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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.
FINISHED BEFORE HIS VOYAGE TO AMERICA. Another Mary then arose,
MeThinks heroic poesy till now,
Like some fantastic fairy-land did show;
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,
The poet's fury than the zealot's spirit:
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,
Than when it crown'd at proud Verona sate.
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.
Some men their fancies, like their faith, derive,
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
Did thy desire to seek new worlds infuse;
And ne'er did Heaven so much a voyage bless,
If thou canst plant but there with like success.
That make up all their magazines ;
A COPY OF VERSES
As to a northern people (whom the Sun
Uses just as the Romish church has done The quarrels, tears, and perjuries,
Her prophane laity, and dives assign
A rich (nary fleet welcome arrives;
Such comfort to as here your letter gives,
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,
No more than sack : one lately did not fear
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;
esquire, the Whom God grant long to reign !
Year of our Lord six hindred thirty-three.
AN ANSWER TO
SENT ME TO JERSEY.
THE USE OF IT IN DIVINE MATTERS.
Brave Jersey Muse ! and he's for this high style And seeks by nseless pride,
With slight and withering leaves that nakedness tas
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,
Shall sweat for food in vain,
That will n't long sustain;
And bring with labour forth each fond abortive birth.
That serpent too, their pride,
Which aims at things deny d;
That learn’d and eloquent lust;
Some blind themselves, 'cause possibly they may
Be led by others a right way;
They build on sands, which if unmov'd they find
'Tis but because there was no wind.
Less hard 'tis, not to err ourselves, than know
If our forefathers err'd or no.
When we trust men concerning God, we then
Trust not God concerning men.
Their course here to direct;
Like senseless chymists their own weal h destros,
Imaginary gold t' enjoy :
And gild the passage as they fly;
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
She Saul through his disguise did know,
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, since itself the boundless Godhead join'd
With a reasonable mind,
May with our reason join.
The holy book, like the eighth sphere, does shine
With thousand lights of truth divine :
So numberless the stars, that to the eye
Yet Reason must assist too; for, in seas
So vast and daugerous as these,
Our course by stars above we cannot know,
Though Reason cannot through Faith's mysteries
It sees that there and such they be ;
Leads to Heaven's door,and there does humbly keep,
Though it, like Moses, by a sad command,
Must not come into th' Holy Land,
Yet thither it infallibly does guide,
And from afar 'tis all descry'd.
THAT THERE IS NO KNOWLEDGE.
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.
To farthest West did his swift conquests run,
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,
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!
And learn to kill, as well as bury, now :
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 sea could not such dangerous tempests move: Her knotty hairs were with dire serpents twist,
Clad with those arms of proof, her nakedness;
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 !
They follow close, and haste into the fight,
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 :