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ON THE DEATH OF
Thou slack'nest all my nerves of industry,
MRS. KATHARINE PHILIPS.
Thy old and constant spite to exercise
Against the gentlest and the fairest sex,
Which still thy depreslations most do vex ?
Where still thy malice most of all Myself a demi-rotary to make.
(Thy malice or thy lust) does on the fairest fall ? Thus, with Sapphira and her husband's fate, And in them most assault the fairest place, (A fault which I, like them, am taught too late) The throne of empress Beauty, ev'n the face? For all that I gave up I nothing gain,
There was enough of that here to assuage, And perish for the part which I retain.
(One would have thought) either thy lust or “Teach me not then, () thou fallacious Mu !!
rage. The court, and better king, t'accuse :
Was 't not enough, when thou, prophane Disease! The heaven under which I live is fair,
Didst on this glorious temple seize ? The fertile soil will a full harvest bear :
Was't not enough, like a wild zealot, there, Thine, thine is all the barrenness; if thou
All the rich outward ornaments to tear, Mak'st me sit still and sing, when I should
Deface the innocent pride of beauteous images ? plough.
Was 't not enough thus rudely to defile, When I but think how many a tedious year
But thou must quite destroy, the goodly pile? Our patient sovereign did attend
And thy unbounded sacrilege commit His long misfortunes' fatal end;
On th’inward holiest holy of her wit ?
Cruel Disease! there thou mistook'st thy power, How cheerfully, and how exempt from fear, On the Great Sovereign’s will he did depend;
No mine of Death can that devour ;
On her embalmed name it will abide
An everlasting pyramid,
wide. be So distant, they may reach at length to me. All ages past record, all countries now, llowever, of all the princes, thou
In various kinds such equal beauties show, Should'st not reproach rewards for being small That ev'n judge Paris would not know or slow;
On whom the golden apple to bestow ;
Women and lovers would appeal from it:
This is the sovereign face.
And some (though these be of a kind that's rare, THE ADVENTURES OF FIVE
So equally renown'd for virtue are,
That it the mother of the gods might pose,
When the best woman for her guide she chose. Take in just wars a rich plate-fleet of Spain,
But if Apollo should design The rude unshapen ingots they reduce
A woman laureat to make, Into a form of beauty and of use;
Without dispute he would Orinda take, On which the conqueror's image now does shine,
Though Sappho and the famous Nine Not his whom it belong'd to in the mine:
Stood by, and did repine. So, in the mild contentions of the Muse,
To be a princess, or a queen, (The war which Peace itself loves and pursues)
Is great; but 'tis a greatness always seen : So have you home to us in triumph brought
The world did never but two women know, This cargazon of Spain with treasures fraught.
Who, one by fraud, th' other by wit, did rise You have not basely gotten it by stealth,
To the two tops of spiritual dignities; Nor by translation borrow'd all its wealth;
One female pope of old, one female poet now. But by a powerful spirit made it your own; of female poets, who had names of old, Metal before, money by you 'tis grown.
Nothing is shown, but only told, 'Tis current now, by your adorning it
And all we hear of them perhaps may be With the fair stamp of your victorious wit. Male-flattery only, and male-poetry. But, though we praise this voyage of your few minutes did their beauty's lightning wastes mind,
The thunder of their voice did longer last, And though ourselves enrich'd by it we find;
But that too soon was past. We're not contented yet, because we know The certain proofs of our Orinda's wit What greater stores at home within it grow. In her own lasting characters are writ, We've seen how well you foreign ores refine; And they will long my praise of them survive, Produce the gold of your own nobler mine:
Though long perhaps, too, that may live. The world shall then our native plenty view, The trade of glory, manag'd by the pen, And fetch materials for their wit from you; Though great it be, and every where is found, They all shall watch the travails of your pen,' Does bring in but small profit to us men; And Spain on you shall make reprisals then, "Tis, by the number of ti.e sharers, drown'd,
Orinda, on' the female coasts of Fame,
And skill in painting, dost bestow, Engrosses all the goods of a poetic name; Upon thy ancient arms, the gaudy heavenly She does no partner with her see;
bow. Does all the business there alone, which we
Swift as light thoughts their empty career run, Are forc'd to carry on by a whole company.
Thy race is finish'd when began; But wit's like a luxuriant vine;
Let a post-angel start with thee, Unless to virtue's prop it join,
And thou the goal of Earth shalt reach as soon as Firm and erect towards Heaven bound;
he. Though it with beauteous leaves and pleasant Thou in the Moon's bright chariot,proud anı gay,
fruit be crown'd, It lies, deform’d and rotting, on the ground.
Dust thy bright wood of stars survey; Now shame and blushes on us all,
And all the year dost with thee bring Who our own sex superior call !
Of thousand flowery lights thine own nocturnal Orinda does our boasting sex out-do,
spring. Not in wit only, but in virtue too :
Thou, Scythian-like, dost round thy lands above She does above our best examples rise,
The Sun's gilt tents for ever move, In hate of vice and scorn of vanities.
And still, as thou in pomp dost go, Never did spirit of the manly make,
The shining pageants of the world attend thy And dip'd all o'er in Learning's sacred lake,
show. A temper more invulnerable take.
Nor amidst all these triumphs dost thou scorn No violent passion could an entrance find
The humble glow-worms to adorn, Into the tender goodness of her mind :
And with those living spangles gild Through walls of stone those furious bullets may (O greatness without pride!) the bushes of the Force their impetuous way;
field. When ber soft breast they hit, powerless and dead they lay!
Night, and her ugly subjects, thon dost fright,
And Sleep, the lazy owl of night; The Fame of Friendship, which so long had told Asham'd, and fearful to appear, Of three or four illustrious names of old,
They screen their horrid shapes with the black Till hoarse and weary with the tale she grew,
hemisphere. Rejoices now t' have got a new, A new and more surprizing story,
With them there hastes, and wildly takes tn' Of fair Lucasia's and Orinda's glory.
alarm, As when a prudent man does once perceive
Of painted dreams a busy swarm : That in some foreign country he must live,
At the first opening of thine eye The language and the manners he does strive
The various clusters break, the antic atoms fls. To understand and practise here,
The guilty serpents, and obscener beasts, That he may come no stranger there :
Creep, conscious, to their secret rests: So well Orinda did herself prepare,
Nature to thee does reverence pay, In this much different clime, for her remove Ill omens and ill sights removes out of thy way. To the glad world of Poetry and Love.
At thy appearance, Grief itself is said
To shake his wings, and rouse his head:
And cloudy Care has often took
A gentle beamy smile, reflected froin thy look.
At thy appearance, Fear itself grow's bold; First-born of Chaos, who so fair didst come
Thy sun-shine melts away his cold. From the old Negro's darksoune womb!
Encourag'd at the sight of thee, Which, when it saw the lovely child, To the cheek colour comes, and firmness to the The melancholy mass put on kind looks and knee. smil'd;
Ev'n Lust, the master of a harden'd face, Thou tide of glory, which no rest dost know,
Blushes, if thou be'st in the place, But ever ebb and ever flow !
To Darkness' curtains he retires; Thou golden shower of a true Jove!
In sympathizing night he rolls his smuky fives. Who does in thee descend, and Heaven to Earth When, goddess ! thou lift'st up thy waken'd make love!
head, Hail, a tive Nature's watchful life and health! Out of the moruing's purple bed, Her joy, her ornament, and wealth!
Thy quite of birds about thee play Hail to thy husband, Heat, and thee! And all the joyful world salutes the rising day. Thou the world's beauteous bride, the lusty The ghosts, and monster-spirits, that did presume bridegroom he!
A body's privilege to assume, Say froin what golden quivers of the sky
Vanish again invisibly,
And bodies gain again their visibility.
All the world's bravery, that delig': s our eyes,
Is but thy several liveries;
Thou the rich dye on them bestow'st, 'Tis, I believe, this archery to show,
Thy nimbie pencil paints this landscape as thou i hat so nich cost in colours thou,
A crimson garment in the rose thou wear'st;
Instead of carrying him to see A crown of studded gold thou bear'st;
The riches which do hoarded for him lie
In Nature's endless treasury,
(His curions but not covetous eye) The violet, Spring's little infant, stands
With painted'scenes and pageants of the brain. Girt in thy purple swaddling-bands
Some few exalted spirits this latter age has On the fair tulip thou dost doat;
shown, Thou cloth’st it in a gay and party-colour'd coat. That labour'd to assert the liberty W.th flame condens'd thou do'st thy jewels fix,
(From guardians who were now usurpers grown) And solid colours in it mix:
Of this old minor still, captiv'd Philosophy; Flora herself envies to see
But 'twas rebellion call'd, to fight Flowers fairer than her own, and durable as she.
For such a long-oppressed right.
Bacon at last, a mighty man, arose, Ah, goddess ! would thou could'st thy hand with
(Whom a wise king, and Nature, chose,
Lord chancellor of both their laws)
And boldly undertook the injur'd pupil's cause.
Authority—which did a body boast, relieve!
Though 'twas but air condens'd, and stalk'd
about, To me the Sun is more delightful far,
Like some old giant's more gigantic ghost,
To terrify the learned rout
of true Reason's light-
By the vain shadows of the dead:
To graves, from whence it rose, the conquer'd And with thy living stream through the close phantom fled. channels slide.
He broke that monstrous god which stood But, where firm bodies thy free course oppose,
In midst of th' orchard, and the whole did claim;
Which with a useless scythe of wood,
And something else not worth a name,
(Both vast for show, yet neither fit
Or to defend, or to beget; lake.
Ridiculous and senselesy terrours !) made
Children and superstitious men afraid.
The orchard's open now, and free,
Come, enter, all that will, must flow.
Behold the ripend fruit, come gather now your
Yet still, mcthinks, we fain would be
Catching at the forbidden tree
We would be like the DeityOf all that human knowledge which has been When truth and falsehood, good and evil, we, Unforfeited by man's rebellious sin,
Without the senses' aid, within ourselves would Though full of years he do appear, (Philosophy, I say, and call it he,
For 'lis God only who can find
All Nature in his mind.
From words, which are but pictures of the
thought, Nor managid or enjoy'd his vast estate. Three or four thousand years, one would have (Though we our thoughts from them perversely
To things, the mind's right object, he it brought: To ripeness and perfection might have brought
Like foolish birds, to painted grapes we flew; A science so well bred and nurst,
He sought and gather'd for our use the true; And of such hopeful parts too at the first:
And, when on heaps the chosen banches lay, But, oh! the guardians and the tutors, then
He prest them wisely the mechanic way, (Some negligent and some ambitious men)
Till all their juice did in one vessel join, Would ne'er cupsent to set him free,
Perment into a nourishment divine, Or his own natural powers to let him see,
The thirsty soul's refreshing wine.
Who to the life an exact piece would make,
Much less content himself to make it like
The natural and living face;
The real object must command
Those smallest things of Nature let me know, Each judgment of his eye and motion of his hand. Rather than all their greatest actions do ! Prom these and all long errours of the way
Whoever would deposed Truth advance In which our wandering predecessors went,
Into the throne usurp'd from it, And, like th' old Hebrews, many years did stray
Must feel at first the blows of Ignorance, In deserts, but of small extent,
And the sharp points of envious Wit. Bacon, like Moses, led us forth at last :
So, when, by various turns of the celestial dance, The barren wilderness he past;
In many thousand years Did on the very border stand
A star, so long unknown, appears, Of the blest Promis'd land;
Though Heaven itself more beauteous by it grow, And from the mountain's top of his exalted wit,
It troubles and alarms the world below, Saw it himself, and show'd us it.
Does to the wise a star, to fools a metcor, show. But life did never to one man allow
With courage and success you the bold work Time to discover worlds, and conquer too;
begin ; Nor can so short a line sufficient be
Your cradle has not idle been :
At five years age worthy a history :
And ne'er did Fortune better yet
As you from all old errours free
So from all modern follies he From you, great champions! we expect to get
Has vindicated Eloquence and Wit. These spacious countries, but discover'd yet ;
His candid style like a clean stream does slide, Countries, where yet, instead of Nature, we
And his bright fancy, all the way, Her images and idols worship'd see :
Does like the sun-shine in it play; These large and wealthy regions to subdue, It does, like Thames, the best of rivers ! glide, Though Learning has whole armies at command, Where the god does not rudely overturn, Quarter'd about in every land,
But gently pour, the crystal urn, A better troop she ne'er together drew :
And with judicious hand does the whole current Methinks, like Gideon's little band,
guide: God with design has pick'd out you,
"T has all the beauties Nature can impart, To do those noble wonders by a few :
And all the comely dress, without the paint, of When the whole host he saw, “They are”' (said
Art. he) "Too many to o'ercome for me :" And now he chooses out his men, Much in the way that he did then ;
THE CHAIR MADE OUT OF SIR Not those many whom he found Idly extended on the ground,
FRANCIS DRAKE'S SHIP, To drink with their dejected head
PRESENTED TO THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY OF OXFORD, The stream, just so as by their mouths it fled :
BY JOHN DAVIS, OF DEPTFORD, ESQUIRE.
To this great ship, which round the globe has
run, Thus you prepard, and in the glorious fight
And match'd in race the chariot of the Sun, Their wondrous pattern too you take;
This Pythagorean ship (for it may claim Their old and empty pitchers first they brake,
Without presumption so deserv'd a name, And with their hands then lifted up the light.
By knowledge once, and transformation now) lo ! sound too the trumpets here!
In her new shape, this sacred port allow.
Drake and his ship could not have wish'd from
Fate And crowds of golden worlds on high,
A more blest station, or more blest estate ; Which from the spacious plains of earth and sea
For lo! a seat of endless rest is given
To her in Oxford, and to him in Heaven.
Into the privatest recess
As, when the midland sea is no where clear
That, though full freighted, none dares venture So human for its use, for knowledge so divine. out, The things which these proud men despise and call And trade decays, and scarcity ensues : Impertinent, and vain, and small,
Just so the timorous wits of late refuse,
TO THE CUTTER OF COLMAN STREET.
Though laded, to put forth upon the
All these, if we miscarry here to-day, Affrighted by the critics of this age.
Will rather till they rot in th' harbour stay ; It is a party numerous, watchful, bold ;
Nay, they will back again, though they were come They can from nought, which sails in sight, with Ev'n to their last safe road, the tyring-room. hold;
Therefore again I say, if you be wise,
Thus huinbly, ere we pass, strike sail to you.
ADDED AT COURT.
But forc'd submission, which I now recall.
Ye're all but pirates now again ; for here There are seven, eight, nine--stay--there are Does the true sovereign of the seas appear, behind
The sovereign of these narrow seas of wit ; Ten plays at least, which wait but for a wind, 'Tis his own Thames; he knows and governs it. And the glad news that we the enemy miss; 'Tis his doininion and domain: as he And those are all your own, if you spare this. Pleases, 'tis either shut to us, or free. Suine are but new triinm'd up. others quite new; Not only, if his passport we obtain, Some by known shipwrights built, and others too We fear no little rovers of the main; By that great author made, whoe'er he be, But, if our Neptune his calm visage show, That styles himself“ Person of Quality.” No wave shall dare to rise or wind to blow.
Th’excess of heat is but a fable;
We know the torrid zone is now found habitable. Pare often wish'd to love ; what shall I do?
Among the woods and forests thou art found, Me still the cruel boy does spare ;
There boars and lions thou dost tame; And I a double task must bear,
Is not my heart a nobler game? First to woo him, and then a mistress too. Let Venus, men; and beasts, Diana, wound! Cie at last and strike, for shame,
Thou dost the birds thy subjects make; If thou art any thing besides a name;
Thy nimble feathers do their wings o'ertake: I'll think thee else no god to be,
Thou all the spring their songs dost hear; Put pocts rather gods, who first created thee, Make me love too, I'll sing to thee all the year! I ask not one in whom all beauties grow;
What service can mute fishes du to thee? Let me but love, whate’er she be,
Yet against thein thy dart prerails, She cannot seem deform'd to me,
Piercing the armour of their scales; And I would have her seem to others so.
And still thy sea-born mother lives i th' sea. Desire takes wings and straight dues fly, Dost thou deny only to me It stays not dully to inquire the uliy.
The no great privilege of captivity? That happy thing, a lover, giown,
I beg or challenge here thy bow; I shall not see with others' eyes, scarce with Either thy pity to me, or else thine anger, show. mine own.
Come! or I'll teach the world to scorn that box: :he be coy, and scorn my noble fire ;
I'll teach them thousand wholesome arts If her chill heart I cannot move ;
Both to resist and cure thy darts, Why I'll enjoy the very love,
More than thy skilful Ovid e'er did know. Avid make a mistress of my own desire.
Music of sighs thou shalt not hear, Flames their most vigorous l;eat do hold, Nor drink one wretched lover's tasteful tear : And puiest light, if compass'd round with cold: Nay, unless soon thou woundest me,
Su, when sharp Winter means most harm, My veises shall not only wound, but murder, thee, The springing plants are by the snow itself kept
THE THRALDOM. Iut do not touch my heart, and so be gone;
I CAME, I saw, and was undone ; Srike deep thy burning arrows in !
Lightning did through my bones and marrow run; : Lukewarinness I account a sin,
A pointed pain pierc'd deep my heart; As great in love as in religion.
A swift cold trembling seiz'd on every part; Come arm'd with flames; for I would prure My head turu'd round, nor could it beas All the extremities of m.ghty Luve.
The poison that was enter'd there.