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Alternately they sway'ı,

TO SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT, And soinetimes Mary was the fair, And sometimes Anne the crown did wear,

UPON HIS TWO FIRST BOOKS OF CONDIBERT, And sometimes both I ubey'd.


MeThinks heroic poesy till now,
And did rigorous laws impose ;

Like some fantastic fairy-land did show;
A mighty tyrant she !

Gods, devils, nymphs, witches, and giants' race, Long, alas! should I have been

And all but man, in man's chief work had place. Under that iron-scepter'd queen,

Thou, like some worthy knight with sacred arms, Had not Rebecca set me free.

Dost drive the monsters thence, and end the charms,

Instead of those dost men and manners plant, When fair Rebecca set me free, 'Twas then a golden time with me:

The things which that rich soil did chiefly want. But soon those pleasures fled;

Yet ev'n thy mortals do their gods excel, For the gracious princess dy'd,

Taught by thy Muse to fight and love so well. In her youth and beauty's pride,

By fatal hands whilst present empires fall,

Thine from the grave past monarchies recall; And Judith reigned in her stead.

So much more thanks from human-kind does One month, three days, and half an hour,

Judith held the sovereign power:

The poet's fury than the zealot's spirit:
Wondrous beautiful her face !

And from the grave thou mak'st this empire rise, But so weak and small her wit,

Not like some dreadful ghost, t'affright our eyes, That she to govern was unfit,

But with more lustre and triumphant state,
And so Susanna took her place.

Than when it crown'd at proud Verona sate.
But when Isabella came,

So will our God rebuild man's perish'd frame, Arm'd wih a res'stless fame,

And raise him up much better, yet the same: And th' artillery of her eye;

So god-like poets do past things rehearse, Whilst she proudly march'd about,

Not change, but heighten, Nature by their verse. Greater conquests to find out,

With shame, methinks, great Italy must sec She beat out Susan by the by.

Her conquerors rais'd to life again by thee :

Rais'd by such powerful verse, that ancient Rome But in her place I then obey'd

May blush no less to see her wit o'ercome.
Black-ey'd Bess, her vice:oy.maid;

Some men their fancies, like their faith, derive,
To whom ensued a vacancy :

And think all ill but that which Rome does give; Thousand worse passions then possest

The marks of old and Catholic would find; The interregnum of my breast;

To the same chair would truth and fietion bind. Bless me from such an anarchy !

Thou in those beaten paths disdain'st to tread,

And scorn'st to live by robbing of the dead. Gentle Henrietta then,

Since Time does all things change, thou think'st And a third Mary, next began;

not fit Then Joan, and Jane, and Audria ;

This latter age should see all new but wit ; And then a pretty Thomasine,

Thy fancy, like a flame, its way does make, And then another Katharine,

And leave bright tracts for following pens to take. And then a long et cætera.

Sure 'twas this noble boldness of the Muse
But should I now to you relate

Did thy desire to seek new worlds infuse;
The strength and riches of their state,

And ne'er did Heaven so much a voyage bless,
The powder, patches, and the pins,

If thou canst plant but there with like success.
The ribbons, jewels, and the rings)
The lace, the paint, and warlike things,

That make up all their magazines ;
If I should tell the politic arts

To take and keep men's hearts;
The letters, embassies, and spies,

As to a northern people (whom the Sun
The frowns, and smiles, and flatteries,

Uses just as the Romish church has done The quarrels, tears, and perjuries,

Her prophane laity, and dives assign
(Numberless, nameless, mysteries !) Bread only both to serve for bread and wine)
And all the little lime-twigs laid,

A rich (nary fleet welcome arrives;
By Machiavel the waiting maid ;

Such comfort to as here your letter gives,
I more voluminous should grow

Frought with brisk racy verses; in which we (Chiefly if I like them should tell

The soil from whence they came taste, smell, and All change of weathers that befell) Than Holinshed or Stow.

Such is your present to us; for you must know,

Sir, that verse does not in this island grow,
But I will briefer with them be,

No more than sack : one lately did not fear
Since few of them were long with me. (Without the Muses' leave) to plant it here;
An higher and a nobler strain

But if prod ic'd such base, rough, crabbed, bedge, My present emperess dres claim,

Rhymes, as ev'n set the hearers' ears on edge : Heleonora, first o' th' namc;

Written by

esquire, the Whom God grant long to reign !

Year of our Lord six hindred thirty-three.



see ;


Brave Jersey Muse ! and he's for this high style And seeks by nseless pride,
Call’d to this day the Homer of the isle.

With slight and withering leaves that nakedness tas
Alas! to men here no words less hard be

hide. To rhyme with, than 4 Mount Orgueil is to me;

“ Henceforth,” said God, “ the wretched sons of Mount Orgueil ! which, in scorn o'th' Muses law,

With no yoke-fellow word will deign to draw.

Shall sweat for food in vain,
Stubbom Mount Orgueil ! 'tis a work to make it

That will n't long sustain;
Come into rhyme, more hard than 'twere to take it.

And bring with labour forth each fond abortive birth.
Alas! to bring your tropes anel figures here,

That serpent too, their pride,
Strange as to bring camels and elephants were ;

Which aims at things deny d;
And metaphor is so unknown a thing,

That learn’d and eloquent lust;
'Twould need the preface of God save the king. Instead of mounting high, shall creep upon the
Yet this I'll say, for th' honour of the place,

That, by God's extraordinary grace
(Which shows the people have judgment, if not wit)
The land is undefild with clinches yet;

Which, in my poor opinion, I confess,
Is a most singular blessing, and no less
Than Ireland's wanting spiders. And, so far

Some blind themselves, 'cause possibly they may
From th' actual sin of bombast too they are,
(That other cryin; sin o' th’ English Muse)

Be led by others a right way;
That even Satan himself can accuse

They build on sands, which if unmov'd they find

'Tis but because there was no wind.
None here (no not so much as the divines)
For th' motus primò primi to strong lines.

Less hard 'tis, not to err ourselves, than know
Well, since the soil then does not naturally bear

If our forefathers err'd or no.
Verse, who (a devil) should import it here?

When we trust men concerning God, we then
For that to me would seem as strange a thing

Trust not God concerning men.
As who did first wild beasts int' islands bring; Visions and inspirations some expect
Unless you think that it might taken be,

Their course here to direct;
As Green did Gondibert, in a prize at sea :

Like senseless chymists their own weal h destros,
But that's a fortune falls not every day;

Imaginary gold t' enjoy :
'Tis true Green was made by it ; for they say So stars appear to drop to us from sky,
The parl’ament did a noble bounty do,

And gild the passage as they fly;
And gave him the whole prize, their tenths and But when they fall, and meet th' opposing ground,
fifteenths too.

What but a sordid slime is found ? Sometimes their fancies they 'bove reason set,

And fast, that they may dream of meat ; THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE. Sometimes ill spirits their sickly souls delude,

And bastard forms obtrude;

So Endor's wretched sorceress, although
Against the Dogmatists.

She Saul through his disguise did know,
The sacred tree midst the fair orchard grew;

Yet, when the devil comes up disguis'd, she cries The Phenix Truth did on it rest,

“ Behold! the Gods arise." And built bis perfum'd nest:

In vain alas ! these outward hopes are try'd ; That right Porphyrian tree which did true logic Reason within's our only guide ; shew.

Reason, which (God be prais'd!) still walks, for ad * Each leaf did learned notions give,

Its old orig’nal fall;
And th' apples were demonstrative:

And, since itself the boundless Godhead join'd
So clear their colour and divine,

With a reasonable mind,
The very shade they cast did other lights out-shine. It plainly shows that mysteries divine
** Taste not,” said God, “ tis mine and angels'

May with our reason join.

The holy book, like the eighth sphere, does shine
A certain death doth sit,

With thousand lights of truth divine :
Like an ill worm, i'th' core of it.

So numberless the stars, that to the eye
Ye cannot know and live, nor live or know, and eat.” It makes but all one galaxy.
Thus spoke God, yet man did go

Yet Reason must assist too; for, in seas
Ignorantly on to know;

So vast and daugerous as these,
Grew so more blind, and she

Our course by stars above we cannot know,
Whó tempted him to this grew yet more blind Without the compass too below.
than he.

Though Reason cannot through Faith's mysteries
The only science man by this did get,
Was but to know he nothing knew :

It sees that there and such they be ;
He straight his nakedness did view,

Leads to Heaven's door,and there does humbly keep,
Ilis ignorant poor estate, and was asham'd of it. And there through chinks and key- holes peep;
Yet searches probabilities,

Though it, like Moses, by a sad command,
And rhetoric, and fallacies,

Must not come into th' Holy Land,

Yet thither it infallibly does guide,
The name of one of the castles in Jersey.

And from afar 'tis all descry'd.


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Hail, bard triumphant! and some care bestow

On us the poets militant belory!

Oppos'd by our old enemy, adverse Chance, Poet and saint ! to thee alone are giren

Attack'd by Envy ani by Ignorance ; The two most sacred names of Earth and Heaven;

Enchain'u by Beauty, tortur'd by desires, The hard and rarest union which can be,

Expos'd by tyrant Love to savage beasts and fires, Next that of Godhead with humanity.

Thou from low Earth in nobler flames didst rise, Long did the Muse's' banish'd slares abide,

And, like Elijah, mount alive the skies. And built vain pyramids to mortal pride;

Elisha-like, (but with a wish much less, Like Moses thou (though spells and charms with

More fit thy greatness and my littleness) stand)

Lo! here I beg (I, whom thou once didst prove Hast brought them nobly home back to their holy Not that thy spirit might on me doubled be,

So humble to esteem, so good to love) land. Ah wretched we, poets of Earth! but thou

I ask but half thy mighty spirit for me: Wert living the same poet which thou'rt now;

And, when my Muse soars with so strong a wing, Whilst angels sing to thee their airs divine,

"Twill learn of things divine, and first of thee, to And joy in an applause so great as thine,

sing. Equal society with ihem to hold, Thou need'st not make new songs, but say the old; A POEM ON THE LATE CIVIL WAR. And they (kind spirits!) shall all rejoice, to see How little less than they exalted man may be. Still the old Heathen gods in numbers (weil ; The heavenliest thing on Earth still keeps up Hell; THE PUBLISHER TO THE READER, 1679. Nor have we quite purg'd the Christian land; Still idols here, like calves at Bethel, stand. MEETING accidentally with this poem in maAnd, though Pan's death long since all oracles nuscript, and being informed, that it was a piece broke,

of the incomparable Mr. A. C.'s, I thought it unYet still in rhyme the fiend Apollo spoke :

just to hide such a treasure from the world.

I reNay, with the worst of heathen dotage, we,

membered that our author, in his preface to his (Vain men!) the monster Woman dcify;

works,? makes mention of some poems written by Find stars, and tie our fates there in a face,

him on the late civil war, of which the following And Paradise in them, by whom we lost it, place. What different faults corrupt our Muses thus?

copy is unquestionably a part. In his most imper

fect and untinished pieces, you will discover the Wanton as girls, as old wires fabulous !

hand of so great a master. And (whatever his own Thy spotless Muie, like Mary, did contain

modesty might have advised to the contrary) there The boundless Godhead; she did well disilain

is not one careless stroke of his but what should That ber eternal verse employ'd should be

be kept sacred to posterity. He could write noOn a less subject than eternity;

thing that was not worth the preserving, being And for a sacred mistress scorn'd to take, But her whom God himself scorn'd not lois spouse to piece the judicious reader will find the turn of the

habitually a poet, and always inspired. In this make.

verse to be his; the same copious and lively ima. t (in a kind) her miracle did do; A fruitful mother was, and virgin too.

gery of fancy, the same warinth of passion and

delicacy of wit, that sparkles in all his writings. How well (blest swan!) did Fate contrive thy And certainly no labours of a genius so rich in itdeaths,

self, and so cultivated with learning and manners, And made thee render up thy tuneful breath

can prove an unwelcome present to the world. In thy great mistress' arms, thou most divine And richest offering of Loretto's shrine !

'rage does England from itself divide, Where, like some holy sacrifice t'expire,

More than tbe seas from all the world beside? A fever burns thee, and Love lights the fire.

From every part the roaring cannons play, Angels (they say) brought the fam’d chapel there, Froin every part blood roars as loud as they. And bore the sacred load in triumph through the What English ground but still some moisture bears, air:

Of young men's blood, and more of mothers' tears? 'Tis surer much they brought thee there; and they, What air's unthickend with the sighs of wives, And thou, their charge, went singing all the way. Though more of maids for their dear lovers' lives? Pardon, my Mother Church ! if I consent

Alas! what triumphs can this victory shew, That angels led him when from thee he went; That dyes us red in blood and blushes too! For ev'nin errour sure no danger is,

How can we wish that conquest, which bestows When juin’d with so much piety as his.

Cypress, not bays, upon the conquering brows] Ah, mighty God! with shame I speak't, and grief, It was not so when Henry's dreadful name, Ah, that our greatest faults were in belief !

Not sword, nor cause, whole nations overcame.
And our weak reason were ev'n weaker yet,

To farthest West did his swift conquests run,
Rather than thus our wills too strong for it! Nor did his glory set but with the Sun.
His faith, perhaps, in some nice tenets might
Be wrong;

bis life, I'm sure, was in the right; 6 This and the two following poems are not given And I myself a Catholic will be,

with certainty as Cowley's. They have been asSo far at least, great saint ! to pray to thee. cribed to him; are possibly genuine; and therefore s Mr. Crashaw died of a fever at Loretto, being

are preserved in this collection. newly chosen capon of that church.

7 See p. 45 of this volume,



did fight,

In vain did Roderic to his hold retreat,

Then only in books the learn'd could misery see, In vain had wretched Ireland call'd him great ; And the unlearn'd ne'er heard of misery. Ireland! which now most basely we begin

Then happy James with as deep quiet reign’d, To labour more to lose than he to win.

As in his heavenly throne, by death, he gaind; It was not so when in the happy East,

And, lest this blessing with his lite should cease, Pichard, our Mars, Venus's Isle possest: (play'd, He left us Charles, the pledge of future peace; 'Gainst the proud Moon, he th’ English cross dis- Charles, under whom, with much ato, no less Eclips'd one horn, and th’other paler made; Than sixteen years we endur'd our happiness; When our dear lives we ventur'd bravely there, Till in a moment, in the North, we find And digg'd our own to gain Christ's sepulchre. A lempest conjur'd up without a wind. That sacred tomb, which, should we now enjoy, As soon the North her kindness did repent; We should with as much zeal fight to destroy! First the peace-maker, and next war, she sent. The precious signs of our dead Lord we scorn, Just Tweed, that now had with long peace forgot And see his cross worse than his body torn;

On which side dwelt the English, which the Scot, We hate it now both for the Greek and Jew,

Saw glittering arms shine sadly on his face, To us 'tis foolishness and scandal too.

Whilst all th'affrighted fish sank down apace. To what with worship the fond papist falls,

No blood did then from this dark quarrel grow, That the fond zealot a curs'd idul calls:

It gave blunt wounds, that bled not out till now! So, 'twixt their double madness, here's the odds, For Jove, who might have us'd his thundering power, One makes false devils, t’ other makes false gods. Chose to fall calmy in a golden shower!

It was not so when Edward prov'd his cause, A way we found to conquer, which by none By a sword stronger than the salique laws,

Of all our thrifty ancestors was known; Tho' fetch'd from Pharamond ; when the French So strangely prodigal of late we are,

We there buy peace, and here at home buy war. With women's hearts, against the women's right. How could a war so sad and barbarous please, Th’afflicted Ocean his first conquest bore,

But first by slandering those blest days of peace ? And drove red waves to the sad Gallic shore: Through all the excrements of state they pry, As if he 'ad angry with that element been,

Like emp'ricks, to find out a malady; Which his wide soul bound with an island in.

And then with desperate boldness they endeavour, Where 's now that spirit with which at Cressy we, Th’ague to cure uy bringing in a fever: And Poictiers, fore'd from Fate a victory?

The way is sure to expel some ill, no doubt; Two kings at once we brought sad captives home, The plague, we know, drives all diseases out. A triumph scarcely known to ancient Rome! What strange wild fears did every morning breed, Two foreign kings: but now, alas! we strive, Till a strange fancy made us sick indeed! Our own, our own good sovereign to captive! And cowardice did valour's place supply, It was not so when Agincourt was won;

Like those that kill themselves for fear to die! Under great Henry serv'd the Rain and Sun: Wbat frantic diligence in these men appears, A publer fight the Sun himself ne'er knew,

That fear all ills, and act o'er all their fears!
Not when he stopt his course a fight to view ! Thus into war we scar'd ourselves; and who
Tben Death's old archer did more skilful grow, But Aaron's sons, that the tirst trumpet blew ?
And learn'd to shoot more sure from th'English bow; Fond men! who knew not that they were to keep
Then France was her own story sadly taught, For God, and not for sacrifice, their shtep!
And felt how Cæsar and how Edward fought. The churches first this murderous doctrine sow,
It was not so when that vast tleet of Spain

And learn to kill, as well as bury, now :
Lay torn and scatter'd on the English main; The marble tombs where our forefathers lie,
Through the proud world a virgin terrour strook ; Sweated with dread of too much company;
The Austrian crowns, and Romne's seven hills, she And all their sleeping ashes shook for fear,

Lest thousand ghosts should come and shroud To her great Neptune homag'd all his streams,

them there. And all the wide-stretch'd ocean was her Thames. Petitions next from every town they frame, Thus our forefathers fought, thus bravely bled, To be restor'd to them from whom they came: Thus still they live, whilst we alive are dead; The same style all, and the same sense, does pen, Such acts they did, that Rome, and Cæsar too, Alas; they allow set forms of prayer to men. Might envy those whom once they did subdue. Oh happy we, if men would neither hear We 're not their offspring ; sure our heralds lie; Their studied form, nur God their sudden prayer. But born we know not how, as now we die;

They will be heard, and, in unjustice wise, Their precious blood we could not venture thus:

headed rout for justice cries; Some Cadmus, sure, sow'd serpent's teeth for us; They call for blood, which now I fear does call We could not else by mutual fury fall,

For blood again, much louder than they all, Whilst Rhine and Sequan for our armies call: In senseless clamours, and confused noise, Chuse war or peace, you have a prince, you know, We lost that rare, and yet unconquer'd voice; As fit for both, as both are fit for you ;

So, when the sacred Thracian lyre was drown'd Furious as lightning, when war's tempest came,

In the Bistonian women's mixen sound, But calm in peace, calm as a lambent fame, The wondering stones, that came before to hear,

Have you forgot those happy years of late, Forgot themselves, and turn'd bis murderers there. That saw nought ill, but us that were ingrate; The same loud sturm blew the grave mitre down; Such years, as if Earth's youth returu'd had been, It blew down that, and with it shook the crown. And that old serpent, Time, had cast his skin? Then first a state, without a church, begun; As gloriously and gently did they move,

Comfort Chyself, dear Church ! for then 'twas done. As the bright Sun that measures them above; The sam. great storm to sea great Mary drove ;

'The many

The sea,

The sea could not such dangerous tempests move: Her knotty hairs were with dire serpents twist,
The same drove Charles into the North, and then And every serpent at each other hiss'd.
Would readilier far have driven him back again. Here stood white Truth, and her own host does bless,
To fly from noise of tumults is no shame;

Clad with those arms of proof, her nakedness;
Ne'er will their armies force them to the same; There perjuries like cannons rvar aloud,
They all his castles, all his towns, invade,

And lyes flew thick, like cannons' smoky cloud, He's a large prisoner in all England made! Here Learning and th’ Arts met; as much they He must not pass to Ireland's weeping shore;

fear'd The wounds these surgeons make must yield them As when the Hunns of old and Goths appear'd. more;

What should they do? Unapt themselves to fight, He must not conquer his lewd rebels there,

They promis'd noble pens the acts to write. Lest he should learn by that to do it here.

There Ignorance advanc'd, and joy'd to spy The sea they subject next to their command; So many that durst fight they know not why;

that crowns our kings and all their land. From those who most the slow-soul'd monks disdain, Thus poor they leave him, their base pride and scorn, From those she hopes the monks' dull age again. As poor as these, now mighty men, were born; Here Mercy waits, with sad but gentle look, When straight whole armies meet in Charles's right; Never, alas ! had she her Charles forsvok ! A man would swear, that saw this altered state, For mercy on her friends to Hearen she cries, Kings were cal\'d gods because they could create Whilst Justice pulls down vengeance from the skies. Vain men; 'ris Heaven this first assistance brings, Oppression there, Rapine, and Murder, stood, The same is Lord of Hosts that 's King of Kings. Ready, as was the field, to drink their blood : Had men forsook him, angels from above

A thousand wronged spirits amongst them moan'd, (Th’ Assyrian did less their justice move)

And thrice the ghost of mighty Strafford groan'd. Would all have muster'd iu his righteous aid,

Now flew their cannon thick through wounded air, And thunder 'gainst your cannon would have play'l. Sent to defend, and kill, their sovereign there. It needs not so, for man desires to right

More than he them, the bullets fear'd his head, Abus'd mankind, and wretches you must fight. And at his feet lay innocently dead;

Wor'ster first saw 't, and trembled at the view; They knew pot what those men that sent them Too well the ills of civil war she knew.

meant, Twice did the flames of old her towers invade, And acted their pretence, not their intent. Twice call'd she in vain for her own Severn's aid. This was the day, this the first day, that show'd Here first the rebel winds began to roar,

How much to Charles for our long peace we ow'd : Brake louse fioin the just fetters which they bore; By this skill here, and spirit, we understood, Here mutinous waves above their shore did swell, From war nought kept him but his country's good. And the first storm of that dire winter fell.

In his great looks what chearful anger shone !
But when the two great brethren once appear’d, Sad war, and joyful triumphs, mix'd in one.
And iheir bright heads, like Leda's offspring, rear'd; In the same beams of his majestic eye,
When those sea-calming sons from Jove were spied, His own men life, his foes did death, espy.
The winds all fled, the waves all sunk and died! Great Rupert this, thai wing great Wilmot leads,
Ilow fought great Rupert, with what rage and skill! White-feather'd Conquest flies o'er both their
Enough to have conquer'd had his cause been ill!

Comely young man ! and yet his dreadful sight They charge, as if alone they'd beat the foe,
The rebels' blood to their faint hearts does fright. Whether their troops follow'd them up or no.
Ja vain, alas! it seeks so weak defence ;

They follow close, and haste into the fight,
For his keen sword bringsit again from thence. As swift as straight the rebels make their flight.
Yet grieves he at the laurels thence he bore ; So swift the miscreants fly, as if each fear
Alas, poor prince! they'll fight with him no more; And jealousy they fram'd had met them there.
His virtue 'll be eclips'd with too much fame, They heard war's music, and away they flew,
Henceforth he will not conquer, but his name. The trumpets fright worse than the organs do.
Here with tainted blood the field did stain, Their souls, which still new bye-ways do invent,
By his own sacrilege, and 's country's curses, slain. Out at their wounded backs perversely went.
The first commander did Heaven's vengeance show, Pursue no more; ye noble victors, stay,
Avd led the rebels' van to shades below.

Lest too much conquest lose so brave a day! On two fair bills both armies next are seen, For still the battle sounds behind, and Fate Th'affrighted valley sighs and sweats between ; Will not give all ; but sets us here a rate: Here angels did with fair expectance stay,

Too dear a rate she sets ; and we must pay And wish'd good things to a king as mild as they ; One honest man for ten such knaves as they. There fiends with hunger waiting did abide,

Streams of black tainted blood the field besmear, And cursed both, but sprrr'd-on th' guilty side, But pure, well-colour'd drops shine here and there; Here stood Religion, her looks gently sage,

They scorn to mix with floods of baser veins, Aged, but much more comely for her age!

Just as the nobler moisture oil disdains. There Schism, old bag, tho'seeming young, appears, Thus fearless Lindsey, thus bold Aubigny, As snakes by casting skins renew their years; Amidst the corpse of slaughter'd rebels lie : Undecent rays of several dyes she wore,

More honourably than e'er was found, And in her hand torn liturgies she bore.

With troops of living traitors circled round. Here Loyalty an humble cross display'd,

Rest, valiant souls, in peace ! ye sacred pair, And still, as Charles pass’d by, she bow'd and And all whose deaths attended on you there, pray’d.

You're kindly welcom'd to Heaven's peaceful Sedition there her crimson banner spreads,

coast, Shal.cs all her hands, and roars with all her heads: By all the reverend martyrs' noble host :

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