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The real object must command

| Those smallest things of Nature let me know, Each judgment of his eye and motion of his band. 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 froin 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 meteor, show. But life did nerer 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 : To fathom the vast depths of Nature's sea.

None e'er, but Hercules and you, would be The work he did we ought t'admire;

At five years age worthy a history :
And were unjust if we should more require

And ne'er did Fortune better yet
From his few years, divided 'twixt th' excess Th’ historian to the story fit :
Of low afiction and high happiness :

As you from all old errours free
For who on things remote can fix his sight, | And purge the body of Philosophy;
That's always in a triumph or a fight?

So from all modern follies he From you, great champions! we expect to get il 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,

UPON 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 DEPIFORD, ESQUIRE.
No; but those few who took the waters up,
And made of their laborious hands the cup.

| 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. Already your victorious lights appear;

Drake and his ship could not have wish'd from Nex scenes of Hearen already we espy,

Fate
And crowds of golden worlds on high.

A more blest station, or more blest estate ;
Which from the spacious plains of earth and seal for lo! a seat of endless rest is given
Could never yet discover'd be,

To her in Oxford, and to him in Heaven.
By sailors' or Chaldeans' watchful eye.
Nature's great works no distance can obscure,
No sanallness her near objects can secure;

PROLOGUE
Y' have taught the curious sight to press
Into the privatest recess

TO THE CUTTER OF COLMAN STREET.
Of her imperceptible littleness !

As, when the midland sea is no where clear Y have learn'd to read her smallest hand,

From dreadful feets of Tunis and ArgierAnd well begun her deepest sense to understand!

Which coast about, to all they meet with foes, Mischief and true dishonour fall on those

And upon which nought can be got but blowsWho would to laughter or to scorn expose

The merchant-ships so much their passage doubt,' So virtuous and so noble a design,

That, though full freighted, none dares venture So human for its use, for knowledge so divine.

out, The things which these proud mendespise, and call And trade decays, and scarcity ensues : Impertinent, and vain, and small,

Just so the timorous wits of late refuse,

er smallest hand

! | Which coast aboubought can be go

Though laded, to put forth upon the stage, | 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 coinę 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,
Nor do their cheap, though mortal, thunder spare; / Let this for once pass free ; let it suffice
They shoot, alas! with wind-guns charg'd with air. | That we, your sovereign power here to avow,
But yet, gentlemen-critics of Argier,

Thus huinbly, ere we pass, strike sail to you.
For your own interest I'd advise ve here,
To let this little forlorn-hope go by

ADDED AT court.
Safe and untouch'd. “ That must not be'' (you'll | Stay, gentlemen : what I have said was all
cry.)

But forc'd submission, which I now recall. If ye be wise, it must; I'll tell you why.

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; I | 'Tis his dominion and domain: as he And those are all your own, if you spare this. 'I Pleases, 'tis either shut to us, or free. Some are but new triinm'd up, others quite new; 1 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.

THE MISTRESS,

OR
SEVERAL COPIES OF LOVE-VERSES.
Hæret laleri lethalis arundo.

Virg.

THE REQUEST

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 dues 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 beasis, Diana, wound! Come at last and strike, for shame,

Thou dost the birds thy sub ects make; If thou art any thing besides a name;

Thy nimble feathers do their wings o'ertake: Ill think thee else no god to be,

Thou all the spring their songs dost hear; Put poets 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 why,

The no great privilege of captivity? That happy tbing, a lover, giown,

I bey or challenge here thy bow; I shall not see with others' eyes, scarce with Either thy pity to nie, or else thine anger, show. mine own.

Come! or I'll teach the world to scorn that bow: Į he be coy, and scorn my noble fire ;

I'll teach them thousand wholesome arts Jf 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. And make a mistress of my own desire.

Music of sighs thou shalt not hear, Ilames their most vigorous lieat do hold,

Nor drink one wretched lover's tasteful tear : And pui est light, if compass'd round with cold: Nay, unless soon thou woundest me,

Su, when sharp Winter means most harm, My ve ses shall not only wound, but murder, thee, The springing plants are by the snow itself kept warm.

THE THRALDOM. Iut do not touch my heart, and so be gone; | I came, I saw, and was undone ; Sirike deep thy burning arrows in !

Lightning did through my bones and marrow run; : Lukewarmness 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 prove My head turn'd round, nor could it beas All the extremities of mighty Love.

The poison that was enter'd there.

8o a destroying-angel's breath

Fond lover! you a mistress have Blows in the plague, and with it hasty death: Of her that's but your fellow-slave, Such was the pain, did so begin,

What should those poets mean of old, To the poor wretch, when Legion enter'd in. '

That made their god to woo in gold? Forgive me, God!" I cry'd; for I

Of all men, sure, they had nu cause Flatter'd myself I was to die.

To bind Love to such costly laws; But quickly to my cost I found,

And yet I scarcely blame them now; Twas cruel Love, not Death, had made the wound; | For who, alas! would not allow, Death a more generous rage does use ;

That women should such gifts receive,
Quarter to all he conquers does refuse :

Could they, as he, be what they give.
Whilst Love with barbarous mercy saves If thou, my dear, thyself shouldst prize,
The vanquish'd lives, to make them slaves. Alas! what value would suffice?
I am thy slave then; let me know,

The Spaniard could not do 't, though he
Hard master! the great task I have to do:

Should to both Indies jointure thee. Who pride and scorn do undergo,

Thy beauties therefore wrong will take, In tempests and rough seas thy galleys row;

If thou shouldst any bargain make; They pant, and groan, and sigh ; but find To give all, will befit thee well; Their sighs increase the angry wind.

But not at under-rates to sell. Like an Egyptian tyrant, some

Bestow thy beauty then on me, Thou weariest out in building but a tomb;

Freely, as Nature gave 't to thee; Others, with sad and tedious art,

'Tis an exploded popish thought Labour i'th' quarries of a stony heart:

To think that Heaven may be bought. Of all the works thou dost assign,

Prayers, hymns, and praises, are the way, To all the several slaves of thine,

And those my thankful Muse shall pay: , Employ me, mighty Love! to dig the mine. Thy body, in my verse enshrin'd,

Shall grow immortal as thy mind.

I'll fix thy title next in fame
THE GIVEN LOVE.

To Sacharissa's well-sung name.

So faithfully will I declare I'll on; for what should hinder me

What all thy wondrous beauties are, From loving and enjoying thee?

That when, at the last great assize, Thou canst not those exceptions make,

All women shall together rise, Which vulgar, sordid mortals take,

Men straight shall cast their eyes on thee, That my fate's too mean and low;

And know at first that thou art she. 'Twere pity I should love thee so, If that dull cause could hinder me

THE SPRING. In loving and enjoying thee.

THOUGH you be absent here, I needs must say It does not me a whit displease,

The trees as beauteous are, and flowers as gay, That the rich all honours seize;

As ever they were wont to be ; That you all titles make your own,

Nay, the birds' rural music too Are valiant, learned, wise, alone :

Is as melodious and free, But, if you claim o'er women too

As if they sung to pleasure you : The power which over men ye do;

I sav a rose-bud ope this mom-I'll swear If you alone must lovers be;

The blushing Morning open'd not more fair. For that, sirs, you must pardon me.

llow could it be so fair, and you away? Rather than lose what does so near

How could the trees be beauteous, flowers so gay? Concern my life and being here,

Could they remember but last year, I'll some such crooked ways invent,

How you did them, they you, delight, As you, or your forefathers, went:

The sprouting leaves which saw you here, I'll flatter or oppose the king,

And call'd their fellows to the sight, Turn Puritan, or any thing;

Would, looking round for the same sight in vain, I'll force my mind to arts so new :

Creep back into their silent barks again. Grow rich, and love as well as you.

Where'er you walk'd, trees were as reverend But rather thus let me remain,

made, As man in Paradise did reign;

As when of old gods dwelt in every shade. When perfect love did so agree

Is 't possible they should not know, With innocence and poverty,

What loss of honour they sustain Adam did no jointure give;

That thus they smile and flourish now, Himself was jointure to his Eve:

And still their former pride retain? Untouch'd with avarice yet, or pride,

Dull creatures! 'tis not without cause that she, The rib came freely back this side.

Who fled the god of wit, was made a tree. A curse upon the man who taught

In ancient times, sure, they much wiser were, Women, that love was to be bought;

When they rejoic'd the Thracian verse to hear; Rather doat only on your gold,

In vain did Nature bid them stay, And that with greedy avarice hold;

When Orpheus had his song begun For, if woman too submit

They call’d their wondering roots away, To that, and sell herself furit,

And bude them silent to him run.

How would those learned trees have followid | Oh, po; there's sense in this, and mystery you!

Thou now may'st change thy author's naine, You would have drawn them and their poet too. And to her hand lay noble claim;

For, as she reads, she makes, the words in thee, But who can blame them now? for, since you're

Yet, if tuine own unworthiness gone,

Will still that thou art mine, not her's, confess, They're here the only fair, and shine alone

Consume thyself with fire before her eyes,
You did their natural rights invade;

And so her grace or pity move:
Wherever you did walk or sit,
The thickest boughs could make no shade,

The gods, though beasts they do not love,

Yet like them when they 're burnt in sacrifice. 1 Although the Sun had granted it: The fairest Aowers could please no more, near

you, Than painted flowers, set next to them, could do.

INCONSTANCY. hene'er then you come hither, that shall be

Five years ago (says story) I lov'd you, he time, which this to others is, to me.

For which you call me most inconstant now. The little joys which here are now,

Pardon me, madam, you mistake the man,

For I am not the same that I was then ;
The name of punishments do bear;
When by their sight they let us know

No flesh is now the same 'twas then in me, How we depriv'd of greater are:

And that my mind is chang'd, yourself may see. 'Tis you the best of seasons with you bring;

The same thoughts to retain still, and intents, This is for beasts, and that for men, the Spring.

Were more inconstant far; for accidents
Must of all things most strangely inconstant

prove,

If from one subject they t' another move;
WRITTEN IN

My members then the father members were,

From whence these take their birth which now JUICE OF LEMON.

are here. WHILST what I write I do not see,

If then this body love what th' other did, I dare thus, ev'n to you, write poetry.

'Twere incest; which by Nature is forbid. Ah, foolish Muse! which dost so highaspire,

You might as well this day inconstant name,

Because the weather is not still the same
And know'st her judgment well,
How much it does thy power excel,,

That it was yesterday-or blame the year,
Yet dar'st be read by, thy just doom, the fire.

'Cause the spring flowers, and autumn fruit, does

bear. Alas! thou think'st thyself secure,

The world's a scene of changes; and to be Because thy form is innocent and pure:

Constant, in Nature were inconstancy; Like hypocrites, which seem unspotted here;

For 'twere to break the laws herself has made: But, when they sadly come to die,

Our substances themselves do fleet and fade; And the last fire their truth must try,

The most fix'd being still does move and fly, Scrawlid o'er like thee, and blotted, they appear. Swift as the wings of Time 'tis measur'd by. Go then, but reverently go,

T'imagine then that love should never cease And, since thou needs must sin, confess it too: (Love, which is but the omament of these) Confess 't, and with humility clothe thy shame;

Were quite as senseless, as to wonder why
For thou, who else must burned be

Beauty and colour stays not when we die.
An heretic, if she pardon thee,
May'st, like a martyr, then enjoy the flame.
But, if her wisdom grow severe,

NOT FAIR.
And suffer not her goodness to be there;

'Tis very true, I thought you once as fair If her large mercies cruelly it restrain ;

As women in th' idea are; Be not discourag'd, but require

Whatever here seems beauteous, seem'd to be A more gentle ordeal fire,

But a faint metaphor of thee: And bid her by Love's flames read it again.

But then, methoughts, there something shin'd, Strange power of heat! thou yet dost show

within, Like winter-earth, naked, or cloath'd with snow: Which cast this lustre o'er thy skin; But as, the quickening Sun approaching near, Nor could i chuse but count it the Sun's light, The plants arise up by degrees ;

Which made this cloud appear so bright. A sudden paint adorns the trees,

But, since I knew thy falschood and thy pride, And all kind Nature's characters appear:

And all thy thousand faults beside, So, nothing yet in thee is seen;

A very Moor, methinks, plac'd near to thee, But, when a genial heat warms thee within,

White as his teeth would seem to be. A new-born wood of various lines there grows;

So men (they say) by Hell's delusions led, Here buds an A, and there a B,

Have ta'en a succubus to their bed;

Believe it fair, and themselves happy call,
Here sprouts a V, and there a T,
And all the fourishing letters stand in rows.

Till the cleft foot discovers all :

Then they start from 't, half ghosts themselves Still, silly Paper! thou wilt think,

with fear; That all this might as well be writ with ink:

And devil, as 'tis, it does appear.

So, since against my will I found thee foul, But, like the Persian tyrant, Love within
Deform'd and crooked in thy soul,

Keeps his proud court, and ne'er is seen,
My reason straight did to my senses show,

Oh! take my heart, and by that means you'll That they might be mistaken too :

prove Nay, when the world but knows how false you

Within too stor'd enough of love :
are,

Give me but your's, I'll by that change so
There's not a man will think you fair ;
Thy shape will monstrous in their fancies be,

thrive,

That love in all my parts shall live. 'They'll call their eyes as false as thee.

So powerful is this change, it render can Be what thou wilt, Hate will present thee so

| My outside woman, and your inside man. As Puritans do the pope, and Papists Luther do.

CLAD ALL IN WHITE.
PLATONIC LOVE.

Farrest thing that shines below, .

Why in this robe dost thou appear?
Indeed I must confess,

Would'st thou a white most perfect show,
When souls mix 'tis an happiness;

Thou must at all no garment wear:
But not complete till bodies too combine,'

Thou wilt seem much whiter so,
And closely as our minds together join :
But half of Heaven the souls in glory taste,

Than Winter when 'tis clad with snow.
Till by love in Heaven, at last,

'Tis not the linen shows so fair ; Their bodies too are plac'd.

Her skin shines through, and makes it bright:

So clouds theinselves like suns appear, In thy immortal part,

When the Sun pierces them with light: Man, as well as I, thou art;

So, lilies in a glass enclose,
But something 'tis that differs thee and me;

The glass will seem as white as those.
And we must one even in that difference be.
I thre, both as a man and woman, prize; Thou now one heap of beauty art ;
For a perfect love implies

Nought outwards, or within, is foul :
Love in all capacities.

Condensed beams make every part ;

Thy body's cloathed like thy soul; Can that for true love pass,

Thy soul, which does itself display,
When a fair woman courts her glass?

Like a star plac'd i'th' milky-way.
Something unlike must in Love's likeness be ;
His wonder is. one, and variety :

Such robes the saints departed wear,
For he, whose soul nought but a soul can move, Woven all with light divine;
Does a new Narcissus prove,

Such their exalted bodies are,
And his own image love.

And with such full glory shine: That souls do beauty know,

But they regard not mortals' pain; 'Tis to the bodies' help they owe;

Men pray, I fear, to both in vain. If, when they know 't, they straight abuse that | Yet, seeing thee so gently pure, trust,

My hopes will needs continue still ; And shut the body from't, tis as unjust

Thou would'st not take this garment, sure, As if I brought my dearest friend to see

When thou hadst an intent to kill ! My mistress, and at th' instant he

Of peace and yielding who would doubt, Should steal her quite from me,

When the white flag he sees hung out?

THE CHANGE.

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Love in her sunny eyes does basking play;
Love walks the pleasant mazes of her hair; :
Love does on both her lips for ever stray,
And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there:
In all her outward parts Love's always seen ;

But ok! he never went within.
Within, Love's foes, his greatest foes, abide,

Malice, Inconstancy, and Pride :
So, the Earth's face trees, herbs, and flowers, do

dress,
With other beauties numberless;
But at the centre darkness is, and Hell;
There wicked spirits, and there the damned,

dwell.
With me, alas ! quite contrary it fares;
Darkness and death lie in my weeping eves,
Despair an l paleness in my face appears,
And grief, and fear, Love's greatest enemies;

LEAVING ME, AND THEN LOVING

MANY.
So men, who once hare cast the truth away,
Forsook by God, do strange wild lusts obey';
So the vajn Gentiles, when they left t'adore
One deity, could not stop at thousands more:
Their zeal was senseless straight, and boundless, .

grown;
They worship'd many a beast and many a stone.
Ah, fair apostate! could.t thou think to flee
From truth and goodness, yet keep unity ?
I reign'd alone; and my blest self could call
The universal monarch of her all.
Mine, mine, her fair East-Indies were above,
Where those suns rise that cheer the world of

Love;
Where beauties shine like gems of richest price;
Where coral grows, and every breath is spice:
Mine too her rich West-Indies were below,
Where mines of gold and endless treasures grow.

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