The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America
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Project Note
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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
THE TENTH MUSE Lately sprung up in AMERICA. OR Several Poems, compiled with great variety of Wit and Learning, full of delight. Wherein especially is contained a complete discourse and description of
- The Four Elements,
- The Four Constitutions,
- The Four Ages of Man,
- The Four Seasons of the Year.
Together with an Exact Epitomie of the Four Monarchies, viz.
- The Assyrian,
- The Persian,
- The Grecian,
- The Roman.
Also a Dialogue between Old England and New, concerning the late troubles. With divers other pleasant and serious Poems.
By a Gentlewoman in those parts.
Printed at London for Stephen Bowtell at the sign of the Bible in Popes Head-Alley. 1650.
Kind Reader:
HAd I opportunity but to borrow some of the Authors wit, 'tis possible I might so trim this curious Work with such quaint expressions, as that the Preface might bespeak thy further perusal; but I fear 'twil be a shame for a man that can speak so little, to be seen in the title page of this Woman's Book, lest by comparing the one with the other, the Reader should pass his sentence, that it is the gift of women, not only to speak most, but to speak best; I shall leave therefore to commend that, which with any ingenious Reader will too much commend the Author, unless men turn more peevish then women, to envy the excellency of the inseriour Sex. I doubt not but the Reader will quickly find more then I can say, and the worst effect of his reading will be unbelief, which will make him question whether it be a woman's Work, and ask, Is it possible? If any do, take this as an answer from him that dares avow it; It is the Work of a Woman, honored, and esteemed where she lives, for her gracious demeanour, her eminent parts, her pious conversation, her courteous disposition, her exact diligence in her place, and discreet managing of her family occasions; and more then so, these Poems are the fruit but of some few hours, curtailed from her sleep, and other refreshments. I dare add little, lest I keep thee too long, if thou wilt not believe the worth of these things (in their kind) when a man says it, yet believe it from a woman when thou seest it. This only I shall annex, I fear the displeasure of no person in the publishing of these Poems but the Authors, without whose knowledge, and contrary to her expectation, I have presumed to bring to public view what she resolved should never in such a manner see the Sun; but I found that divers had gotten some scattered papers, affected them well, were likely to have sent forth broken pieces to the Authors prejudice, which I thought to prevent, as well as to pleasure those that earnestly desired the view of the whole.
MErcury
showed
Apollo, Bartas
Book,
Minerva
this, and wisht him well to look,
And tell uprightly, which did which excel;
He viewed, and viewed, and vowed he could not tell.
They bid him Hemisphear his mouldy nose,
With's cracked leering-glasses, for it would pose
The best brains he had in's old pudding-pan,
Sex weighed, which best, the Woman, or the Man?
He peer'd, and por'd, and glar'd, and said for wore,
I am even as wise now, as I was before:
They both 'gan laugh, and said, it was no mar'l
The Auth'resse was a right
Du Bartas
Girle.
Good sooth quoth the old
Don,
tell, ye me so,
I muse whither at length these Girls will go;
It half revives my chil frost-bitten blood,
To see a woman once do, ought, that's good;
And chode buy
Chaucers
Boots, and
Homers
Furrs,
Ler men look toit, least women wear the Spurs.
To my dear Sister, the Author of these Poems.
THough most that know me, dare (I think) affirm
I never was borne to do a Poet harm,
Yet when I read your pleasant witty strains,
It wrought so strongly on my addle brames;
That though my verse be not so finely spun,
And so (like yours) cannot so neatly run,
Yet am I willing, with upright intent,
To show my love without a complement.
There needs no painting to that comely face,
That in its native beauty hath such grace;
What I (poor silly I) prefix therefore,
Can but do this, make yours admired the more;
And if but only this, I do attain
Content, that my disgrace may be your gain.
If women, I with women, may compare,
Your Works are solid, others weak as air;
Some books of Women
I
have heard of late,
Perused some, so witless, intricate,
So void of sense, and truth, as if to err
Were only wisht (acting above their sphere)
And all to get, what (filly souls) they lack,
Esteem to be the wisest of the pack;
Though (for your sake) to some this be permitted,
To print, yet wish I many better witted;
Their vanity make this to be inquired,
If women are with wit, and sense inspired:
Yet when your Works shall come to public view,
'Twill be affirmed, 'twill be confirmed by you:
And I, when seriously I had revolved
What you had done, I presently resolved,
Theirs was the Persons, not the Sexes failing,
And therefore did be-speak a modest vailing.
You have acutely in
Eliza
's ditty
Acquitted women, else I might with pity,
Have wisht them all to women's Works to look,
And never more to meddle with their book.
What you have done, the Sun shall witness bear,
That for a woman's Work 'tis very rare;
And if the Nine vouchsafe the Tenth a place,
I think they rightly may yield you that grace.
But least I should exceed, and too much love,
Should too too much endeared affection move,
To super-add in praises I shall cease,
Least while I please myself I should displease
The longing Reader, who may chance complain,
And so requite my love with deep disdain;
That I your silly Servant, stand i' th' porch,
Lighting your Sun-light with my blinking torch;
Hindring his minds content, his sweet repose,
Which your delightful Poems do disclose,
When once the Caskets op'ned; yet to you
Let this be added, then I will bid adieu,
If you shall think, it will be to your shame
To be in print, then I must bear the blame:
I
•
't be a fault, 'tis mine, 'tis shame that might
Deny so fair an infant of its right,
To look abroad; I know your modest mind,
How you will blush, complain, 'tis too unkind,
To force a woman's birth, provoke her pain,
Expose her Labors to the world's disdain:
I know you will say, you do defy that mint,
That stamped you thus, to be a fool in print,
'It is true, it doth not now so neatly stand,
As ift 'twere pollisht with your own sweet hand;
'It is not so richly decked, so trimly tired,
Yet it is such as justly is admired.
If it be folly, 'tis of both, or neither,
Both you and I, we'll both be fools together;
And he that says, 'tis foolish (if my word
May sway) by my consent shall make the third.
I dare out-face the worlds disdain for both,
If you alone profess you are not wroth;
Yet if you are, a woman's wrath is little,
When thousands else admire you in each tittle.
• . W.
Upon the Author, by a known Friend.
NOw I believe Tradition, which doth call
The Muses, Virtues, Graces, Females all;
Only they are not nine, eleaven, nor three,
Our Authresse proves them but one unity.
Mankind take up some blushes on the score,
Menopolize perfection no more:
In your own Arts, confess yourselves out-done,
The Moon hath totally eclipsed the Sun,
Not with her sable mantle mufling him,
But her bright silver makes his gold look dim:
Just as his beams force our pale Lamps to wink,
And earthly Fires within their ashes shrink.
I cannot wonder at
Apollo
now,
That he with Female Laurel crowned his brow,
That made him witty: had I leave to choose,
My Verse should be a Page unto your Muse.
C. B.
ARme, arm, Soldado's arm, Horse, Horse, speed to your Horses,
Gentle-women, make head, they vent their plots in Verses;
They write of Monarchies, a most seditious word,
It signifies Oppression, Tyranny, and Sword:
March amain to
London,
they'll rise, for there they flock,
But stay a while, they seldom rise till ten a clock.
R. Q.
In praise of the Author, Mistress Anne Bradstreet, Virtue's true and lively Pattern, Wife of the Worshipful Simon Bradstreet Esquire.
At present residing in the Occidentall parts of the World, in America, alias NOV-ANGLIA.
WHat Golden splendent STAR is this, so bright,
One thousand miles thrice told, both day and night,
(From th' Orient first sprung) now from the West
That shines; swift-winged
Phoebus,
and the rest,
Of all
Joves
fiery stames surmounting far,
As doth each Planet, every falling Star;
By whose divine, and lucid light most clear,
Natures dark secret Mysteries appear;
Heaven's, Earths admired wonders, noble acts
Of Kings, and Princes most heroic facts,
And what e're else in darkness seemed to die,
Revives all things so obvious now to th' eye;
That he who these, its glittering Rayes views over,
Shall see what's done in all the world before.
N. H.
Upon the Author.
TWere extreme folly should I dare attempt,
To praise this Authors worth with complement;
None but herself must dare commend her parts,
Whose sublime brain's the Synopsis of Arts:
Nature and Skil, here both in one agree,
To frame this Master-piece of Poetry:
False Fame, bely their Sex, no more, it can,
Surpasse, or parallel, the best of man.
C. B.
Another to M ris. Anne Bradstreete, Author of this Poem.
I'Ve read your Poem (Lady) and admire,
Your Sex, to such a pitch should e're aspire;
Go on to write, continue to relate,
New Histories, of Monarchy and State:
And what the
Romans
to their Poets gave,
Be sure such honor, and esteem you will have.
H. S.
An Anagram.
Anna Bradestreate.
Deer Neat An Bartas.
So
Bartas
like thy fine spun Poems been,
That
Bartas
name will prove an Epicene.
Another.
Anne Bradstreate.
Arts bred neat An▪
To her most Honoured Father Thomas Dudley Esq; these humbly presented.
DEare Sir, of late delighted with the sight,
Of fairer Dames, the sun near saw the face,
(though made a pedestall for
Adams
Race)
Their worth so shines, in those rich lines you show.
Their paralells to find I scarcely know,
To climb their Climes, I have nor strength, nor skill,
To mount so high, requires an Eagles quill:
Yet view thereof, did cause my thoughts to soar,
My lowly pen, might wait upon those four,
I bring my four; and four, now meanly clad,
To do their homage unto yours most glad,
Who for their age, their worth, and quality,
Might seem of yours to claim precedency;
But by my humble hand thus rudely penned
They are your bounden handmaids to attend.
These same are they, of whom we being have,
These are of all, the life, the nurse, the grave,
These are, the hot, the cold, the moist, the dry,
That sink, that swim, that fill, that upwards fly,
Of these consists, our bodies, clothes, and food,
The world, the useful, hurtful, and the good:
Sweet harmony they keep, yet jar oft times,
Their discord may appear, by these harsh rimes.
Yours did contest, for Wealth, for Arts, for Age,
My first do show, their good, and then their rage,
My other four, do intermixed tell
Each others faults, and where themselves excel:
How hot, and dry, contend with moist, and cold,
How Air, and Earth, no correspondence hold,
And yet in equal tempers, how they gree,
How divers natures, make one unity.
Some thing of all (though mean) I did intend,
But feared you'ld judge, one
Bartas
was my friend,
I honor him, but dare not wear his wealth,
My goods are true (though poor) I love no stealth,
But if I did,
I
durst not send them you;
Who must reward a thief, but with his due.
I shall not need my innocence to clear,
These ragged lines, will doit, when they appear.
On what they are, your mild aspect I crave,
Accept my best, my worst vouchsafe a grave.
From her, that to yourself more duty owes,
Then waters, in the boundless Ocean flows.
ANNE BRADSTREET.
THE PROLOGUE.
1.
TO sing of Wars, of Captains, and of Kings,
Of Cities founded, Common-wealths begun,
For my mean Pen, are too superior things,
And how they all, or each, their dates have run:
Let Poets, and Historians set these forth,
My obscure Verse, shall not so dim their worth.
2.
But when my wondering eyes, and envious heart,
Great
Bartas
sugar'd lines do but read over;
Fool,
I
do grudge, the Muses did not part
'Twixt him and me, that over-fluent store;
A
Bartas
can, do what a
Bartas
will,
But simple I, according to my skill.
3.
From School-boys tongue, no Rhethorick we expect,
Nor yet a sweet Consort, from broken strings,
Nor perfect beauty, where's a main defect,
My foolish, broken, blemish'd Muse so sings;
And this to mend, alas, no Art is able,
'Cause Nature made it so irreparable.
4.
Nor can I, like that fluent sweet tongu'd
Greek
Who lisp'd at first, speak afterwards more plain
By Art, he gladly found what he did seek,
A full requital of his striving pain:
Art can do much, but this maxim's most sure,
A weak or wounded brain admits no cure.
5.
I am obnoxious to each carping tongue,
Who says, my hand a needle better fits,
A Poets Pen, all scorn, I should thus wrong;
For such despite they cast on female wits:
If what I do prove well, it woe'nt advance,
They'l say its stolen, or else, it was by chance.
6.
But sure the antick
Greeks
were far more mild,
Else of our Sex, why feigned they those nine,
And poesy made,
Calliope's
own child,
So 'mongst the rest, they placed the Arts divine:
But this weak knot they will full soon untie,
The
Greeks
did naught, but play the fool and lie.
7.
Let
Greeks
be
Greeks,
and Women what they are,
Men have precedency, and still excel,
It is but vain, unjustly to wage war,
Men can do best, and Women know it well;
Preeminence in each, and all is yours,
Yet grant some small acknowledgement of ours.
8.
And oh, ye high flown quils, that soar the skies,
And ever with your prey, still catch your praise,
If e're you deign these lowly lines, your eyes
Give wholesome Parsley wreath, I ask no Bayes:
This mean and unrefined stuff of mine,
Will make your glistering gold but more to shine.
A. B.
The Four Elements.
FIre, Air, Earth, and Water, did all contest
which was the strongest, noblest, & the best,
Who the most good could show, & who most rage
For to declare, themselves they all engage;
And in due order each her turn should speak,
But enmity, this amity did break:
All would be chief, and all scorned to be under,
Whence issu'd rains, and winds, lightning and thunder;
The quaking Earth did groan, the sky looked black,
The Fire, the forced Air, in sunder crack;
The sea did threat the heavens, the heavens the earth,
All looked like a Chaos, or new birth;
Fire broiled Earth, and scorched Earth it choked,
Both by their darings; Water so provoked,
That roaring in it came, and with its source
Soone made the combatants abate their force;
The rumbling, hissing, puffing was so great,
The worlds confusion it did seem to threat;
But Air at length, contention so abated,
That betwixt hot and cold, she arbitrated
The others enmity: being less, did cease
All storms now laid, and they in perfect peace,
That Fire should first begin, the rest consent,
Being the most impatient Element.
Fire.
WHat is my worth (both ye) and all things know,
Where little is, I can but little show,
But what I am, let learned
Grecians
say;
What I can do, well skilled Mechanics may,
The benefit all Beings, by me find;
Come first ye Artists, and declare your mind.
What tool was ever framed, but by my might;
O Martialist! what weapon for your fight?
To try your valor by, but it must feel
My force? your sword, your Pike, your flint and steel,
Your Cannon's bootless, and your powder too
Without mine aid, alas, what can they do?
The adverse wall's not shak'd, the Mine's not blown,
And in despite the City keeps her own,
But I with one Granado, or Petard,
Set ope those gates, that 'fore so strong was bar'd,
Ye Husband-men, your coulter's made by me,
Your shares, your mattocks, and what e're you see,
Subdue the earth, and fit it for your grain,
That so in time it might requite your pain;
Though strong limb'd
Vulcan
forged it by his skill,
I m
••
e it flexible unto his will.
Ye Cooks, your kitchen implements I framed,
Your spits, pots, jacks, what else I need not name,
Your dainty food, I wholesome make, I warm
Your shrinking limbs, which winters cold doth harm;
Ye Paracelsians too, in vain's your skil
In chymestry, unless I help you Stil,
And you Philosophers, if ere you made
A transmutation, it was through mine aide.
Ye Silver-smiths, your ure I do refine,
What mingled lay with earth, I cause to shine.
But let me leave these things, my flame aspires
To match on high with the Celestial fires.
The Sun, an Orbe of Fire was held of old,
Our Sages new, another tale have told:
But be he what they list, yet his aspect,
A burning fiery heat we find reflect;
And of the self same nature is with mine,
Good sister Earth, no witness needs but thine;
How doth his warmth refresh thy frozen backs,
And trim thee gay, in green, after thy blacks?
Both man and beast, rejoice at his approach,
And birds do sing, to see his glittering Coach.
And though naught but
Sal'manders
live in fire;
The Flye
Pyrausta
called, all
•
else expire.
Yet men and beasts, Astronomers can tell,
Fixed in heavenly constellations dwell,
My Planets, of both Sexes, whose degree,
Poor Heathen judged worthy a Diety:
With
Orion
armed, attended by his dog,
The
Theban
stout
Alcides,
with his club:
The Valiant
Perseus
who
Medusa
slew,
The Horse that killed
Bellerophon,
then flew.
My Crabbe, my Scorpion, fishes, you may see,
The maid with balance, wayn with horses three;
The Ram, the Bull, the Lyon, and the Beagle;
The Bear, the Goat, the Raven, and the Eagle,
The Crown, the Whale, the Archer, Bernice Hare,
The Hidra, Dolphin, Boys, that waters bear.
Nay more then these, Rivers 'mongst stars are found,
Eridanus,
where
Phaeton
was drowned,
Their magnitude and height should
I
recount,
My story to a Volume would amount:
Out of a multitude, these few
I
touch,
Your wisdom out of little gathers much,
I will here let pass, my Choler cause of wars,
And influence of divers of those stars,
When in conjunction with the sun, yet more,
Augment his heat, which was too hot before:
The Summer ripening season I do claim;
And man from thirty unto fifty frame.
Of old, when Sacrifices were divine,
I of acceptance was the holy sign.
'Mong all my wonders which I might recount;
There's none more strange then
Aetna's
sulphery mount
The choking flames, that from
Vesuvius
flew
The over-curious second
Pliny
slew:
And with the ashes, that it sometimes shed
Apulia's
jacent parts were covered;
And though I be a servant to each man;
Yet by my force, master my master can.
What famous Towns to cinders have I turned?
What lasting Forts my kindleed wrath hath burned?
The stately seats of mighty Kings by me:
In confused heaps of ashes may ye see.
Where's
Ninus
great wall'd Town, and
Troy
of old?
Carthage,
and hundred moe
•
in stories told,
Which when they could not be over come by foes
The Army through my help victorious rose;
Old sacred
Zion,
I demolished thee;
So great
Diana's
Temple was by me.
And more then brutish
Sodom
for her lust,
With neighbouring Towns I did consume to dust,
What shall I say of Lightning, and of Thunder,
Which Kings, and mighty ones; amazed with wonder,
Which made a
Caesar, (Rome's)
the worlds proud head,
Foolish
Caligula,
creep under's bed
Of Metors,
Ignis Fatuus,
and the rest,
But to leave those to'th' wise,
I
judge is best,
The rich I oft make poor, the strong
I
maim,
Not sparing life when I can take the same;
And in a word, the World I shall consume,
And all therein at that great day of doom;
Not before then, shall cease my raging ire,
And then, because no matter more for fire:
Now Sisters, pray proceed, each in her course,
As I: impart your usefulness, and force.
Earth.
THe next in place, Earth judged to be her due,
Sister, in worth I come not short of you;
In wealth and use
I
do surpass you all,
And Mother Earth, of old, men did me call,
Such was my fruitfulness; an Epithite
Which none ere gave, nor you could claim of right,
Among my praises this I count not least,
I am th' original of man and beast,
To tell what sundry fruits my fat soil yields,
In vine-yards, orchards, gardens, and corn fields,
Their kinds, their tastes, their colors, and their smells,
Would so pass time, I could say nothing else;
The rich and poor, wise, fool, and every sort,
Of these so common things, can make report:
To tell you of my Countries, and my regions
Soone would they pass, not hundreds, but legions,
My cities famous, rich, and populous,
Whose numbers now are grown innumerous;
I have not time to think of every part,
Yet let me name my
Grecia,
'tis my heart
For Learning, Arms, and Arts, I love it well:
But chiefly, 'cause the Muses there did dwell;
I will here skip over my mountains, reaching skies,
Whether Pyrenian, or the Alps; both lies
On either side the country of the
Gauls,
Strong forts from
Spanish
and
Italian
braules,
And huge great
Taurus,
longer then the rest,
Dividing great
Armenia
from the least,
And
Hemus,
whose steep sides, none foot upon,
But farewell all, for dear mount
Helicon,
And wondrous high
Olimpus,
of such fame,
That heaven it self was oft called by that name;
Sweet
Parnassus,
I dote too much on thee,
Unless thou prove a better friend to me;
But ile skip over these Hills, not touch a Dale,
Nor yet expatiate, in Temple vale;
I will here let go, my Lions of
Numedia,
My Panthers, and my Leopards of
Libia,
The Behemoth, and rare found Unicorne,
Poysons sure antidote lies in his horn.
And my
Hyaena
(imitates man's voice)
Out of huge numbers,
I
might pick my choice,
Thousands in woods, and planes, both wild, and tame,
But here, or there, I list now none to name;
No, though the fawning dog did urge me sore
In his behalf to speak a word the more;
Whose trust, and valor I might here commend:
But time's too short, and precious so to spend.
But hark, ye worthy Merchants who for prize
Send forth your well man'd ships, where sun doth rise.
After three years, when men and meat is spent,
My rich commodities pays double rent.
Ye
Galenists,
my Drugs that come from thence
Do cure your patients, fill your purse with pence;
Besides the use you have, of Hearbs and Plants,
That with less cost, near home, supplies your wants.
But Mariners, where got you ships and sails?
And Oares to row, when both my sisters fails?
Your Tackling, Anchor, Compass too, is mine;
Which guides, when Sun, nor Moon, nor Stars do shine.
Ye mighty Kings, who for your lasting fames
Built Cities, Monuments called by your names;
Was those compiled heaps of massy stones?
That your ambition laid, ought but my bones?
Ye greedy misers who do dig for gold;
For gems, for silver, treasures which I hold:
Will not my goodly face, your rage suffice?
But you will see what in my bowels lies?
And ye Artificers, all trades and sorts;
My bounty calls you forth to make reports,
If ought you have to use, to wear, to eat?
But what I freely yield upon your sweat?
And choleric sister, thou (for all thine ire)
Well knowest, my fuel must maintain thy fire.
As I ingenuously (with thanks) confess
My cold, thy (fruitful) heat, doth crave no less:
But how my cold, dry temper, works upon
The melancholy constitution.
How the Autumnal season I do sway;
And how I force the grey head to obey.
I should here make a short, yet true narration,
But that thy method is my imitation.
Now might I show my adverse quality,
And how I oft work man's mortality.
He sometimes finds, maugre his toiling pain,
Thistles and thorns, where he expected grain;
My sap, to plants and trees, I must not grant,
The Vine, the Olive, and the Fig tree want:
The Corn, and Hay, both fall before they are mown;
And buds from fruitful trees, before they are blown.
Then dearth prevails, that Nature to suffice,
The tender mother on her Infant flies:
The Husband knows no Wife, nor father sons;
But to all outrages their hunger runs.
Dreadfull examples, soon I might produce,
But to such auditors 'twere of no use.
Again, when Delvers dare in hope of gold,
To ope those veins of Mine, audacious bold:
While they thus in my intralls seem to dive;
Before they know, they are inter'd alive.
Ye affrighted wights, appall'd how do you shake
If once you feel me, your foundation, quake,
Because in the abyss of my dark womb:
Your Cities and yourselves I oft intombe.
O dreadful Sepulcher! that this is true,
Korah
and all his Company well knew.
And since, fair
Italy
full sadly knows
What she hath lost by these my dreadful woes.
And
Rome,
her
Curtius,
cannot forget I think;
Who bravely rode into my yawning chinke.
Again, what veins of poison in me lie;
As
Stibium
and unfixt
Mercury:
With divers moe, nay, into plants it creeps;
In hot, and cold, and some benums with sleeps,
Thus I occasion death to man and beast,
When they seek food, and harm mistrust the least.
Much might I say, of the
Arabian
sands;
Which rise like mighty billows on the lands:
Wherein whole Armies I have overthrown;
But windy sister, 'twas when you have blown.
I will say no more, yet this thing add I must,
Remember sons, your mould is of my dust,
And after death, whether inter'd, or burned;
As earth at first, so into earth returned.
Water.
SCarce Earth had done, but th' angry waters moved;
Sister (quoth she) it had full well behov'd
Among your boastings to have praised me;
Cause of your fruitfulness, as you shall see:
This your neglect, shows your ingratitude;
And how your subtlety would men delude.
Not one of us, all knows, that's like to thee,
Ever in craving, from the other three:
But thou art bound to me, above the rest;
Which am thy drink, thy blood, thy sap, and best.
If I withhold, what art thou, dead, dry lump
Thou bear'st no grass, nor plant, nor tree, nor stump.
Thy extreme thirst is moistened by my love,
With springs below, and showers from above;
Or else thy sun-burnt face, and gaping chapps;
Complaines to th'heaven, when I withhold my drops:
Thy Bear, thy Tiger, and thy Lyon stout,
When I am gone, their fierceness none need doubt;
The Camel hath no strength, thy Bull no force;
Nor mettl's found in the courageous Horse:
Hinds leave their Calves, the Elephant the Fens;
The Wolves and savage Beasts, forsake their Dens.
The lofty Eagle and the Stork fly low,
The Peacock, and the Ostrich, share in woe:
The Pine, the Cedars, yea and
Daph'nes
tree;
Do cease to flourish in this misery.
Man wants his bread, and wine, and pleasant fruits;
He knows such sweets, lies not in earths dry roots,
Then seeks me out, in River and in Well;
His deadly mallady, I might expel.
If I supply, his heart and veins rejoice;
If nor, soon ends his life, as did his voice.
That this is true, earth thou canst not deny;
I call thine
Egypt,
this to verify;
Which by my fatting Nile, doth yield such store;
That she can spare, when Nations round are poor.
When I run low, and not over flow her brinks;
To meet with want, each woeful man bethinks.
But such I am, in Rivers, showers and springs;
But what's the wealth that my rich Ocean brings?
Fishes so numberless I there do hold;
Shouldst thou but buy, it would exhaust thy gold.
There lives the oyly Whale, whom all men know,
Such wealth, but not such like, Earth thou mayst show.
The Dolphin (loving music)
Arions
friend.
The crafty Barbell, whose wit doth her commend;
With thousands moe, which now I list not name,
Thy silence of thy beasts, doth cause the same.
My pearls that dangle at thy darlings ears;
Not thou, but shell-fish yields, as
Pliny
clears.
Was ever gem so rich found in thy trunk?
As
Aegypts
wanton
Cleopatra
drunk.
Or hast thou any color can come nigh;
The
Roman
Purple, double
Tirian
die.
Which
Caesar's, Consuls, Tribunes
all adorn;
For it, to search my waves, they thought no scorn.
Thy gallant rich perfuming Amber-greece:
I
lightly cast a shore as frothy fleece.
With rolling grains of purest massy gold:
Which
Spain's Americans,
do gladly hold.
Earth, thou hast not more Countrys, Vales and Mound
•
,
Then I have Fountaines, Rivers, Lakes and Ponds:
My sundry Seas, Black, White, and Adriatique
Ionian, Balticke,
and the vast
Atlantique;
The
Ponticke, Caspian,
Golden Rivers fine.
Asphaltis
Lake, where naught remains alive.
But I should go beyond thee in thy boasts,
If I should show, more Seas, then thou hast Coasts.
But note this maxim in Philosophy:
Then Seas are deep, Mountains are never high.
To speak of kinds of Waters I will neglect,
My divers Fountaines and their strange effect;
My wholesome Bathes, together with their cures.
My water
Sirens,
with their guileful lures:
Th' uncertain cause, of certain ebbs and flows;
Which wondering
Aris
•
o
•
les
wit, never knows.
Nor will I speak of waters made by Art,
Which can to life, restore a fainting heart:
Nor fruitful dew, nor drops from weeping eyes;
Which pity moves, and oft deceives the wise.
Nor yet of Salt, and Sugar, sweet and smart,
Both when we list, to water we convert.
Alas; thy ships and oars could do no good
Did they but want my Ocean, and my Flood.
The wary Merchant, on his weary beast
Transfers his goods, from North and South and East;
Unless I ease his toil, and do transport,
The wealthy fraught, unto his wished Port.
These be my benefits which may suffice:
I now must show what force there in me lies.
The flegmy constitution I uphold;
All humors, Tumours, that are bred of cold.
O're childhood, and Winter, I bear the sway;
Yet
Luna
for my Regent I obey.
As I with showers oft time refresh the earth;
So oft in my excess, I cause a dearth:
And with abundant wet, so cool the ground,
By adding cold to cold, no fruit proves sound;
The Farmer, and the Plowman both complain
Of rotten sheep, lean kine, and mildew'd grain.
And with my wasting floods, and roaring torrent;
Their Cattle, Hay, and Corn, I sweep down current,
Nay many times, my Ocean breaks his bounds:
And with astonishment, the world confounds.
And swallows Countries up, never seen again:
And that an Island makes, which once was main.
Thus
Albion
(tis thought) was cut from
France,
Cicily
from
Italy,
by th'like chance.
And but one land was
Affriea
and
Spain,
Untill straight
Gibralter,
did make them twain.
Some say I swallowed up (sure 'tis a notion)
A mighty Country ith'
Atlanticke
Ocean.
I need not say much of my Hail and Snow,
My Ice and extreme cold, which all men know.
Whereof the first, so ominous I rained,
That
Israel's
enemies, therewith was brained.
And of my chilling colds, such plenty be;
That
Caucasus
high mounts, are seldom free.
Mine Ice doth glaze
Europs
big'st Rivers over,
Till Sun release, their ships can sails no more.
All know, what innundations I have made;
Wherein not men, but mountains seemed to wade
As when
Achaia,
all under water stood,
That in two hundred year, it never proved good.
Ducalions
great deluge, with many moe;
But these are trifles to the Flood of
Noah.
Then wholly perished, earths ignoble race;
And to this day, impaires her beauteous face.
That after times, shall never feel like woe:
Her confirmed sons, behold my color'd bow.
Much might I say of wracks, but that I will spare,
And now give place unto our sister Air.
Air.
COntent (quoth Air) to speak the last of you,
Though not through ignorance, first was my due,
I do suppose, you will yield without control;
I am the breath of every living soul.
Mortalls, what one of you, that loves not me,
Aboundantly more then my sisters three?
And though you love Fire, Earth, and Water well;
Yet Air, beyond all these ye know toexcel.
I ask the man condemned, that's near his death:
How gladly should his gold purchase his breath,
And all the wealth, that ever earth did give,
How freely should it go, so he might live.
No world, thy witching trash, were all but vain.
If my pure Air, thy sons did not sustain.
The famished, thirsty man, that craves supply:
His moving reason is, give least I die.
So loath he is to go, though nature's spent,
To bid a due, to his dear Element.
Nay, what are words, which do reveal the mind?
Speak, who, or what they will, they are but wind.
Your Drums, your Trumpets, and your Organs sound,
What isit? but forced Air which must rebound,
And such are Ecchoes, and report o'th gun
Which tells afar, th' exployt which he hath done.
Your songs and pleasant tunes, they are the same,
And so's the notes which Nightingales do frame.
Ye forging Smiths, if Bellows once were gone;
Your red hot work, more coldly would go on.
Ye Mariners, tis I that fill your Sails,
And speed you to your Port, with wished gales.
When burning heat, doth cause you faint, I cool,
And when I smile, your Ocean's like a Poole.
I ripe the corn, I turn the grinding mill;
And with myself, I every vacuum fill.
The ruddy sweet sanguine, is like to Air,
And youth, and spring, sages to me compare.
My moist hot nature, is so purely thin,
No place so subtly made, but I get in.
I grow more pure and pure, as I mount higher,
And when I am thoroughly rarifi'd, turn fire.
So when I am condens'd,
I
turn to water;
Which may be done, by holding down my vapor.
Thus I another body can assume,
And in a trice, my own nature resume.
Some for this cause (of late) have been so bold,
Me for no Element, longer to hold.
Let such suspend their thoughts, and silent be;
For all Philosophers make one of me.
And what those Sages, did, or spake, or writ,
Is more authentic then their moderne wit.
Next, of my Fowls such multitudes there are;
Earths Beasts, and Waters Fish, scarce can compare.
The Ostrich with her plumes, th'Eagle with her eyne;
The Phoenix too (if any be) are mine;
The Stork, the Crane, the Partrich, and the Phesant;
The Pye, the Jay, the Lark, a prey to th' Peasant.
With thousands moe, which now I may omit;
Without impeachment, to my tale or wit.
As my fresh Air preserves, all things in life;
So when 'ts corrupt, mortality is rife.
Then Feavours, Purples, Pox, and Pestilence;
With divers more, work deadly consequence.
Whereof such multitudes have died and fled,
The living, scarce had power, to bury dead.
Yea so contagious, Countries have me known;
That birds have not scaped death, as they have flown,
Of murrain, Cattle numberless did fall.
Men feared destruction epidemical.
Then of my tempests, felt at Sea and Land,
Which neither ships nor houses could withstand.
What woeful wracks I have made, may well appear,
If naught was known, but that before
Algire.
Where famous
Charles
the fifth, more loss sustained,
Then in his long hot wars, which
Milan
gained.
How many rich fraught vessels, have I split?
Some upon sands, some upon rocks have hit.
Some have I forced, to gain an unknown shore;
Some overwelm'd with waves, and seen no more.
Again, what tempests, and what hericanoes
Knowes Western Isles,
Christophers, Barbadoes;
Where neither houses, trees, nor plants, I spare;
But some fall down, and some fly up with air.
Earth-quaks so hurtful and so feared of all,
Imprisoned I, am the original.
Then what prodigious sights, sometimes I show:
As battles pitched ith' Air (as Countries know;)
Their joining, fighting, forcing, and retreat;
That earth appears in heaven, oh wonder great!
Sometimes strange flaming swords, and blazing stars,
Portentious signs, of Famines, Plagues and Wars.
Which makes the mighty Monarchs fear their Fates,
By death, or great mutations of their States.
I have said less, then did my sisters three;
But what's their worth, or force, but more's in me.
To add to all I have said, was my intent,
But dare not go, beyond my Element.
Of the four Humours in Mans constitution.
THe former four, now ending their Discourse,
Ceasing to vaunt, their good, or threat their force.
Loe! other four step up, crave leave to show
The native qualities, that from each flow,
But first they wisely showed their high descent,
Each eldest Daughter to each Element;
Choler was owned by Fire, and Blood by Air,
Earth knew her black swarth child, Water her fair;
All having made obeisance to each Mother,
Had leave to speak, succeeding one the other;
But 'mongst themselves they were at variance,
Which of the four should have predominance;
Choler hotly claimed, right by her mother,
Who had precedency of all the other.
But Sanguine did disdain, what she required,
Pleading her self, was most of all desired;
Proud Melancholy, more envious then the rest,
The second, third, or last could not digest;
She was the silencest of all the four,
Her wisdom spake not much, but thought the more.
Cold phlegm, did not contest for highest place,
Only she craved, to have a vacant space.
Well, thus they parle, and chide, but to be brief,
Or will they nil they, Choler will be chief;
They seeing her imperiosity,
At present yielded, to necessity.
Choler.
TO show my great descent, and pedigree,
Your selves would judge, but vain prolixity.
It is acknowledged, from whence I came,
It shall suffice, to tell you what I am:
My self, and Mother, one as you shall see,
But she in greater, I in less degree;
We both once Masculines, the world doth know,
Now Feminines (a while) for love we owe
Unto your Sister-hood, which makes us tender
Our noble selves, in a less noble Gender.
Though under fire, we comprehend all heat,
Yet man for Choler, is the proper seat.
I in his heart erect my regal throne,
Where Monarch-like I play, and sway alone,
Yet many times, unto my great disgrace,
One of yourselves are my compeers, in place:
Where if your rule once grow predominant,
The man proves boyish, sottish, ignorant,
But if ye yield sub-servient unto me,
I make a man, a man in the highest degree,
Be he a Soldier, I more fence his heart
Then Iron Corslet, 'gainst a sword or dart;
What makes him face his foe, without appal?
To storm a Breach, or scale a City wall?
In dangers to account himself more sure,
Then timorous Hares, whom Castles do immure?
Have ye not heard of Worthies, Demi-gods?
'Twixt them and others, what ist makes the odds
But valor, whence comes that? from none of you;
Nay milk-sops, at such brunts you look but blew,
Here's Sister Ruddy, worth the other two,
That much will talk, but little dares she do,
Unless to court, and claw, and dice, and drink,
And there she will out-bid us all, I think;
She loves a Fiddle, better then a Drum,
A Chamber well, in field she dares not come;
She'l ride a Horse as bravely, as the best,
And break a staff, providedit be in jest,
But shuns to look on wounds, and blood that's spilled,
She loves her sword, only because its gilt;
Then here's our sad black Sister, worse then you,
She'l neither say, she will, nor will she do:
But peevish, Male-content, musing she sits,
And by misprisions, like to loose her wits;
If great persuasions, cause her meet her foe;
In her dull resolution, she's slow.
To march her pace, to some is greater pain,
Then by a quick encounter, to be slain;
But be she beaten, she'l not run away,
She'l first advise, ifit be not best to stay.
But let's give, cold, white; Sister Flegme her right.
So loving unto all, she scorns to fight.
If any threaten her, she'l in a trice,
Convert from water, to conjealed Ice;
Her teeth will chatter, dead and wan's her face,
And 'fore she be assaulted, quits the place,
She dare, not challenge if I speak amiss;
Nor hath she wit, or heat, to blush at this.
Here's three of you, all sees now what you are,
Then yield to me, preeminence in War.
Again, who fits, for learning, science, Arts?
Who rarifies the intellectual parts?
Whence flow fine spirits, and witty notions?
Not from our dull slow Sisters motions:
Nor sister Sanguine, from thy moderate heat,
Poor spirits the Liver breeds, which is thy seat,
What comes from thence, my heat refines the same,
And through the arteries sends over the frame,
The vital spirits they are called, and well they may,
For when they fail, man turns unto his clay:
The Animal I claim, as well as these,
The nerves should I not warm, soon would they freeze.
But Flegme herself, is now provoked at this,
She thinks I never shot so far amiss;
The Brain she challenges, the Head's her seat,
But know'ts a foolish brain, that wanteth heat;
My absence proves, it plain, her wit then flies
Out at her nose, or melteth at her eyes;
Oh, who would miss this influence of thine,
To be distilled a drop on every line!
No, no, thou hast no spirits, thy company
Will feed a Dropsy, or a Timpany,
The Palsy, Gout, or Cramp, or some such dolor,
Thou wast not made for Soldier, or for Scholar;
Of greasy paunch, and palled cheeks, go vaunt,
But a good head from these are disonant;
But Melancholy, wouldst have this glory thine?
Thou sayst, thy wits are stai'd, subtle and fine:
It is true, when I am midwife to thy birth;
Thy self's as dull, as is thy mother Earth.
Thou canst not claim, the Liver, Head nor Heart;
Yet hast thy seat assigned, a goodly part,
The sink of all us three, the hateful spleen;
Of that black region, Nature made thee Queen;
Where pain and sore obstructions, thou dost work;
Where envy, malice, thy companions lurk.
If once thou art great, what follows thereupon?
But bodies wasting, and destruction.
So base thou art, that baser cannot be;
The excrement, adustion of me.
But I am weary to dilate thy shame;
Nor isit my pleasure, thus to blur thy name:
Only to raise my honors to the Skyes,
As objects best appear, by contraries.
Thus arms, and arts I claim, and higher things;
The Princely quality, befitting Kings.
Whose Serene heads, I line with policies,
They're held for Oracles, they are so wise.
Their wrathful looks are death, their words are laws;
Their courage, friend, and foe, and subject awes,
But one of you would make a worthy King:
Like our fixed
Henry,
that same worthy thing.
That when a Varlet, struck him over the side,
Forsooth you are to blame, he grave replied.
Take choler from a Prince, what is he more,
Then a dead Lyon? by beasts triumphed ore.
Again, ye know, how I act every part:
By th' influence I send still from the heart.
Its not your muscles, nerves, nor this nor that:
Without my lively heat, do's ought thats flat.
The spongy Lungs, I feed with frothy blood.
They cool my heat, and so repay my good.
Nay, th' stomach, magazeen to all the rest,
Without my boiling heat cannot digest.
And yet to make, my greatness far more great:
What differences the Sex, but only heat?
And one thing more to close with my narration.
Of all that lives,
I
cause the propagation.
I have been sparing, what I might have said,
I love no boasting, that's but children's trade:
To what you now shall say, I will attend,
And to your weakness, gently condescend.
Blood.
GOod sisters giveme leave (as is my place)
To vent my grief, and wipe off my disgrace.
Your selves may plead, your wrongs are no whit less,
Your patience more then mine, I must confess.
Did ever sober tongue, such language speak?
Or honesty such ties, unfriendly break?
Do'st know thyself so well, us so amiss?
Isit ignorance, or folly causeth this?
I will only show the wrongs, thou'st done to me.
Then let my sisters, right their injury.
To pay with railings, is not mine intent,
But to evince the truth, by argument.
I will annalise, thy so proud relation;
So full of boasting, and prevarication.
Thy childish incongruities, I will show:
So walk thee til thou art cold, then let thee go.
There is no Soldier, but thyself thou sayest,
No valor upon earth, but what thou hast.
Thy foolish provocations, I despise.
And leaveit to all, to judge where valor lies.
No pattern, nor no Patron will
I
bring,
But
David, Judah's
most heroyick King:
Whose glorious deeds in arms, the world can tell,
A rosie cheek'd musitian, thou knowest well.
He knew how, for to handle, Sword and Harp,
And how to strike full sweet, as well as sharp.
Thou laugh'st at me, for loving merriment:
And scorn'st all Knightly sports, at turnament.
Thou sayst I love my sword, because tis guilt:
But know, I love the blade, more then the hilt.
Yet do abhor, such timerarious deeds,
As thy unbridled, barb'rous Choler yields.
Thy rudeness counts, good manners vanity,
And real complements, base flattery.
For drink, which of us twain, like it the best,
I will go no further then thy nose for test.
Thy other scoffs not worthy of reply:
Shall vanish as of no validity.
Of thy black calumnies, this is but part:
But now I will show, what Soldier thou art.
And though thou'st used me, with opprobrious spite,
My ingenuity must give thee right.
Thy Choler is but rage, when tis most pure.
But useful, when a mixture can endure.
As with thy mother Fire, so 'tis with thee,
The best of all the four, when they agree.
But let her leave the rest, and I presume,
Both them and all things else, she will consume.
Whilst us, for thine associates thou takest,
A Soldier most complete in all points makest.
But when thou scorn'st to take the help we lend,
Thou art a fury, or infernal Fiend.
Witness the execrable deeds thou'st done:
Nor sparing Sex, nor age, nor sire, nor son.
To satisfy thy pride, and cruelty
Thou oft hast broke bounds of humanity.
Nay should I tell, thou wouldst count me no blab,
How often for the lie, thou'st given the stab.
To take the wall's a sin, of such high rate,
That naught but blood, the same may expiate.
To cross thy will, a challenge doth deserve.
So spils that life, thou art bounden to preserve.
Wilt thou this valor, manhood, courage cal:
Nay, know 'tis pride, most diabolical.
If murders be thy glory, tis no less.
I will not envy thy feats, nor happiness.
But if in fitting time, and place, on foes;
For Countries good, thy life thou darst expose:
Be dangers near so high, and courage great,
I will praise that fury, valor, choler, heat.
But such thou never art, when all alone;
Yet such, when we all four are join'd in one.
And when such thou art, even such are we.
The friendly coadjutors, still to thee.
Nextly, the spirits thou doest wholly claim,
Which natural, vital, animal we name.
To play Philosopher, I have no list;
Nor yet Pysician, nor Anatomist.
For acting these, I have nor will, nor art,
Yet shall with equity give thee thy part,
For th' natural, thou dost not much contest,
For there are none, thou sayest, if some, not best.
That there are some, and best, I dare aver;
More useful then the rest, donit reason err;
What is there living, which cannot derive
His life now animal, from vegative?
If thou givest life, I give thee nourishment,
Thine without mine, is not, 'tis evident:
But I, without thy help can give a growth,
As plants, trees, and small Embryon know'th,
And if vital spirits do flow from thee,
I am as sure, the natural from me;
But thine the nobler, which I grant, yet mine
Shall justly claim priority of thine;
I am the Fountain which thy Cisterns fills,
Through th' warm, blew conduits of my veinal rils;
What hath the heart, but what's sent from the liver?
If thou art the taker, I must be the giver:
Then never boast of what thou doest receive,
For of such glory I shall thee bereave;
But why the heart, should be usurped by thee,
I must confess, is somewhat strange to me,
The spirits through thy heat, are made perfect there,
But the materials none of thine, that's clear,
Their wondrous mixture, is of blood, and air,
The first myself, second my sister fair,
But I will not force retorts, nor do thee wrong,
Thy fiery yellow froth, is mixed among.
Challenge not all, 'cause part we do allow,
Thou knowest I have there to do, as well as thou;
But thou wilt say, I deal unequally,
There lives the irascible faculty:
Which without all dispute, is Cholers own;
Besides the vehement heat, only there known,
Can be imputed unto none, but Fire;
Which is thyself, thy Mother, and thy Sire;
That this is true, I easily can assent,
If still thou take along my Aliment,
And let me be thy Partner, which is due,
So will
I
give the dignity to you.
Again, stomachs concoction thou dost claim,
But by what right, nor doest, nor canst thou name;
It is her own heat, not thy faculty,
Thou doest unjustly claim, her property,
The help she needs, the loving Liver lends,
Who th'benefit o'th' whole ever intends:
To meddle further, I shall be but shent,
Th' rest to our Sisters, is more pertinent.
Your slanders thus refuted, takes no place,
Though cast upon my guiltless blushing face;
Now through your leaves, some little time I will spend;
My worth in humble manner, to commend.
This hot, moist, nurtritive humor of mine,
When 'tis untaint, pure, and most genuine
Shall firstly take her place, as is her due,
Without the least indignity to you;
Of all your qualities
I
do partake,
And what you singly are, the whole I make.
Your hot, dry, moist, cold, natures are four,
I moderately am all, what need I more:
As thus, if hot, then dry; if moist, then cold;
If this cannot be disprov'd, then all I hold:
My virtues hid, i've let you dimly see;
My sweet complexion, proves the verity,
This scarlet die's a badge of what's within,
One touch thereof so beautifies the skin;
Nay, could I be from all your tangs but pure,
Mans life to boundless time might still endure;
But here's one thrusts her heat, where'ts not required
So suddenly, the body all is fired:
And of the sweet, calm temper, quite bereft,
Which makes the mansion, by the soul soon left;
So Melancholy ceases on a man;
With her uncheerful visage, swarth and wan;
The body dries, the mind sublime doth smother,
And turns him to the womb of 's earthy mother,
And Flegme like wise can show, her cruel art,
With cold distempers, to pain every part;
The Lungs, she rots, the body wears away,
As if she'd leave no flesh to turn to clay,
Her languishing diseases, though not quick,
At length demolishes the faberick,
All to prevent, this curious care I take;
Ith' last concoction, segregation make.
Of all the perverse humors from mine own,
The bitter choler, most malignant known
I turn into his cel, close by my side,
The Melancholy to the Spleen to 'bide;
Likewise the Whey, some use I in the veins,
The over plus I send unto the reins;
But yet for all my toil, my ear, my skil,
It's doomed by an irrevocable will:
That my intents should meet with interruption,
That mortal man, might turn to his corruption.
I might here show, the nobleness of mind,
Of such as to the Sanguine are inclined,
They're liberal, pleasant, kind, and courteous,
And like the Liver, all benignious;
For Arts, and Sciences, they are the fittest,
And maugre (Choler) still they are the wittest,
An ingenious working fantasy,
A most volumnious large memory,
And nothing wanting but solidity.
But why, alas, thus tedious should
I
be?
Thousand examples, you may daily see
If time I have transgressed, and been too long,
Yet could not be more brief, without much wrong.
I have scarce wiped off the spots, proud Choler cast,
Such venom lies in words, though but a blast,
No brags i've used, toyour selves I dare appeal,
If modesty my worth do not conceal.
I have used no bitterness, nor taxed your name,
As I to you, to me, do ye the same.
Melancholy.
HE that with two assaylents hath to do,
Had need be armed well, and active too,
Especially when friendship is pretended:
That blow's most deadly, where it is intended;
Though Choler rage, and rail, I will not do so,
The tongue's no weapon to assault a foe,
But since we fight with words, we might be kind,
To spare ourselves, and beat the whistling wind.
Faire rosie Sister, so mightest thou scape free,
I will flatter for a time, as thou didst me,
But when the first offenders I have laid,
Thy soothing girds shall fully be repaid;
But Choler, be thou cooled, or cha
•
'd, I will venter,
And in contentions lists, now justly enter.
Thy boasted valor stoutly's been repel'd,
If not as yet, by me, thou shalt be quelled:
What moved thee thus to villify my name?
Not past all reason, but in truth all shame:
Thy fiery spirit shall bear away this prize,
To play such furious pranks
I
am too wise;
If in a Soldier rashness be so precious,
Know, in a General its most pernicious.
Nature doth teach, to shield the head from harm,
The blow that's aimed thereat is latch'd by th'arm,
When in Battalia my foes I face,
I then command, proud Choler stand thy place,
To use thy sword, thy courage, and thy Art,
For to defend myself, thy better part;
This wariness count not for cowardice,
He is not truly valiant that's not wise;
It's no less glory to defend a town,
Then by assault to gain one, not our own.
And if
Marcellus
bold, be called
Rome's
sword,
Wise
Fabius
is her buckler: all accord.
And if thy haste, my slowness should not temper,
'Twere but a mad, irregular distemper;
Enough of that, by our Sister heretofore,
I will come to that which wounds me somewhat more:
Of Learning, and of Policy, thou wouldest bereave me,
But's not thy ignorance shall thus deceive me.
What greater Clerke, or polititian lives?
Then he whose brain a touch my humor gives.
What is too hot, my coldness doth abate;
What's diffluent,
I
do consolidate.
If I be partial judged, or thought to err,
The melancholy Snake shall it aver.
Those cold dry heads, more subrilly doth yield,
Then all the huge beasts of the fertile field.
Thirdly, thou dost confine me to the spleen,
As of that only part I was the Queen:
Let me as well make thy precincts, the gal;
To prison thee within that bladder small.
Reduce the man to's principles, then see
If I have not more part, then all ye three:
What is without, within, of theirs, or thine.
Yet time and age, shall soon declare it mine.
When death doth seize the man, your stock is lost,
When you poor bankrupts prove, then have I most.
You will say, here none shall ere disturb my right;
You high born (from that lump) then take your flight
Then who's man's friend, when life and all forsakes?
His mother (mine) him to her womb retakes,
Thus he is ours, his portion is the grave.
But whilst he lives, I will show what part I have.
And first, the firm dry bones, I justly claim:
The strong foundation of the stately frame.
Likewise the useful spleen, though not the best,
Yet is a bowel called well as the rest.
The Liver, Stomach, owes it thanks of right.
The first it draines, o'th' last quicks appetite,
Laughter (though thou savst malice) flows from hence,
These two in one cannot have residence.
But thou most grossly doest mistake, to think
The Spleen for all you three, was made a sink.
Of all the rest, thou'st nothing there to do;
But if thou hast, that malice comes from you.
Again, you often touch my swarthy hew,
That black is black, and I am black, tis true;
But yet more comely far, I dare avow,
Then is thy torrid nose, or brazen brow.
But that which shows how high thy spite is bent,
In charging me, to be thy excrement.
Thy loathsome imputation I desie;
So plain a slander needeth no reply.
When by thy heat, thou'st back'd thyself to crust,
Thou doest assume my name, well be it just;
This transmutation is, but not excretion,
Thou wants Philosophy, and yet discretion.
Now by your leave, I will let your greatness see;
What officer thou art to all us three.
The Kitchen Drudge, the cleanser of the sinks,
That casts out all that man or eats, or drinks.
Thy bittering quality, still irretates,
Til filth and thee, nature exhonorates.
If any doubt this truth, whence this should come;
Show them thy passage to th'
Duodenum.
If there thou art stopped, to th' Liver thou turn'st in,
And so with jaundise, Safferns all the skin.
No further time ile spend, in confutations,
I trust I have cleared your slandrous imputations.
I now speak unto all, no more to one;
Pray hear, admire, and learn instruction.
My virtues yours surpass, without compare:
The first, my constancy, that jewel rate.
Choler's too rash, this golden gift to hold.
And Sanguine is more fickle many fold.
Here, there, her restless thoughts do ever fly;
Constant in nothing, but inconstancy,
And what Flegme is, we know, likewise her mother,
Unstable is the one, so is the other.
With me is noble patience also found,
Impatient Choler loveth not the sound.
What Sanguine is, she doth not heed, nor care.
Now up, now down, transported like the Air.
Flegm's patient, because her nature's tame.
But I by virtue, do acquire the same.
My temperance, chastity, is eminent,
But these with you, are seldom resident.
Now could I stain my ruddy sisters face,
With purple die, to show but her disgrace.
But I rather with silence, veil her shame;
Then cause her blush, while I dilate the same.
Nor are ye free, from this inormity,
Although she bear the greatest obloquy.
My prudence, judgment, now I might reveal,
But wisdom 'tis, my wisdom to conceal.
Unto diseases not inclined as ye:
Nor cold, nor hot, Ague, nor Plurisie;
Nor Cough, nor Quinsie, nor the burning Feavor.
I rarely feel to act his fierce endeavor.
My sickness chiefly in conceit doth lie,
What I imagine, that's my malady.
Strange Chymera's are in my fantasy,
And things that never were, nor shall I see.
Talke I love not, reason lies not in length.
Nor multitude of words, argues our strength;
I have done, pray Sister Flegme proceed in course,
We shall expect much sound, but little force.
Flegme.
PAtient I am, patient i'd need to be,
To bear the injurious taunts of three,
Though wit I want, and anger I have less,
Enough of both, my wrongs for to express;
I have not forgot how bitter Choler spake,
Nor how her Gaul on me she causeless brake;
Nor wonder 'twas, for hatred there's not small,
Where opposition is diametrical:
To what is truth, I freely will assent,
(Although my name do suffer derriment)
What's slanderous, repel; doubtful, dispute;
And when i've nothing left to say, be mute;
Valour I want, no Soldier am, 'tis true,
I will leave that manly property to you;
I love no thundering Drums, nor bloody Wars,
My polished skin was not ordained for skars,
And though the pitched field
•
've ever fled,
At home, the Conquerors, have conquered:
Nay,
I
could tell you (what's more true then meet)
That Kings have laid their Scepters at my feet,
When sister Sanguine paints my Ivory face,
The Monarchs bend, and sue, but for my grace;
My Lily white, when joined with her red,
Princes hath slav'd, and Captains captived:
Country with Country,
Grecce
with
Asia
fights,
Sixty nine Princes, all stout
Hero
Knights.
Under
Troys
walls, ten years will wast away,
Rather then loose, one beauteous
Hellena;
But 'twere as vain, to prove the truth of mine,
As at noon day to tell, the Sun doth shine.
Next difference betwixt us twain doth lie,
Who doth possess the Brain, or thou, or I;
Shame forced thee say, the matter that was mine,
But the spirits, by which it acts are thine;
Thou speakest truth, and I can speak no less,
Thy heat doth much, I candidly confess,
But yet thou art as much, I truly say,
Beholding unto me another way.
And though
I
grant, thou art my helper here,
No debtor I, because 'tis paid else where;
With all your flourishes, now Sisters three,
Who isit or dare, or can compare with me;
My excellencies are so great, so many,
I am confounded, 'fore I speak of any:
The Brain's the noblest member all allow,
The situation, and form will it avow,
Its ventricles, membrances, and wondrous ner,
Galen, Hipocrates,
drives to a set.
That divine Essence, the immortal Soul,
Though it in all, and every part be whole:
Within this stately place of eminence,
Doth doubtless keep its mighty residence;
And surely the Souls sensative here lives,
Which life and motion to each Creature gives,
The conjugations of the parts toth 'brain
Doth show, hence flows the power which they retain;
Within this high built Cittadel doth lie,
The Reason, Fancy, and the Memory;
The faculty of speech doth here abide,
The spirits animal, from whence doth slide,
The five most noble Sences, here do dwell,
Of three, its hard to say, which doth excel;
This point for to discuss longs not to me,
I will touch the Sight, greatest wonder of the three;
The optic nerve, coats, humors, all are mine,
Both watery, glassie, and the christaline.
O! mixture strange, oh color, colourlesse,
Thy perfect temperament, who can express?
He was no fool, who thought the Soul lay here,
Whence her affections, passions, speak so clear;
O! good, O bad, O true, O traitorous eyes!
What wonderments, within your bals there lies?
Of all the Sences, Sight shall be the Queen;
Yet some may wish, oh, had mine eyes never seen.
Mine likewise is the marrow of the back,
Which runs through all the spondles of the rack,
It is the substitute o'th royal Brain,
All nerves (except seven pair) to it retain;
And the strong ligaments, from hence arise,
With joint to joint, the entire body tyes;
Some other parts there issue from the Brain,
Whose use and worth to tell, I must refrain;
Some worthy learned
Crooke
may these reveal,
But modesty hath charged me to conceal;
Here's my epitome of excellence,
For what's the Brains, is mine, by consequence;
A foolish Brain (saith Choler) wanting heat,
But a mad one, say I, where 'tis too great,
Frensy's worse, then folly, one would more glad,
With a tame fool converse, then with a mad,
Then, my head for learning is not the fittest,
Ne're did I hear that Choler was the wit'est;
Thy judgment is unsafe, thy fancy little,
For memory, the sand is not more brittle.
Again, none's fit for Kingly place but thou,
If Tyrants be the best, I will it allow;
But if love be, as requisite as fear,
Then I, and thou, must make a mixture here:
Well, to be brief, Choler I hope now's laid,
And I pass by what sister Sanguine said;
To Melancholy I will make no reply,
The worst she said, was, instability,
And too much talk; both which, I do confess,
A warning good, hereafter I will say less.
Let's now be friends, 'tis time our spite was spent,
Lest we too late, this rashness do repent,
Such premises will force a sad conclusion,
Unless we 'gree, all falls into confusion.
Let Sanguine, Choier, with her hot hand hold,
To take her moist, my moistnesse will be bold;
My cold, cold Melanchollies hand shall clasp,
Her dry, dry Cholers other hand shall grasp;
Two hot, two moist, two cold, two dry here be,
A golden Ring, the Posey,
Unity:
Nor jars, nor scoffs, let none hereafter see,
But all admire our perfect amity;
Nor be discerned, here's water, earth, air, fire,
But here's a compact body, whole, entire:
This loving counsel pleased them all so well,
That Flegme was judged, for kindness to excel.
The Four Ages of Man.
LOe now! four other acts upon the stage,
Childhood, and Youth, the Manly, and Old-age.
The first: son unto Flegme, grand-child to water,
Unstable, supple, moist, and cold's his Naure.
The second, frolic, claims his pedigree,
From blood and air, for hot, and moist is he.
The third, of fire, and choler is composed,
Vindicative, and quarelsome disposed.
The last, of earth, and heavy melancholy,
Solid, hating all lightness, and all folly.
Childhood was clothed in white, and given to show,
His spring was intermixed with some snow.
Upon his head a Garland Nature set:
Of Dazy, Primrose, and the Violet.
Such cold mean flowers (as these) blossom betime,
Before the Sun hath thoroughly warmed the clime.
His hobby striding, did not ride, but run,
And in his hand an hour-glass new begun,
In dangers every moment of a fall,
And when tis broke, then ends his life and all.
But if he hold, til it have run its last,
Then may he live, til threescore years or past.
Next, youth came up, in gorgeous attire;
(As that fond age, doth most of all desire.)
His Suit of Crimson, and his Scarfe of Green:
In's countenance, his pride quickly was seen.
Garland of Roses, Pinks, and Gilliflowers,
Seemed to grow on's head (bedew'd with showers:)
His face as fresh, as is
Aurora
fair,
When blushing first, she 'gins to red the Air.
No wooden horse, but one of metal tried:
He seems to fly, or swim, and not to ride.
Then prauncing on the Stage, about he wheels;
But as he went, death waited at his heels.
The next came up, in a more graver sort,
As one that cared, for a good report.
His Sword by's side, and choler in his eyes;
But neither used (as yet) for he was wise.
Of Autumn fruits a basket on his arm.
His golden god in's purse, which was his charm,
And last of all, to act upon this Stage;
Leaning upon his staff, comes up old age.
Under his arm a Sheafe of wheat he bore,
A Harvest of the best, what needs he more.
In's other hand a glass, even almost run,
This writ about:
This out, then I am done.
His hoary hairs, and grave aspect made way;
And all gave ear, to what he had to say.
These being met, each in his equipage,
Intend to speak, according to their age:
But wise Old-age, did with all gravity,
To childish childhood, give precedency.
And to the rest, his reason mildly told;
That he was young, before he grew so old.
To do as he, the rest full soon assents,
Their method was, that of the Elements,
That each should tell, what of himself he knew;
Both good and bad, but yet no more then's true.
With heed now stood, three ages of frail man;
To hear the child, who crying, thus began.
Childhood.
AH me! conceived in sin, and born in sorrow,
A nothing, here today, but gone tomorrow.
Whose mean beginning, blushing cannot reveal,
But night and darkness, must with shame conceal.
My mothers breeding sickness, I will spare;
Her nine months weary burden not declare.
To show her bearing pangs, I should do wrong,
To tell that pain, which cannot be told by tongue;
With tears into this world I did arrive;
My mother still did waste, as I did thrive:
Who yet with love, and all alacrity,
Spending was willing, to be spent for me;
With wayward cries, I did disturb her rest;
Who sought still to appease me, with her breast,
With weary arms, she danc'd, and
By, By,
sung,
When wretched I (ungrate) had done the wrong.
When Infancy was past, my Childishnesse,
Did act all folly, that it could express.
My silliness did only take delight,
In that which riper age did scorn, and slight:
In Rattles, Bables, and such toyish stuff.
My then ambitious thoughts, were low enough.
My high-borne soul, so straitly was confined:
That its own worth, it did not know, nor mind.
This little house of flesh, did spacious count:
Through ignorance, all troubles did surmount.
Yet this advantage, had mine ignorance,
Freedom from Envy, and from Arrogance,
How to be rich, or great, I did not cark;
A Baron or a Duke, never made my mark.
Nor studious was, Kings favors how to buy,
With costly presents, or base flattery.
No office coveted, wherein I might
Make strong myself, and turn aside weak right.
No malice bare, to this, or that great Peer,
Nor unto buzzing whisperors, gave ear.
I gave no hand, nor vote, for death, or life:
I'd naught to do, 'twixt Prince, and people's strife.
No Statist I: nor Marti'list i' th' field;
Where e're I went, mine innocence was shield.
My quarrels, not for Diadems did rise;
But for an Apple, Plumbe, or some such prize,
My stroks did cause no death, nor wounds, nor skars.
My little wrath did cease soon as my wars.
My duel was no challenge, nor did seek.
My foe should weltering, with his bowels reek.
I had no Suits at law, neighbors to vex.
Nor evidence for land, did me perplex.
I feared no storms, nor all the winds that blows,
I had no ships at Sea, no fraughts to loose.
I
feared no drought, nor wet, I had no crop,
Nor yet on future things did place my hope.
This was mine innocence, but oh the seeds,
Lay raked up; of all the cursed weeds,
Which sprouted forth, in my ensuing age,
As he can tell, that next comes on the stage.
But yet let me relate, before I go,
The sins, and dangers I am subject to.
From birth stained, with
Adams
sinful fact;
From thence I 'gan to sin, as soon as act.
A perverse will, a love to what's forbid:
A serpents sling in pleasing face lay hid.
A lying tongue as soon as it could speak,
And fifth Commandment do daily break.
Oft stubborn, peevish, sullen, pout, and cry:
Then naught can please, and yet I know not why.
As many was my sins, so dangers too:
For sin brings sorrow, sickness, death, and woe.
And though I miss, the tossings of the mind:
Yet griefs, in my frail flesh, I still do find.
What gripes of wind, mine infancy did pain?
What tortures I, in breeding teeth sustain?
What crudities my cold stomach hath bred?
Whence vomits, worms, and flux have issued?
What breaches, knocks, and falls I daily have?
And some perhaps, I carry to my grave.
Some times in fire, sometimes in waters fall:
Strangely preserved, yet mind it not at all.
At home, abroad, my danger's manifold.
That wonder tis, my glass till now doth hold.
I have done, unto my elders I give way.
For 'tis but little, that a child can say.
Youth.
MY goodly clothing, and my beauteous skin,
Declare some greater riches are within;
But what is best I will first present to view,
And then the worst, in a more ugly hue;
For thus to do, we on this Stage assemble,
Then let not him, which hath most craft dissemble;
Mine education, and my learning's such,
As might myself, and others, profit much:
With nurture trained up in virtues Schools,
Of Science, Arts, and Tongues, I know the rules,
The manners of the Court, I likewise know,
Nor ignorant what they in Country do;
The brave attempts of valiant Knights I prize,
That dare climb Battlements, reared to the skies;
The snorting Horse, the Trumpet, Drum I like,
The glistering Sword, and well advanced Pike;
I cannot lie in trench, before a Town,
Nor wait til good advice our hopes do crown;
I scorn the heavy Corsset, Musket-proof,
I fly to catch the Bullet that's aloof;
Though thus in field, at home, to all most kind,
So affable that I do suit each mind;
I can insinuate into the breast,
And by my mirth can raise the heart deprest
•
Sweet Mufick rapteth my harmonious Soul,
And elevates my thoughts above the Pole.
My wit, my bounty, and my courtesy,
Makes all to place their future hopes on me.
This is my best, but youth (is known) alas,
To be as wild as is the snuffing Ass,
As vain as froth, as vanity can be,
That who would see vain man, may look on me:
My gifts abused, my education lost,
My woeful Parents longing hopes all crossed,
My wit, evaporates in merriment:
My valor, in some beastly quarrel's spent;
Martial deeds I love not, 'cause they are virtuous,
But doing so, might seem magnanimous.
My Lust doth hurry me, to all that's ill,
I know no Law, nor reason, but my will;
Sometimes lay wait to take a wealthy purse,
Or stab the man, in's own defense, that's worse,
Sometimes I cheat (unkind) a female Heir,
Of all at once, who not so wise, as fair,
Trusteth my loving looks, and glozing tongue,
Until her friends, treasure, and honor's gone.
Sometimes I sit carousing others health,
Until mine own be gone, my wit, and wealth;
From pipe to pot, from pot to words, and blows,
For he that loveth Wine, wanteth no woes;
Days, nights, with Ruffins, Roarers, Fiddlers spend;
To all obscenity, my ears I bend.
All counsel hate, which tends to make me wise,
And dearest friends count for mine enemies;
If any care I take, 'tis to be fine,
For sure my suit more then my virtues shine;
If any time from company I spare,
'It is spent in curling, frisling up my hair;
Some young
Adonis
I do strive to be,
Sardana Pallas,
now survives in me:
Cards, Dice, and Oaths, concomitant, I love;
To Masques, to Plays, to Taverns still I move;
And in a word, if what I am you would hear,
Seek out a British, brutish Cavaleer;
Such wretch, such monster am I; but yet more,
I want a heart all this for to deplore.
Thus, thus alas! I have misspent my time,
My youth, my best, my strength, my bud, and prime:
Remembering not the dreadful day of Doom,
Nor yet that heavy reckoning for to come;
Though dangers do attend me every hour,
And gastly death oft threats me with her power,
Sometimes by wounds in idle combats taken,
Sometimes by Agues all my body shaken;
Sometimes by Fevers, all my moisture drinking,
My heart lies frying, and my eyes are sinking;
Sometimes the Cough, Stitch, painful Plurifie,
With sad affrights of death, doth menace me;
Sometimes the loathsome Pox, my face be-mars,
With ugly marks of his eternal scars;
Sometimes the Frensy, strangely madds my Brain,
That oft for it, in
Bealam
I remain.
Too many's my Diseases to recite,
That wonder 'tis I yet behold the light,
That yet my bed in darkness is not made,
And I in black oblivions den long laid;
Of Marrow full my bones, of Milk my breasts,
Ceas'd by the gripes of Serjeant Death's Arrests:
Thus
I
have said, and what i've said you see,
Child-hood and youth is vain, yea vanity.
Middle Age.
CHildehood and youth, forgot, sometimes I have seen,
And now am grown more staid, that have beengreen,
What they have done, the same was done by me,
As was their praise, or shame, so mine must be.
Now age is more, more good ye do expect;
But more my age, the more is my defect.
But what's of worth, your eyes shall first behold,
And then a world of dross among my gold.
When my Wilde Oats, were sown, and ripe, & mown,
I then received a harvest of mine own.
My reason, then bad judge, how little hope,
Such empty seed should yield a better crop.
I then with both hands, graspt the world together,
Thus out of one extreme, into another.
But yet laid hold, on virtue seemingly,
Who climbs without hold, climbs dangerously.
Be my condition mean,
I
then take pains;
My family to keep, but not for gains.
If rich, I am urged then to gather more.
To bear me out in the' world, and feed the poor,
If a father, then for children must provide:
But if none, then for kindred near ally'd.
If Noble, then mine honor to maintain.
If not, yet wealth, Nobility can gain.
For time, for place, likewise for each relation,
I wanted not my ready allegation.
Yet all my powers, for self-ends are not spent,
For hundreds bless me, for my bounty sent.
Whose loins I have clothed, and bellies I have fed;
With mine own fleece, and with my household bread.
Yea justice I have done, was I in place;
To cheer the good, and wicked to deface.
The proud I crushed, th' oppressed I set free,
The liars curbed but nourished verity.
Was I a pastor, I my flock did feed:
And gently lead the lambes, as they had need,
A Captain I, with skil I trained my band;
And showed them how, in face of foes to stand.
If a Soldier, with speed I did obey,
As readily as could my Leader say:
Was I a laborer, I wrought all day,
As cheerfully as ere I took my pay.
Thus hath mine age (in all) sometimes done well.
Sometimes mine age (in all) been worse then hell.
In meanness, greatness, riches, poverty;
Did toile, did broile; oppressed, did steal and lie.
Was I as poor, as poverty could be,
Then baseness was companion unto me.
Such scum, as Hedges, and High-ways do yield,
As neither sow, nor reap, nor plant, nor build.
If to Agricolture, I was ordained.
Great labors, sorrows, crosses I sustained
The early Cock, did summon but in vain,
My wakeful thoughts, up to my painful gain.
For restless day and night, I am robbed of steep,
By can kered care, who sentinel doth keep.
My weary beast, rest from his toile can find;
But if I rest, the more distrest my mind.
If happiness my sordidnesse hath found,
'Twas in the crop of my manured ground:
My fatted Ox, and my exuberous Cow,
My fleeced Ewe, and ever far owing Sow.
To greater things, I never did aspire,
My dunghill thoughts, or hopes, could reach no higher.
If to be rich, or great, it was my fate;
How was
I
broyl'd with envy, and with hate?
Greater, then was the greatest, was my desire,
And greater still, did set my heart on fire.
If honor was the point, to which I steered;
To run my hull upon disgrace I feared.
But by ambitious sails, I was so carried;
That over flats, and sands, and rocks I hurried,
Opprest, and sunk, and sact, all in my way;
That did oppose me, to my longed bay:
My thirst was higher, then Nobility.
And oft longed sore, to taste on Royalty.
Whence poison, Pistols, and dread instruments,
Have been cursed furtherers of mine intents.
Nor Brothers, Nephews, Sons, nor Sires I have spared.
When to a Monarchy, my way they bar'd.
There set, I rid myself straight out of hand.
Of such as might my son, or his withstand.
Then heaped up gold, and riches as the clay;
Which others scatter, like the dew in
May.
Sometimes vain-glory is the only bait,
Whereby my empty soul, is lur'd and caught.
Be I of worth, of learning, or of parts;
I judge, I should have room, in all men's hearts.
And envy gnaws, if any do surmount.
I hate for to be had, in small account.
If
Bias
like, I am stripped unto my skin,
I glory in my wealth, I have within.
Thus good, and bad, and what I am, you see,
Now in a word, what my diseases be.
The vexing Stone, in bladder and in reins,
Torments me with intolerable pains;
The windy Cholick oft my bowels rend,
To break the darksome prison, where it's pend;
The knotty Gout doth sadly torture me,
And the restraining lame Sciatica;
The Quinsie, and the Feavours, oft distaste me,
And the Consumption, to the bones doth wast me;
Subject to all Diseases, that's the truth,
Though some more incident to age, or youth:
And to conclude, I may not tedious be,
Man at his best estate is vanity.
Old Age.
WHat you have been, even such have I before,
And all you say, say I, and something more;
Babes innocence, Youths wildnes I have seen.
And in perplexed Middle-age have been,
Sickness, dangers, and anxieties have past,
And on this Stage am come to act my last:
I have been young, and strong, and wise as you,
But now,
Bis pueri senes,
is too true;
In every Age i've found much vanity,
An end of all perfection now I see.
It's not my valor, honor, nor my gold,
My ruined house, now falling can uphold;
It's not my Learning, Rhetoric, wit so large,
Now hath the power, Deaths Warfare, to discharge;
It's not my goodly house, nor bed of down,
That can refresh, or ease, if Conscience frown;
Nor from alliance now can
I
have hope,
But what I have done well, that is my prop;
He that in youth is godly, wise, and sage,
Provides a staff for to support his age.
Great mutations, some joyful, and some sad,
In this short Pilgrimage I oft have had;
Sometimes the Heavens with plenty smiled on me,
Sometimes again, rained all adversity;
Sometimes in honor, sometimes in disgrace,
Sometime an abject, then again in place,
Such private changes oft mine eyes have seen,
In various times of state i've also been.
I have seen a Kingdom flourish like a tree,
When it was ruled by that Celestial she;
And like a Cedar, others so surmount,
That but for shrubs they did themselves account;
Then saw I
France,
and
Holland
saved,
Cales
won,
And
Philip,
and
Albertus,
half undone;
I saw all peace at home, terror to foes,
But ah, I saw at last those eyes to close:
And then, me thought, the world at noon grew dark,
When it had lost that radiant Sun-like spark,
In midst of greifs, I saw some hopes revive,
(For 'twas our hopes then kept our hearts alive)
I saw hopes dashed, our forwardness was shent,
And silenced we, by Act of Parliament.
I have seen from
Rome,
an execra
•
le thing,
A plot to blow up Nobles, and their King;
I have seen designs at
Ree,
and
Cades
crossed,
And poor
Palatinate
forever lost;
I have seen a Prince, to live on others lands,
A Royal one, by alms from Subjects hands,
I have seen base men, advanced to great degree,
And worthy ones, put to extremity:
But not their Princes love, nor state so high;
could once reverse, their shameful destiny.
I have seen one stabbed, another loose his head;
And others fly their Country, through their dread.
I have seen, and so have ye, for 'tis but late,
The desolation, of a goodly State.
Plotted and acted, so that none can tell,
Who gave the counsel, but the Prince of hell.
I have seen a land unmoulded with great pain.
But yet may live, to seeit made up again:
I have seen it shaken, rent, and soak'd in blood,
But out of troubles, ye may see much good,
These are no old wives tales, but this is truth;
We old men love to tell, what's done in youth.
But I return, from whence I stepped awry,
My memory is short, and brain is dry.
My Almond-tree (gray hairs) doth flourish now,
And back, once straight, begins apace to bow.
My grinders now are few, my sight doth fail
My skin is wrinkled, and my cheeks are pale.
No more rejoice, at musickes pleasant noise,
But do awake, at the cocks clanging voice.
I cannot scent, savors of pleasant meat,
Nor sapors find, in what I drink or eat.
My hands and arms, once strong have lost their might,
I
cannot labor, nor I cannot fight:
My comely legs, as nimble as the Roe,
Now stiff and numb, can hardly creep or go.
My heart sometimes as fierce, as Lion bold,
Now trembling, and fearful, sad, and cold;
My golden Bowl, and silver Cord, e're long,
Shall both be broke, by wracking death so strong;
I then shall go, whence I shall come no more,
Sons, Nephews, leave, my death for to deplore;
In pleasures, and in labors, I have found.
That earth can give no consolation sound.
To great, to rich, to poor, to young, or old,
To mean, to noble, fearful, or to bold:
From King to beggar, all degrees shall find
But vanity, vexation of the mind;
Yea knowing much, the pleasant'st life of all,
Hath yet amongst that sweet, some bitter gall.
Though reading others Works, doth much refresh,
Yet studying much, brings weariness to th' flesh;
My studies, labors, readings, all are done,
And my last period now e'n almost run;
Corruption. my Father, I do call,
Mother, and sisters both; the worms, that crawl,
In my dark house, such kindred I have store,
There, I shall rest, til heavens shall be no more;
And when this flesh shall rot, and be consumed,
This body, by this soul, shall be assumed;
And I shall see, with these same very eyes,
My strong Redeemer, coming in the skies;
Triumph
I
shall, over Sin, over Death, over Hel,
And in that hope, I bid you all farewell.
The four Seasons of the Yeare.
Spring.
ANother Four i've yet for to bring on,
Of four times four, the last quaternian;
The Winter, Summer, Autumn, and the Spring,
In season all these Seasons I shall bring;
Sweet Spring, like man in his minority,
At present claimed, and had priority,
With smiling Sun-shine face, and garments green,
She gently thus began, like some fair Queen;
Three months there are allotted to my share,
March, April, May,
of all the rest most fair;
The tenth o'th' first
Sol
into
Aries
enters,
And bids defiance to all tedious Winters:
And now makes glad those blinded Northern wights,
Who for some months have seen out starry lights,
Crosses the Line, and equals night and day,
Stil adds to th' last, til after pleasant
May;
Now goes the Plow-man to his merry toil,
For to unloose his Winter-locked soil;
The Seeds-man now doth lavish out his Grain,
In hope, the more he casts, the more to gain;
The Gardner, now superfluous branches l
•
ps,
And Poles erects, for his green clambering Hops;
Now digs, then sows, his herbs, his flowers, and
•
oots,
And carefully manures his trees of fruits.
The Pleiades, their influence now give,
And all that seemed as dead, afresh do live.
The croaking Frogs, whom nipping Winter killed,
Like Birds, now chirp, and hop about the field,
The Nitingale, the Black-bird, and the Thrush,
Now tune their lays, on sprays of every bush;
The wanton frisking Kids, and soft fleec'd Lambs,
Now jump, and play, before their feeding Dams,
The tender tops of budding Grass they crop,
They joy in what they have, but more in hope,
For though the Frost hath lost his binding power,
Yet many a fleece of Snow, and stormy shower,
Doth darken
Sols
bright face, makes us remember
The pinching Nor-west cold, of fierce
December.
My second month is
April,
green, and fair,
Of longer days, and a more temperate air;
The Sun now keeps his posting residence
In
Taurus
Sign, yet hasteth straight from thence;
For though in's running progress he doth take
Twelve houses of the oblique Zodiac,
Yet never minute still was known to stand,
But only once at
Joshua's
strange command;
This is the month whose fruitful showers produces
All Plants, and Flowers, for all delights, and uses;
The Pear, the Plumbs, and Apple-tree now flourish,
And Grass grows long, the tender Lambs to nourish;
The Primrose pale, and azure Violet,
Among the verduous Grass hath Nature set,
That when the Sun (on's love) the earth doth shine,
These might as Lace, set out her Garments fine;
The fearful Bird, his little house now builds,
In trees, and walls, in cities, and in fields,
The outside strong, the inside warm and near.
A natural Artificer complete.
The clocking hen, her chipping brood now leads,
With wings, and beak, defends them from the gleads.
My next, and last, is pleasant fruitful
May,
Wherein the earth, is clad in rich array:
The sun now enters, loving
Geminie,
And heats us with, the glances of his eye,
Our Winter raiment, makes us lay aside,
Least by his fervor, we be terrifi'd,
All flowers before the sun-beams now discloses,
Except the double Pinks, and matchless Roses.
Now swarms the busy buzzing honey Be.
Whose praise deserves a page, from more then me.
The cleanly huswives D
•
ry, now's ith' prime,,
Her shelves, and Firkins filled for winter time.
The Meads with Cowslip, Honey-suckl's dight,
One hangs his head, the other stands upright:
But both rejoice, at th'heavens clear smiling face,
More at her showers, which water them a space.
For fruits, my season yields, the early Cherry,
The hasty Pease, and wholesome red Strawberry,
More solid fruits, require a longer time.
Each season, hath his fruit, so hath each clime.
Each man his own peculiar excellence,
But none in all that hath preeminence.
Some subject, shallow brains, much matter yields,
Sometime a theme that's large, proves barren fields.
Melodious Spring, with thy short pittance fly,
In this harsh strain, I find no melody,
Yet above all, this privilege is th
•
ne,
Thy days still lengthen, without least decline.
Summer.
WHen Spring had done, then Summer must begin,
With melted tauny face, and garments thin.
Resembling choler, fite and middle-age;
As Spring did air, blood, youth in's equipage.
Wiping her sweat from off her brow, that ran,
With hair all wet, she puffing thus began.
Bright
June, July,
and
August,
hot are mine,
Ith' first,
Sol
doth in crabed
Cancer
shine.
His progress to the North; now's fully done,
And retrograde, now is my burning Sun.
Who to his Southward tropick still is bent,
Yet doth his parching heat the more augment,
The reason why, because his flames so fair,
Hath formerly much heat, the earth and air.
Like as an oven, that long time hath been heat.
Whose vehemency, at length doth grow so great,
That if you do, remove her burning store,
She's for a time as fervent as before.
Now go those frolic swaines, the shepherd lad,
To wash their thick clothed flocks, with pipes full glad.
In the cool streams they labor with delight,
Rubbing their dirty coats, till they look white.
Whose fleece when purely spun, and deeply died,
With robes thereof, Kings have been dignified.
'Mongst all ye shepherds, never but one man,
Was like th
•
t noble, brave
Archadian.
Yet hath your life, made Kings the same envy,
Though you rep
•
se on grass under the skye.
Carelesse of worldly wealth, you sit and pipe,
Whilst they are imbroyl'd in Wars, and troubles ripe;
Which made great
Bajazet
cry out in's woes,
Oh! happy Shepherd, which had not to lose.
Orthobulus,
nor yet
Sebastia
great,
But whist'leth to thy Flock in cold, and heat,
Viewing the Sun by day, the Moon by night,
Endimions, Diana's
dear delight;
This Month the Roses are distilled in Glasses,
Whose fragrant scent, all made-perfume surpasses;
The Cherry, Goos-berry, is now in the prime,
And for all sorts of Pease this is the time.
July
my next, the hot'st in all the year,
The Sun in
Leo
now hath his carrear,
Whose flaming breath doth melt us from afar,
Increased by the Star
Canicular;
This month from
Julius Caesar
took the name,
By
Romans
celebrated to his fame.
Now go the Mowers to their slashing toil,
The Meadows of their burden to dispoyl;
With weary strokes, they take all in their way,
Bearing the burning heat of the long day;
The Forks, and Rakes do follow them amain,
Which makes the aged fields look young again,
The groaning Carts to bear away this prize.
To Barns, and Stacks, where it for Fodder lies.
My next, and last, is
August,
fiery hot,
For yet the South-ward Sun abateth not;
This month he keeps with
Virgo
for a space,
The dried earth is parched by his face.
August,
of great
Augustus
took its name,
Rome's
second Emperor of peaceful fame;
With Sickles now, the painful Reapers go,
The ruffling tresse of
terra
for to moe,
And bundles up in sheaves the weighty Wheat,
Which after Manchet's made, for Kings to eat;
The Barley, and the Rye, should first had place,
Although their Bread have not so white a face.
The Carter leads all home, with whistling voice,
He plow'd with pain, but reaping doth rejoice;
His sweat, his toil, his careful, wakeful nights,
His fruitful crop, abundantly requites.
Now's ripe the Pear, Pear-plumbe, and Apricock,
The Prince of Plumbs, whose stone is hard as Rock.
The Summer's short, the beauteous Autumn hastes,
To shake his fruit, of most delicious tastes;
Like good Old Age, whose younger juycie roots,
Hath still ascended up in goodly Fruits,
Until his head be gray, and strength be gone,
Yet then appears the worthy deeds he 'ath done:
To feed his boughs, exhausted hath his sap,
Then drops his Fruits into the Eaters lap.
Autumn.
OF Autumn months,
September
is the prime,
Now day and night are equal in each clime;
The tenth of this,
Sol
riseth in the Line,
And doth in poyzing
Libra
this month shine.
The Vintage now is ripe, the Grapes are pressed,
Whose lively liquor oft is cursed, and blest;
For naught's so good, but it may be abused,
But its a precious juice, when well it's used.
The Raisins now in clusters dried be,
The Orange, Lemon, Dangle on the tree;
The Fig is ripe, the Pomgranet also,
And Apples now their yellow sides do show;
Of Medlar, Quince, of Warden, and of Peach,
The season's now at hand, of all, and each;
Sure at this time, Time first of all began,
And in this month was made apostate man;
For then in
Eden
was not only seen
Boughs full of leaves, or fruits, but raw, and green,
Or withered stocks, all dry, and dead,
But trees with goodly fruits replenished;
Which shows, nor Summer, Winter, nor the Spring,
Great
Adam
was of Paradise made King.
October
is my next, we hear in this,
The Northern Winter blasts begin to hiss;
In
Scorpio
resideth now the Sun,
And his declining heat is almost done.
The fruitful trees, all withered now do stand,
Whose yellow sapless leaves by winds are fanned:
Which notes, when youth, and strength, have past their prime,
Decrepit age must also have its time;
The sap doth slily creep towards the earth,
There rests, until the Sun give it a birth:
So doth Old Age still tend unto his Grave,
Where also he, his Winter time must have;
But when the Son of Righteousness draws nigh,
His dead old stock, again shall mount on high.
November
is my last, for time doth haste,
We now of Winters sharpness 'gin to taste;
This month's the Sun in
Sagitarius,
So far remote, his glances warm not us;
Almost at shortest is the shortened day,
The Northern Pole beholdeth not one ray.
Now
Green-land, Groen-land, Lap-land, Fin-land,
see
No Sun, to lighten their obscurity;
Poor wretches, that in total darkness lie,
With minds more dark, then is the darkened sky;
This month is timber for all uses fell'd,
When cold, the sap to th' roots hath low'st repel'd;
Beef, Brawn, and Pork, are now in greatest request,
And solid'st meats, our stomachs can digest;
This time warm clothes, full diet, and good fires,
Our pinched flesh, and empty panch requires:
Old cold, dry age, and earth, Autumn resembles,
And melancholy, which most of all dissembles.
I must be short, and short's, the shortened day,
What Winter hath to tell, now let him say.
Winter.
COld, moist, young, flegmy Winter now doth lie
In Swadling clouts, like new-born infancy,
Bound up with Frosts, and fur
•
'd with Haiss, and Snows,
And like an Infant, still he taller grows.
December
is the first, and now the Sun
To th' Southward tropick his swift race hath run;
This month he's house'd in horned
Capricorn,
From thence he 'gins to length the shortened morn,
Through Christendom, with great festivity
Now's held, a Guest, (but blest) Nativity.
Cold frozen
January
next comes in,
Chilling the blood, and shrinking up the skin.
In
Aquarias,
now keeps the loved Sun,
And North-ward his unwearied race doth run;
The day much longer then it was before,
The cold not lessened, but augmented more.
Now toes, and ears, and fingers often freeze,
And Travelers sometimes their noses leese.
Moyst snowie
February
is my last,
I
care not how the Winter time doth haste;
In
Pisces
now the golden Sun doth shine,
And North-ward still approaches to the Line;
The Rivers now do ope, and Snows do melt,
And some warm glances from the Sun are felt,
Which is increased by the lengthened day,
Until by's heat he drives all cold away.
My Subjects bare, my Brains are bad,
Or better Lines you should have had;
The first fell in so naturally,
I could not tell how to passeit by:
The last, though bad,
I
could not mend,
Accept therefore of what is pen'd,
And all the faults which you shall spy,
Shall at your feet for pardon cry.
Your dutiful Daughter. A. B.
The Four Monarchies,
the Assyrian being the first, beginning under Nimrod, 131. years after the Flood.
WHen Time was young, and World in infancy,
Man did not strive for Sovereignty,
But each one thought his petty rule was high,
If of his house he held the Monarchy:
This was the Golden Age, but after came,
The boisterous Sons of
Cush,
Grand-child to
Ham.
That mighty Hunter, who in his strong toils,
Both Beasts and Men subjected to his spoils.
The strong foundation of proud
Babel
laid,
Erech, Accad,
and
Calneh
also made;
These were his first, all stood in
Shinar
land,
From thence he went
Assyria
to command;
And mighty
Ninivie,
he there begun,
Nor finished, til he his race had run;
R
•
sea, Caleh,
and
Rehoboth
likewise,
By him, to Cities eminent did rise;
Of
Sa
•
urn,
he was the original,
Whom the succeeding times a god did
〈◊〉
When thus with rule he had been dignified,
One hundred fourteen years, he after died.
Bellus.
GReat
Nimrod
dead,
Bellus
the next, his Son,
Confirmes the rule his Father had begun,
Whose acts, and power, is not for certainty,
Left to the world, by any History;
But yet this blot forever on him lies,
He taught the people first to Idolize;
Titles divine, he to himself did take,
Alive, and dead, a god they did him make;
This is that
Bell,
the
Chaldees
worshipped,
Whose Priests, in Stories, oft are mentioned;
This is that
Bell,
to whom the
Israelites
So oft profanely offered sacred rites;
This is
Belzebub,
god of
Ekronites,
Likewise
Bal-peor,
of the
Moabites:
His reign was short, for as I calculate,
At twenty five, ended his regal dare.
Ninus.
HIs father dead,
Ninus
begins his reign,
Transfers his Seat, to the
Assyrian
plain,
And mighty
Ninivie
more mighty made,
Whose foundation was by his Grand-sire laid;
Four hundred forty Furlongs, wall'd about,
On which stood fifteen hundred towers stout:
The walls one hundred sixty foot upright,
So broad, three Chariots run abrest there might,
Upon the pleasant banks of
Tigris
flood,
This stately seat of warlike
Ninus
stood.
This
Ninus
for a god, his father canoniz'd,
To whom the sottish people sacrificed;
This Tyrant did his neighbors all oppress,
Where e're he war'd he had too good success,
Barzanes,
the great
Armenian
King,
By force, his tributary, he did bring.
The
Median
country, he did also gain,
Pharmus,
their King, he caused to be slain;
An army of three Millions he led out,
Against the
Bactrians
(but that I doubt)
Zoroaster,
their King, he likewise slew,
And all the greater
Asia
did subdue;
Semiramis
from
Menon
he did take,
Then drown himself, did
Menon,
for her sake;
Fifty two years he reigned (as we are told)
The world then was two thousand nineteen old.
Semiramis.
THis great oppressing
Ninus
dead, and gone,
His wife,
Semiramis,
usurped the throne,
She like a brave Virago, played the rex,
And was both shame, and glory of her sex;
Her birth-place was
Philistrius Askelon,
Her Mother
Docreta,
a Curtezan;
Others report, she was a vestal Nun,
Adjudged to be drowned, for what she'd done;
Transform'd into a fish, by
Venus
will,
Her beauteous face (they feign) retaining still.
Sure from this fiction, Dagon first began,
Changing his woman's face, into a man.
But all agree, that from no lawful bed;
This great renowned Empresse, issued.
For which, she was obscurely nourished.
Whence rose that fable, she by birds was fed.
This gallant dame, unto the
Bactrian
war;
Accompaning her husband
Menon
far,
Taking a town, such valor she did show,
That
Ninus
of her, amorous soon did grow;
And thought her fit, to make a Monarch's wife,
Which was the cause, poor
Menon
lost his life,
She flourishing with
Ninus,
long did reign;
Till her ambition, caused him to be slain:
That having no compeer, she might rule all,
Or else she sought, revenge for
Menons
fall:
Some think the
Greeks,
this slander on her cast,
As of her life, licenti
••
s, and unchaste.
And that her worth, deserved no such blame,
As their aspersions, cast upon the same.
But were her virtues, more, or less, or none;
•
he for her potency, must go alone.
H
••
wealth she showed, in building
Babylon;
Adm
••
'd of all, but equaliz'd of none.
〈◊〉
walls so
••
ong, and curiously were wrought;
〈◊〉
after ages, skil, by them were taught.
With Tow
••
s, and Bulwalks made of costly stone
Quadrangle was the form, it
•
ood upon:
Each Square, was
〈◊〉
thousand paces long,
An hundred
〈◊〉
, it had, of mertall strong.
Three hundred sixty foot, the walls in heighth:
Almost incredible, they were in breadth.
Most writers say, six chariots might a front,
With great facility, march safe upon it.
About the wall, a ditch so deep and wide,
That like a river, long it did abide.
Three hundred thousand men, here day, by day;
Bestow'd their labor, and received their pay,
But that which did, all cost, and art excel,
The wondrous Temple was, she reared to
Bell;
Which in the midst, of this brave Town was placed,
(Continuing, till
Xerxes
it defaced)
Whose stately top, beyond the clouds did rise;
From whence, Astrologers, oft viewed the skies,
This to describe, in each particular,
A structure rare, I should but rudely mar,
Her gardens, bridges, arches, mounts, and spires;
All eyes that saw, or ears that hears, admires.
On
Shinar
plain, by the
Euphratan
flood,
This wonder of the world, this
Babel
stood.
An expedition to the East she made.
Great King
Staurobates,
for to invade.
Her Army of four Millions did consist,
(Each man believe it, as his fancy list)
Her Camells, Chariots, Gallyes in such number,
As puzzells best hystorians to remember:
But this is marvelous, of all those men,
(They say) but twenty, ere came back agen.
The River
Indus
swept them half away,
The rest
Staurobates
in fight did slay.
This was last progress of this mighty Queen,
Who in her Country never more was seen.
〈1 page duplicate〉
〈1 page duplicate〉
The Poets feign her turned into a Dove,
Leaving the world, to
Venus,
soar'd above,
Which made the
Assyrians
many a day,
A Dove within their Ensign to display.
Forty two years she reigned, and then she died,
But by what means, we are not certifi'd.
Ninias,
or
Zamies.
HIs Mother dead,
Ninias
obtains his right,
A Prince wedded to ease, and to delight,
Or else was his obedience very great,
To sit, thus long (obscure) wronged of his seat;
Some write, his Mother put his habit on,
Which made the people think they served her Son;
But much it is, in more then forty years,
This fraud, in war, nor peace, at all appears;
It is more like, being with pleasures fed,
He sought no rule, til she was gone, and dead?
What then he did, of worth, can no man tell,
But is supposed to be that
Amraphel,
Who war'd with
Sodom's,
and
Gomorahs
King,
'Gainst whom his trained Bands
Abram
did bring.
Some may object, his Parents ruling all,
How he thus suddenly should be thus small?
This answer may suffice, whom it will please,
He thus voluptuous, and given to ease;
Each wronged Prince, or child that did remain,
Would now advantage take, their own to gain;
So Province, after Province, rent away,
Until that potent Empire did decay.
Again, the Country was left bare (there is no doubt)
Of men, and wealth, his mother carried out;
Which to her neighbors, when it was made known,
Did then incite, them to regain their own.
What e're he was, they did, or how it fell,
We may suggest our thoughts, but cannot tell;
For
Ninias,
and all his Race are left,
In deep oblivion, of acts bereft,
And eleav'n hundred of years in silence sit,
Save a few names anew,
Berosus
writ.
And such as care not, what befalls their fames,
May feign as many acts, as he did names;
It is enough, if all be true that's past,
T'
Sardanapalus
next we will make haste.
Sardanapalus.
SArdanapalus,
(Son t'
Ocrazapes
)
Who wallowed in all voluptuousness,
That palliardizing sot, that out of doors
Ne're showed his face, but revel'd with his Whores.
Did wear their garb, their gestures imitate,
And their kind t' excel did emulate.
Knowing his baseness, and the people's hate,
Kept ever close, fearing some dismal fate;
At last
Arbaces
brave, unwarily,
His master like a Strumpet chanced to spy,
His manly heart disdained, in the least,
Longer to serve this Metamorphos'd beast;
Unto
Belosus,
then he brake his mind,
Who sick of his disease, he soon did find.
These two ruled
Media
and
Babylon,
Both, for their King, held their dominion,
Belosus,
promised
Arbaces
aide,
Arbaces
him, fully to be repaid.
The last, the
Medes
and
Persians
doth invite.
Against their monstrous King to bring their might,
Eclosus
the
Chaldeans
doth require,
And the
Arabians,
to further his desire.
These all agree, and forty thousand make,
The rule from their unworthy Prince to take.
By prophesy,
Belosus
strength's their hands,
Arbaces
must be master of their lands.
These Forces mustered, and in array,
Sardanapalus
leaves his Apish play.
And though of wars, he did abhor the sight;
Fear of his diadem, did force him sight:
And either by his valor or his fate;
Arbaces
courage he did sore abate:
That in despair, he left the field and fled.
But with fresh hopes
Belosus
succoured.
From
Bactaria
an Army was at hand,
Prest for this service, by the Kings command;
These with celerity,
Arbaces
meers,
And with all terms of amity, he greets,
Makes promises, their necks for to un-yoke,
And their Taxations sore, all to revoake,
T'in franchise them, to grant what they could crave,
To want no privilege, Subjects should have,
Only intreats them, join their force with his,
And win the Crown, which was the way to bl
•
sse,
Won by his loving looks, more loving speech,
T' accept of what they could, they him beseech.
Both sides their hearts, their hands, their bands unite,
And set upon their Princes Camp that night;
Who revelling in Cups, sung care away,
For victory obtained the other day;
But all surprised, by this unlookt for fright,
Bereft of wits, were slaughtered down right.
The King his Brother leaves, all to sustain,
And speeds himself to
Ninivic
amain;
But
Salmeneus
slain, his Army falls,
The King's pursued unto the City walls;
But he once in, pursuers, came too late,
The walls, and gates, their course did terminate;
There with all store he was so well provided,
That what
Arbaces
did, was but derided;
Who there incamp'd two years, for little end,
But in the third, the River proved his friend,
Which through much rain, then swelling up so high,
Part of the wall it level caused to lie;
Arbaces
marches in, the town did take,
For few, or none, did there resistance make;
And now they saw fulfilled a Prophesy;
That when the River proved their enemy,
Their strong wall'd town should suddenly be taken;
By this accomplishment, their hearts were shaken:
Sardanapalus
did not seek to fly,
This his inevitable destiny;
But all his wealth, and friends, together gets,
Then on himself, and them, a fire he sets;
This the last Monarch was, of
Ninus
race,
Which for twelve hundred years had held that place;
Twenty he reigned, same time, as Stories tell,
That
Am
•
zia
was King of
Israel;
His Father was then King (as we suppose)
When
Jonah
for their sins denounced such woes;
He did repent, therefore it was not done,
But was accomplished now, in his Son.
Arbaces
thus, of all becoming Lord,
Ingeniously with each did keep his word;
Of
Babylon, Belosus
he made King,
With over-plus of all treasures therein,
To
Bactrians,
he gave their liberty,
Of
Ninevites,
he caused none to die,
But suffered, with goods to go elsewhere,
Yet would not let them to inhabit there;
For he demolished that City great,
And then to
Media
transferred his seat.
Thus was the promise bound, since first he craved,
Of
Medes,
and
Persians,
their assisting aide;
A while he, and his race, aside must stand,
Not pertinent to what we have in hand;
But
Belochus
in's progeny pursue,
Who did this Monarchy begin anew.
Belosus,
or
Belochus.
BElosus
settled, in his new, old seat,
Not so content, but aiming to be great,
Incroached still upon the bord'ring Lands,
Til
Mesopotamia
he got in's hands,
And either by compound, or else by strength,
Assyria
he also gained at length;
Then did rebuild destroyed
Ninivi
•
,
A costly work, which none could do but he,
Who owned the treasures of proud
Babylon,
And those which seemed with
Sardanapal's
gone;
But though his Palace, did in ashes lie,
The fire, those Mettals could not damnify;
From rubbish these, with diligence he rakes,
Arbaces
suffers all, and all he takes.
He thus inricht, by this new tried gold,
Raises a Phoenix new, from grave o'th old;
And from this heap did after Ages see,
As fair a Town, as the first
Ninivie.
When this was built, and all matters in peace,
Molests poor
Israel,
his wealth t' increase.
A thousand talents of
Menahem
had,
Who to be rid of such a guest, was glad;
In sacred Writ, he's known by name of
Pul,
Which makes the world of differences so full,
That he, and
Belochus,
one could not be,
But circumstance, doth prove the verity;
And times of both computed, so fall out,
That those two made but one, we need not doubt:
What else he did, his Empire to advance,
To rest content we must, in ignorance.
Forty eight years he reigned, his race then run,
He left his new got Kingdoms to his Son.
Tiglath Palasser.
BElosus
dead,
Tiglath
his wa
•
like Son
Neyt treads the steps, by which his Father won,
Damascus,
ancient seat of famous Kings,
Under subjection by his sword he brings;
Resin
their valiant King, he also slew,
And
Syria
t' obedience did subdue;
Judah's
bad King occasioned this War,
When
Resins
force his borders sore did mar.
And divers Cities, by strong hand did seize,
To
Tiglath
then doth
Ahaz
send for ease.
The temple robes, so to fulfill his ends,
And to
Assyria
's King a Present sends.
I am thy Servant, and thy Son (quoth he)
From
Rezin,
and from
Pekah
set me free:
Gladly doth
Tiglath
this advantage take,
And succors
Ahaz,
yet for
Tiglath's
sake,
When
Rezin's
slain, his Army over-thrown,
Syria
he makes a Province of his own.
Unto
Damascus
then, comes
Judah
's King,
His humble thankfulness (with hast) to bring,
Acknowledging th'
Assyrians
high desert,
To whom, he ought all loyalty of heart.
But
Tiglath,
having gained his wished end,
Proves unto
Ahaz
but a feigned friend;
All
Israel's
Land, beyond
Jordan,
he takes.
In
Galilee,
he woeful havoc makes;
Through
Syria
now he marched, none stopped his way,
And
Ahaz
open, at his mercy lay,
Who still implor'd his love, but was distress'd,
(This was that
Ahaz,
which so much transgressed.)
Thus
Tiglath
reigned, and wart'd, twenty seven years,
Then by his death, released, was
Israel's
fears.
Shalmaneser,
or
Nabonasser.
TIglath
deceased,
Shalmaneser
is next,
He
I sraelites,
more then his Father vext;
Hoshea,
their last King, he did invade,
And him six years his tributary made;
But weary of his servitude, he sought,
To
Aegypts
King, which did avail him naught;
For
Shalmaneser,
with a mighty Hoast,
Besieg'd his regal town, and spoil'd his Coast,
And did the people, nobles, and their King,
Into perpetual thralldom that time bring;
Those that from
Joshua's
time had been Estate,
Did Justice now, by him, eradicate:
This was that strange degenerated brood,
On whom, nor threars, nor mercies could do good;
Laden with honor, prisoners, and with spoil,
Returns triumphant Victor to his soil;
Plac'd
Israel
in's Land, where he thought best,
Then sent his Colonies, theirs to invest;
Thus
Jacob's
Sons, in exile must remain,
And pleasant
Canaan
never see again:
Where now those ten Tribes are, can no man tell,
Or how they fare, rich, poor, or ill, or well;
Whether the
Indians
of the East, or West,
Or wild
Tartarians,
as yet never blest,
Or else those
Chinoes
rare, whose wealth, and Arts,
Hath bred more wonder, then belief in hearts;
But what, or where they are, yet know we this;
They shall return, and
Zion
see, with bliss.
Sennacherib.
SEnacherib Shalmaneser
succeeds,
Whose haughty heart is shewn in works, and deeds;
His Wars none better then himself can boast,
On
Henah, Arpad,
and on
Ivah
least;
On
Hena's,
and on
Sepharuaim's
gods,
'Twixt them and
Israel's
he knew no odds.
Until the thundering hand of heaven he felt,
Which made his Army into nothing melt;
With shame then turned to
Ninivie
again,
And by his Sons in's Idols house was slain.
Essarhadon.
HIs Son, weak
Essarhadon
reigned in's place,
The fifth, and last, of great
Belosus
race;
Brave
Merodach,
the Son of
Balladan,
In
Babylon,
Lieutenant to this man,
Of opportunity advantage takes,
And on his Masters ruins, his house makes;
And
Belosus,
first, his did unthrone,
So he's now stilled, the King of
Babylon;
After twelve years did
Essarhadon
die,
And
Merodach
assume the Monarchy.
Merodach Baladan.
ALl yields to him, but
Ninivie
kept free,
Until his Grand-child made her bow the knee;
Ambassadors to
Hezekiah
sent,
His health congratulates with complement.
Ben. Merodach.
BEn. Merodach,
Successor to this King,
Of whom is little said in anything;
But by conjecture this, and none but he,
Led King
Manasseh,
to captivity.
Nebulassar.
BRave
Nebulassar
to this King was Son,
The ancient
Nineveh
by him was won;
For fifty years, or more, it had been free,
Now yields her neck unto captivity:
A Vice-roy from her foe, she's glad t' accept,
By whom in firm obedience she's kept.
Nebuchadnezzar,
or
Nebopolassar.
THe famous Wars, of this Heroyick King,
Did neither
Homer, Hesiode, Virgil
sing;
Nor of his acts have we the certainty,
From some
Thucydides
grave History;
Nor's Metamorphosis from
Ovid's
Book,
Nor his restoring from old legends took;
But by the Prophets, Pen-men most Divine,
This Prince in's magnitude doth ever shine;
This was of Monarchies that head of gold,
The richest, and the dreadful'st to behold;
This was that tree, whose branches filled the earth,
Under whose shadow, birds, and beasts, had birth;
This was that King of Kings, did what he pleased,
Kild, saved, pulled down, set up, or pained, or eased;
And this is he, who when he feared the least,
Was turned from a King, unto a Beast;
This Prince, the last year of his Fathers reign,
Against
Ichoiakim
marched with his train;
Judah's
poor King besieged, who succorless,
Yeelds to his mercy, and the present stress;
His Vassal is, gives pledges for his truth,
Children of Royal blood, unblemished youth;
Wise
Daniel,
and his fellows 'mongst the rest,
By the victorious King to
Babel's
pressed;
The temple of rich ornaments defaced,
And in his Idols house the Vassal's placed.
The next year he, with unresisted hand,
Quite vanquished
Pharaoh Necho,
and his Band;
By great
Euphrates
did his Army fall,
Which was the loss of
•
yria
withal;
Then into Egypt,
Necho
did retire,
Which in few years proves the
Assyrians
hire;
A mighty Army next, he doth prepare,
And unto wealthy
Tyre
with ha
••
repure.
Such was the situation of this place,
As might not him, but all the world out-face;
That in her pride, she knew not which to boast,
Whether her wealth, or yet her strength was most;
How in all Merchandise she did excel,
None but the true
Ezekiel
need to tell:
And for her strength, how hard she was to gain,
Can
Babels
tired Soldiers tell with pain;
Within an Island had this City seat,
Divided from the main, by channel great;
Of costly Ships, and Gallies, she had store,
And Mariners, to handle sail, and oar;
But the
Chaldeans
had nor ships, nor skill,
Their shoulders must their Masters mind fulfill;
Fetch rubbish from the opposite old town,
And in the channel throw each burden down;
Where after many aslayes, they make at last,
The Sea firm Land, whereon the Army past,
And took the wealthy town, but all the gain
Requited not the cost, the toil, and pain.
Full thirteen years in this strange work he spent,
Before he could accomplish his intent;
And though a Victor home his Army leads,
With peeled shoulders, and with balded heads,
When in the
Tyrian
wars, the King was hot,
Jehoiakim
his Oath had clean forgot;
Thinks this the fittest time to break his bands,
While
Babels
King thus deep engaged stands;
But he (alas) whose fortunes now in the ebb,
Had all his hopes like to a Spiders web;
For this great King, with-draws part of his force,
To
Judah
marches with a speedy course,
And unexpected finds the feeble Prince,
Whom he chastased for his proud offense;
Fast bound, intends at
Babel
he shall stay,
But changed his mind, and slew him by the way;
Thus cast him out, like to a naked Ass,
For this was he, for whom none said, Alas!
His Son three months he suffered to reign,
Then from his throne, he pulled him down again:
Whom with his Mother, he to
Babel
led,
And more then thirty years in prison fed;
His Unckle, he established in's place,
Who was last King of holy
David's
race;
But he, as perjured as
Ichoiakim,
Judah
lost more (then e're they lost) by him;
Seven years he keeps his faith, and safe he dwells,
But in the eighth, against his Prince rebels;
The ninth, came
Nebuchadnezzar
with power,
Besieg'd his City, Temple,
Zion's
Tower;
And after eighteen months he took them all,
The walls so strong, that stood so long, now fall;
The cursed King, by flight could no wise free
His well deserved, and fore-told misery;
But being caught, to
Babels
wrathful King,
With Children, Wives, and Nobles, all they bring,
Where to the sword, all but himself was put,
And with that woeful sight his eyes close shut.
A haplesse man, whose darksome contemplation,
Was nothing, but such gastly meditation;
In midst of
Babel
now, til death he lies,
Yet as was told, ne
•
e saw it with his eyes;
The Temple's burnt, the Vessels had away,
The Towers, and Palaces, brought to decay;
Where late, of Harp, and Lute, was heard the noise,
Now
Zim,
and
Sim,
lift up their shriking voice;
All now of worth, are captive led with tears,
There sit bewailing
Zion
seventy years,
With all these Conquests,
Babels
King rests not,
No, nor when
Moab, Edom
he had got.
Kedar, Hazer,
the
Arabians
too,
All Vassals, at his hands, for grace must sue;
A total Conquest of rich
Egypt
makes,
All rule, he from the ancient
Pharoes
takes;
Who had for sixteen hundred years born sway,
To
Babylon's
proud King, now yields the day.
Then
Put,
and
Lud,
do at his mercy stand,
Where e're he goes, he Conquers every Land;
His sumptuous buildings passes all conceit,
Which wealth, and strong ambition made so great;
His Image,
Judah's
Captives worship not,
Although the Furnace be seven times more hot;
His Dreams, wise
Daniel
doth expound full well,
And his unhappy change with grief fore-tell;
Strange melancholy humors on him lay,
Which for seven years his reason took away;
Which from no natural causes did proceed,
For by the Heavens above it was decreed:
The time expired, remains a Beast no more,
Resumes his Government, as heretofore,
In splender, and in Majesty, he sits,
Contemplating those times he lost his wits;
And if by words, we may guess at the heart,
This King among the righteous had a part:
Forty four years he reigned, which being run,
He left his Wealth, and Conquest, to his Son.
Evilmerodach.
BAbels
great Monarch, now laid in the dust,
His son possesses wealth, and rule, as just;
And in the first year of his royalty,
Easeth
Jehoiakim’s
captivity.
Poor forlorn Prince, that had all state forgot,
In seven and thirty years, had seen no jot,
Among the Conquered Kings, that there did lie,
Is
Judah's
King, now lifted up on high.
But yet in
Babel,
he must still remain:
And native
Canaan,
never see again,
Unlike his father,
Evilmerodach,
Prudence, and magnanimity, did lack
Faire
Egypt
is, by his remissness lost;
Arabia,
and all the boardering coast.
Wars with the
Medes,
unhappily he wag'd,
(Within which broils, r
•
ch
Croesus
was engaged,)
His Army routed, and himself there slain,
His Kingdom to
Belshazzar
did remain,
Belshazzar.
UNworthy
Belshazzar
next wears the Crown,
Whose profane acts, a sacred pen sets down.
His lust, and cruelty, in books we find,
A Royal State, ruled by a b
•
uitish mind.
His life so base, and dissolute, invites
The Noble
Persians,
to invade his rights.
Who with his own, and Uncles power anon;
Lays siege to's regal seat, proud
Babylon,
The coward King, whose strength lay in his walls,
To banqueting, and revelling now falls,
To show his little dread, but greater store,
To cheer his friends, and scorn his foes the more.
The holy vessels, thither brought long since,
Carous'd they in; and sacrilegious Prince,
Did praise his gods of metal, wood, and stone,
Protectors of his Crown, and
Babylon,
But he above, his doings did deride,
And with a hand, soon dashed all his pride.
The King, upon the wall casting his eye,
The fingers of his hand-writing did spy.
Which horrid sight, he fears, must needs portend,
Destruction to his Crown, to's Person end.
With quaking knees, and heart appall'd, he cries,
For the Soothsayers, and Magicians wise;
This language strange, to read, and to unfold;
With gifts of Scarlet robe, and Chaines of gold,
And highest dignity, next to the King,
To him that could interpret clear this thing:
But dumb the gazing Astrologers stand,
Amazed at the writing, and the hand.
None answers the affrighted Kings intent.
Who still expects some fearful sad event,
As thus amort he sits, as all undone:
In comes the Queen, to cheer her heartless son.
Of
Daniel
tells, who in his Grand-fires days,
Was held in more request, then now he was,
Daniel
in haste, is brought before the King,
Who doth not flatter, nor once cloak the thing.
Re-minds him of his Grand-fires height, and fall,
And of his own notorious sins, withal;
His drunkenness, and his prophainnesse high,
His pride, and sottish gross Idolatry.
The guilty King, with color pale, and dead,
There hears his
Mene,
and his
Tekel
read;
And did one thing worthy a King (though late)
Perform'd his word, to him, that told his fate;
That night victorious
Cyrus
took the town,
Who soon did terminate his Life, and Crown:
With him did end the race of
Baladan,
And now the
Persian
Monarchy began.
The end of the
Assyrian
Monarchy.
The Second Monarchy, being the Persian, begun under Cyrus, Darius (being his Uncle, and his Father in Law) reigning with him about two years.
CYrus Cambyses,
Son of
Persia's
King,
Whom Lady
Mandana
did to him bring;
She Daughter unto great
Astiages,
He in descent the seventh from
Arbaces.
Cambyses
was of
Achemenes
race,
Who had in
Persia
the Lieutenants place.
When
Sardanapalus
was over-thrown,
And from that time, had held it as his own;
Cyrus, Darius
Daughter took to wife,
And so unites two Kingdoms, without strife;
Darius
was unto
Mandana
brother,
Adopts her Son for his, having no other:
This is of
Cyrus
the true pedigree,
Whose Ancestors, were royal in degree;
His Mothers Dream, and Grand-fires cruelty,
His preservation in his misery;
His nourishment afforded by a Bitch,
Are fit for such, whose ears for fables itch;
He in his younger days an Army led,
Against great
Cressus,
then of
Lidia
head;
Who over-curious of wars event,
For information to
Apollo
went:
And the ambiguous Oracle did trust,
So over-thrown of
Gyrus,
as was just;
Who him pursues to
Sardis,
takes the town,
Where all that do resist, are slaughtered down;
Disguised
Cressus,
hoped to scape in the throng,
Who had no might to save himself from wrong;
But as he past, his Son, who was born dumb,
With pressing grief; and sorrow, over-come,
Amidst the tumult, blood-shed, and the strife,
Brake his long silence, cried, spare
Cressus
life:
Cressus
thus known, it was great
Cy
•
us
doom,
(A hard decree) to ashes he consume;
Then on a Pike being set, where all might eye,
He
Solon, Solon, Solon,
thrice did cry.
Upon demand, his mind to
Cyrus
broke,
And told, how
Solon
in his hight had spoke.
With pity
Cyrus
moved, knowing Kings stand,
Now up, now down, as fortune turns her hand,
Weighing the age, and greatness of the Prince,
(His Mothers Uncle, stories do evince:)
Gave him at once, his life, and Kingdom too,
And with the
Lidians,
had no more to do.
Next war, the restless
Cyrus
thought upon,
Was conquest of the stately
•
abylon,
Now treble wall'd, and moated so about,
That all the world they neither fear, nor doubt;
To drain this ditch, he many sluices cut,
But till convenient time their heads kept shut;
That night
Belshazzar
feasted all his rout,
He cuts those banks, and let the river out;
And to the walls securely marches on,
Not finding a defendant thereupon;
Enters the town, the sottish King he slays,
Upon earths richest spoils his Soldiers preys;
Here twenty years provision he found,
Forty five mile this City scarce could round;
This head of Kingdoms,
Caldes
excellence,
For Owls, and Satires, makes a residence;
Yet wondrous Monuments this stately Queen,
Had after thousand years fair to be seen.
Cyrus
doth now the
Jewish
captives free,
An Edict makes, the Temple built be,
He with his Uncle
Daniel
sets on high,
And caused his foes in Lions den to die.
Long after this, he 'gainst the
Sythians
goes,
And
Tomris
Son, an Army over-throws;
Which to revenge, she hires a mighty power,
And sets on
Cyrus,
in a fatal hour;
There routs his Hoast, himself she prisoner takes,
And at one blow, worlds head, she headless makes;
The which she back'd within a But of blood,
Using such taunting words as she thought good.
But
Zenophon
reports, he died in's bed,
In honor, peace, and wealth, with a grey head,
And in his Town of
Pasargada
lies,
Where
Alexander
fought, in hope of prize,
But in this Tomb was only to be found
Two
Sythian
bows, a sword, and target round;
Where that proud Conqueror could do no less,
Then at his Herse great honors to express;
Three Daughters, and two Sons, he left behind,
Innobled more by birth, then by their mind;
Some thirty years this potent Prince did reign,
Unto
Cambyses
then, all did remain.
Cambyses.
CAmbyses,
no ways like, his noble Sire,
But to enlarge his state, had some desire;
His reign with Blood, and Incest, first begins;
Then sends to find a Law for these his sins;
That Kings with Sisters match, no Law they find,
But that the
Persian
King, may act his mind;
Which Law includes all Laws, though lawless still,
And makes it lawful Law, if he but will;
He wages war, the fifth year of his reign,
'Gainst
Aegypts
King, who there by him was slain,
And all of Royal blood that came to hand,
He seized first of life, and then of Land;
(But little
Marus,
scaped that cruel fate,
Who grown a man, resum'd again his state)
He next to
Cyprus
sends his bloody Hoast,
Who landed soon upon that fruitful coast,
Made
Evelthon
their King, with bended knee,
To hold his own, of his free courtesy;
The Temples he destroys not, for his zeal,
But he would be professed god of their Weal;
Yea, in his pride, he ventured so far,
To spoil the Temple of great
Jupiter;
But as they marched over those desert sands,
The stormed dust o'r-whelm'd his daring bands;
But scorning thus by
Jove
to be out-brav'd,
A second Army there had almost grav'd;
But vain he found, to fight with Elements,
So left his sacrilegious bold intents:
The Egyptian
Apis
then he likewise slew,
Laughing to scorn that calvish, sottish crew.
If all his heat, had been for a good end,
Cambyses
to the clouds, we might commend;
But he that 'fore the gods, himself prefers,
Is more profane, then gross Idolaters;
And though no gods, if he esteem them some,
And contemn them, woeful is his doom.
He after this, saw in a Vision,
His brother
Smerdis
sit upon his throne;
He strait to rid himself of causeless fears,
Complots the Princes death, in his green years,
Who for no wrong, poor innocent must die,
Praraspes
now must act this tragedy;
Who into
Persia
with Commission sent,
Accomplished this wicked Kings intent;
His sister, whom incestuously he wed,
Hearing her harmless brother thus was dead,
His woeful fate with tears did so bemoan,
That by her Husbands charge, she caught her own;
She with her fruit was both at once undone,
Who would have born a Nephew, and a Son.
O hellish Husband, Brother, Uncle, Sire,
Thy cruelty will Ages still admire.
This strange severity, one time he used,
Upon a Judge, for breach of Law accused;
Flayd him alive, hung up his stuffed skin
Over his Seat, then placed his Son therein;
To whom he gave this in remembrance,
Like fault must look, for the like recompense.
Praraspes,
to
Cambyses
favourite,
Having one son, in whom he did delight,
His cruel Master, for all service done,
Shot through the heart of his beloved son:
And only for his fathers faithfulness,
Who said but what, the King bad him express.
'T would be no pleasant, but a tedious thing,
To tell the facts, of this most bloody King.
Fear'd of all, but loved of few, or none,
All thought his short r
•
ign long, till it was done
At last, two of his Officers he heart,
Had set a
Smerdis
up, of the same years;
And like in feature, to the
Smerdis
dead,
Ruling as they thought good, under his head.
Toucht with this news, to
Persia
he makes,
But in the way, his sword just vengeance takes.
Unsheathes, as he his horse mounted on high,
And with a
Martall
thrust, wounds him ith' thigh,
Which ends before begun, the
Persian
Wa
•
re,
Yeelding to death, that dreadful Conquerer.
Griefe for his brothers death, he did express,
And more, because he died issulesse.
The Male line, of great
Cyrus
now did end.
The Female many ages did extend,
A
Babylon
in
Egypt
did he make.
And built fair
Meroe,
for his sisters sake.
Eight years he reigned, a short, yet too long time,
Cut off in's wickedness, in's strength, and prime.
The inter Regnum between
Cambyses,
and
Darius Hyslaspes.
Childlesse
Cambyses,
on the sudden dead,
The Princes meet to choose one in his stead,
Of which the chief were seven, called
Satrapes,
(Who like to Kings, ruled Kingdoms as they please,)
Descended all, of
Ach
•
menes
blood,
And kinsmen in account, to th'King they stood,
And first these noble
Magi
'gree upon,
To thrust th' Imposter
Smerdis
our of throne,
Their Forces instantly they raise, and rout,
This King, with conspirators so stout,
Who little pleasure had, in his short reign,
And now with his accomplyces lie slain.
But yet, 'fore this was done, much blood was shed,
And two of these great Peers, in place lay dead:
Some write that sorely hurt, they 'scaped away;
But so or no, sure tis, they won the day.
All things in peace, and Rebells thoroughly que
•
'd,
A Consultation by the States was held.
What form of Government now to erect,
The old, or new, which best, in what respect,
The greater part, declined a Monarchy.
So late crushed by their Princes Tyranny;
And thought the people, would more happy be,
If governed by an Aristocracy.
But others thought (none of the dullest brain,)
But b
•
tter one, then many Tyrants reign.
What arguments they used, I know not well,
Too political (tis like) for me to tell,
But in conclusion they all agree,
That of the seven a Monarch chosen be;
All envy to avoid, this was thought on,
Upon a Green to meet, by rising Sun;
And he whose Horse before the rest should neigh,
Of all the Peers should have precedency.
They all attend on the appointed hour,
Praying to Fortune, for a Kingly power;
Then mounting on their snorting coursers proud,
Darius
lusty stallion neighed full loud;
The Nobles all alight, their King to greet,
And after
Persian
manner, kiss his feet.
His happy wishes now doth no man spare,
But acclamations echoes in the air;
A thousand times, God save the King, they cry,
Let tyranny now with
Cambyses
die.
They then attend him, to his royal room,
Thanks for all this to's crafty Stable-groome.
Darius Hyslapses.
DArius
by election made a King,
His title to make strong omits nothing;
He two of
Cyrus
Daughters now doth wed,
Two of his Neeces takes to nuptial bed;
By which he cuts their hopes (for future times)
That by such steps to Kingdoms often climbs.
And now a King, by marriage, choice, and blood,
Three strings to's bow, the least of which is good;
Yet more the people's hearts firmly to bind,
Made wholesome gentle Laws, which pleased each mind.
His affability, and mild aspect,
Did win him loyalty, and all respect;
Yet notwithstanding he did all so well,
The
Babylonians
'gainst their Prince rebel;
An Hoast he raised, the City to reduce,
But strength against those walls was of no use;
For twice ten months before the town he lay,
And feared, he now with scorn must march away:
Then brave
Zopirus,
for his Masters good,
His manly face dis-figures, spares no blood,
With his own hands cuts off his ears, and nose,
And with a faithful fraud to'th' town he goes,
Tels them, how harshly the proud King had dealt,
That for their sakes, his cruelty he felt;
Desiring of the Prince to raise the siege,
This violence was done him by his Liege;
This told, for entrance he stood not long,
For they believed his nose, more then his tongue;
With all the Cities strength they him betrust,
If he command, obey the greatest must:
When opportunity he saw was fit,
Delivers up the town, and all in it.
To loose a nose, to win a Town's no shame,
But who dare venture such a stake for th' game;
Then thy disgrace, thine honor's manifold,
Who doth deserve a Statue made of gold;
Nor can
Darius
in his Monarchy,
Scarse find enough to thank thy loyalty;
But yet thou hast sufficient recompense,
In that thy fame shall sound whilst men have sense;
Yet over thy glory we must cast this veil,
Thy falsehood, not thy valor did prevail;
Thy wit was more then was thine honesty,
Thou lov'dst thy Master more then verity.
Darius
in the second of his reign,
An Edict for the
Jews
published again,
The temple to re-build, for that did rest
Since
Cyrus
time,
Cambyses
did molest;
He like a King, now grants a Charter large,
Out of his own revenues bears the charge;
Gives sacrifices, wheat, wine, oil, and salt,
Threats punishment to him, that through default
Shall let the work, or keep back anything,
Of what is freely granted by the King;
And on all Kings he pours out execrations,
That shall, but dare raze those firm foundations;
They thus backed of the King, in spite of foes,
Built on, and prospered, till their walls did close;
And in the sixth year of his friendly reign
Set up a Temple (though, a less) again.
Darius
on the
Sythians
made a war,
Entring that large and barren country far;
A bridge he made, which served for boat, and barge,
Over fair
Ister,
at a mighty charge;
But in that Desert, 'mongst his barbarous foes,
Sharp wants, not swords, his vallour did oppose;
His Army fought with Hunger, and with Cold,
Which two then to assail, his Camp was bold:
By these alone his Hoast was pinched so sore,
He war'd defensive, not offensive, more;
The Salvages did laugh at his distress,
Their minds by Hieroglyphics they express;
A Frog, a Mouse, a Bird, an Arrow sent,
The King will needs interpret their intent;
Possession of water, earth, and air,
But wise
Gobrias
reads not half so far:
Quoth he, like Frogs, in water we must dive,
Or like to Mice, under the earth must live;
Or fly like birds, in unknown ways full quick,
Or
Sythian
arrows in our fides must stick.
The King, seeing his men, and victual spent,
His fruitless war, began late to repent;
Return'd with little honor, and less gain,
His enemies scarce seen, then much less, slain;
He after this, intends
Greece
to invade,
But troubles in less
Asia
him stayed;
Which husht, he straight so orders his affairs,
For
Attica
an Army he prepares;
But as before, so now with ill success,
Return'd with wondrous loss, and honor less.
Athens
perceiving now their desperate state,
Arm'd all they could, which elev'n thousand make;
By brave
Miltiades
(their chief) being led,
Darius
multitude before them fled;
At
Marathon
this bloody field was fought,
Where
Grecians
proved themselves right Soldiers, stout;
The
Persians
to their Gallies post with speed,
Where an
Athenian
showed a valiant deed,
Pursues his flying-foes, and on the strand,
He stays a landing Gally with his hand;
Which soon cut off, he with the left
Renews his hold; but when of that bereft,
His whetted teeth he sticks in the firm wood,
Off flies his head, down showers his frolic blood.
Go
Persians,
carry home that angry piece,
As the best trophe that ye won in
Greece.
Darius
light, he heavy, home returns,
And for revenge his heart still restless burns;
His Queen
Attossa,
caused all this stir,
For
Grecian
Maids ('tis said) to wait on her;
She lost her aim; her Husband, he lost more,
His men, his coin, his honor, and his store;
And the ensuing year ended his life,
('It is thought) through grief of his successesse strife.
Thirty six years this royal Prince did reign,
Unto his eldest Son, all did remain.
Xerxes.
XErxes, Darius,
and
Attossa's
Son,
Grand-child to
Cyrus,
now sits on the throne;
The Father not so full of lenity,
As is the Son, of pride, and cruelty;
He with his Crown, receives a double war,
Th'
Egyptians
to reduce, and
Greece
to mar;
The first begun, and finished in such hast,
None write by whom, nor how, 'twas over-past;
But for the last he made such preparation,
As if to dust he meant to grind that Nation;
Yet all his men, and instruments of slaughter,
Produced but derision, and laughter;
Sage
Artabanus
counsel, had he taken,
And's cozen, young
Mardonius
forsaken,
His Soldiers, credit, wealth, at home had stayed,
And
Greece
such wondrous triumphs never had made.
The first deports, and lays before his eyes,
His Fathers ill success in's enterprise,
Against the
Sythians,
and
Grecians
too,
What infamy to's honor did accrue.
Flattering
Mardonius
on th' other side,
With certainty of
Europe
feeds his pride;
Vain
Xerxes
thinks his counsel hath most wit,
That his ambitious humor best can fit;
And by this choice, unwarily posts on,
To present loss, future subversion;
Although he hasted, yet four years was spent,
In great provisions, for this great intent;
His Army of all Nations, was compounded,
That the large
Persian
government surrounded;
His Foot was seventeen hundred thousand strong,
Eight hundred thousand Horse to them belong;
His Camels, beasts, for carriage numberless,
For truth's ashamed how many to express;
The charge of all he severally commended,
To Princes of the
Persian
blood descended,
But the command of these Commanders all,
To
Mardonius,
Captain General;
He was the Son of the fore-named
Gobrias,
Who married the sister of
Darius:
These his Land Forces were, then next, a Fleet
Of two and twenty thousand Gallies meet,
Mann'd by
Phenisians,
and
Pamphilians,
Cipriots, Dorians,
and
Cilicians,
Lycians, Carians,
and
Ionians,
Eolians,
and the
Helispontines;
Besides, the Vessels for his transportation,
Three thousand (or more) by best relation,
Artemesia, Halicarna's
Queen,
In person there, now for his help was seen;
Whose Gallies all the rest in neatness pass,
Save the
Zidonians,
where
Xerxes
was.
Hers she kept still, separate from the rest,
For to command alone, she thought was best.
O noble Queen, thy valor I commend,
But pity 'twas, thine aid that here didst lend,
At
Sardis,
in
Lidia,
these all do meet,
Whither rich
Pithyus
comes,
Xerxes
to greet;
Feasts all this multitude, of his own charge,
Then gives the King, a King-like gift, most large;
Three thousand Tallents of the purest gold;
Which mighty s
•
m, all wondered to behold.
He humbly to the King then makes request,
One of his five Sons there, might be relead;
To be to's age a comfort, and a stay,
The other four he freely gave away:
The King calls for the Youth, who being brought,
Cuts him in twain, for whom his Sire besought.
O most inhumain incivility!
Nay, more then monstrous barb'rous cruelty!
For his great love, is this thy recompense?
Is this to do like
Xerxes,
or a Prince?
Thou shame of Kings, of men the detestation,
I Rhetoric want, to pour out execration:
First thing,
Xerxes
did worthy recount,
A Sea passage cuts, behind
Orthos
Mount.
Next, over the
Hellispont
a bridge he made,
Of Boats, together coupled, and there laid;
But winds, and waves, these couples soon dissever'd,
Yet
Xerxes
in his enterprise persevere'd;
Seven thousand Gallies chained, by
Tyrians
skil,
Firmly at length, accomplished his will;
Seven days and nights, his Hoast without least stay,
Was marching over this interrupting Bay;
And in
Abidus
Plaines, must ring his Forces,
He glories in his Squadrens, and his Horses;
Long viewing them, thought it great happiness,
One King, so many Subjects should possess;
But yet this goodly sight produced tears,
That none of these should live a hundred years:
What after did ensue, had he foreseen.
Of so long time, his thoughts had never been.
Of
Artabanus
he again demands,
How of this enterprise his thoughts now stands;
His answer was, both Land and Sea he feared,
Which was not vain, as it soon appeared:
But
Xerxes
resolute, to
Thrace
goes first,
His Hoast, who
Lissus
drinks to quench their thirst,
And for his Cattle, all
Pissirus
Lake
Was scarce enough, for each a draught to take.
Then marching to the straight
Thermopyle,
The
Spartan
meets him, brave
Leonade,
This 'twixt the Mountains lies (half Acre wide)
That pleasant
Thessaly,
from
Greece
divide;
Two days and nights a fight they there maintain,
Till twenty thousand
Persians
falls down slain;
And all that Army, then dismayed, had fled,
But that a Fugative discovered,
How part, might over the Mountains go about,
And wound the backs of those bold Warriours stout.
They thus behemm'd with multitude of foes,
Laid on more fiercely, their deep mortal blows;
None cries for quarter, nor yet seeks to run,
But on their ground they die, each Mothers Son.
O noble
Greeks,
how now, degenerate?
Where is the valor, of your ancient State?
When as one thousand, could some Millions daunt;
Alas, it is
Leonades
you want!
This shameful Victory cost
Xerxes
dear,
Amongst the rest, two brothers he lost there;
And as at Land, so he at Sea was crossed,
Four hundred stately Ships by storms was lost,
Of Vessels small almost innumerable,
Them to receive, the Harbor was not able;
Yet thinking to out-match his foes at Sea,
Inclos'd their Fleet in the' straits of
Eubea;
But they as valiant by Sea, as Land,
In this Streight, as the other, firmly stand.
And
Xerxes
mighty Gallies battered so,
That their split sides, witness'd his overthrow;
Yet in the Streights of
Salamis
he tried,
If that small number his great force could bide;
But he, in daring of his forward foe,
Received there, a shameful over-throw.
Twice beaten thus by Sea, he war'd no more:
But
Phocians
Land, he then wasted sore:
They no way able to withstand his force,
That brave
Thymistocles
takes this wise course,
In secret manner word to
Xerxes
sends,
That
Greeks
to break his bridge shortly intends;
And as a friend, warns him, what e're he do,
For his retreat, to have an eye thereto:
He hearing this, his thoughts, and course home bended,
Much, that which never was intended!
Yet 'fore he went, to help out his expense,
Part of his Hoast to
Delphi
sent from thence,
To rob the wealthy Temple of
Apollo,
But mischief, Sacrilege doth ever follow;
Two mighty Rocks, brake from
Parnassus
Hill,
And many thousands of these men did kill;
Which accident, the rest affrighted so,
With empty hands they to their Master go;
He seeing all thus tend unto decay,
Thought it his best, no longer for to stay;
Three hundred thousand yet he left behind,
With his
Mardon'us,
judex of his mind;
Who for his sake, he knew, would venture far,
(Chief instigater of this hopeless War;)
He instantly to
Athens
sends for peace,
That all Hostility might thence-forth cease;
And that with
Xerxes
they would be at one,
So should all favor to their State be shown.
The
Spartans,
fearing
Athens
would agree,
As had
Macedon, Thebes,
and
Thessalie,
And leave them out, the shock for to sustain,
By their Ambassador they thus complain;
That
Xerxes
quarrel was 'gainst
Athens
State,
And they had helped them, as confederate;
If now in need, they should thus fail their friends,
Their infamy would last till all things ends:
But the
Athenians,
this peace detest,
And thus replied unto
Mardon's
request;
That whilst the Sun did run his endless course,
Against the
Persians
they would use their force.
Nor could the brave Ambassador be sent,
With Rhetoric, t' gain better complement:
Though of this Nation borne a great Commander,
No less then Grand-sire to great
Alexander.
Mardonius
proud, hearing this answer stout,
To add unto his numbers, lays about,
And of those
Greeks,
which by his skil he'd won,
He fifty thousand joins unto his own;
The other
Greeks,
which were confederate,
One hundred thousand, and ten thousand make.
The
Beotian
Fields, of war, the seats,
Where both sides exercised their manly feats;
But all their controversies to decide,
For one main Battle shortly, both provide;
The
Athenians
could but forty thousand arm,
For other Weapons, they had none would harm;
But that which helped defects, and made them bold,
Was Victory, by Oracle fore-told:
Ten days these Armies did each other face,
Mardonius
finding victuals wast apace,
No longer dared, but fiercely on-set gave,
The other not a hand, nor sword will wave,
Till in the entrails of their Sacrifice,
The signal of their victory doth rise;
Which found, like
Greeks
they fight, the
Persians
fly,
And troublesome
Mardonius
now must die:
All's lost, and of three hundred thousand men,
Three thousand scapes, for to run home agen;
For pity, let those few to
Xerxes
go,
To c
•
rtifie this final over-throw.
Same day, the small remainder of his Fleet,
The
Grecians
at
Mytale
in
Asia
meet,
And there so utterly they wrack'd the same,
Scarce one was left, to carry home the fame;
Thus did the
Greeks
destroy, consume, disperce,
That Army, which did fright the Universe;
Scorn'd
Xerxes,
hated for his cruelty.
Yet ceases not to act his villainy:
His brothers wife, solicits to his will;
The chaste, and beauteous Dame, refuses still.
Some years by him in this vain suit was spent,
Yet words, nor gifts, could win him least content:
Nor matching of her daughter; to his son:
But she was still, as when it first begun.
When jealous Queen
Amestris,
of this knew,
She
Harpy
-like, upon the Lady flew:
Cut off her lilly breasts, her nose, and ears;
And leaves her thus, besmear'd with blood, and tears
Straight comes her Lord, and finds his wife thus lie,
The sorrow of his heart, did close his eye:
He dying to behold, that wounding sight;
Where he had sometime gaz'd with great delight.
To see that face, where Rose and Lily stood,
O're-flown with torrent of her ruby blood.
To see those breasts, where chastity did dwell,
Thus cut, and mangled by a hag of hell.
With loaden heart unto the King he goes,
Tels as he could, his unexpressed woes,
But for his deep complaints; and showers of tears,
His brothers recompense was naught but jears:
The grieved Prince finding nor right, nor l
•
ve,
To
Bactria
his household did remove.
His wicked brother, after sent a crew,
Which him, and his, most barbarously there slew,
Unto such height did grow his cruelty,
Of life, no man had least security.
At last his Uncle, did his death conspire,
And for that end, his Eunuch he d
•
d hire.
Which wretch, him privately smothered in's bed,
But yet by search, he was found murdered,
The
Artacanus
hirer of this deed,
That from suspicion he might be freed,
Accus'd
Darius, Xerxes
eldest son,
To be the Author of the deed was done,
And by his craft, ordered the matter so,
That the poor innocent, to death must go.
But in short time, this wickedness was known,
For which he died, and not he alone.
But all his family was likewise slain,
Such Justice then, in
Persia
did remain,
The eldest son, thus immaturely dead,
The second was inthron'd, in's fathers stead.
Artaxerxes Longimanus.
AMongst the Monarchs next, this Prince had place
The best that ever sprang of
Cyrus
race.
He first, war with revolting
Egypt
made.
To whom the perjured
Grecians
lent their aide,
Although to
Xerxes,
they not long before,
A league of amity, had sworn before.
Which had they kept,
Greece
had more nobly done,
Then when the world, they after over-run:
Greeks
and
Egyptians
both, he overthrows,
And pays them now, according as he owes,
Which done, a sumptuous feast; makes like a King
Where ninescore days, are spent in banqueting,
His Princes, Nobles, and his Captains calls,
To be partakers in these festivals.
His hangings, white, and green, and purple die;
With gold and silver beds, most gorgiously.
The royal wine, in golden cups doth pass,
To drink more then he list, none bidden was:
Queen
Vashty
also feasts, but 'fore tis ended,
Alas, she from her Royalty's suspended.
And a more worthy, placed in her room,
By
Memucan's
advice, this was the doom.
What
Hester
was, and did, her story reed,
And how her Country-men from spoil she freed.
Of
Haman's
fall, and
Mordica's
great rise;
The might o'th' Prince, the tribute on the Isles.
Unto this King
Thymistocles
did fly.
When under
Ostracisme
he did lie.
For such ingratitude, did
Athens
show
This valiant Knight, whom they so much did owe;
Such entertainment with this Prince he found,
That in all Loyalty his heart was bound;
The King not little joyful of this chance,
Thinking his
Grecian
wars now to advance.
And for that end, great preparation made,
Fair
Attica,
a third time to invade.
His Grand-sires old disgrace, did vex him sore,
His father
Xerxes
loss, and shame, much more,
For punishment, their breach of oath did call,
The noble
Greek,
now fit for general.
Who for his wrong, he could not choose but deem,
His Country, nor his Kindred would esteem,
Provisions, and season now being fit,
T'
Thymistecles
he doth his war commit,
But he all injury, had soon forgot,
And to his Country-men could bear no hate.
Nor yet disloyal to his Prince would prove,
To whom obliged, by favor, and by love;
Either to wrong, did wound his heart so sore,
To wrong himself by death, he chose before:
In this sad conflict, marching on his ways,
Strong poison took, and put an end to's days.
The King this noble Captain having lost,
Again dispersed, his new levied host.
'Rest of his time in peace he did remain;
And died the two and fortieth of his reign.
Daryus Nothus.
THree sons great
Artaxerxes
left behind;
The eldest to succeed, that was his mind.
But he, with his next brother fell at strife,
That naught appeased him, but his brothers life.
Then the surviver is by
Nothus
slain;
Who now sole Monarch, doth of all remain,
These two lewd sons, are by hystorians thought,
To be by
Hester,
to her husband brought.
If they were hers, the greater was her moon;
That for such graceless wretches she did groan,
Disquiet
Egypt,
'gainst this King rebels,
Drives out his garrison that therein dwells.
Joynes with the
Greeks,
and so maintains their right,
For sixty years maugre the
Persians
might.
A second trouble, after this succeeds.
Which from remissness, in
Asia
proceeds
Amerges,
whom their Vice-roy he ordained
Revolts, having treasure, and people gained:
Invades the Country, and much trouble wrought,
Before to quietness things could be brought,
The King was glad, with
Sparta
to make peace,
So that he might, these tumults soon appease.
But they in
Asia,
must first restore
All Towns, held by his Ancestors before.
The King much profit reapeth, by these leagues,
Re-gains his own, and then the Rebell breaks:
Whose forces by their help were overthrown,
And so each man again possessed his own.
The King, his sister, like
Cambyses,
wed;
More by his pride, then lust, thereunto led.
(For
Persian
Kings, did deem themselves so good,
No match was high enough, but their own blood,)
Two sons she bore, the youngest
Cyrus
named,
A hopeful Prince, whose worth is ever famed.
His father would no notice of that take;
Prefers his brother, for his birth-rights sake.
But
Cyrus
scorns, his brothers feeble wit;
And takes more on him, then was judged fit.
The King provoked, sends for him to the Court,
Meaning to chastise him, in sharpest sort,
But in his slow approach, ere he came there;
His fathers death, did put an end to's fear.
Nothus
reigned nineteen years, which run,
His large Dominions left, to's eldest son.
Artaxerxes Mnemon.
MNemon
now fits upon his fathers Throne,
Yet doubts, all he enjoys, is not his own.
Still on his brother, casts a jealous eye,
Judging all's actions, tends to's injury.
Cyrus
o'th' other side, weighs in his mind,
What helps, in's enterprize he's like to find,
His interest, in the Kingdom, now next heir,
More dear to's mother, then his brother far.
His brothers little love, like to be gone,
Held by his mothers intercession.
These and like motives, hurry him amain,
To win by force, what right could not obtain.
And thought 'it best, now in his mothers time,
By lesser steps, towards the top to climb;
If in his enterprize he should fall short,
She to the King, would make a fair report:
He hoped, if fraud, nor force the Crown could gain;
Her prevailence, a pardon might obtain.
From the Lieutenant first, he takes away,
Some Towns commodious in less
Asia,
Pretending still, the profit of the King,
Whose rents and customs, duly he sent in.
The King finding, revenues now amended;
For what was done, seemed no whit offended.
Then next, the
Lacedemons
he takes to pay;
(One
Greek
could make ten
Persians
run away)
Great care was his pretence, those Soldiers stout,
The Rovers in
Pisidia,
should drive out.
But least some worser news should fly to Court,
He meant himself to carry the report.
And for that end, five hundred Horse he chose,
With posting speed towards the King he goes;
But fame more quick, arrives ere he came there,
And fills the Court with tumult, and with fear.
The young Queen, and old, at bitter jars:
The one accused the other, for these wars:
The wife, against the mother, still doth cry
To be the Author of conspiracy.
The King dismayed, a mighty Hoast doth raise;
Which
Cyrus
hears, and so fore-slowes his pace:
But as he goes, his Forces still augments,
Seven hundred
Greeks
now further his intents:
And others to be warmed by this new sun,
In numbers from his brother daily run.
The fearful King, at last, musters his Forces;
And counts nine hundred thousand foot and horses:
And yet with these, had neither heart, nor grace;
To lo
•
k his manly brother in the face.
Three hundred thousand, yet to
Syria
sent;
To keep those straits, to hinder his intent.
Their Captain hearing, but of
Cyrus
name.
Ran back, and quire abandoned the same,
Abrccomes,
was this base cowards name,
Not worthy to be known, but for his shame:
This place was made, by nature, and by art;
Few might have kept it, had they but a heart.
Cyrus
dispair'd, a passage there to gain;
So hir'd a fleet, to waft him ore the Maine,
The mazed King, was now about to fly;
To th'utmost parts of
Bactr'a,
and there lie.
Had not a Captain; sore against his will;
By reason, and by force, detained him still.
Up then with speed, a mighty trench he throws,
For his security, against his foes.
Six yards the depth, and forty miles the length,
Some fifty, or else sixty foot in breadth.
Yet for his brothers coming, durst not stay,
He surest was, when furthest out o'th' way.
Cyrus
finding his campe, and no man there;
Rejoyced not a little at his fear.
On this, he and his Soldiers cuelesse grow,
And here, and there, in carts their Arms they throw,
When suddenly their Scouts come in and cry,
Arm, arm, the King is now approaching nigh;
In this confusion, each man as he might,
Gets on his arms, arayes himself for fight;
And ranged stood, by great
Euphrates
side,
The brunt of that huge multitude to bide.
Of whose great numbers, their intelligence,
Was gathered by the dust that rose from thence:
Which like a mighty cloud darkened the skye;
And black and blacker grew, as they drew nigh
But when their order, and silence they saw;
That, more then multitudes, their hearts did awe:
For tumult and confusion they expected,
And all good discipline to be neglected.
But long under their fears, they did not stay,
For at first charge the
Persians
ran away.
Which did such courage to the
Grecians
bring,
They straight adored
Cyrus
for their King,
So had he been, and got the victory,
Had not his too much valor put him by.
He with six hundred, on a squadron set,
Of six thousand, wherein the King was yet;
And brought his Soldiers on so gallantly,
They were about to leave their King and fly,
Whom
Cyrus
spi'd, cries cut, I see the man,
And with a full career, at him he ran.
But in his speed a Dart hit him in the' eye,
Down
Cyrus
falls, and yields to destiny;
His Host in chase, knows not of his disaster,
But treads down all, for to advance their Master;
At last his head they spy upon a Launce,
Who knows the sudden change made by this chance;
Sencelesse and mute they stand, yet breath out groans,
Nor
Gorgons
like to this, transformed to stones.
After this trance, revenge, new spirits blew,
And now more eagerly their foes pursue,
And heaps on heaps, such multitudes they laid,
Their arms grew weak, through slaughters that they made.
The King unto a country Village flies,
And for a while unkingly there he lies;
At last, displays his Ensign on a Hill,
Hoping with that to make the
Greeks
stand still,
But was deceived; to it they make amain,
The King upon the spur, runs back again;
But they too faint, still to pursue their game,
Being Victors oft, now to their Camp they came;
Nor lackt they any of their number small,
Nor wound received, but one among them all:
The King with his dispersed also incampt.
With infamy upon each fore-head stamped;
After a while his thoughts he re-collects,
Of this days cowardice, he fears the effects;
If
Greeks
unto their Country-men declare,
What dastards in the field the
persians
are;
They soon may come, and place one in his Throne,
And rob him both of Scepter, and of Crown;
That their return be stopped, he judged was best,
That so
Europians
might no more molest;
Forth-with he sends to's Tent, they straight address,
And there all wait his mercy, weaponlesse;
The
Greeks
with scorn reject his proud commands;
Asking no favor, where they feared no bands.
The troubled King, his Herald sends again,
And sues for peace, that they his friends remain;
The smiling
Greeks
reply, they first must bait,
They were too hungry to capitulate;
The King great store of all provision sends,
And courtesy to th' utmost he pretends;
Such terror on the
Persians
then did fall,
They quak'd, to hear them, to each other call.
The King's perplexed, there dares not let them stay,
And fears as much to let them march away;
But Kings never want such as can serve their will,
Fit instruments t' accomplish what is ill;
As
Tyssaphern,
knowing his Masters mind,
Invites their chief Commander, as most kind;
And with all Oaths, and deepest flattery,
Gets them to treat with him in privacy,
But violates his honor, and his word,
And Villaine-like, there puts them to the sword.
The
Greeks,
having their valiant Captains slain,
Chose
Xenophon,
to lead them home again;
But
Tyssaphern
did what he could devise,
To stop the way in this their enterprise;
But when through difficulties still they brake,
He sought all sustinance from them to take,
Before them burnt the country as they went,
So to deprive them of all nourishment;
But on they march, through hunger, and through cold,
O're mountains, rocks, and hills, as Lions bold;
Nor rivers course, nor
Persians
force could stay,
But on to
Trabezond
they kept their way;
There was of
Greeks,
settled a Colony,
These after all, received them joyfully:
There for some time they were, but whilst they staid,
Into
Bithynia
often in rodes made;
The King afraid what further they might do,
Unto the
Spartan
Admiral did sue,
Straight to transport them to the other side,
For these incursions he durst not abide;
So after all their travel, danger, pain,
In peace they saw their Native soil again.
The
Greeks
now (as the
Persian
King suspects)
The
Asiatiques,
cowardice detects;
The many victories themselves did gain,
The many thousand
Persians
they had slain;
And now their Nation with facility,
Might win the universal Monarchy;
They then
Dercilladas,
send with an Hoast,
Who with his
Spartans
on the
Asian
coast;
Town after town, with small resistance take,
Which rumor makes great
Artaxerxes
quake;
The
Greeks
by this success, incourag'd so,
Agesilaus
himself doth over-go,
By th' Kings Lieutenant is encountered,
But
Tyssaphernes
with his Army fled;
Which over-throw incensed the King so sore,
That
Tyssapherne
must be Vice-roy no more;
Tythraustes
now is placed in his stead,
And hath command, to take the others head,
Of that false perjured wretch, this was the last,
Who of his cruelty made many taste,
Tythraustes
trusts more to his wit then Arms,
And hopes by craft to quit his Masters harms;
He knows that many towns in
Greece
envies
The
Spartans
height, which now apace doth rise;
To these he thirty thousand Tallents sent,
With suit, their force, against his foes be bent;
They to their discontent, receiving hire,
With broils, and quarrels, sets all
Greece
on fire.
Agestilaus
is called home with speed,
To defend, more then oflend, he had need.
They now lost all, and were a peace to make,
The Kings conditions they are forced to take;
Dissention in
Greece
continued long,
Til many a Captain fell, both wise, and strong,
Whose courage naught but death could ever tame,
'Mongst these
Epimanondas
wants no fame;
Who had (as noble
Raleigh
doth evince)
All the peculiar virtues of a Prince:
But let us leave these
Greeks,
to discord bent,
And turn to
Persia,
as is pertinent;
The King from foreign foes, and all at ease,
His home-bred troubles seeketh to appease;
The two Queens, by his means, 'gin to abate
Their former envy, and inveterate hare;
Then in voluptuousness he leads his life,
And weds his Daughter for a second wife;
His Mothers wicked counsel was the cause,
Who sooths him up, his own desires are Laws:
But yet for all his greatness, and long reign,
He must leave all, and in the pit remain;
Forty three years he rules, then turns to dust,
As all the mighty ones, have done, and must:
But this of him is worth the memory,
He was the Master of good
Nehemie.
Darius Ochus.
GReat
Artexerxes
dead,
Ochus
succeeds,
Of whom no Record's extant of his deeds;
Was it because the
Grecians
now at war,
Made Writers work at home, they sought not far?
Or dealing with the
Persian,
now no more
Their Acts recorded not, as heretofore?
Or else, perhaps the deeds of
Persian
Kings
In after wars were burnt, 'mongst other things?
That three and twenty years he reigned, I find,
The rest is but conjecture of my mind.
Arsames,
or
Arses.
WHy
Arsames
his brother should succeed,
I can no reason give, cause none I read;
It may be thought, surely he had no Son,
So fell to him, which else it had not done:
What Acts he did, time hath not now left pend,
But as 'tis thought, in him had
Cyrus
end:
Whose race long time had worn the Diadem,
But now's devolved, to another Stem.
Three years he reigned, as Chronicles express,
Then Natures debt he paid, quite Issue-less.
Darius Codomanus.
HOw this
Darius
did attain the Crown,
By favor, force, or fraud, is not set down:
If not (as is before) of
Cyrus
race,
By one of these, he must obtain the place.
Some writers say, that he was
Arses
son,
And that great
Cyrus
line, yet was not run,
That
Ochus
unto
Arsames
was father,
Which by some probabilities (seems rather;)
That son, and father, both were murdered
By one
Bagoas,
an Eunuch (as is sed.)
Thus learned
Pemble,
whom we may not slight,
But as before doth (well read)
Raleigh
write,
Antd he that story reads, shall often find;
That several men, will have their several mind;
Yet in these differences, we may behold;
With our judicious learned Knight to hold.
And this 'mongst all's no controverted thing,
That this
Darius
was last
Persian
King,
Whose wars and losses we may better tell;
In
Alexanders
reign who did him quell,
How from the top of worlds felicity;
He fell to depth of greatest misery,
Whose honors, treasures, pleasures, had short s
•
ay;
One deluge came, and swept them all away;
And in the sixth year of his haplesse reign,
Of all, did scarce his winding sheet retain.
And last; a sad catastrophe to end,
Him, to the grave, did
•
raytor
Bessus
send.
The end of the
Persian
Monarchy.
The third Monarchy was the Grecian, beginning under Alexander the Great, in the 112 Olimpiad.
GReat
Alexander,
was wise
Phillips
son,
He, to
Amintas,
Kings of
Macedon;
The cruel, proud,
Olimpias,
was his mother,
She to the rich
Molossians
King, was daughter.
This Prince (his father by
Pausanias
slain)
The twenty first of 's age, began to reign.
Great were the gifts of nature, which be had;
His Education, much to these did add.
By Art, and Nature both, he was made fit,
T'accomplish that, which long before was writ.
The very day of his nativity,
To th' ground was burnt,
Diana's
Temple high,
An Omen, to their near approaching woe;
Whose glory to the Earth, this Prince did throw,
His rule to
Greece,
he scorned should be confined:
The universe, scarce bounds his large vast mind;
This is the he-goat, which from
Grecia
came,
Who ran in fury, on the
Persian
Ram,
That broke his horns, that threw him on the ground,
To save him from his might, no man was found.
Phillip,
on this great conquest had an eye;
But death did terminate, those thoughts so high.
The
Greeks
had chose him Captain General,
Which honor to his son, now did befall.
(For as worlds Monarch, now we speak not on,
But as the King of little
Macedon
)
Restlesse both day and night, his heart now was,
His high resolves which way to bring to pass:
Yet for a while, in
Grecce
is forced to stay,
Which makes each moment seem, more then a day:
Thebes,
and old
Athens,
both 'gainst him rebel,
But he their mutinies, full soon doth quell.
This done, against all right, and natures laws,
His kinsmen puts to death without least cause;
That no combustion in his absence be,
In seeking after Sovereignty:
And many more, whom he suspects will climb,
Now taste of death, (least they deservit in time)
Nor wonder isit, if he in blood begin,
For cruelty, was his parental sin.
Thus eased now, of troubles, and of fears;
His course to
Asi
•
,
next Spring he steers.
Leaves sage
Antipater
at home to sway,
And through the
Hellispont,
his ships make way.
Comming to land, his dart on shear he throws,
Then with alacrity he after goes:
Thirty two thousand made up his foot force,
To these were join'd, five thousand goodly horse.
Then on he marched, in's way he viewed old
Troy;
And on
Achillis
Tomb, with wondrous joy,
He offered, and for good success did pray
To him, his mothers Ancestor (men say.)
When news of
Alexander,
came to th' Court,
To scorn at him,
Darius
had good sport:
Sends him a frothy, and contemptuous letter,
Stiles him disloyal servant, and no better;
Reproves him, for his proud audacity;
To lift his hand, 'gainst such a Monarchy.
Then to his Lieutenant, in
Asia
sends,
That he be tane alive, (for he intends)
To whip him well with rods, and then to bring,
That boy so mallepart, before the King.
Ah! fond vain man, whose pen was taught ere while,
In lower terms to write a higher style,
To th' river
Granicke, Alexander
hyes,
Which twixt
Phrigia,
and
Propontis
lies.
The
Persians
for encounter ready sland,
And think to keep his men from off the land,
Those banks so steep, the
Greeks,
now scramble up
And beat the coward
Persians
from the top,
And twenty thousand, of their lives bereave,
Who in their backs did all their wounds receive
This Victory did
Alexander
gain;
With loss of thirty sour, of his there slain:
Sardis,
then he, and
Ephesus,
did gain,
Where stood of late
Diana's,
wondrous
Phane,
And by
Permenion
(of renowned fame)
Miletus,
and
Pamphilia
overcame,
Hallicarnassus
and
Pisidia
He for his master takes, with
Lycia,
Next
Alexander
marched, towards the black sea;
And easily takes old
Gordium
in his way;
(Of Ass-eard)
Midas,
once the regal seat,
Whose touch turned all to gold, yea even his meat:
There the Prophetick knot, he cuts in twain;
Which who so did, must Lord of all remain,
Now news, of
Memnons
death (the Kings Vice-roy)
To
Alexanders
heart's no little joy.
For in that Peer, more valor did abide;
Then in
Darius
multitudes beside:
There
Arsemes
was placed, yet durst not stay;
But sets one in his room, and ran away.
His substitute, as fearful as his master,
Goes after too, and leaves all to disaster.
Now
Alexander
all
Silicia
takes:
No stroke for it he struck, their hearts so quakes.
To
Greece
he thirty thousand talents sends;
To raise more force, for what he yet intends.
And on he goes
Darius
for to meet;
Who came with thousand thousands at his feet,
Though some there be, and that more likely, write;
He but four hundred thousand had to fight,
The rest attendants, which made up no less;
(Both sexes there) was almost numberless.
For this wise King, had brought to see the sport;
Along with him, the Ladies of the Court.
His mother old, beauteous wife, and daughters,
It seems to see the
Macedonians
slaughters.
Sure its beyond my time, and little Art;
To show, how great
Darius
plaid his part:
The splendor, and the pomp, he marched in,
For since the world, was no such Pageant seen.
Oh 'twas a goodly sight, there to behold;
The
Persians
clad in silk, and glitt'ring gold;
The stately Horses trapt, the launces guilt;
As if they were, now all to run at tilt.
The Holy fire, was borne before the Host:
(For Sun and Fire the
Persians
worship most)
The Priests in their strange habit follow after;
An object not so much of fear, as laughter.
The King sat in a chariot made of gold,
With Robes and Crown, most glorious to behold.
And over his head, his golden gods on high;
Support a party coloured canopy.
A number of spare horses next were led,
Least he should need them, in his chariots stead.
But they that saw him in this state to lie;
Would think he neither thought to fight nor fly,
He fifteen hundred had like women dressed,
For so to fright the
Greeks
he judged was best,
Their golden Ornaments so to set forth,
Would ask more time, then were their bodies worth.
Great
Sisigambis,
she brought up the Reare;
Then such a world of Wagons did appear,
Like several houses moving upon wheels:
As if she'd drawn, whole
Sushan
at her heels.
This brave Virago, to the King was mother;
And as much good she did, as any other.
Now least this Gold, and all this goodly stuff,
Had not been spoil, and booty rich enough,
A thousand Mules, and Came
•
ls ready wait.
Loaden with gold, with Jewels and with Plate,
For sure
Darius
thought, at the first sight,
The
Greeks
would all adore, and would none fight.
But when both Armies met, he might behold,
That valor was more worth then Pearls, or gold,
And how his wealth served but for baits t' allure,
Which made his over-throw more fierce, and sure.
The
Greeks
come on, and with a gallant grace,
Let fly their Arrows, in the
Persians
face;
The cowards feeling this sharp stinging charge,
Most basely run, and left their King at large,
Who from his golden Coach is glad t' alight,
And cast away his Crown, for swifter flight;
Of late-like some immovable he lay,
Now finds both legs, and Horse, to run away;
Two hundred thousand men that day were slain,
And forty thousand Prisoners also tane;
Besides, the Queens, and Ladies of the Court,
If
Curtius
be true, in his report.
The Regal ornaments now lost, the treasure
Divided at the
Macedomans
pleasure.
Yet all this grief, this loss, this over-throw,
Was but beginning of his future woe;
The Royal Captives, brought to
Alexander,
T'ward them, demean'd himself like a Commander;
For though their beauties were unparalled
Conquer'd himself (now he had conquered)
Preserv'd their honor, used them courteously,
Commands, no man should do them injury,
And this to
A'exander
is more a fame,
Then that the
Persian
King he over-came;
Two hundred eighty
Greeks
he lost in fight,
By too much heat, not wounds (as Authors write)
No sooner had this Captain won the field,
But all
Th
•
nicia
to his pleasures yield;
Of which, the Government he doth commit
Unto
Permenion,
of all, most fit;
Darius
now, more humble then before,
Writes unto
Alexander,
to restore
Those mournful Ladies, from captivity,
For whom he offers him a ransom high;
But down his haughty stomach could not bring,
To give this Conqueror, the style of King;
His Letter
Alexander
doth disdain,
And in short terms, sends this reply again;
A King he was, and that not only so,
But of
Darius
King, as he should know.
Now
Alexander
unto
Tyre
doth go,
(His valor, and his victories they know)
To gain his love, the
Tyrians
do intend,
Therefore a Crown, and great provisions send;
Their present he receives with thankfulness,
Desires to offer unto
Hercules,
Protector of their Town; by whom defended,
And from whom also, lineally descended:
But they accept not this, in any wise,
Least he intend more fraud, then sacrifice,
Sent word, that
Hercules
his Temple stood,
In the old town (which now lay like a wood)
With this reply, he was so sore enraged,
To win their town, his honor he engaged;
And now, as
Babels
King did once before,
He leaves not, till he makes the sea firm sho
•
r;
But far less cost, and time, he doth expend,
The former ruins, help to him now lend;
Besides, he had a Navy at command,
The other by his men fetched all by Land;
In seven months space he takes this lofty town,
Whose glory, now a second time's brought down;
Two thousand of the chief he crucified,
Eight thousand by the sword now also died,
And thirteen thousand Gally-slaves he made,
And thus the
Tyrians
for mistrust were paid,
The rule of this he to
Philotas
gave,
Who was the Son of that
Permenion
brave;
Silicia
he to
Socrates
doth give,
For now's the time, Captains like Kings may live;
For that which ea
•
ily comes, as freely goes;
Zidon
he on
Ephestion
bestows:
He scorns to have one worse then had the other,
And therefore gives this Lord-ship to another.
Ephestion
now, hath the command o' th' Fleet,
And must at
Gaza, Alexander
meet;
Darius
finding troubles still increase,
By his Ambassadors now sues for peace:
And lays before great
Alexanders
eyes,
The dangers, difficulties, like to rise;
First, at
Euphrates,
what he's like to abide,
And then at
Tigris,
and
Araxis
side:
These he may scape, and if he so desire,
A league of friendship make, firm, and entire;
His eldest Daughter, (him) in marriage offers,
And a most Princely Dowry with her proffers;
All those rich Kingdoms large, which do abide
Betwixt the
H
•
lles
•
ont,
and
Hallis
side;
But he with scorn, his courtesy rejects,
And the distressed King no way respects;
Tels him, these proffers great (in truth were none)
For all he offered now, was but his own;
But, quoth
Permenion,
(that brave Commander)
Was I as great, as is great
Alexander,
Darius
offers I would not reject,
But th' Kingdoms, and the Ladies, soon accept;
To which, brave
Alexander
did reply,
And so if I
Permenion
were, would I.
He now to
Gaza
goes, and there doth meet
His favourite
Ephestion,
with his fleet;
Where valiant
Betis,
doth defend the town,
(A loyal Subject to
Darius
Crown)
For more repulse, the
Grecians
here abide,
Then in the
Persian
Monarchy beside;
And by these walls, so many men were slain,
That
Greece
must yield a fresh supply again;
But yet, this well defended town is taken,
(For 'twas decreed, that Empire should be shaken)
The Captain tane, had holes bor'd through his feet,
And by command was drawn through every street,
To imitate
Achilies
(in his shame)
Who did the like to
Hector
(of more fame)
What, hast thou lost thy late magnanimity?
Can
Alexander
deal thus c
•
uelly?
Since valor, with Heroyicks is renowned,
Though in an enemy it should be found;
If of thy future fame thou hadst regard,
Why didst not heap up honor, and reward?
From
Gaza,
to
Jerusalem
he goes,
But in no hostile way (as I suppose)
Him in his Priestly Robes, high
Jaddus
meets,
Whom with great reverence
Alexander
greets;
The Priest shows him good
Daniel's
Prophesy,
How he should over-throw this Monarchy;
By which he was so much encouraged,
No future dangers he did ever dread.
From thence, to fruitful
Egypt
marched with speed,
Where happily in's wars he did succeed;
To see how fast he gained, is no small wonder,
For in few days he brought that Kingdom under.
Then to the
Phane
of
Jupiter,
he went,
For to be called a god, was his intent;
The Pagan Priest through hire, or else mistake,
The Son of
Jupiter
did straight him make:
He Diabolical must needs remain,
That his humanity will not retain;
Now back to
Egypt
goes, and in few days,
Faire
Alexandria
from the ground doth raise;
Then settling all things in less
Asia,
In
Syria, Egypt,
and
Phoenicia;
Unto
Euphrates
marched, and over goes,
For no man to resist his valor shows;
Had
Betis
now been there, but with his Band,
Great
Alexander
had been kept from Land;
But as the King is, so's the multitude,
And now of valor both were destitute;
Yet he (poor Prince) another Hoast doth muster,
Of
Persians, Scithians, Indians,
in a cluster;
Men but in shape, and name, of valor none,
Fit for to blunt the swords of
Macedon;
Two hundred fifty thousand by account,
Of Horse, and Foot, this Army did amount;
For in his multitudes his trust still lay,
But on their fortitude he had small stay;
Yet had some hope, that on that eeven plain,
His numbers might the victory obtain.
About this time,
Darius
beauteous Queen,
Who had long travail, and much sorrow seen,
Now bids the world adieu, her time being spent,
And leaves her woeful Lord for to lament.
Great
Alexander
mourns, as well as he,
For this lost Queen (though in captivity)
When this sad news (at first)
Darius
hears,
Some injury was offered, he fears;
But when informed, how royally the King
Had used her, and hers, in everything,
He prays the immortal gods, for to reward
Great
Alexander,
for this good regard;
And if they down, his Monarchy will throw,
Let them on him, that dignity bestow:
And now for peace he sues, as once before,
And offers all he did, and Kingdoms more;
His eldest Daughter, for his Princely Bride,
(Nor was such match, in all the world beside)
And all those Countries, which (betwixt) did lie,
Phenisian
Sea, and great
Euphrates
high,
W
•
th fertile
Egypt,
and rich
Syria,
And all those Kingdoms in less
Asia;
With thirty thousand Tallents, to be paid
For his Queen-Mother, and the royal Maid;
And till all this be well performed, and sure,
Ochus
his Son a hostage shall endure.
To this, stout
Alexander,
gives no ear,
No, though
Permenion
plead, he will not hear;
Which had he done (perhaps) his fame had kept,
Nor infamy had wak'd, when he had slept;
For his unlimited prosperity,
Him boundless made, in vice, and cruelty;
Thus to
Darius
he writes back again,
The Firmament two Suns cannot contain;
Two Monarchies on Earth cannot abide,
Nor yet two Monarchs in one World reside;
The afflicted King, finding him set to jar,
Prepares against tomorrow for the war;
Permenion, Alexander
wisht, that night,
To force his Camp, so put them all to flight;
For tumult in the dark doth cause most dread,
And weakness of a foe is covered;
But he disdained to steal a victory,
The Sun should witness of his valor be:
Both Armies meet,
Greeks
fight, the
Persians
run,
So make an end, before they well begun;
Forty five thousand
Alexander
had,
But 'tis not known what slaughters here they made,
Some write, th' other had a million, some more,
But
Quintus Curtius,
as was said before.
At
Arbela,
this victory was gained,
And now with it, the town also obtained.
Darius
stripped of all, to
Media
came,
Accompani'd with sorrow, fear, and shame;
At
Arbela
left, his ornaments, and treasure,
Which
Alexander
deals, as suits his pleasure.
This Conqueror now goes to
Babylon,
Is entertained with joy, and pompous train,
With showers of Flowers, the streets along are strown,
And Insence burnt, the silver Altars on;
The glory of the Castle he admires,
The firm foundations, and the lofty spires;
In this a mass of gold, and treasure lay,
Which in few hours was carried all away;
With greedy eyes, he views this City round,
Whose fame throughout the world, was so renowned;
And to possess, he counts no little bliss,
The Towers, and Bowers, of proud
Semiramis:
Though worn by time, and raz'd by foes full sore,
Yet old foundations showed, and somewhat more;
With all the pleasures that on earth was found,
This City did abundantly abound;
Where four and thirty days he now doth stay,
And gives himself to banqueting, and play:
He, and his Soldiers, wax effeminate,
And former Discipline begins to hate;
Whilst revelling at
Babylon,
he lies,
Antipater,
from
Greece,
sends great supplies;
He then to
Sushan
goes, with his fresh bands,
But needs no force, 'tis rendered to his hands;
He likewise here a world of treasure found,
For 'twas the seat of
Persian
Kings renowned;
Here stood the Royal houses of delight,
Where Kings have shown their glory, wealth, and might;
The sumptuous Palace of Queen
Hester
here,
And of good
Mordecai,
her Kinsman dear;
Those purple hangings, mixed with green, and white,
Those beds of gold, and couches of delight,
And furniture, the richest of all Lands,
Now falls into the
Macedonians
hands.
From
Sushan,
to
Persapolis
he goes,
Which news doth still augment
Darius
woes;
In his approach, the Governor sends word,
For his receipt with joy, they all accord;
With open Gates, the wealthy town did stand,
And all in it was at his high command;
Of all the Cities, that on Earth was found;
None like to this in riches did abound.
Though
Babylon
was rich, and
Sushan
too;
Y
••
to compare with this, they might not do.
Here lay the bulk, of all those precious things;
Which did pertain unto the
Persian
Kings.
For when the Soldiers, had rifled their pleasure,
And taken money, plate, and golden treasure;
Statues of gold, and silver numberless,
Yet after all, as stories do express.
The share of
Alexander
did amount,
To a hundred thousand Tallents by account.
Here of his own, he sets a Garrison,
(As first at
Sushan,
and at
Babylon
)
On their old Governors, titles he laid;
But on their faithfulness, he never staid:
Their charge, gave to his Captains (as most just)
For such revolters false, what Prince will trust:
The pleasures and the riches of this town,
Now makes this King, his virtues all to drown.
He walloweth now, in all licentiousness,
In pride, and cruelty, to th' highest excess.
Being inflamed with wine upon a season,
(Filled with madness, and quite void of reason)
He at a bold, base Strumpets, lewd desire;
Commands to set this goodly town on fire.
Permenion
wise, intreats him to desist,
And lays before his eyes, if he persist
His names dishonor, loss unto his State.
And just procuring of the
Persians
hate.
But deaf to reason, (bent to have his will;)
Those stately streets with raging flames doth sil,
Now to
Darius,
he directs his way,
Who was retired, and gone to
Media.
(And there with sorrows, fears, and cares surrounded)
Had now his fourth, and last Army compounded,
Which forty thousand made; but his intent,
Was straight in
Bactria
these to augment,
But hearing,
Alexander
was so near;
Thought now this once, to try his fortunes here,
Choosing rather an honorable death:
Then still with infamy, to draw his breath.
But
Bessus
false, who was his chief Commander;
Perswades him not to fight, with
Alexander.
With sage advice, he lays before his eyes,
The little hope, of profit like to rise.
If when h
•
'd multitudes, the day he lost;
Then with so few, how likely to be crossed.
This counsel, for his safety, he pretended,
But to deliver him to's foes, intended.
Next day this treason, to
Darius
known,
Transported fore, with grief and passion;
Grinding his teeth, and plucking off his hair,
Sate down o'rewhelm'd, with sorrow, and despair,
Bidding his servant
Artabassus
true;
Look to himself, and leave him to that crew;
Who was of hopes, and comfort quite bereft;
And of his Guard, and Servitors now left.
Straight
Bessus
comes, and with his traitorous hands,
Lays hold on's Lord, and binding him with bands.
Into a cart him throws, covered with hides;
Who wanting means toresi
••
, these wrong's a bides.
Then draws the Cart along, with chains of gold;
In more dispight, the thrawled Prince to hold.
And thus to
Alexander,
on he goes,
Great recompense, in's thoughts, he did propose;
But some detesting, this his wicked fact,
To
Alexander
fly, and told this act;
Who doubling of his march, posts on amain,
Darius
from those Traitors han
•
s to gain;
Bessus
gets knowledge, his disloyalty,
Had
Alexanders
wrath incensed high;
Whose Army now, was almost within sight,
His hopes being dashed, prepares himself for flight:
Unto
Darius,
first he brings a Horse,
And bids him, save himself, by speedy course:
This w
•
full King, his courtesy refuses,
Whom thus the execrable wretch abuses:
By throwing Darts, gives him his mortal wound,
Then slew his servants, that were faithful found;
Yea, wounds the beasts (that drew him) unto death,
And leaves him thus, to gasp our his last breath.
(
Bessus,
his Partn
•
r in this Tragedy,
Was the false Governor of
•
edia
)
This done, they with their Hoast, soon speed away,
To hide themselves, remote, in
Bactria;
Da
•
ius
b
•
th'd in blood, sends out his groans,
Invokes the heavens, and earth, to hear his moans;
His lost felicity did grieve him sore,
But this unheard of injury much more;
Yea, above all, that neither ear, nor eye,
Should hear, nor see, his groans, and misery:
As thus he lay,
Pol stratus
a
Greek,
Wearied with his long march, did water seek,
So chanced these bloody Horses to espy,
Whose wounds had made their skins of purple die;
To them he goes, and looking in the Cart,
Findes poor
Darius,
pierced to the heart;
Who not a little cheered, to have some eye,
The witness of his dying misery:
Prayes him, to
Alexander
to commend,
The just revenge of this his woeful end;
And not to pardon such disloyalty,
Of treason, murder, and base cruelty.
If not, because
Darius
thus did pray,
Yet that succeeding Kings in safety may
Their lives enjoy, their crowns, and dignity,
And not by Traitors hands untimely die.
He also sends his humble thankfulness,
For all that Kingly Grace he did expre
••
e,
To's Mother, Children dear, and Wife now gone,
Which made their long restraint, seem to be none;
Praying the immortal gods, that Sea, and Land,
Might be subjected to his royal hand;
And that his rule as far extended be,
As men, the rising, setting Sun shall see.
This said, the
Greek
for water doth entreat,
To quench his thirst, and to allay his heat;
Of all good things (quoth he) once in my power,
I have nothing left, at this my dying hour;
Thy pity, and compassion to reward,
Wherefore the gods requite thy kind regard.
This said, his fainting breath did fleet away,
And though a Monarch once, now lies like clay;
Yea, thus must every Son of
Adam
lie,
Though gods on earth, like Sons of men shall die.
Now to the East great
Alexander
goes,
To see if any dare his might oppose;
(For scarce the world, or any bounds thereon,
Could bound his boundless, fond ambition)
Such as submits, he doth again restore,
And makes their riches, and their honors more;
On
Artabasus
more then all bestowed,
For his fidelity to 's Master showed;
Thalestris,
Queen of th'
Amazons,
now brought
Her train to
Alexander
(as 'tis thought)
Though some of reading best, and soundest mind,
Such country there, nor yet such people find.
Then tell her errand, we had better spare
To th' ignorant, her title may declare.
As
Alexander
in his greatness grows,
So daily of his virtues doth he lose;
He baseness counts his former clemency,
And not beseeming such a dignity;
His past sobriety doth also hate,
As most incompatible to his stare;
His temperance, is but a sordid thing,
No ways becoming such a mighty King;
His greatness now he takes, to represent,
His fancied gods, above the firmament,
And such as showed but reverence before,
Are strictly now commanded to adore;
With
Fersian
Robes, himself doth dignify,
Charging the same on his Nobility;
His manners, habit, gestures, now doth fashion,
After that conquered, and luxurious Nation;
His Captains, that were virtuously inclined,
Griev'd at this change of manners, and of mind:
The ruder sort, did openly deride
His feigned Deity, and foolish pride:
The certainty of both comes to his ears,
But yet no notice takes, of what he hears;
With those of worth, he still desires esteem,
So heaps up gifts, his credit to redeem;
And for the rest new wars, and travels finds,
That other matters may take up their minds.
Then hearing,
Bessus
makes himself a King,
Intends with speed, that Traitor down to bring;
Now that his Hoast from luggage might be free,
And no man with his burden, burdened be,
Commands forth-with, each man his fardle bring,
Into the Market-place, before the King;
Which done, sets fire upon those costly spoils
The recompense of travels, wars, and toils;
And thus unwisely, in one raging fume,
The wealth of many Cities doth consume:
But marvel 'tis, that without muteny,
The Soldiers should let pass this injury;
Nor wonder less, to Readers may it bring,
For to observe the rashness of the King.
Now with his Anny, doth he hast away,
False
Bessus
to find out, in
Bactria;
But fore distrest for water, in their march,
The drought, and heat, their bodies much doth parch;
At length, they came to th' River
Oxus
brink,
Where most immoderately these thirsty drink;
This more mortality to them did bring,
Then did their wars, against the
Persian
King.
Here
Alexmder
's almost at a stand,
How to pass over, and gain the other Land;
For Boats here's none, nor near it any wood,
To make them rafes, to waft them over the flood;
But he that was resolved in his mind,
Would by some means a transportation find;
So from his carriages the Hides he takes,
And stuffing them with straw, he bundles makes;
On these, together tied, in fix days space,
They all pass over, to the other place;
Had
Bessus
had but valor to his will,
He easily might have made them stay there still;
But coward, durst not fight, nor could he fly,
Hated of all, for's former treachery,
Is by his own, now bound in Iron chains,
(A collar of the same his neck contains)
And in this sort, they rather drag, then bring,
This Malefactor vild, before the King,
Who to
Darius
Brother gives the wretch,
W
•
th wra
•
ks, and tortures, every limb to stretch.
Here was of
Greeks,
a town in
Bactria,
Whom
Xerxes
from their country led away;
These not a little joy'd, this day to see,
Wherein their own had sovereignty.
And now revived with hopes, held up their head,
From bondage, long to be infranchised;
But
Alexander
puts them to the sword,
Without cause, given by them, in deed, or word:
Nor sex, nor age, nor one, nor other spared,
But in his cruelty alike they shar'd;
Nor could he reason give, for this great wrong,
But that they had forgot their Mother-tongue.
Whilst thus he spent some time in
Bactria,
And in his Camp strong, and securely lay,
Down from the mountains twenty thousand came,
And there most fiercely set upon the same;
Repelling these two marks of honor got,
Imprinted deep in's leg, by Arrows shot;
And now the
Bactrians
'gainst him rebel,
But he their stubbornness full soon doth quel;
From hence he to
Jaxartis
river goes,
Where
Scithians
rude, his valor doth oppose,
And with their our cries, in a hideous sort,
Besets his Camp, or Military Court;
Of Darts, and Arrows, made so little spare,
They flew so thick they seemed to dark the air:
But soon the
•
recians
forced them to a flight,
Whose nokednesse could not endure their might;
Upon this Rivers banck in seventeen days,
A goodly City doth completely raise;
Which
Alexandria
he doth also name,
And furlongs sixty could not round the same.
His third supply,
Antipa
•
er
now sent,
Which did his former Army much augment,
And being an hund ed twenty thousand strong,
He enters now the
India
•
Kings among;
Those that submit, he doth restore again.
Those that do not, both they, and theirs, are slain;
To age, nor sex, no pity doth express,
But all fall by his sword, most merciless.
He t'
Nisa
goes, by
Bacchus
built long since,
Whose feasts are celebrated by this Prince;
Nor had that drunken god, one that w
•
uld take
His liquors more devoutly in, for's sake.
When thus, ten days, his brain with wine he'd soak'd,
And with delicious meats, his Pallat choked,
To th' river
Indus
next, his course he bends,
Boats to prepare,
Ephestion
first he sends,
Who coming thither, long before his Lord;
Had to his mind, made all things now accord:
The Vessells ready were, at his command;
And
Omphis,
King of that part of the land:
Through his persuasion
Alexander
meets;
And as his Sovereign Lord, him humbly greets.
Fifty six Elephants he brings to's hands:
And tenders him the strength of all his lands,
Presents himself, there with a golden Crown,
And eighty Tallents to his Captains down.
But
Alexander,
caused him to behold;
He glory sought, no silver, nor yet gold;
His presents all, with thanks he doth restore;
And of his own, a thousand Tallents more.
Thus all the
Indian
Kings, to him submit;
But
Porus
stout, who will not yield as yet;
To him doth
Alexander
thus declare,
His pleasure is, that forthwith he repair
Unto his Kingdoms borders, and as due,
His Homage unto him as Sovereign do.
But Kingly
Porus
this brave answer sent,
That to attend him there, was his intent;
And come as well provided as be could,
But for the rest, his sword advise him should.
Great
Alexander
vext at this reply,
Did more his valor then his Crown envy;
Is now resolved to pass
Hilaspes
flood,
And there his Sovereignty for to make good;
But on the banks doth
Porus
ready stand,
For to receive him, when he comes to land;
A potent Army with him, like a King,
And ninety Elephants for war did bring;
Had
Alexander
such resistance seen,
On
Tigris
side, here now he had not been;
Within this spacious river, deep, and wide,
Did here, and there, Isles full of trees abide;
His Army
Alexander
doth divide,
With
Ptolemy,
sends part o' th' tother side.
Porus
encounters them, thinking all's there,
Then covertly, the rest gets over else-where;
But whilst the first he valiantly assayl'd,
The last set on his back, and so prevailed:
Yet work enough, here
Alexander
found,
For to the last, stout
Porus
kept his ground.
Nor wasit dishonor, at the length to yield,
When
Alexander
strives to win the field,
His fortitude his Kingly foe commends;
Restores him, and his bounds further extends;
East-ward, now
Alexander
would go still,
But so to do, his Soldiers had no will;
Long with excessive travels wearied,
Could by no means be further drawn, or led:
Yet that his fame might to posterity,
Be had in everlasting memory,
Doth for his Camp a greater circuit take,
And for his Soldiers larger Cabins make;
His Maungers he erected up so high,
As never Horse his Provender could eye;
Huge Bridles made, which here, and there, he left,
Which might be found, and so for wonders kept:
Twelve Altars, he for Monuments then rears,
Whereon his acts, and travels, long appears;
But doubting, wearing Time would these decay,
And so his memory might fade away,
He on the fair
Hidaspis
pleasant side,
Two Cities built, his fame might there abide;
The first
Nicaea,
the next
•
u
•
ephalon,
Where he
•
ntomb'd his st
•
tely stallion.
His fourth, and last supply, was hither sent,
Then down t'
Hidaspis
with his Fleet he went;
Some time he after pent upon that shore,
Where one hundred Embissadours, or more,
Came with submission, from th
•
Indian
Kings
Bringing their Presents, rare, and precious things:
These, all he feasts in stare, on beds of gold,
His furniture most sumptuous to behold;
The meat, and drink, attendants, everything,
To th' utmost showed, the glory of a King;
With rich rewards, he sent th
•
m home again,
Acknowledg'd for their Masters Sovereign;
Then sailing South, and coming to the shore,
These obscure Nations yielded as before;
A City here he built, called by his name,
Which could not sound too oft, with too much fame;
Hence sailing down by th' mouth of
Indus
flood,
His Gallies stuck upon the sand, and mud;
Which the stout
Macedonians
mazed sore
Depriv'd ar once, the use of Saile, and Oare;
But well observing th' nature of the ti
•
e,
Upon those Flats they did not long abide;
Passing fair
Indus
mouth, his course he steered,
To th
•
coast which by
Eu
•
hra
•
es
mouth appeared;
Whose inlers near unto, he winter spent,
Unto his starved Soldiers small c
•
ntent;
By hunger, and by cold, so many slain,
That of them all, the fourth did scarce remain.
Thus Winter, Soldiers, and provision spent,
From hence he to
Gedrosia
went,
And thence he marched into
Carmania,
So he at length drew near to
Persia;
Now through these goodly countries as he past,
Much time in feasts, and rioting doth wast;
Then visits
Cyrus
Sepulcher in's way,
Who now obscure at
Passagardis
lay;
Upon his Monument his Robes he spread,
And set his Crown on his supposed head;
From hence to
Babylon,
some time there spent,
He at the last to royal
Sushan
went;
A Wedding Feast to's Nobles then he makes,
And
Statirah, Darius
daughter takes,
Her Sister gives to his
Ephestion
dear,
That by this match he might be yet more near.
He fourscore
Persian
Ladies also gave,
At the same time, unto his Captains brave;
Six thousand Guests he to this feast invites,
Whose Sences all, were glutted with delights:
It far exceeds my mean abilities,
To shadow forth these short felicities:
Spectators here, could scarce relate the story,
They were so wrapped with this external glory.
If an Ideall Paradise, a man should frame,
He might this feast imagine by the same.
To every Guest, a cup of gold he sends,
So after many days this Banquet ends.
Now,
Alexanders
conquests, all are done,
And his long travels past, and over-gone;
His virtues dead, buried, and all forgot,
But vice remains, to his eternal blot.
'Mongst those, that of his cruelty did taste,
Philotas
was not least, nor yet the last;
Accus'd, because he did not certify
The King of treason, and conspiracy;
Upon suspicion being apprehended,
Nothing was found, wherein he had offended;
His silence, guilt was, of such consequence,
He death deserved, for this so high offense;
But for his Fathers great deserts, the King,
His Royal pardon gave, for this same thing;
Yet is
Philotas
unto Judgment brought,
Must suffer, not for what he did, but thought:
His Master is Accuser, Judge, and King,
Who to the height doth aggravate each thing;
Enveighs against his Father, now absent,
And's Brethren, whom for him their lives had spent;
But
Philotas,
his unpardonable crime,
Which no merit could obliterate, or time:
He did the Oracle of
Jupiter
deride,
By which his Majesty was deifi'd.
Philotas
thus over-charged, with wrong, and grief,
Sunk in despair, without hope of relief;
Faine would have spoke, and made his own defense,
The King would give no ear, but went from thence;
To his malicious foes delivers him,
To wreak their spite, and hate, on every limb.
Philotas
after him sends out this cry,
Oh,
Alexander,
thy free clemency,
My foes exceeds in malice, and their hate,
Thy Kingly word can easily terminate;
Such torments great, as wit could first invent,
Or flesh, or life could bear, till both were spent
Are now inflicted on
Permenion's
Son,
For to accuse himself, as they had done;
At last he did: So they were justified,
And told the world, that for desert he died.
But how these Captains should, or yet their Master,
Look on
Parmenie,
after this disaster,
They knew not; wherefore, best now to be done,
Was to dispatch the Father, as the Son.
This sound advice, at heart, pleased
Alexander,
Who was so much engaged, to this Commander,
As he would never confess, nor could reward,
Nor could his Captains bear so great regard;
Wherefore at once all these to satisfy,
It was decreed
Permenion
should die:
Polidamus,
who seemed
Permenion's
friend,
To do this deed, they into
Media
send;
He walking in his Garden, too and fro,
Thinking no harm, because he none did owe,
Most wickedly was slain, without least crime,
(The most renowned Captain of his time)
This is
Permenion,
which so much had done,
For
Philip
dead, and his surviving Son,
Who from a petty King of
Macedon,
By him was set upon the
Persian
Throne:
This that
Permenion,
who still over-came,
Yet gave his Master the immortal fame;
Who for his prudence, valor, care, and trust,
Had this reward most cruel, and unjust.
The next that in untimely death had part,
Was one of more esteem, but less desert;
Clitus,
beloved next to
Ephestion,
And in his cups, his chief Companion;
When both were drunk,
Clitus
was wont to jeer;
Alexander,
to rage, to kill, and swear,
Nothing more pleasing to mad
Clitus
tongue,
Then's Masters god-head, to defy, and wrong;
Nothing touched
Alexander
to the quick
Like this, against his deity to kick:
Upon a time, when both had drunken well,
Upon this dangerous theam fond
Clitus
fell;
From jest, to earnest, and at last so bold,
That of
Permenion's
death him plainly told.
Alexander
now no longer could contain,
But instantly commands him to be slain;
Next day, he tore his face, for what he'd done,
And would have slain himself, for
Clitus
gone,
This pot companion he did more bemoan,
Then all the wrong to brave
Permenion
done.
The next of worth, that suffered after these,
Was virtuous, learned, wise
Calist
•
ines,
Who loved his Master more then did the rest,
As did appear, in flattering him the least:
In his esteem, a God he could not be,
Nor would adore him for a Deity:
For this alone, and for no other cause,
Against his Sovereigne, or against his Laws,
He on the wrack, his limbs in pieces vent,
Thus was he tortured, till his life was spent.
Of this unkingly deed, doth
Sene
•
a
This censure pass, and not unwisely, say,
Of
Alexander,
this th' eternal crime,
Which shall not be obliterate by time,
Which virtues fame can never redeem by far,
Nor all felicity, of his in war;
When e're 'tis said, he thousand thousands slew,
Yea, and
Calisthines
to death he drew,
The mighty
Persian
King he over-came,
Yea and he killed
Calisthines
by name;
All Kingdoms, Countries, Provinces, he won,
From
Hellispont,
to th' furthest Ocean;
All this he did, who knows not to be true,
But yet withal,
Calisthines
he slew;
From
Macedon
his Empire did extend,
Unto the furthest bounds of th' orient;
All this he did, yea, and much more, 'tis true,
But yet withal,
Calisthines
he slew.
Now
Alexander
goes to
Media,
Findes there the want of wise
Permenion,
Here his chief favourite
Ephestion
dies,
He celebrates his mournful obsequies;
For him erects a stately Monument,
Twelve thousand Tallents on it frankly spent;
Hangs his Pysician, the reason why,
Because he let
Ephestion
to die.
This act (me thinks) his god head should ashame,
To punish, where himself deserved blame:
Or of necessity, he must imply,
The other was the greatest Deity.
From
Media
to
Babylon
he went,
To meet him there, t'
Antipater
had sent,
That he might next now act upon the Stage,
And in a Tragedy there end his age.
The Queen
Olimpias,
bears him deadly hate,
(Not suffering her to meddle in the State)
And by her Letters did her Son incite,
This great indignity for to requite.
His doing so, no whit displeased the King,
Though to his Mother he disprov'd the thing;
But now,
Antipater
had lived thus long,
He might well die, though he had done no wrong;
His service great now's suddenly forgot,
Or if remembered, yet regarded not;
The King doth intimate 'twas his intent,
His honors, and his riches, to augment
Of larger Provinces, the rule to give,
And for his Counsel, never the King to live.
So to be caught,
Antipater
's too wise,
Permenion's
death's too fresh before his eyes;
He was too subtle for his crafty foe,
Nor by his baits could be ensnared so:
But his excuse with humb
•
e thanks he sends,
His age, and journey long, he now pretends;
And pardon craves, for his unwilling stay,
He shows his grief, he's forced to disobey:
Before his answer came to
Babylon,
The thread of
Alexanders
life was spun;
Poison had put an end to's days 'twas thought,
By
Philip,
and
Cassander,
to him brought,
Sons to
Antipater,
bearers of his Cup,
Least of such like, their Father chance to sup:
By others thought, and that more generally,
That through excessive drinking he did die.
The thirty third of 's age do all agree,
This Conqueror did yield to destiny;
Whose famous Acts must last, whilst world shall stand
And Conquests be talked of, whilst there is Land;
Hit Princely qualities, had he retained
Unparalel'd, forever had remained;
But with the world his virtues overcame,
And so with black, be-clouded all his fame.
Wise
Aristotle,
tutor to his youth,
Had so instructed him in moral truth.
The principles of what he then had learned
Might to the last (when sober) be discerned.
Learning, and learned men, he much regarded,
And curious Artists evermore rewarded.
The Illiads of
Homer
he still kept,
And under's pillow laid them when he slept.
Achille's
happiness he did envy,
'Cause
Homer
kept his Acts to memory;
Profusely bountiful, without desert,
For those that pleased him: had both wealth and heart:
Cruel by nature, and by custom too,
As oft his Acts throughout his reign did show:
More boundless in ambition then the sky,
Vain thirsting after immortality:
Still fearing that his Name might hap to die,
And fame not last unto Eternity:
This conqueror did oft lament ('tis sed)
There was no worlds, more, to be conquered:
This folly great
Augustus
did deride,
For had he had but wisdom to his pride,
He would have found enough for to be done,
To govern that he had already won:
His thoughts are perished he aspires no more,
Nor can he kill, or save as heretofore,
A God alive him all must Idolize;
Now like a mortal helpless man he lies;
Of all those kingdoms large which he had got,
To his posterity remained no jot,
For by that hand, which still revengeth blood,
None of his Kindred, or his Race, long stood;
And as he took delight, much blood to spill,
So the same cup to his, did others fill.
Four of his Captains, all do now divide,
As
Daniel,
before had Prophesied;
The Leopard down, his four wings 'gan to rise,
The great Horn broke, the less did tytannize;
What troubles, and contentions did ensue,
We may hereafter show, in season due.
Aridaeus.
GReat
Alexander
dead, his Army's left,
Like to that Giant, of his eye bereft;
When of his monstrous bulk it was the guide,
His matchless force no Creature could abide;
But by
Ulysses,
having lost his sight,
Each man began for to contemn his might;
For aiming still amiss, his dreadful blows
Did harm himself, but never reached his foes:
Now Court, and Camp, all in confusion be,
A King they'll have, but who, none can agree:
Each Captain wisht this prize to bear away,
Yet none so hardy found as so durst say.
Great
Alexander
had left issue none,
Except by
Artabasus
daughter one;
And
Roxan
fair, whom late he married,
Was near her time to be delivered;
By Natures right, these had enough to claim,
But meanness of their Mothers bard the same:
Alleadg'd by those, which by their subtle plea
Had hope themselves, to bear the Crown away;
A Sister
Alexander
had, but she
Claim'd not, perhaps her Sex might hindrance be.
After much tumult, they at last proclaimed
His base born Brother,
Aridaeus
named,
That so under his feeble wit, and reign,
Their ends they might the better still attain.
This choice
Perdicas,
vehemently disclaimed,
And th' unborn babe of
Roxan
he proclaimed;
Some wished him, to take the style of King,
Because his Master gave to him his Ring,
And had to him, still since
Ephestion
died,
More then to th' rest, his favor testified:
But he refused, with feigned modesty,
Hoping to be elect more generally;
He hold of this occasion should have laid,
For second offers there were never made;
'Mongst these contentions, tumul
•
s, jealousies,
Seven days the Corps of their great Master lies
Untoucht, uncovered, slighted, and neglected,
So much these Princes their own ends respected.
A contemplation to astonish Kings,
That he, who late, possessed all earthly things,
And yet not so content, unless that he
Might be esteemed for a Deity;
Now lay a spectacle, to testify
The wretchedness of man's mortality.
After this time, when stirs began to calm,
The
Egyptians,
his body did enbalme;
On which, no sign of poison could be found,
But all his bowels, coloured well, and sound.
Perdicas,
seeing
Aridaeus
must be King,
Under his name begins to rule each thing.
His chief opponents who kept off the Crown,
Was stiff
Meleager,
whom he would take down,
Him by a wile he got within his power,
And took his life unworthily that hour:
Using the name, and the command o'th' King
To authorize his Acts in everything.
The Princes seeing
Perdica's
power and Pride,
Thought timely for themselves, now to provide.
Antigonus,
for his share
Asia
takes,
And
Ptolemy,
next sure of
Egypt
makes.
Seleuchus
afterward held
Babylon;
Amipater,
had long ruled
Macedon,
These now to govern for the King pretends,
But nothing less: each one himself intends.
Perdicas
took no Province; like the rest,
But held command o'th' Armies which was best;
And had a higher project in his head,
Which was his Masters sister for to wed:
So, to the Lady secretly he sent,
That none might know, to frustrate his intent;
But
Cleopatra,
this suitour did deny,
For
Leonatus,
more lovely in her eye,
To whom she sent a message of her mind,
That if he came, good welcome he should find:
In these tumultuous days, the thralled
Greeks
Their ancient liberty, afresh now seeks,
Shakes off the yoke, sometimes before laid on
By warlike
Philip,
and his conquering son.
The
Athenians,
force
Antipater
to fly
To
Lamia,
where he shut up doth lie;
To brave
Craterus,
then, he sends with speed,
To come and to release him in his need,
The like of
Leonatus,
he requires,
(Which at this time well suited his desires)
For to
Antipater
he now might go,
His Lady take in the' way, and no man know.
Antiphilus
the
Athenian
General,
With speed his forces doth together call,
Striving to stop
Leonatus,
that so
He join not with
Antipater,
that foe.
The
Athenian
Army was the greater far,
(Which did his match with
Cleopatra
mar)
For fighting still, whilst there did hope remain,
The valiant Chief, amidst his foes was slain,
'Mongst all the Captains of great
Alexander,
For personage, none was like this Commander:
Now to
Antipater,
•
raterus
goes,
Blockt up in
Lamia,
still by his foes;
Long marches through
Silicia
he makes,
And the remains of
Leonatus
takes;
With them and his, he into
Grecia
went,
Antipater
released from's prisonment,
After this time, the
Grecks
did never more
Act anything of worth, as heretofore,
But under servitude, their necks remained,
Nor former liberty, or glory gained;
Now died (about the end of th'
Lamian
war)
Dimosthencs,
that sweet tongu'd orator.
Craverus,
that
Antipater
now join
In love, and in affiaity combine:
Crete
•
us
doth his daughter
Phisa
wed,
Their friendship may the more be strengthened:
Whilst they in
Macedon
do thus agree,
In
Asia
they all asunder be.
Perdicas
grieved, to see the Princes bold,
So many Kingdoms in their power to hold,
Yet to regain them, how he did not know,
For's Soldiers 'gainst those Captains would not go;
To suffer them go on, as they begun,
Was to give way, himself might be undone;
With
Antipater
t' join, sometimes he thought,
That by his help, the rest might low be brought:
But this again dislikes, and would remain,
If not in word, in deed a Sovereign.
Desires the King, to go to
Macedon,
Which of his Ancestors was once the throne,
And by his presence there, to nullify
The Acts of his Vice-royes, now grown so high:
Antigonus
of Treason first attaints,
And summons him, to answer these complaints;
This he avoyds, and ships himself, and's Son,
Goes to
Antipater,
and tells what's done;
He, and
Craterus,
both with him now join,
And 'gainst
Perdicas,
all their strength combine.
Brave
Ptolemy,
to make a fourth now sent,
To save himself from dangers eminent;
In midst of these,
Garboyles,
with wondrous state,
His Masters Funerals doth celebrate;
At
Alexandria,
in
Egypt
Land,
His sumptuous monument long time did stand;
Two years and more since, Natures debt he paid,
And yet till now, at quiet was not laid.
Great love did
Ptolemy
by this act gain.
And made the Soldiers on his side remain;
Perdicas
hears, his foes are now combined,
('Gainst which to go, is troubled in his mind;)
With
Ptolemy
for to begin was best,
Near'st unto him, and farthest from the rest.
Leaves
Eumenes,
the
Asian
coast to free,
From the invasions of the other three;
And with his Army into
Egypt
goes,
Brave
Ptolemy
to th' utmost to oppose.
Perdicas
surly carriage, and his pride,
Did alienate the Soldiers from his side;
But
Ptolemy
by affability,
His sweet demeanour, and his courtesy,
Did make his own firm to his cause remain,
And from the other, daily some did gain.
Pithon,
next
Perdicas,
a Captain high,
Being entreated by him scornfully,
Some of the Soldiers enters
Perdica's
tent,
Knocks out his brains, to
Ptolemy
then went,
And offers him his Honors, and his place,
With style of the Protector, would him grace;
Next day into the Camp comes
Ptolemy,
And is of all received joyfully;
Their proffers he refused, with modesty
Confers them
Pithon
on, for's courtesy;
With what he held, he now was well content,
Then by more trouble to grow eminent.
Now comes there news of a great victory,
That
Eumenes
got of the other three,
H
•
d it but in
Perdicas
life arrived,
With greater joy it would have been received;
Thus
Ptolemy
rich
Egypt
did retain,
And
Pithon
turned to
Asia
again.
Whilst
Perdicas
thus staid in
Africa,
Antigonus
did enter
Asia,
And fain would draw
Eumenes
to their side,
But he alone now faithful did abide:
The other all, had kingdoms in their eye,
But he was true to's masters family,
Nor could
Craterus
(whom he much did love)
From his fidelity make him once move.
Two battles now he fought, and had the best,
And brave
Craterus
slew, amongst the rest,
For this great strife, he pours out his complaints,
And his beloved foe, full sore laments.
I should but snip a story into verse,
And much eclipse his glory to rehearse
The difficulties
Eumenes
befell,
His stratagems, wherein he did excel,
His policies, how he did extricate
Himself from out of labyrinths intricate.
For all that should be said, let this suffice,
He was both valiant, faithful, patient, wise.
Python
now chose protector of the State,
His rule Queen
Euridice
begins to hate,
Perceives
Aridaeus
must not king it long,
If once young
Alexander
grow more strong,
But that her Husband serve for supplement,
To warm the seat, was never her intent,
She knew her birthright gave her
Macedon,
Grandchild to him, who once sat on that throne,
Who was
Perdicas, Philip's
elder brother,
She daughter to his son, who had no other;
Her mother
Cyna
sister to
Alexander,
Who h
•
d an Army, like a great Commander.
Ceria
the
Phrigian
Queen for to withstand,
And in a Battle slew her hand to hand;
Her Daughter she instructed in that Art,
Which made her now begin to play her part;
Pithons
commands, She ever countermands
What he appoints, She purposely withstands.
He wearied out, at last, would needs be gone,
Resign'd his place, and so let all alone;
In's stead, the Soldiers chose
Antipater,
Who vext the Queen more then the other far;
He placed, displac'd, controlled, ruled, as he list,
And this no man durst question, or resist;
For all the Princes of great
Alexander
Acknowledged for chief, this old Commander:
After a while, to
Macedon
he makes;
The King, and Queen, along with him he takes.
Two Sons of
Alexander,
and the rest,
All to be ordered there as he thought best:
The Army with
Antigonus
did leave,
And government of
Asia
to him gave;
And thus
Antipater
the ground-work lays,
On which
Antigonus
his height doth raise:
Who in few years the rest so over-tops,
For universal Monarchy he hopes;
With
Eumenes
he divers Battels fought,
And by his sleights to circumvent him sought;
But vain it was to use his policy,
'Gainst him, that all deceits could scan, and try:
In this Epitomy, too long to tell
How neatly
Eumenes
did here excel,
That by the self-same traps the other laid,
He to his cost was righteously repaid.
Now great
Antipater,
the world doth leave
To
Polisperchon,
then his place he gave,
Fearing his Son
Cassander
was unstay'd,
Too young to bear that charge, if on him laid;
Antigonus
hearing of his decease,
On most part of
Assyria
doth seize,
And
Ptolemy,
now to encroach begins,
All
Syria,
and,
Phenicia
he wins;
Now
Polisperchon
'gins to act in's place,
Recals
Olimpias,
the Court to grace;
Antipater
had banished her from thence,
Into
Epire,
for her great turbulence;
This new Protector's of another mind,
Thinks by her Majesty much help to find;
Cassander
could not (like his father) see
This
Polisperchons
great ability,
Slights his commands, his actions he disclaims,
And to be great himself now bends his aims;
Such as his father had advanced to place,
Or by his favor any way did grace,
Are now at the devotion of the Son,
Prest to accomplish what he would have done;
Besides, he was the young Queens favourite,
On whom ('twas thought) the set her chief delight;
Unto these helps, in
Greece,
he seeks out more,
Goes to
Antigonus,
and doth implore,
By all the Bonds 'twixt him and's father past,
And for that great gift, which he gave him last;
By these, and all, to grant him some supply,
To take down
Polisperchon
grown so high;
For this
Antigonus
needed no spurs,
Hoping still more to gain by these new stirs;
Straight furnished him with a sufficient aide,
Cassander
for return all speed now made:
Polisperchon,
knowing he did rely
Upon those friends, his father raised on high,
Those absent, banished, or else he slew
All such as he suspected to him true.
Cassander
with his Hoast to
Grecia
goes,
Whom
Polisperchon
labors to oppose,
But had the worst at Sea, as well as Land,
And his opponent still got upper hand,
Athens,
with many Towns in
Greece
besides,
Firme to
Cassander
at this time abides:
Whilst hot in wars these two in
Greece
remain,
Antigonus
doth all in
Asia
gain;
Still labors
Eumenes
might with him side,
But to the last he faithful did abide;
Nor could Mother, nor Sons of
Alexander,
Put trust in any, but in this Commander;
The great ones now began to show their mind,
And act, as opportunity they find:
Aridaeus
the scorned, and simple King,
More then he bidden was, could act nothing;
Polisperchon
hoping for's office long,
Thinks to enthrone the Prince when riper grown;
Euridice
this injury disdains,
And to
Cassander
of this wrong complains;
Hatefull the Name, and House of
Alexander,
Was to this proud, vindicative
Cassander,
He still hep
•
fresh within his memory,
His Fathers danger, with his Family;
Nor counts he that indignity but small,
When
Alexander
knocked his head to th' wall:
These, with his love, unto the amorous Queen
Did make him vow her servant to be seen.
Olimpias, Aridaeus
deadly hates,
As all her Husbands children by his Mates;
She gave him poison formerly ('tis thought)
Which damage both to mind and body brought:
She now with
Polisperchon
doth combine,
To make the King by force his seat resign;
And her young Nephew in his stead t' inthrone,
That under him she might rule all alone.
For aid goes to
Epire,
among her friends,
The better to accomplish these her ends;
Euridice
hearing what she intends,
In hast unto her dear
Cassander
sends,
To leave his Seige at
Tagra,
and with speed
To come and succor her, in this great need;
Then by entreaties, promises, and coin,
Some Forces did procure, with her to join.
Olimpias
now enters
Macedon,
The Queen to meet her, bravely marched on;
But when her Soldiers saw their ancient Queen,
Remembering what sometime she had been,
The Wife, and Mother, of their famous Kings,
Nor Darts, nor Arrows now, none shoots, nor flings;
Then King, and Queen, to
Amphipolis
do fly,
But soon are brought into captivity;
The King by extreme torments had his end,
And to the Queen, these presents she doth send;
A Halter, cup of Poison, and a Sword,
Bids choose her death, such kindness she'l afford:
The Queen with many a curse, and bitter check,
At length yields to the Halter, her fair neck;
Praying, that fatal day might quickly haste,
On which
Olimpias
of the like might taste.
This done, the cruel Queen rests not content,
Till all that loved
Cassander
was nigh spent;
His Brethren, Kinsfolk, and his chiefest friends,
That were within her reach, came to their ends;
Digg'd up his brother dead, 'gainst natures right,
And throws his bones about, to show her spite.
The Courtiers wondering at her furious mind,
Wisht in
Epire
she still had been confined;
In
Pelloponesus
then
Cassander
lay,
Where hearing of this news he speeds away,
With rage, and with revenge, he's hurried on,
So goes to find this Queen in
Macedon;
But being stopped, at Straight
Tharmipoley
Sea passage gets, and lands in
Thessaly;
His Army he divides, sends part away,
Polisperchou
to hold a while in play,
And with the rest
Olimpias
pursues,
To give her for all cruelties her dues:
She with the flow'r o'th Court to
Pidna
flies,
Well fortified, and on the Sea it lies;
There by
Cassander
she's block'd up, so long,
Untill the Famine grows exceeding strong.
Her Cousen of
Epire
did what he might,
To raise the Seige, and put her foes to flight;
Cassander
is resolved, there to remain,
So succors, and endeavors proves but vain:
Faine would she come now to capitulate,
Cassander
will not hear, such is his hate.
The Soldiers pinched with this scarcity,
By stealth unto
Casander
daily fly;
Olimpias
wills to keep it, to the last,
Expecting nothing, but of death to taste;
But he unwilling longer there to stay,
Gives promise for her life, and wins the day:
No sooner had he got her in his hands,
But made in Judgment her Accusers stand,
And plead the blood of their dear Kindred spilled,
Desiring Justice might be done for guilt;
And so was he acquitted of his word,
For Justice sake she being put to th' sword.
This was the end of this most cruel Queen,
Whose fury yet unparalleled hath been;
The Daughter, Sister, Mother, Wife to Kings,
But Royalty no good conditions brings;
So boundless was her pride, and cruelty,
She oft forgot bounds of Humanity.
To Husbands death ('twas thought) she gave consent,
The Authors death she did so much lament,
With Garlands crowned his head, bemoan'd his Fates,
His sword unto
Apollo
consecrates:
Her out-rages too tedious to relate,
How for no cause, but her inveterate hate;
Her Husbands Wife, and Children, after's death
Some flew, some fry'd, of others, stopped the breath;
Now in her age she's forced to taste that Cup,
Which she had often made others to sup:
Now many Towns in
Macedon
suppressed,
And
Pellas
fain to yield amongst the rest;
The Funerals
Cassandra
celebrates,
Of
Aridaeus,
and his Queen, with state;
Among their Ancestors by him there laid,
And shows of lamentation for them made.
Old
Thebes
he then re-built (so much of fame)
And raised
Cassandria
after his name,
But leave him building, others in their urn,
And for a while, let's into
Asia
turn,
True
Eumenes
endeavors by all skill,
To keep
Antigonus
from
Susha
still,
Having Command o'th treasure he can hire,
Such as nor threats, nor favor could acquire;
In divers battles, he had good success,
Antigonus
came off still honourlesse,
When victor oft had been, and so might still,
Pencestas
did betray him by a wile,
Antigonus,
then takes his life unjust,
Because he never would let go his trust:
Thus lost he all for his fidelity,
Striving t' uphold h
•
s Masters family,
But as that to a period did haste,
So
Eumenes
of destiny must taste.
Antigonus,
all
Persia
now gains,
And Master of the treasure he remains;
Then with
Seleuchus
straight at ods doth fall,
But he for aid to
Ptolemy
doth call.
The Princes all begin now to envy
Antigonus,
his growing up so hye,
Fearing their state, and what might hap ere long,
Enter into a combination strong:
Selcuchus, Ptolemy, Cassander
joins,
Ly
••
mac us
to make a fourth combines:
Antigonus,
desirous of the
Greeks,
To make
Cassander
odious to them, seeks,
Sends forth his declaration from a far,
And shows what cause they had to take up war.
The Mother of their King to death he'd put,
His Wife, and Son, in prison close had shut;
And how he aims to make himself a King,
And that some title he might seem to bring,
Thessalonica
he had newly wed,
Daughter to
Phillip,
their renowned head;
Had built, and called a City by his name,
Which none e're did but those of royal fame;
And in despite of their two famous Kings,
Th' hateful
Olinthians
to
Greece
re-brings;
Rebellious
Thebs
he had re-edified,
Which their late King in dust had-damnified;
Requires them therefore to take up their Arms,
And to requite this Traitor for those harms:
Now
Ptolemy
would gain the
Greeks
likewise,
For he declares against his injuries;
First, how he held the Empire in his hands,
Seleuchus
drove from government, and lands;
Had valiant
Eumenes
unjustly slain,
And Lord o'th' City
Susha
did remain.
So therefore craves their help to take him down,
Before he wear the universal Crown;
Antigonus
at Sea soon had a fight,
Where
Ptolemy,
and the rest put him to flight.
His Son at
Gaza
likewise lost the field,
So
Syria
to
Ptolemy
did yield;
And
Sclcuchus
recovers
Babylon,
Still gaining Countries East-ward goes he on.
Demetrius
again with
Ptolemy
did fight,
And coming unawares put him to slight;
But bravely sends the Priseners back again,
And all the spoil and booty they had tane;
Curtius,
as noble
Ptolemy,
or more,
Who at
Gaza
did th' like to him before.
Antigonus
did much rejoice his son,
His lost repute with victory had won;
At last these Princes tired out with wars,
Sought for a peace, and laid aside their jars:
The terms of their agreement thus express,
That each shall hold what he doth now possess,
Till
Alexander
unto age was grown,
Who then shall be installed in the throne:
This touched
Cassander
sore, for what he'd done,
Imprisoning both the mother, and her son,
He sees the
Greeks
now favor their young Prince,
Whom he in durance held, now and long since,
That in few years he must be forced or glad
To render up such kingdoms as he had
Resolves to quit his fears by one deed done,
And put to death, the mother and her son,
This
Rexane
for her beauty all commend,
But for one act she did, just was her end,
No sooner was great
Alexander
dead,
But she
Dariu's
daughters murdered,
Both thrown into a well to hide her blot,
Perdicas
was her partner in this plot:
The Heavens seemed slow in paying her the same,
But yet at last the hand of vengeance came,
And for that double fact which she had done,
The life of her must go, and of her son
Perdicas
had before, for his amiss,
But from their hands, who thought not once of this.
Gassander's
dead, the Princes all detest,
But 'twas in show, in heart it pleased them best.
That he was odious to the world, they are glad,
And now they are, free Lord's, of what they had,
When this foul tragedy was past, and done,
Polisperchon
brings up the other son,
Call'd
Hercules,
and elder then his brother,
(Bur,
Olymptas,
thought to prefer th' other:)
The
Greeks
touched with the murder done so late,
This Prince began for to compassionate.
Begin to mutter much 'gainst proud
Cassander,
And place their hopes o'th heir of
Alexander,
Cassander
feared what might of this insue,
So
Polisperchon
to his Counsel drew,
Gives
Peloponesus
unto him for hire,
Who slew the prince according to desire:
Thus was the race, and house of
Alexander
Extinct, by this inhumane wretch
Cassander;
Antigonus
for all this doth not mourn,
He knows to's profit, all in the end will turn,
But that some title he might now pretend,
For marriage to
Cleopatra,
doth send
Lysimachus
and
Ptolemy,
the same,
And vile
Cassander
too, sticks not for shame,
She now in
Lydia
at
Sardis
lay,
Where, by Embassage, all these Princes pray,
Choise above all, of
Ptolemy
she makes
With his Ambassador, her journey takes,
Antigonu's
Lieutenant stays her still,
Untill he further know his Masters will;
To let her go; or hold her still, he fears,
Antigonus
thus had a wolf by th'
•
a
•
s,
Resolves at last the Princesse then'd be stain,
So hinders him of her, he could not gain.
Her women are appointed to this deed,
They for their great reward no better speed,
For straight way by command they are put to death,
As vile conspirators that took her breath,
And now he thinks, he's ordered all so well,
The world must needs believe what he doth tell:
Thus
Philip's
house was quite extinguished,
Except
Cassanders
wife, who yet not dead,
And by their means, who thought of nothing less
Then vengeance just, against the same t' express;
Now blood was paid with blood, for what was done
By cruel father, mother, cruel son,
Who did erect their cruelty in guilt,
And wronging innocents whose blood they spilled,
Philip
and
Olympias
both were slain,
Aridaeus
and his Queen by slaughters ta'ne;
Two other children by
Olympias
killed,
And
Cleopatra's
blood, now likewise spill'd,
If
Alexander
was not poisoned,
Yet in the flower of's age, he must lie dead,
His wise and sons then slain by this
Cassander,
And's kingdoms rent away by each Commander:
Thus may we hear, and fear, and ever say,
That hand is righteous still which doth repay:
These Captains now, the style of Kings do take,
For to their Crowns, there's none can title make.
Demetrius
is first, that so assumes,
To do as he, the rest full soon presumes,
To
Athens
then he goes, is entertained,
Not like a King, but like some God they feigned;
Most grossly base, was this great adulation,
Who incense burnt, and offered oblation.
These Kings fall now afresh to wars again,
Demetrius
of
Ptolemy
doth gain;
'Twould be an endless story to relate
Their several battles, and their several fate,
Antigonus
and
Seleuchus,
now fight
Near
Ephesus,
each bringing all their might,
And he that conqueror shall now remain,
Of
Asia
the Lordship shall retain.
This day twixt these two foes ends all the strife,
For here
Antigonus
lost rule, and life,
Nor to his son did there one foot remain,
Of those dominions he did sometimes gain,
Demetrius
with his troops to
Athens
flies,
Hoping to find succor in miseries.
But they adoring in prosperity,
Now shut their gates in his adversity,
He sorely grieved at this his desperate state,
Tries foes, since friends will not compassionate,
His peace he then with old
Seleuchus
makes,
Who his fair daughter
Stratonica
takes,
Antiochus, Seleuchus
dear loved son,
Is for this fresh young Lady-half undone,
Falls so extremely sick, all fear his life,
Yet dares not say, he loves his fathers wife;
When his disease the skillful Physician found,
He wittily his fathers mind did sound,
Who did no sooner understand the same,
But willingly resigned the beauteous dame:
Cassander
now must die, his race is run,
And leaves the ill got kingdoms he had won,
Two sons he left, born of King
Philip's
daughter,
Who had an end put to their days by slaughter.
Which should succeed, at variance they fell,
The mother would the youngest should excel,
The eld'st enraged did play the vipers part,
And with his Sword did pierce his mothers heart,
(Rather then
Philip's
child must longer live)
He, whom she gave his life, her death must give)
This by
Lysimachus
soon after slain,
(Whose daughter unto wife, he'd newly ta'n)
The youngest by
Demetrius
killed in fight,
Who took away his now pretended right:
Thus
Philip's,
and
Cassander's
race is gone,
And so falls out to be extinct in one,
Yea though
Cassander
died in his bed,
His seed to be extirpt, was destined,
For blood which was decreed, that he should spill,
Yet must his children pay for fathers ill.
Jehu
in killing
Ahab's
house did well,
Yet be avenged, must th' blood of
Jesreel.
Demetrius, Cassanders
kingdoms gains,
And now as King, in
Macedon
he reigns;
Seleuchus, Asia
holds, that grieves him sore,
Those
〈◊〉
untries large, his father got before,
These to recover, musters all his might,
And with his son in law, will needs go fight:
There was he taken and imprisoned
Within an Isle that was with pleasures fed,
Injoy'd what so beseem'd his Royalty,
Only restrained of his liberty;
After three years he died, left what he'd won
In
Greece,
unto
Antigonus,
his son,
For h s posterity unto this day,
Did n
•
'r regain one foot in
Asia.
Now died the brave and noble
Ptolemy,
Renown'd for bounty, valor, clemency,
Rich
Egypt
left, and what else he had won
To
Philadelphus,
his more worthy Son.
Of the old Heroes, now but two remain,
Seleuchus,
and
Lysimachus;
those twain
Must needs go try their fortune, and their might,
And so
Lysimachus
was slain in fight.
'Twas no small joy, unto
Seleuchus
breast,
That now he had out-lived all the rest:
Possession he of
Europe
thinks to take,
And so himself the only Monarch make;
Whilst with these hopes, in
Greece
he did remain,
He was by
Ptolemy Cerannus
slain.
The second Son of the first
Ptolemy,
Who for rebellion unto him did sly,
Selencbus
was as Father, and a friend,
Yet by him had this most unworthy end.
Thus with these Kingly Captains have we done,
A little now, how the Succession run:
Antigonus, Seleuchus,
and
Cassander,
With
Ptolemy,
reigned after
Alexander;
Cassanders
Sons, soon after's death were slain,
So three Successors only did remain;
Antigonus
his Kingdoms lost, and's life,
Unto
Seleuchus,
author of that strife.
His Son
Demetrius,
all
Cassanders
gains,
And his posterity, the same retains,
Demetrius
Son was called
Awigonus,
And his again, also
Demetrius.
I must let pass those many battles fought,
Between those Kings, and noble
Fyrrus
stout,
And his son
Alexander
of
Epire,
Whereby immortal honor they acquire.
Demetrius
had
Philip
to his son,
He
Perseus,
from him the kingdom's won,
Emillius
the
Roman
General,
Did take his rule, his sons, himself and all.
This of
Antigonus,
his seed's the fate,
Whose kingdoms were subdued by th'
Roman
state.
Longer
Seleuchus
held the Royalty
In
Syria
by his posterity,
Awiochus Soter
his son was named,
To whom Ancient
Berosus
(To much famed)
His book of
Assurs
Monarchs dedicates,
Tells of their wars, their names, their riches, fates;
But this is perished with many more,
Which we oft wish were extant as before.
Antiochus Theos
was
Soters
son,
Who a long war with
Egypt's
King begun.
The affinities and wars
Daniel
set forth,
And calls them there, the Kings of South, and North;
This
••
cos
he was murdered by his wife,
Seleuchus
reigned, when he had lost his life,
A third
Seleuchus
next sit
•
on the seat,
And then
Antiochus
surnam'd the great,
Seleuchus
next
Anttiochus
succeeds,
And then
Epiphanes,
whole wicked deeds,
Horrid massacres, murders, cruelties,
Against the Jews, we read in
Maccabees,
By him was set up the abomination
I
'th' holy place, which caused desolation;
Antiochus Eupator
was the next,
By Rebells and imposters daily vext;
So many Princes still were murdered,
The Royal blood was quite extinguished.
That
Tygranes
the great
Armenian
King,
To take the government was called in,
Him
Lucullus,
the
Roman
General
Vanquish'd in fight, and took those kingdoms all,
Of
Greece,
and
Syria
thus the rule did end,
In
Egypt
now a little time we'll spend.
First
Ptolemy
being dead, his famous son,
Cal'd
Philadelphus,
next sat on the throne,
The Library at
Alexandria
built,
With seven hundred thousand volumes filled,
The seventy two interpreters did seek,
They might translate the Bible into
Greek,
His son was
Evergetes
the last Prince
That valor showed, virtue or excellence.
Philopater
was
Evergete's
son,
After
Epiphanes,
sat on the Throne
Philometer:
then
Evergetes
again.
And next to him, did false
Lathurus
reign,
Alexander,
then
Lathurus
in's stead,
Next
Auletes,
who cut off
Pompey's
head:
To all these names we
Ptolemy
must add,
For since the first, that title still they had,
Fair
Cleopatra
next, last of that race,
Whom
Julius Caesar
set in Royal place,
Her brother by him, lost his traiterous head
For
Pompey's
life, then placed her in his stead,
She with her Paramour
Mark Antony,
Held for a time the
Egyptian
Monarchy:
Till great
Augustus
had with him a fight,
At
Actium
slain, his Navy put to flight.
Then poisonous Asps she sets unto her Arms,
To take her life, and quit her from all harms;
For 'twas not death, nor danger, she did dread,
But some disgrace, in triumph to be led.
Here ends at last the
Grecian
Monarchy,
Which by the
Romans
had its destiny.
Thus Kings, and Kingdoms, have their times, and dates,
Their standings, over-turnings, bounds, and fates;
Now up, now down, now chief, and then brought under,
The Heavens thus rule, to fill the earth with wonder.
The
Assyrian
Monarchy long time did stand,
But yet the
Persian
got the upper hand;
The
Grecian,
them did utterly subdue,
And Millions were subjected unto few:
The
Grecian
longer then the
Persian
stood,
Then came the
Roman,
like a raging flood,
And with the torrent of his rapid course,
Their Crowns, their Titles, riches bears by force.
The first, was likened to a head of gold,
Next, arms and breast, of silver to behold;
The third, belly and thighs of brass in sight,
And last was Iron, which breaketh all with might.
The Stone out of the Mountain then did rise,
And smote those feet, those legs, those arms and thighs;
Then gold, silver, brass, iron, and all that store,
Became like chaff upon the threshing floor;
The first a Lion, second was a Bear,
The third a Leopard, which four wings did rear;
The last more strong, and dreadful, then the rest,
Whose Iron teeth devoured every beast;
And when he had no appetite to eat,
The residue he stamped under's feet:
But yet this Lion, Bear, this Leopard, Ram,
All trembling stand, before that powerful Lamb.
With these three Monarchies, now have I done,
But how the fourth, their Kingdoms from them won;
And how from small beginnings it did grow,
To fill the world with terror, and with woe:
My tired brain, leaves to a better pen,
This task befits not women, like to men:
For what is past I blush, excuse to make,
But humbly stand, some grave reproof to take:
Pardon to crave, for errors, is but vain,
The Subject was too high, beyond my strain;
To frame Apology for some offense,
Converts our boldness, into impudence.
This my presumption (some now) to requite,
Ne suitor ultra crepidum,
may write.
AFter some days of rest, my restless heart,
To finish what begun, new thoughts impart
And maugre all resolves, my fancy Wrought
This fourth to th' other three, now might be brought.
Shortnesse of time, and inability,
Will force me to a confused brevity;
Yet in this Chaos, one shall easily spy,
The vast limbs of a mighty Monarchy.
What e're is found amiss, take in best part,
As faults preceeding from my head, not heart.
The Roman Monarchy, being the Fourth, and last, beginning, Anno Mundi, 3213.
STout
Romulus, Rome's
Founder, and first King,
Whom vestall
Rhea,
into th' world did bring
His Father was not
Mars,
as some devised,
But
Aemulus,
in Armor all disguised.
Thus he deceived his Niece, she might not know
The double injury, he then did do:
Where Shepherds once had Coats, and Sheep their Folds,
Where Swaines, and rustic Peasants made their Holds.
A Citty fair did
Romulus
erect:
The Mistress of the World, in each respect.
His Brother
Remus
there, by him was slain,
For leaping over the Walls with some disdain;
The Stones at first was cimented with blood,
And bloody hath it proy'd, since first it stood:
This City built, and Sacrifices done,
A form of Government he next begun;
A hundred Senators he likewise chose,
And with the style of
Patres
honor'd those;
His City to replenish, men he wants,
Great privileges then, to all he grants,
That will within these strong built walls reside,
And this new gentle Government abide:
Of Wives there was so great a scarcity,
They to their neighbors sue, for a supply;
But all disdain alliance then to make,
So
Romulus
was forced this course to take.
Great shows he makes at Tilt, and Turnament,
To see these sports, the
Sabins
all are bent;
Their Daughters by the
Romans
then were caught,
For to recover them, a Feild was fought;
But in the en
•
, to final peace they come,
And
Sabins,
as one people, dwelt in
Rome.
The
Romans
now more potent 'gin to grow,
And
Fedinates
they wholly over-throw:
But
Romulus
then comes unto his end,
Some feigning say, to heaven he did ascend;
Others, the seven and thirtyeth of his reign
Affirme, that by the Senate he was slain.
Numa Pompilius.
NVmt Pompilius,
is next chosen King,
Held for his Piety, some sacred thing;
To
Janus,
he that famous Temple built,
Kept shut in peace, but ope when blond was spilled,
Religious Rites, and Customs instituted,
And Priests, and Flamines likewise he deputed;
Their Augurs strange, their habit, and attire,
And vestall Maids to keep the holy fire.
Goddess
Aegeria
this to him told,
So to delude the people he was bold:
Forty three veares he ruled with general praise,
Accounted for some god in after days.
Tullus Hostilius.
TUllus Hostilius,
was third
Roman
King,
Who Martial Discipline in use did bring;
War with the ancient
Albans
he doth wage,
The strife to end, six Brothers do engage;
Three called
Horatii,
on
Romans
side,
And
Curiatii,
three
Albans
provide;
The
Romans
Conquereth, others yield the day,
Yet for their compact, after false they play:
The
Romans
sore incensed, their General slay,
And from old
Alba
fetch the wealth away;
Of
Latin
Kings this was long since the Seat,
But now demolished, to make
Rome
great.
Thirty two years doth
Tullus
reign, then die,
Leaves
Rome,
in wealth and power, still growing high.
Ancus Martius.
NExt,
Ancus Martius
sits upon the Throne,
Nephew unto
Pomphilius
dead, and gone;
Rome
he enlarged, new built again the wall,
Much stronger, and more beautiful withal;
A stately Bridge he over
Tiber
made,
Of Boats, and Oares, no more they need the aide;
Faire
Ostia
he built, this Town, it stood,
Close by the mouth of famous
Tiber
flood:
Twenty four year, th' time of his royal race,
Then unto death unwillingly gives place.
Tarquinius Priscus.
TArquin,
a
Greek,
at
Corinth
borne, and bred,
Who for sedition from his Country fled;
Is entertained at
Rome,
and in short time,
By wealth, and favor, doth to honor climb;
He after
Martius
death the Kingdom had,
A hundred Senators he more did add;
Wars with the
Latins
he again renews,
And Nations twelve, of
Tuscany
subdues:
To such rude triumphs, as young
Rome
then had,
Much state, and glory, did this
Priscus
add:
Thirty eight years (this Stranger borne) did reign,
And after all, by
Ancus
Sons was slain.
Servius Tullius.
NExt,
Servius Tullius
sits upon the Throne,
Ascends not up, by merits of his own,
But by the favor, and the special grace
Of
Tanaquil,
late Queen, obtains the place;
He ranks the people, into each degree,
As wealth had made them of ability;
A general Muster takes, which by account,
To eighty thousand souls then did amount:
Forty four years did
Servius Tullius
reign,
And then by
Tarquin, Priscus
Son, was slain.
Tarquinius Superbus,
the last
Roman
King.
TArquin
the proud, from manners called so,
Sate on the Throne, when he had slain his soe;
Sextus
his Son, doth (most unworthily)
Lucretia
force, mirror of chastety;
She loathed so the fact, she loathed h
•
r life,
And shed her guiltless blood, with guilty knife.
Her Husband sore incensed, to quit this wrong,
With
Junius Brutus
rose, and being strong,
The
Tarquins
they from
Rome
with speed expel,
In banishment perpetual, to dwell;
The Government they change, a new one bring,
And people swear, never to accept of King.
The end of the
Roman
Monarchy; being the fourth and last.
A Dialogue between Old England and New, concerning their present troubles. Anno 1642.
New England.
ALas, dear Mother, fairest Queen, and best,
With honor, wealth, and peace, happy and blest,
What ayles thee hang thy head, and cross thine arms?
And sit in the dust, to sigh these sad alarms?
What deluge of new woes thus over-whelme
The glories of thy ever famous Realm?
What means this wailing tone, this mourning guise?
Ah, tell thy Daughter, she may sympathize.
Old England.
Art ignorant indeed, of these my woes?
Or must my forc
•
d tongue these grief
•
s disclose?
And must myself dissect my tatter'd state,
Which 'mazed Christendom
•
stands wondering at?
And thou a child, a Limbe, and dost not feel
My weakened fainting body now to reel?
This Phisick-purging-potion I have taken,
Will bring Consumption, or an Ague quaking,
Unless some Cordial thou fetch from high,
Which present help may ease this malady.
If I decease, dost think thou shalt survive?
Or by my wasting state, dost think to thrive?
Then weigh our case, ifit be not justly sad,
Let me lament alone, while thou art glad.
New England.
And thus, alas, your state you much deplore,
In general terms, but will not say wherefore:
What Medicine shall I seek to cure this woe,
If th' wound's so dangerous
I
may not know?
But you perhaps would have me guess it out,
What, hath some
Hengist,
like that
Saxon
stout,
By fraud, and force, usurped thy flowring crown,
And by tempestuous Wars thy fields trod down?
Or hath
Canutus,
that brave valiant
Dane,
The regal, peaceful Scepter from thee tane?
Or isit a
Norman,
whose victorious hand
With
English
blood bedews thy conquered Land?
Or isit intestine Wars that thus offend?
Do
Maud,
and
Stephen
for the Crown contend?
Do Barons rise, and side against their King?
And call in Forreign aid, to help the thing?
Must
Edward
be deposed, or isit the hour
That second
Richard
must be clapt in the' Tower?
Or is the fatal jar again begun,
That from the red, white pricking Roses sprung?
Must
Richmonds
aid, the Nobles now implore,
To come, and break the tushes of the Boar?
If none of these, dear Mother, what's your woe?
Pray, do not fear
Spain's
bragging Armado?
Doth your Allye, fair
France,
conspire your wrack?
Or, doth the
Scots
play false behind your back?
Doth
Holland
quit you ill, for all your love?
Whence is this storm, from Earth, or Heaven above?
Isit Drought, isit Famine, or isit Pestilence?
Dost feel the smart, or fear the consequence?
Your humble Child intreats you, show your grief,
Though Arms, nor Purse she hath, for your relief:
Such is her poverty, yet shall be found
A supplyant for your help, as she is bound.
Old England.
I must confess, some of those Sores you name,
My beau
•
eous Body at this present maim;
But foreign Foe, nor feigned friend I fear,
For they have work enough (thou knowest) elsewhere;
Nor is it
Alcies
Son, and
Henries
Daughter,
Whose proud contention cause this slaughter;
Nor Nobles si
•
ing, to make
John
no King
French
Lewis
unjustly to the Crown to bring;
No
Edward, Richard,
to l
•
se rule, and life,
Nor no
Lancastrians,
to renew old strife;
No Crook-backed Tyrant, now usurps the Seat,
Whose tearing tusks did wound, and kill, and threat:
No Duke of
York,
nor Earl of
March,
to soil
Their hands in Kindreds blood, whom they did foil:
No need of
Teder,
Roses to unite,
None knows which is the Red, or which the White:
Spain's
braving Fleet a second time is sunk,
France
knows, how of my fury she hath drunk;
By
Edward
third, and
Henry
fifth of fame,
Her Lilies in mine Arms avouch the same.
My Sister
Scotland
hurts me now no more,
Though she hath been injurious heretofore.
What
Holland
is, I am in some suspense,
But trust not much unto his Excellence;
For wants, sure some I feel, but more I fear,
And for the Pestilence, who knows how near;
Famine, and Plague, two sisters of the Sword,
Destruction to a Land doth soon afford;
They're for my punishments ordained on high,
Unless thy tears prevent it speedily.
But yet, I answer not what you demand,
To show the grievance of my troubled Land;
Before I tell the effect, ile show the cause,
Which are my Sins, the breach of sacred Laws;
Idolatry, supplanter of a Nation,
With foolish superstitious adoration;
And liked, and countenanc'd by men of might,
The Gospel is trod down, and hath no right;
Church Offices are sold, and bought, for gain,
That Pope, had hope, to find
Rome
here again;
For Oaths, and Blasphemies did ever ear
From
Beelzebub
himself, such language hear?
What scorning of the Saints of the most high,
What injuries did daily on them lie;
What false reports, what nick-names did they take,
Not for their own, but for their Masters sake;
And thou, poor soul, wast jeered among the rest,
Thy flying for the Truth I made a jest;
For Sabbath-breaking, and for Drunkenness,
Did ever Land profaneness more express?
From crying bloods, yet cleansed am not I,
Martyrs, and others, dying causelessly:
How many Princely heads on blocks laid down,
For naught, but title to a fading Crown?
'Mongst all the cruelties which I have done,
Oh,
Edwards
Babes, and
Clare
•
ce
haplesse Son,
O
Jane,
why didst thou die in flowring prime,
Because of Royal Stem, that was thy crime;
For Bribery, Adultery, for Thefts, and Lyes,
Where is the Nation,
I
cannot paralize;
With Usury, Extortion, and Oppression,
These be the
Hydra's
of my stout transgression;
These be the bitter fountains, heads, and roots,
Whence flowed the source, the sprigs, the boughs, and fruits;
Of more then thou canst hear, or I relate,
That with high hand I still did perpetrate;
For these, were threatened the woeful day,
I mocked the Preachers, put it far away;
The Sermons yet upon record do stand,
That cried, destruction to my wicked Land:
These Prophets mouths (all
•
s the while) was stopped,
Unworthily, some backs whipt, and ears crept;
Their reverent checks, did bear the glorious marks
Of stinking, stigmatizing, Romish Clerks;
Some lost their livings, some in prison pent,
Some grossly fin'd, from friends to exile went:
Their silent tongues to heaven did vengeance cry,
Who heard their cause, and wrongs judged righteously,
And will repay it sevenfold in my lap,
This is fore-runner of my after clap,
Not took I warning by my neighbors falls,
I saw sad
Germany's
dismantled walls.
I saw her people famished, Nobles slain,
Her fruitful land, a barren heath remain.
I saw (unmov'd) her Armies foiled and fled,
Wives forced, babes tossed, her houses calcined,
I saw strong
Rochelle
yielding to her foe,
Thousands of starved Christi ns there also.
I saw poor
Ireland
bleeding out her last,
Such cruelty as all reports have past.
My heart obdurate, stood not yet agast.
Now sip I of that cup, and just 't may be,
The bottom dregs reserved are for me.
New England.
To all you've said, sad mother, I assent
Your fearful sins, great cause there's to lament,
My guilty hands (in part) hold up with you,
A sharer in your punishment's my due,
But all you say, amounts to this effect,
Not what you feel, but what you do expect.
Pray in plain terms, what is your present grief,
Then let's join heads, and hands for your relief.
Old England.
Well, to the matter then, there's grown of late,
'Twixt King and Peers a question of state,
Which is the chief, the law, or else the King,
One saith its he, the other no such thing.
My better part in Court of Parliament,
To ease my groaning land show their intent,
To crush the proud, and right to each man deal.
To help the Church, and stay the Common-Weal,
So many obstacles comes in their way,
As puts me to a stand what I should say,
Old customs, new Prerogatives stood on,
Had they not held law fast, all had been gone,
Which by their prudence stood them in such stead,
They took high
Strafford
lower by the head,
And to their
Laud
beit spoke, they held in the' Tower,
All
England's
Metropolitan that hour,
This done, an Act they would have passed fain,
No prelate should his Bishopric retain;
Here tugg'd they hard indeed, for all men saw,
This must be done by Gospel, not by law.
Next the
Militia
they urged sore,
This was denied, I need not say wherefore.
The King displeased, at
York
himself absents,
They humbly beg return, show their intents,
The writing, printing, posting to and fro,
Shows all was done, I will therefore let it go.
But now
I
come to speak of my disaster,
Contention's grown 'twixt Subjects and their Master:
They worded it so long, they fell to blows,
That thousands lay on heaps, here bleeds my woes.
I that no wars, so many years have known,
Am now destroyed, and slaughtered by mine own,
But could the field alone this cause decide,
One battle, two or three
I
might abide,
But these may be beginnings of more woe,
Who knows, the worst, the best may overthrow;
Religion, Gospel, here lies at the stake,
Pray now dear child, for sacred
Zion's
sake,
Oh pity me, in this sad perturbation,
My plundered Towns, my houses devastation,
My ravished virgins, and my young men slain,
My wealthy trading fallen, my dearth of grain,
The seed time's come, but Ploughman hath no hope,
Because he knows not, who shall inn his crop:
The poor they want their pay, their children bread,
Their woeful mother's tears unpitied.
If any pity in thy heart remain,
Or any childlike love thou dost retain,
For my relief now use thy utmost skill,
And recompense me good, for all my ill.
New England.
Dear mother cease complaints, and wipe your eyes,
Shake off your dust, cheer up, and now arise,
You are my mother, nurse, I once your flesh,
Your sunken bowels gladly would refresh:
Your griefs I pity much, but should do wrong,
To weep for that we both have prayed for long,
To see these latter days of hoped for good,
That Right may have its right, thoughit be with blood;
After dark Popery the day did clear,
But now the Sun in's brightness shall appear,
Blest be the Nobles of thy Noble Land,
With (ventured lives) for truths defense that stand,
Blest be thy Commons, who for Common good,
And thine infringed Laws have boldly stood.
Blest be thy Counties which do aid thee still
With hearts and states, to testify their will.
Blest be thy Preachers, who do cheer thee on,
O cry: the sword of God, and
Gidem:
And shall I not on those wish
Mero
's curse,
That help thee not with prayers, arms, and purse,
And for myself, let miseries abound,
If mindlesse of thy state I ere be found.
These are the days, the Churches foes to crush,
To root out Prelates, head, tail, branch, and rush.
Let's bring
Baals
vestments out, to make a fire,
Their Myters, Surplices, and all their tire,
Copes, Rochets, Crossiers, and such trash,
And let their names consume, but let the flash
Light Christendom, and all the world to see,
We hate
Rome's
Whore, with all her trumpery.
Go on brave
Essex,
show whose son thou art,
Not false to King, nor Country in thy heart,
But those that hurt his people and his Crown,
By force expel, destroy, and tread them down:
Let Gaoles be filled with th'remnant of that pack,
And sturdy
Tyburn
loaded till it crack,
And ye brave Nobles, chase away all fear,
And to this blessed Cause closely adhere
O mother, can you weep, and have such Peers.
When they are gone, then drown yourself in tears.
If now you weep so much, that then no more,
The briny Ocean will o'rflow your shore,
These, these, are they (
I
trust) with
Charles
our King,
Out of all mists, such glorious days will bring,
That dazzled eyes beholding much shall wonder
At that thy settled Peace, thy wealth and splendor,
Thy Church and Weal, established in such manner,
That all shall joy that thou display'dst thy banner,
And discipline erected, so I trust,
That nursing Kings, shall come and lick thy dust:
Then Justice shall in all thy Courts take place,
Without respect of persons, or of case,
Then bribes shall cease, and suits shall not stick long,
Patience, and purse of Clients for to wrong:
Then High Commissions shall fall to decay,
And Pursevants and Catchpoles want their pay,
So shall thy happy Nation ever flourish,
When truth and righteousness they thus shall nourish.
When thus in Peace: thine Armies brave send out,
To sack proud
Rome,
and all her vassals rout:
There let thy name, thy fame, thy valor shine,
As did thine Ancestors in
Palestine,
And let her spo
•
ls, full pay, with int'rest be,
Of what unjustly once she poll'd from thee,
Of all the woes thou canst let her be sped,
Execute toth' full the vengeance threatened.
Bring forth the beast that ruled the world with's beck,
And tear his flesh, and set your feet on's neck,
And make his filthy den so desolate,
To th' 'stonishment of all that knew his state.
This done, with brandish'd swords, to
Turkey
go,
(For then what isit, but English blades dare do)
And lay her wast, for so's the sacred doom;
And do to
Gog,
as thou hast done to
Rome.
Oh
Abraham's
seed lift up your heads on high.
For sure the day of your redemption's nigh;
The scales shall fall from your long blinded eyes,
And him you shall adore, who now despise,
Then fullness of the Nations in shall flow,
And Jew and Gentile, to one worship go,
Then follows days of happiness and rest,
Whose lot doth fall to live therein is blest:
No Canaanite shall then be found ith' land,
And holiness, on horses bells shall stand,
If this make way thereto, then sigh no more,
But if at all, thou didst not seeit before.
Farewell dear mother, Parliament, prevail,
And in a while you will tell another tale.
An Elegy upon that Honorable and renowned Knight, Sir Philip Sidney, who was untimely slain at the Seige of Zutphon, Anno 1586.
By A. B. in the year, 1638.
WHen
England
did enjoy her Halsion days,
Her noble
Sidney
wore the Crown of Bayes;
No less an Honor to our
British
Land,
Then she that swayed the Scepter with her hand:
Mars
and
Minerva
did in one agree,
Of Arms, and Arts, thou shouldest a pattern be.
Calliope
with
Terpsecher
did sing,
Of Poesie, and of Music thou wert King;
Thy Rhethorick it struck
Polimnia
dead,
Thine Eloquence made
Mercury
wax red;
Thy Logic from
Euterpe
won the Crown,
More worth was thine, then
Clio
could set down.
Thalia,
and
Melpomene,
say th' truth,
(Witness
Arcadia,
pen'd in his youth)
Are not his Tragic Comedies so acted,
As if your nine-fold wit had been compacted;
To show the woe ld, they never saw before,
That this one Volumne should exhaust your store.
I praise thee not for this, it is unfit,
This was thy shame, O miracle of wit:
Yet doth thy shame (with all) purchase renown,
What do thy virtues then? Oh, honors crown!
In all records, thy Name I ever see,
Put with an Epithet of dignity;
Which shows, thy worth was great, thine honor such,
The love thy Country ought thee, was as much.
Let then, none dis-allow of these my strains,
Which have the self-same blood yet in my veins;
Who honors thee for what was honorable,
But leaves the rest, as most unprofitable:
Thy wiser days, condemned thy witty works,
Who knows the Spels that in thy Rethroick lurks?
But some infatuate fools soon caught therein,
Found
Cupids
Dam, had never such a Gin;
Which makes severer eyes but scorn thy Story,
And mode
•
Maids, and Wives, blush at thy glory;
Yet, he's a beetle head, that cannot descry
A world of treasure, in that rubbish lie;
And doth thyself, thy work, and honor wrong,
(O brave Refiner of our
B
•
iuish
Tongue;)
That sees not learning, valor, and morality,
Justice, friendship, and kind hospitality;
Yea, and Divinity within thy Book,
Such were prejudicate, and did not look:
But to say truth, thy worth I shall but stain,
Thy fame, and praise, is far beyond my strain;
Yet great
Augustus
was content (we know)
To be saluted by a silly Crow;
Then let such Crowes as I, thy praises sing,
A Crow's a Crow, and
Caesar
is a King.
O brave
Achilles,
I wish some
Homer
would
Engrave on Marble, in characters of Gold,
What famous feats thou didst, on
Flanders
coast,
Of which, this day, fair
Belgium
doth boast.
O
Zutphon, Zutphon,
that most fatal City,
Made famous by thy fall, much more's the pity;
Ah, in his blooming prime, death plucked this Rose,
E're he was ripe; his thread cut
Atropos.
Thus man is borne to die, and dead is he,
Brave
Hector
by the walls of
Troy,
we see:
Oh, who was near thee, but did sore repine;
He rescued not with life, that life of thine,
But yet impartial Death this Boone did give,
Though
Sidney
died, his valiant name should live;
And live it doth, in spite of death, through fame,
Thus being over-come, he over-came.
Where is that envious tongue, but can afford,
Of this our noble
Scipio
some good word?
Noble
Bartas,
this to thy praise adds more,
In sad, sweet verse, thou didst his death deplore;
Illustrious
Stella,
thou didst thine full well,
If thine aspect was mild to
Astrophell;
I fear thou wert a Commet, did portend
Such prince as he, his race should shortly end:
If such Stars as these, sad presages be,
I wish no more such Blazers we may see;
But thou art gone, such Meteors never last,
And as thy beauty, so thy name would wast,
But that it is record by
Philip's
hand,
That such an omen once was in our land,
O Princely
Philip,
rather
Alexander,
Who wert of honors band, the chief Commander.
How could that
Stella,
so confine thy will?
To wait till she, her influence distill,
I rather judged thee of his mind that wept,
To be within the bounds of one world kept,
But
Omphala,
set
Hercules
to spin,
And
Mars
himself was ta'n by
Venus
gin;
Then wonder less, if warlike
Philip
yield,
When such a
Hero
shoots him out o'th' field,
Yet this preeminence thou hast above,
That thine was true, but theirs adult'rate love.
Fain would I show, how thou fame's path didst tread,
But now into such Lab'rinths am I led
With end less turns, the way I find not out,
For to persist, my muse is more in doubt:
Calls me ambitious fool, that durst aspire,
Enough for me to look, and so admire.
And makes me now with
Sylvester
confess,
But
Sydney's
Muse, can sing his worthiness.
Too late my error see, that durst presume
To fix my faltring lines upon his tomb:
Which are in worth, as far short of his due,
As
Vulcan
is, of
Venus
native hue.
Goodwill, did make my head-long pen to run,
Like unwise
Phaeton
his ill guided son,
Till taught to's cost, for his too hasty hand,
He left that charge by
Phoebus
to be man'd:
So proudly foolish I, with
Phaeton
strive,
Fame's flaming Chariot for to drive.
Till terror-struck for my too weighty charge.
I leaveit in brief,
Apollo
doit at large.
Apollo
laughed to patch up what's begun,
He bad me drive, and he would hold the Sun,
Better my hap, then was his darlings fate,
For dear regard he had of
Sydney's
state,
Who in his Deity, had so deep share,
That those that name his fame, he needs must spare,
He Promis'd much, but th' muses had no will,
To give to their detractor any quill.
With high disdain, they said they gave no more,
Since
Sydney
had exhausted all their store,
That this contempt it did the more perplex,
In being done by one of their own sex;
They took from me, the scribbling pen I had,
I to be eased of such a task was glad.
For to revenge his wrong, themselves engage,
And drave me from
Parnassus
in a rage,
Not because, sweet
Sydney's
fame was not dear,
But I had blemish'd theirs, to make 't appear:
I pensive for my fault, sat down, and then,
Errata,
through their leave threw me my pen,
For to conclude my poem two lines they deign,
Which writ, she bad returnit to them again.
So
Sydney's
fame, I leave to
England's
Rolls,
His bones do lie interred in stately
Paul's.
His Epitaph.
Here lies intomb'd in fame, under this stone,
Philip
and
Alexander
both in one.
Heir to the Muses, the Son of
Mars
in truth,
Learning, valor, beauty, all in virtuous youth:
His praise is much, this shall suffice my pen,
That
Sidney
died the quintessence of men.
In honor of Du Bartas. 1641.
A. B.
AMongst the happy wits this Age hath shown,
Great, dear, sweet
Bartas,
thou art marchlesse known;
My ravished eyes, and heart, with faltering tongue,
In humble wise have vowed their service long;
But knowing th' task so great, and strength but small,
Gave over the work, before begun withal:
My dazzled sight of late, review'd thy lines,
Where Art, and more then Art in Nature shines;
Reflection from their beaming altitude,
Did thaw my frozen hearts ingratitude;
Which Rayes, datting upon some richer ground,
Had caused flowers, and fruits, soon to abound,
But barren I, my Day sey here do bring,
A homely flower in this my latter spring:
If Summer, or my Au
•
umne age, do yield
••
ewers, sruits, in garden, orchard, or in sield;
They shall be consecrated in my Verse,
And prostrate off'red at great
Bartas
Herse.
My Muse unto a Child, I fitly may compare,
Who sees the riches of some famous Fayre;
He feeds his eyes, but understanding lacks,
To comprehend the worth of all those knacks;
The glittering Plate, and Jewels, he admires,
The Hats, and Fans, the Plumes, and Ladies tires,
And thousand times his mazed mind doth wish
Some part, at least, of that brave wealth was his;
But seeing empty wishes naught obtain,
At night turns to his Mothers cor again,
And tells her tales; (his full heart over-glad)
Of all the glorious sights his eyes have had:
But finds too soon his want of Eloquence,
The silly Pratler speaks no word of sense;
And seeing utterance fail his great desires,
Sits down in filence, deeply he admires:
Thus weak brained
I,
reading thy lofty style,
Thy profound Learning; viewing other while
Thy Art, in Natural Philosophy:
Thy Saint-like mind in grave Divinity,
Thy piercing skill in high Astronomy,
And curious in-sight in Anatomy;
Thy Phisick, Music, and State policy,
Valour in War, in Peace good Husbandry.
Sure liberal Nature, did with Art not small,
In all the Arts make thee most liberal;
A thousand thousand times my senseless Sences,
Movelesse, stand charmed by thy sweet influences,
More senseless then the Stones to
Amphions
Lute,
Mine eyes are sightlesse, and my tongue is mute;
My full astonished heart doth pant to break,
Through grief it wants a faculty to speak,
Vollies of praises could I echo then,
Had I an Angels voice, or
Barta
's pen,
But wishes cannot accomplish my de sire,
Pardon, if I adore, when I admire.
O
France,
in him thou didst more glory gain,
Then in thy
Pippin, M
•
rtell, Charlemain.
Then in Saint
Lewis,
or thy last
Henry
great,
Who tamed his foes, in blood, in skarres and sweat,
Thy fame is spread as far, I dare be bold,
In all the Zones, the temp'rate, hot and cold,
Their trophies were but heaps of wounded slain,
Thine the quintessence of an Heroic brain.
The Oaken garland ought to deck their brows,
Immortal bayes, all men to thee allows.
Who in thy triumphs (never won by wrongs)
Leadst millions chaind by eyes, by ears, by tongues,
Oft have I wondered at the hand of heaven,
In giving one, what would have served seven.
If ere this golden gift was show
•
'd on anv,
Thy double portion would have served many.
Unto each man his riches are assigned,
Of names, of state, of body, or of mind,
Thou hast thy part of all, but of the last,
Oh pregnant brain, Oh comprehension vast:
Thy haughty style, and rapted wit sublime,
All ages wondering at, shall never clime.
Thy sacred works are not for imitation,
But monuments for future admiration:
Thus
Bartas
fame shall last while stars do sland,
And whilst there's air, or fire, or sea or land.
But lest my ignorance should do thee wrong,
To celebrate thy merits in my Song,
I will leave thy praise, to those shall do thee right,
Good will, not skill, did cause me bring my mite.
His Epitaph.
HEre lies the pearl of
France, Parnassus
glory,
The world rejoiced at his birth, at his death was sorry;
Art and Nature join'd, by heavens high decree,
Now showed what once they ought, Humanity,
And Natures Law; had it been revocable,
To rescue him from death, Art had been able:
But Nature vanquished Art, so
Bartas
died,
But Fame, out-living both, he is revived.
In honor of that High and Mighty Princess, Queen ELIZABETH, of most happy memory.
The Proem.
ALthough great Queen, thou now in silence lie,
Yet thy loud Herald Fame, doth to the sky
Thy wondrous worth proclaim, in every clime,
And so has vowed, whilst there is world, or time;
So great's thy glory, and thine excellence,
The sound thereof raps every human sense;
That men account it no impiety,
To say, thou wert a fleshly Deity:
Thousands bring off'rings, (though out of date)
Thy world of honors to accumulate,
Mongst hundred Hecatombs of roaring Verse,
'Mine bleating stands before thy royal Herse:
Thou never didst, nor canst thou now disdain,
T' accept the tribute of a loyal Brain;
Thy clemency did yerst esteem as much
The acclamations of the poor, as rich;
Which makes me deem, my rudeness is no wrong,
Though I resound thy greatness 'mongst the throng.
The Poem.
NO
Phoenix
Pen, nor
Spencers
Poetry,
No
Speeds,
nor
Chamdens
learned History;
Eliza's
works, wars, praise, can e're compact,
The World's the Theater where she did act;
No memories, nor volumes can contain,
The nine
Olimp'ades
of her happy reign;
Who was so good, so just, so learned, so wise,
From all the Kings on earth she won the prize;
Nor say I more then duly is her due,
Millions will restifie that th
•
s is true;
She hath wiped off th' aspersion of her Sex,
That women wisdom lack to play the R
•
x;
Spain's
Monarch sa's not so; nor yet his H
••
st,
She taught them better manners to their cost.
The
Salique
Law had not in force now been,
If
France
had ever hoped for such a Queen;
But can you Doctors now this point dispute,
She's argument enough to make you mute;
Since first the Sun did run, his never
•
unn'd race,
And earth had twice a year, a new old face:
Sin
•
e time was time, and man unmanly man,
Come show me such a Phoenix if you can;
Was ever people better ruled then hers?
Was ever Land more happy, freed from stirs?
Did ever wealth in
England
so abound?
Her Victories in foreign Coasts resound?
Ships more invincible then
Spain's,
her foe
She ract, she sacked, she sunk his Armadoe;
Her stately Troops advanced to
Lisbons
wall,
Don Anthony
in's right for to install;
She frankly helped
Franks
(brave) distressed King,
The States united now her fame do sing;
She their Protectrix was, they well do know,
Unto our dread Virago, what they owe:
Her Nobles sacrisic'd their noble blood,
Nor men, nor coin she spa
•
'd, to do them good;
The rude untamed
Irish
she did quell,
And
Tiron
bound, before her picture fell.
Had ever Prince such Counselors as she?
Her self
Minerva,
caused them so to be;
Such Soldiers, and such Captains never seen,
As were the subjects of our
(Pallas)
Queen:
Her Sea-men through all straights the world did round,
Terra incognitae
might know her sound;
Her
Drake
came laded home with
Spanish
gold,
Her
Essex
took
Cades,
their
Herculean
hold:
But time would fail me, so my wit would to,
To tell of half she did, or she could do;
Semiramis
to her is but obscure,
More infamy then fame she did procure;
She placed her glory but on
Babels
walls,
Worlds wonder for a time, but yet it falls;
Feirce
Tomris (Cirus
Heads-man,
Sythians
Queen)
Had put her Harnesse off, had she but seen
Our
Amazon
•
' th' Camp at
Tilberry:
(Judging all valor, and all Majesty)
Within that Princesse to have residence,
And prostrate yielded to her Excellence:
Dido
first Foundresse of proud
Carthage
walls,
(Who living consummates her Funerals)
A great
Eliza,
but compared with ours,
How vanisheth her glory, wealth, and powers;
Proud profuse
Cleopalra,
whose wrong name,
Instead of glory proved her Countries shame:
Of her what worth in Story's to be seen,
But that she was a rich
Egyptian
Queen;
Zenobia,
potent Empresse of the East,
And of all these without compare the best;
(Whom none but great
Au
•
clius
could quell)
Yet for our Queen is no sit parallel:
She was a Phoenix Queen, so shall she be,
Her ashes not revived more Phoenix she;
Her personal perfections, who would tell,
Must dip his Pen in the' Heliconian Well;
Which I may not, my pride doth but aspire,
To read what others write, and then admire.
Now say, have women worth, or have they none?
Or had they some, but with our Queen ist gone?
Nay Masculines, you have thus tax'd us long,
But she though dead, will vindicate our wrong.
Let such, as say our sex is void of reason,
Know 'tis a slander now, but once was treason.
But happy
England,
which had such a Queen,
O happy, happy, had those days still been,
But happiness, lies in a higher sphere,
Then wonder not,
Eliza
moves not here.
Full fraught with honor, riches, and with days:
She set, she set, like
Titan
in his rays,
No more shall rise or set such glorious Sun,
Untill the heavens great revolution:
If then new things, their old form must retain,
Eliza
shall rule
Albian
once again.
Her Epitaph.
Here sleeps THE Queen, this is the reyall bed
O'th' Damask Rose, sprung from the white and red,
Whose sweet perfume fills the all-filling air,
This Rose is withered, once so lovely fair,
On neither tree did grow such Rose before,
The greater was our gain, our loss the more.
Another.
Here lies the pride of Queens, pattern of Kings,
So blaze it fame, here's feathers for thy wings,
Here lies the envy'd, yet unparralell'd Prince,
Whose living virtues speak (though dead long since)
If many worlds, as that fantastic framed,
In everyone, be ber great glory famed.
David's Lamentation for Saul, and Jonathan, 2 Sam. 1.19.
ALas, slain is the head of
Israel,
Illustrious
Saul,
whose beauty did excel
Upon thy places, mountan'ous and high,
How did the mighty fall, and falling die?
In
Gath,
let not this thing be spoken on,
Nor published in streets of
Askelon,
Lest Daughters of the
Philistines
rejoice,
Lest the uncircumcis'd lift up their voice:
O!
Gilbo
Mounts, let never pearled dew,
Nor fruitful showers your barren tops bestrew,
Nor fields of offerings e're on you grow,
Nor any pleasant thing e're may you show;
For the mighty ones did soon decay,
The Shield of
Saul
was vilely cast away;
There had his dignity so fore a foil,
As if his head never felt the sacred Oil:
Sometimes from crimson blood of gastly slain,
The bow of
Jonathan
never turned in vain,
Nor from the far, and spoils, of mighty men,
Did
Saul
with bloodlesse Sword turn back agen:
Pleasant and lovely were they both in life,
And in their deaths was found no parting strife;
Swifter then swiftest Eagles, so were they,
Stronger then Lions, ramping for their prey.
O
Israel's
Dames, over-flow your beauteous eyes,
For valiant
Saul,
who on Mount
Gilbo
lies;
Who clothed you in clothe of richest die,
And choice delights, full of variety.
On your array put ornaments of gold,
Which made you yet more beauteous to behold.
O! how in battle did the mighty fall,
In midst of strength not succoured at all:
O! lovely
Jonathan,
how wert thou slain,
In places high, full low thou dost remain;
Distrest I am, for thee, dear
Jonathan,
Thy love was wonderful, passing a man;
Exceeding all the Love that's Feminine,
So pleasant hast thou been, dear brother mine:
How are the mighty fallen into decay,
And war-like weapons perished away.
Of the vanity of all worldly creatures.
AS he said vanity, so vain say I,
O vanity, O vain all under sky,
Where is the man can say, lo, I have found
On brittle earth, a consolation sound?
What is 't in honor, to be set on high?
No, they like beasts, and sons of men shall die,
And whilst they live, how oft doth turn their State?
He's now a slave, that was a Prince of late.
What isit in wealth, great treasures for to gain?
No, that's but labor anxious, care and pain.
He heaps up riches, and he heaps up sorrow,
Its his today, but who 's his heir tomorrow?
What then? content in pleasures canst thou find?
More vain then all, that's but to grasp the wind.
The sensual senses for a time they please,
Mean while the conscience rage, who shall appease?
What isit in beauty? no, that's but a snare,
They'r foul enough today, that once was fair,
What, Isit in flowring youth, or manly age?
The first is prone to vice, the last to rage.
Where is it then? in wisdom, learning, arts?
Sure if on earth, it must be in those parts;
Yet these, the wisest man of men did find,
But vanity, vexation of the mind,
And he that knows the most doth still bemoan,
He knows not all, that here is to be known,
What is it then? to do as Stoics tell,
Nor laugh, nor weep, let things go ill or well▪
Such stoicks are but stocks, such teaching vain:
While man is man, he shall have ease or pain.
If not in honor, beauty, age, nor treasure,
Nor yet in learning, wisdom, youth nor pleasure?
Where shall I climb, sound, seek, search or find,
That
summum Bonum
which may stay my mind?
There is a path, no vultures eye hath seen.
Where lions fierce, nor lions whelps hath been,
Which leads unto that living Crystal fount,
Who drinks thereof, the world doth naught account.
The depth, and sea, hath said its not in me,
With pearl and gold it shall not valued be:
For
Saphyre, Onix, Topas,
who will change,
Its hid from eyes of men, they count it strange,
Death and destruction, the fame hath heard,
But where, and what it is, from heaven's declared,
It brings to honor, which shall not decay,
It steeres with wealth, which time cannot wear away.
It yieldeth pleasures, fair beyond conceit,
And truly beautifies without deceit.
Nor strength nor wisdom, nor fresh youth shall fade,
Nor death shall see, but are immortal made,
This pearl of price, this tree of life, this spring,
Who is possessed of, shall reign a King.
Nor change of state, nor cares shall ever see,
But wear his Crown unto eternity,
This satiat
•
s the soul, this stays the mind,
The rest's but vanity, and vain we find.
FINIS.