aeternùm Phoebus juvenile coruscat▪
        
         Nec fovet effoetas loca per declivia terras
        
         Devexo temone Deus; sed semper amicá
        
         Luce potens eadem currit per signa rotarum▪
        
         Surgit odoratis pariter sormosus ab Indis
        
         Aethereum pecus albenti qui cogit Olympo
        
         Mane vocans, & serus agens in pascua caeli,
        
         Temporis & gemino dispertit regna color.
        
         Fulget, obitque vices alterno Delia cornu,
        
         Caeruleumque ignem paribus complectitur ulnis.
        
         Nec variant elementa fidem, solitóque fragore
        
         Lurida perculsas jaculantur fulmina rupes.
        
         Nec per inane furit leviori murmur Corus,
        
         Stringit & armiferos aequali horrore Gelonos
        
         Trux Aquilo, spiratque hyemem, nimbosque volutat.
        
         Utque solet, Siculi diverberat ima Pelori
        
         Rex maris, & raucâ circumstrepit aequora conchâ
        
         Oceani Tubicen, nec vastâ mole minorem
        
         Aegaeona ferunt dorso Balearica cete.
        
         Sed neque Terra tibi saecli vigor ill vetusti
        
         Priscus abest, servatque suum Narcissus odorem▪
        
         Et pure ill suum tenet & pure ill decorem
        
         Phoebe tuusque & Cypri tuus, nec ditior olim
        
         Terra datum sceleri celavit montibus aurum
        
         Conscia, velsub aquis gemmas. Sic denique in aevum
        
         Ibit cunctarum series justissima rerum,
        
         Donec flamma orbem populabitur ultima, late
        
         Circumplexa polos, & vasti culmina caeli;
        
         Ingentique rogo flagrabit machina mundi.

De Idea Platonica quemadmodum Aristoteles intellexit.

         DIcite sacrorum praesides nemorum deae,
        
         Tuque O noveni perbeata numinis
        
         Memoria mater, quaeque in immenso procul
        
         Antro recumbis otiosa Aeternitas,
        
         Monumenta servans, & ratas leges Jovis,
        
         Caelique fastos atque ephemeridas Deûm,
        
         Quis ill primus cujus ex imagine
        
         Natura sollers finxit humanum genus,
        
         Aeternus, incorruptus, aequaevus polo,
        
         Unusque & universus, exemplar Dei?
        
         Haud ill Palladis gemellus innub ae
        
         Interna proles insidet menti Jovis;
        
         Sed quamlibet natura sit communior,
        
         Tamen seorsùs extat ad morem unius,
        
         Et, mira, certo stringitur spatio loci;
        
         Seu sempiternus ill syderum comes
        
         Caeli pererrat ordines decemplicis,
        
         Citimúmve terris incolit Lunae globum:
        
         Sive inter animas corpus adituras fedens
        
         Obliviosas torpet ad Lethes aquas:
        
         Sive in remot
         
          •
         
         forte terrarum plagâ
        
         Incedit ingens hominis archetypus gigas,
        
         Et diis tremendus erigit celsum caput
        
         At
         
          •
         
         ante major portitore syderum.
        
         Non cui profundum caecitas lumen dedit
        
         Dircaeus augur vidit hunc alto sinu;
        
         Non hunc silenti nocte Pleiones nepos
        
         Vatum sagaci praepes ostendit choro;
        
         Non hunc sacerdos novit Assyrius, licet
        
         Longos vetusti commemoret atavos Nini,
        
         Priscumque Belon, inclytumque Osiridem.
        
         Non ill trino gloriosus nomine
        
         Ter magnus Hermes (ut sit arcani sciens)
        
         Talem reliquit Isidis cultoribus.
        
         At tu perenne ruris Academi decus
        
         (Haec monstra si tu primus induxti scholis)
        
         Jam jam pöetas urbis exules tuae
        
         Revocabis, ipse fabulator maximus,
        
         Aut institutor ipse migrabis foras.

Ad Patrem.

         NUnc mea Pierios cupiam per pectora fontes
        
         Irriguas torquere vias, totumque per ora
        
         Volvere laxatum gemino de vertice rivum;
        
         Ut tenues oblita sonos audacibus alis
        
         Surgat in offlcium venerandi Musa parentis.
        
         Hoc utcunque tibi gratum pater optime carmen
        
         Exiguum meditatur opus, nec novimus ipsi
        
         Aptiùs à nobis quae possint munera donis
        
         Respondere tuis, quamvis nec maxima possint
        
         Respondere tuis, nedum ut par gratia donis
        
         Esse queat, vacuis quae redditur arida verbis.
        
         Sed tamen haec nostros ostendit pagina census,
        
         Et quod habemus opum chartâ numeravimus ist
         
          •
         
         Quae mihi sunt nullae, nisi quas dedit aurea Clio
        
         Quas mihi semoto somni peperere sub antro,
        
         Et nemoris laureta sacri Parnassides umbrae.

         Nec tu vatis opus divinum despice carmen,
        
         Quo nihil aethereos ortus, & semina caeli,
        
         Nil magis humanam commendat origin mentem,
        
         Sancta Prometheae retinens vestigia flammae.
        
         Carmen amant superi, tremebundaque Tartara carmen
        
         Ima ciere valet, divosque ligare profundos,
        
         Et triplici duros Manes adamante coercet.
        
         Carmine sepositi retegunt arcana futuri
        
         Phoebades, & tremulae pallentes ora Sibyllae;
        
         Carmina sacrificus sollennes pangit ad aras
        
         Aurea seu sternit motantem cornua taurum;
        
         Seu cùm fata sagax fumantibus abdita fibris
        
         Consulit, & tepidis Parcam scrutatur in extis.
        
         Nos etiam patrium tunc cum repetemus Olympum,
        
         Aeternaeque morae stabunt immobilis aevi,
        
         Ibimus auratis per caeli templa coronis,
        
         Dulcia suaviloquo fociantes carmina plectro,
        
         Astra quibus, geminique poli convexa sonabunt.
        
         Spiritus & rapidos qui circinat igneus orbs.
        
         Nunc quoque sydereis intercinit ipse choreis
        
         Immortale melos, & inenarrabile carmen;
        
         Torrida dum rutilus compescit sibila serpens,
        
         Demissoque ferox gladio mansuescit Orion;
        
         Stellarum nec sentit onus Maurusius Atlas.
        
         Carmina regales epulas ornare solebant,
        
         Cum nondum luxus, vastaeque immensa vorago
        
         Nota gulae, & modico spumabat coena Lyaeo.
        
         Tum de more sedens festa ad convivia vates
        
         Aesculeâ intonsos redimitus ab arbore crines,
        
         Heroumque actus, imitandaque gesta canebat,
        
         Et chaos, & positi late fundamina mundi,
        
         Reptantesque Deos, & alentes numina glandes,
        
         Et nondum Aetnaeo quaesitum fulmen ab antro.
        
         Denique quid vocis modulamen inane juvabi
         
          •
         
         ,
        
         Verborum sensusque vacans, numerique loquacis?
        
         Silvestres decet iste choros, non Orphea cantus,
        
         Qui tenuit fluvios & quercubus addidit aures
        
         Carmine, non citharâ, simulachraque functa canendo
        
         Compulit in lacrymas; habet has à carmine laudes.

         Nec tu perge precor sacras contemnere Musas,
        
         Nec vanas inopesque puta, quarum ipse peritus
        
         Munere, mille sonos numeros componis ad aptos,
        
         Millibus & vocem modulis variare canoram
        
         Doctus, Arionii merito sis nominis haeres.
        
         Nunc tibi quid mirum, si me genuisse poëtam
        
         Contigerit, charo si tam prope sanguine juncti
        
         Cognatas arts, studiumque affine sequamur:
        
         Ipse volens Phoebus se dispertire duobus,
        
         Altera dona mihi, dedit altera dona parenti,
        
         Dividuumque Deum genitorque puerque tenemus.

         Tu tamen ut simules teneras odisse camoenas,
        
         Non odisse reor, neque enim, pater, ire jubebas
        
         Quà via lata patet, quà pronior area lucri,
        
         Certaque condendi fulget spes aurea nummi:
        
         Nec rapis ad leges, male custoditaque gentis
        
         Jura, nec insulsis damnas clamoribus aures.
        
         Sed magis excultam cupiens ditescere mentem▪
        
         Me procul urbano strepitu, secessibus altis
        
         Abductum Aoniae jucunda per otia ripae
        
         Phoebaeo lateri comitem finis ire beatum.
        
         Officium chari taceo commune parentis,
        
         Me poscunt majora, tuo pater optime sumptu
        
         Cùm mihi Romuleae patuit facundia linguae,
        
         Et Latii veneres, & quae Jovis ora decebant
        
         Grandia magniloquis elata vocabula Graiis,
        
         Addere suasisti quos jactat Gaul flores,
        
         Et quam degeneri novus Italus ore loquelam
        
         Fundit, Barbaricos testatus voice tumultus,
        
         Quaeque Palaestinus loquitur mysteria vate▪
        
         Denique quicquid habet caelum, subjectaque coelo
        
         Terra parens, terraeque & coelo interfluus aer,
        
         Quicquid & unda tegir, pontique agitabile marmor,
        
         Per te nosse licet, per te, si nosse libebit.
        
         Dimotàque venit spectanda scientia nube,
        
         Nudaque conspicuos inclinat ad oscula vultus▪
        
         Ni fugisse velim, ni sit libâsse molestum.

         I nunc, confer opes quisquis malesanus avita
         
          •
         
         Austriaci gazas, Perüanaque regna praeoptas.
        
         Quae potuit majora pater tribuisse, vel ipfe
        
         Jupiter, excepto, donâsset ut omnia, coelo?
        
         Non potiora dedit, quamvis & tuta fuissent,
        
         Publica qui juveni commisit lumina nato
        
         Atque Hyperionios currus, & fraena diei▪
        
         Et circùm undantem radiatâ luce tiaram.
        
         Ergo ego jam doctae pars quamlibet ima catervae
        
         Victrices hederas inter, laurosque sedebo,
        
         Jamque nec obscurus populo miscebor inerti,
        
         Vitabuntque oculos vestigia nostra profanos.
        
         Este procul vigiles curae, procul este querelae,
        
         Invidiaeque acies transverso tortilis hirquo,
        
         Saeva nec anguiferos extend Calumnia rictus;
        
         In me triste nihil faedissima turba potestis,
        
         Nec vestri sum juris ego; securaque tutus
        
         Pectora, vipereo gradiar sublimis ab ictu.

         At tibi, chare pater, postquam non aequa merenti
        
         Posse refer datur, nec dona rependere factis,
        
         Sit memorâsse satis, repetitaque munera grato
        
         Percensere animo, fidaeque reponere menti.

         Et vos, O nostri, juvenilia carmina, lusus,
        
         Si modo perpetuos sperare audebitis annos,
        
         Et domini superesse rogo, lucemque tueri,
        
         Nec spisso rapient oblivia nigra sub Orco,
        
         Forsitan has laudes, decantatumque parentis
        
         Nomen, ad exemplum, sero servabitis aevo.

Psalm 114.

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Philosophus ad regem quendam qui eum ignotum & insontem inter rees forte captum inscius damnaverat, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 haec subito misit.

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Ad Salsillum poetam Romanum aegrotantem.

SCAZONTES.

         O Musa gressum quae volens trahis claudum.
        
         Vulcanioque tarda gaudes incessu,
        
         Nec sentis illud in loco minus gratum,
        
         Quàm cùm decentes flava Dëiope suras
        
         Alternat aureum ante Junonis lectum.
        
         Adesdum & haec s'is verba pauca Salsillo
        
         Refer, camoena nostra cui tantum est cordi,
        
         Quamque ill magnis praetulit immerito divis.
        
         Haec ergo alumnus ill Londini Milto,
        
         Diebus hisce qui suum linquens nidum
        
         Polique tractum, (pessimus ubi ventorum,
        
         Insanientis impotensque pulmonis
        
         Pernix anhela sub Jove exercet flabra)
        
         Venit feraces Itali soli ad glebas,
        
         Visum superbâ cognitas urbes famâ
        
         Virosque doctaeque indolem juventutis,
        
         Tibi optat idem hic fausta multa Salsille,
        
         Habitumque fesso corpori penitùs sanum;
        
         Cui nunc profunda bilis infestat renes,
        
         Praecordiisque fixa damnosùm spirat.
        
         Nec id pepercit impia quod tu Romano
        
         Tam cultus ore Lesbium condis melos.
        
         O dulce divûm munus, Osalus Hebes
        
         Germana! Tuque Phoebe morborum terror
        
         Pythone caeso, sive tu magis Paean
        
         Libenter audis, hic tuus sacerdos est.
        
         Querceta Fauni, vosque roar vinoso
        
         Colles benigni, mitis Euandri sedes,
        
         Siquid salubre vallibus frondet vestris,
        
         Levamen aegro ferte certatim vati.
        
         Sic ill charis redditus rursùm Musis
        
         Vicina dulci prata mulcebit cantu.
        
         Ipse inter atros emirabitur lucos
        
         Numa, ubi beatum degit otium aeternum,
        
         Suam reclivis semper Aegeriam spectans.
        
         Tumidusque & ipse Tibris hinc delinitus
        
         Spei favebit annuae colonorum:
        
         Nec in sepulchris ibit obsessum reges
        
         Nimiùm sinistro laxus irruens loro:
        
         Sed fraena melius temperabit undarum,
        
         Adusque curvi salsa regna Portumni.

Mansus.

Joannes Baptista Mansus Marchio Villensis vir ingenii laude, tum literarum studio, nec non & bellicâ virtute apud Italos clarus in primis est. Ad quem Torquati Tassi dialogus extat de Amicitiâ scriptus; erat enim Tassi amicissimus; ab quo etiam inter Campaniae principes celebratur, in illo poemate cui titulus
Gerusalemme conquistata, lib. 20.

Fra cavalier magnanimi, e cortesi

Risplende il Manso—

Is authorem Neapoli commorantem summâ benevolentiâ prosecutus est, mult • que ei detulit humanitatis officia. Ad hunc it • que hospes ill antoquam ab eâ urbe discederet, ut ne ingratum se ostenderet, hoc carmen misit.

         HAec quoque Manse tuae meditantur carmina laudi
        
         Pierides, tibi Manse choronotissime Phoebi▪
        
         Quandoquidem ill alium haud aequo est dignatus honor,
        
         Post Galli cineres, & Mecaenatis Hetrusci.
        
         Tu quoque si nostrae tantùm valet aura Camoenae,
        
         Victrices hederas inter, laurosque sedebis.
        
         Te pridem magno felix concordia Tas
         
          •
         
         o
        
         Junxit, & aeternis inscripsit nomina chartis.
        
         Mox tibi dulciloquum non inscia Musa Marinum
        
         Tradidit, ill tuum dici se gaudet alumnum,
        
         Dum cannot Assyrios divûm prolixus amores▪
        
         Mollis & Ausonias stupefecit carmine nymphas.
        
         Ille itidem moriens tibi soli debita vates
        
         Ossa tibi soli, supremaque vota reliquit.
        
         Nec manes pietas tua chara fefellit amici,
        
         Vidimus arridentem operoso ex aere poetam.
        
         Nec satis hoc visum est in utrumque, & nec pia cessant
        
         Officia in tumulo, cupis integros rapere Orco,
        
         Quà p
         
          •
         
         tes, atque avidas Parcarum eludere leges:
        
         Amborum genus, & variâ sub sort peractam
        
         Describis vitam, moresque, & dona Minervae;
        
         Aemulus illius Mycalen qui natus ad altam
        
         Rettulit Aeolii vitam facundus Homeri.
        
         Ergo ego te Cliûs & magni nomine Phoebi
        
         Manse pater, jubeo longum salvere per aevum
        
         Missus Hyperboreo juvenis peregrinus ab axe▪
        
         Nec tu longinquam bonus aspernabere Musam,
        
         Quae nuper gelidâ vix enutrita sub Arcto
        
         Imprudens Italas ausa est volitare per urbes▪
        
         Nos etiam in nostro modulantes flumine cygnos
        
         Credimus obscuras noctis sensisse per umbras,
        
         Quà Thamesis late puris argenteus urnis
        
         Oceani glaucos perfundit gurgite crines.
        
         Quin & in has quondam pervenit Tityrus oras.
        
         Sed neque nos genus incultum, nec inutile Phoebo,
        
         Quà plaga sept
         
          •
         
         no mundi sulcata Trione
        
         Brumalem patitur longâ sub nocte Boöten.
        
         Nos etiam colimus Phoebum, nos munera Phoebo
        
         Flaventes spicas, & lutea mala canistris,
        
         Halantemque crocum (perhibet nisi vana vetustas)
        
         Misimus, & lectas Druidum de gente choreas.
        
         (Gens Druids antiqua sacris operata deorum
        
         Heroum laudes imitandaque gesta canebant)
        
         Hinc quoties festo cingunt altaria cant
         
          •
         
         Delo in herbosâ Graiae de more puellae
        
         Carminibus laetis memorant Corineida Loxo,
        
         Fatidicamque Upin, cum flavicomà Hecaërge
        
         Nuda Caledonio variatas pectora fuco.
        
         Fortunate senex, ergo quacunque per orbem
        
         Torquati decus, & nomen celebrabitur ingens,
        
         Claraque perpetui succrescet fama Marini,
        
         Tu quoque in ora frequens venies plausumque virorum,
        
         Et parili carpes iter immortale volatu.
        
         Dicetur tum sponte tuos habitasse penates
        
         Cynthius, & famulas venisse ad limina Musas:
        
         At non sponte domum tamen idem, & regis adivit
        
         Rura P
         
          •
         
         eretiadae caelo fugitivus Apollo;
        
         Ille licet magnum Alciden susceperat hospes;
        
         Tantùm ubi clamosos placuit vitare bubulcos.
        
         Nobile mansueti cessit Chironis in antrum,
        
         Irriguos inter saltus frondosaque tecta
        
         Peneium prope rivum; ibi saepe sub ilice nigr
         
          •
         
         Ad citharae strepitum blandâ prece victus amici
        
         Exilii duros lenibat voice labores.
        
         Tum neque ripa suo, barathro nec fixa sub imo▪
        
         Saxa stetere loco, nutat Trachinia rupes,
        
         Nec sentit solitas, immania pondera, silvas,
        
         Emotaeque suis properant de collibus orni,
        
         Mulcenturque novo maculosi carmine lynces.
        
         Diis dilecte senex, te Jupiter aequus oportet
        
         Nascentem, & miti lustrarit lumine Phoebus,
        
         Atlantisque nepos; neque enim nisi charus ab ortu
        
         Diis superis poterit magno favisse poetae.
        
         Hinc longaeva tibi lento sub flour senectus
        
         Vernat, & Aesonios lucratur vivida fusos,
        
         Nondum deciduos servans tibi frontis honores,
        
         Ingeniumque vigens, & adultum mentis acumen.
        
         O mihi si mea sors talem concedat amicum
        
         Phoebaeos decorâsse viros qui tam been norit,
        
         Si quando indigenas revocabo in carmina reges,
        
         Arturumque etiam sub terris bella moventem;
        
         Aut dicam invictae sociali foedere mensae,
        
         Magnanimos Heroas, & (O modo spiritus ad sit)
        
         Frangam Saxonicas Britonum sub Marte phalanges.
        
         Tandem ubi non tacitae permensus tempora vitae,
        
         Annorumque satur cineri sua jura relinquam,
        
         Ille mihi lecto madidis astaret ocellis,
        
         Astanti sat erit si dicam sim tibi curae;
        
         Ille meos artus liventi morte solutos
        
         Curaret parvâ componi molliter urnâ.
        
         Forsitan & nostros ducat de marmore vultus,
        
         Nectens aut Paphiâ myrti aut Parnasside lauri
        
         Fronde comas, at ego securâ pace quiescam.
        
         Tum quoque, si qua fides, si praemia certa bonorum,
        
         Ipse ego caelicolûm semotus in aethera divûm,
        
         Quo labor & men's pura vehunt, atque ignea virtus
        
         Secreti haec aliquâ mundi de parte videbo
        
         (Quantum fata sinunt) & totâ mente serenùm
        
         Ridens purpureo suffundar lumine vultus
        
         Et simul aethereo plaudam mihi laetus Olympo.

EPITAPHIUM DAMONIS.

ARGUMENTUM.

THyrsis & Damon ejusdem viciniae Pastores, eadem studia sequuti a pueritiâ amici erant, ut qui plurimùm. Thyrsis animi cau â profectus peregre de obitu Damonis nuncium accepit. Domum postea reversus, & rem ita esse comperto, se, suamque solitudinem hoc carmine deplorat. Damonis autem sub personâ hîc intelligitur Carolus Deodatus ex urbe Hetruriae Lucapaterno genere oriundus, caetera Anglus; ingenio, doctrina, clarissimisque caeteris virtutibus, dum viveret, juvenis egregius.

EPITAPHIUM DAMONIS.

        HImerides nymphae (nam vos & Daphnin & Hylan,
       
        Et plorata diu meministis fata Bionis)
       
        Dicite Sicelicum Thamesina per oppida carmen:
       
        Quas miser effudit voces, quae murmura Thyrsis,
       
        Et quibus assiduis exercuit antra querelis,
       
        Fluminaque, fontesque vagos, nemorumque recessus,
       
        Dum sibi praereptum queritur Damona, heque altam
       
        Luctibus exemit noctem loca sola pererrans.
       
        Et jam bis viridi surgebat culmus arista,
       
        Et totidem flavas numerabant horrea messes,
       
        Ex quo summa dies tulerat Damona sub umbras,
       
        Nec dum aderat Thyrsis; pastorem scilicet illum
       
        Dulcis amor Musae Thusca retinebat in urbe.
       
        Ast ubi men's expleta domum, pecorisque relicti
       
        Cura vocat, simul assuetâ seditque sub ulmo,
       
        Tum vero amissum tum denique sentit amicum,
       
        Coepit & immensum sic exonerare dolorem.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        Hei mihi! quae terris, quae dicam numina coelo,
       
        Postquam te immiti rapuerunt funere Damon;
       
        Siccine nos linquis, tua sic sine nomine virtus
       
        Ibit, & obscuris numero sociabitur umbris?
       
        At non ill, animas virgâ qui dividit aureâ,
       
        Ista velit, dignumque tui te ducat in agmen,
       
        Ignavumque procul pecus arceat omne silentum.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        Quicquid erit, certe nisi me lupus ante videbit,
       
        Indeplorato non comminuere sepulcro,
       
        Constabitque tuus tibi honos, longúmque vigebit
       
        Inter pastores: Illi tibi vota secundo
       
        Solvere post Daphnin, post Daphnin dicere laudes
       
        Gaudebunt, dum rura Pales, dum Faunus amabit:
       
        Si quid id est, priscamque fidem coluisse, piúmque,
       
        Palladiásque arts, sociúmque habuisse canorum.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        Haec tibi certa manent, tibi erunt haec praemia Damon,
       
        At mihi quid tandem fiet modo? quis mihi fidus
       
        Haerebit lateri comes, ut tu saepe solebas
       
        Frigoribus duris, & per loca foeta pruinis,
       
        Aut rapido sub sole, siti morientibus herbis?
       
        Sive opus in magnos fuit eminùs ire leones
       
        Aut avidos terrere lupos praesepibus altis;
       
        Quis fando sopire diem, cantuque solebit?

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        Pectora cui credam? quis me lenire docebit
       
        Mordaces curas, quis longam fallere noctem
       
        Dulcibus alloquiis, grato cùm sibilat igni
       
        Molle pyrum, & nucibus strepitat focus, at malus auster
       
        Miscet cuncta foris, & desuper intonat ulmo.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        Aut estate, dies medio dum vertitur axe,
       
        Cum Pan aesculeâ somnum capit abditus umbrâ,
       
        Et repetunt sub aquis sibi nota sedilia nymphae.
       
        Pastoresque latent, stertit sub sepe colonus,
       
        Quis mihi blanditiásque tuas, quis tum mihi risus,
       
        Cecropiosque sales referet, cultosque lepores?

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        At jam solus agros, jam pascua solus oberro,
       
        Sicubi ramosae densantur vallibus umbrae,
       
        Hic serum expecto, supra caput imber & Eurus
       
        Triste sonant, fractaeque agitata crepuscula silvae.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        Heu quàm culta mihi priùs arva procacibus herbis
       
        Involvuntur, & ipsa situ seges alta fatiseit!
       
        Innuba neglecto marcescit & uva racemo,
       
        Nec myrteta juvant; ovium quoque taedet, at illae
       
        Moerent, inque suum convertunt ora magistrum.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        Tityrus ad corylos vocat, Alphesiboeus ad ornos,
       
        Ad salices Aegon, ad flumina pulcher Amyntas,
       
        Hic gelidi fontes, hîc illita gramina musco,
       
        Hic Zephyri, hîc placidas interstrepit arbutus undas;
       
        Ista canunt surdo, frutices ego nactus abibam.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        Mopsus ad haec, nam me redeuntem forte notârat
       
        (Et callebat avium linguas, & sydera Mopsus)
       
        Thyrsi quid hoc? dixit, quae te coquit improba bilis?
       
        Aut te perdit amor, aut te male fascinat astrum,
       
        Saturni grave saepe fuit pastoribus astrum,
       
        Intimaque obliquo figit praecordia plumbo.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        Mirantur nymphae, & quid te Thyrsi futurum est?
       
        Quid tibi vis▪ ajunt, non haec solet esse juventae
       
        Nubila frons, oculique truces, vultusque severi,
       
        Illa choros, lususque leves, & semper amorem
       
        Jure petit, bis ill miser qui serus amavit.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        Venit Hyas, Dryopeque, & filia Baucidis Aegle
       
        Docta modos, citharaeque sciens, sed perdita fastu,
       
        Venit Idumanii Chloris vicina fluenti;
       
        Nil me blanditiae, nil me solantia verba,
       
        Nil me, si quid adest, movet, aut spes ulla futuri.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        Hei mihi quam similes ludunt per prata juvenci,
       
        Omnes unanimi secum sibi lege sod ales,
       
        Nec magis hunc alio quisquam secernit amicum
       
        De grege, sic densi veniunt ad pabula thoes,
       
        Inque vicem hirsuti paribus junguntur onagri;
       
        Lex eadem pelagi, deserto in littore Proteus
       
        Agmina Phocarum numerat, vilisque volucrum
       
        Passer habet semper quicum sit, & omnia circum
       
        Farra libens volitet, sero sua tecta revisens,
       
        Quem si fors letho objecit, seu milvus adunco
       
        Fata tulit rostro, seu stravit arundine fossor,
       
        Protinus ill alium socio petit inde volatu.
       
        Nos durum genus, & diris exercita fatis
       
        Gens homines aliena animis, & pectore discors,
       
        Vix sibi quisque parem de millibus invenit unum,
       
        Aut si sors dederit tandem non aspera votis,
       
        Illum inopina dies quâ non speraveris horâ
       
        Surripit, aeternum linquens in saecula damnum.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni▪
       
        Heu quis me ignotas traxit vagus error in oras
       
        Ire per aëreas rupes, Alpemque nivosam!
       
        Ecquid erat tanti Romam vidisse sepultam?
       
        Quamvis illa foret, qualem dum viseret olim,
       
        Tityrus ipse suas & oves & rura reliquit▪
       
        Ut te tam dulci possem caruisse sodale,
       
        Possem tot maria alta, tot interponere montes,
       
        Tot sylvas, tot saxa tibi, fluviosque sonantes.
       
        Ah certe extremùm licuisset tangere dextram,
       
        Et been compositos placide morientis ocellos,
       
        Et dixisse vale, nostri memor ibis ad astra.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni▪
       
        Quamquam etiam vestri nunquam meminisse pigebit
       
        Pastores Thusci, Musis operata juventus,
       
        Hic Charis, atque Lepos; & Thuscus tu quoque Damon▪
       
        Antiquâ genus unde petis Lucumonis ab urbe.
       
        O ego quantus eram, gelidi cum stratus ad Arni
       
        Murmura, populeumque nemus, quà mollior herb
        
         •
        
        ,
       
        Carpere nunc violas, nunc summas carpere myrtos,
       
        Et potui Lycidae certantem audire Menalcam.
       
        Ipse etiam tentare ausus sum, nec puto multùm
       
        Displicui, nam sunt & apud me munera vestra
       
        Fiscellae, calathique & cerea vincla cicutae,
       
        Quin▪ & nostra suas docuerunt nomina fagos
       
        Et Datis, & Francinus, erant & vocibus ambo
       
        Et studiis noti, Lydorum sanguinis ambo.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        Haec mihi tum laeto dictabat roscida luna,
       
        Dum solus teneros claudebam cratibus hoedos.
       
        Ah quoties dixi, cùm te cinis ater habebat,
       
        Nunc cannot, aut lepori nunc tendit retia Damon,
       
        Vimina nunc texit, varios sibi quod sit in usus;
       
        Et quae tum facili sperabam mente futura
       
        Arripui voto levis, & praesentia finxi,
       
        Heus bone numquid agis? nisi te quid forte retardat,
       
        Imus? & argutâ paulùm recubamus in umbra,
       
        Aut ad aquas Colni, aut ubi jugera Cassibelauni?
       
        Tu mihi percurres medicos, tua gramina, succos,
       
        Helleborúmque, humilesque crocos, foliûmque hyacinthi,
       
        Quasque habet ista palus herbas, artesque medentûm,
       
        Ah pereant herbae, pereant artesque medentûm
       
        Gramina, postquam ipsi nil profecere magistro.
       
        Ipse etiam, nam nescio quid mihi grande sonabat
       
        Fistula, ab undecimâ jam lux est altera nocte,
       
        Et tum forte novis admôram labra cicutis,
       
        Dissiluere tamen rupta compage, nec ultra
       
        Ferre graves potuere sonos, dubito quoque ne sim
       
        Turgidulus, tamen & referam, vos cedite silvae.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        Ipse ego Dardanias Rutupina per aequora puppes
       
        Dicam, & Pandrasidos regnum vetus Inogeniae,
       
        Brennúmque Arviragúmque duces, priscúmque Belinum,
       
        Et tandem Armoricos Britonum sub lege colonos;
       
        Tum gravidam Arturo fatali fraud Jogernen
       
        Mendaces vultus, assumptáque Gorlöis arma▪
       
        Merlini dolus. O mihi tum si vita supersit,
       
        Tu procul annosa pendebis fistula pinu
       
        Multùm oblita mini, aut patriis mutata camoenis
       
        Brittonicum strides, quid enim? omnia non licet uni
       
        Non sperasse uni licet omnia, mi satis ampla
       
        Merces, & mihi grande decus (sim ignotus in aevum
       
        Tum licet, externo penitúsque inglorius orbi)
       
        Si me flava comas legat Usa, & potor Alauni,
       
        Vorticibúsque frequens Abra, & nemus omne Treantae,
       
        Et Thamesis meus ante omnes, & fusca metallis
       
        Tamara, & extremis me discant Orcades undis.

        Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni.
       
        Haec tibi servabam lentâ sub cortice lauri,
       
        Haec, & plura simul, tum quae mihi pocula Mansus,
       
        Mansus Chalcidicae non ultima gloria ripae
       
        Bina dedit, mirum artis opus, mirandus & ipse,
       
        Et circùm gemino caelaverat argumento:
       
        In medio rubri maris unda, & odoriferum ver
       
        Littora longa Arabum, & sudantes balsama silvae,
       
        Has inter Phoenix divina avis, unica terris
       
        Caeruleùm fulgens diversicoloribus alis
       
        Auroram vitreis surgentem respicit undis.
       
        Parte alia polus omnipatens, & magnus Olympus,
       
        Quis putet? hic quoque Amor, pictaeque in nube pharetrae,
       
        Arma corusca faces, & spicula tincta pyropo;
       
        Nec tenues animas, pectúsque ignobile vulgi
       
        Hinc ferit, at circùm flammantia lumina torquens
       
        Semper in erectum spargit sua tela per orbs
       
        Impiger, & pronos nunquam collimat ad ictus,
       
        Hinc mentes ardere sacrae, formaeque deorum.

        Tu quoque in his, nee me fallit spes lubrica Damon▪
       
        Tu quoque in his certe es, nam quo tua dulcis abiret
       
        Sanctáque simplicitas, nam quo tua candida virtus?
       
        Nec te Lethaeo fas quaesivisse sub orco,
       
        Nec tibi convenient lacrymae, nec flebimus ultrà,
       
        Ite procul lacrymae, purum colit aethera Damon,
       
        Aethera purus habet, pluvium pede reppulit arcum;
       
        Heroúmque animas inter, divósque perennes,
       
        Aethereos haurit latices & gaudia potat
       
        Ore Sacro. Quin tu coeli post jura recepta
       
        Dexter ades, placidúsque fave quicúnque vocaris▪
       
        Seu tu noster eris Damon, sive aequior audis
       
        Diodotus, quo te divino nomine cuncti
       
        Coelicolae norint, sylvisque vocabere Damon.
       
        Quod tibi purpureus pudor, & sine labe juventus
       
        Grata fuit, quod nulla tori libata voluptas,
       
        En etiam tibi virginei servantur honores;
       
        Ipse caput nitidum cinctus rutilante corona,
       
        Letáque frondentis gestans umbracula palmae
       
        Aeternùm perages immortales hymenaeos;
       
        Cantus ubi, choreisque furit lyra mista beatis,
       
        Festa Sionaeo bacchantur & Orgia Thyrso.

FINIS.