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Why, as we pass, do those on Xanthus' shore, It is not thou, but we are blind,
and our corporeal eyes (we find) But that, as well in danger as degree,
Dazzle the optics of our mind.
Love to our citadel resorts, « Behold cur gallant leaders! These are they
Through those deceitful sally-ports, Deserve the greatness; and unenvy'd stand:
Our sentinels betray our forts. Since what they act, transcends what they command.”
What subtle witchcraft man constrains, Could the declining of this fate (oh, friend)
To change his pleasure into pains, Our date to immortality extend ?
And all his freedom into chains ? Or if death sought not them who seek not death,
| May not a prison, or a grave, Would I advance ? or should my vainer breath
Like wedlock, honour's title have ?
That word makes free-born man a slave. Since age, disease, or some less noble end, How happy be that loves not lives ! Though not less certain, dotb our days attend;
Him peither hope nor fear deceives,
How unconcern'd in things to come!
If here uneasy, firds at Rome,
PR'xthee die and set me free,
Or else be
To the grave, to the grave,
That I prize,
Not a spark
And to see, and to see,
Why so many bolts and locks,
Coats and smocks,
Wise and grave,
Pap by night, pap by night,
Secure from low and private ends,
Love is as old as place or time;
FRIENDSHIP AND SINGLE LIFE,
Well may'st thou keep this world in awe;
| His father and son.
To him doth his feign'd mother yield;
| Next (like Aurora) Spenser rose, Nor Mars (her champion)'s flaming shield Whose purple blush the day foreshows; Guards him when Cupid takes the field.
The other three, with his own fires,
Phoebus, the poets' god, inspires; He clips Hope's wings, whose airy bliss
By Shakespear's, Jonson's, Fletcher's lines, Much higher than fruition is;
Our stage's lustre Rome's outsbines : But less than nothing, if it miss.
These poets near our princes sleep,
And in one grave their mansion keep. When matches Love alone projects
They liv'd to see so many days, The cause transcending the effects,
Till time had blasted all their bays; That wild-fire's quench'd in cold neglects : But cursed be the fatal hour
That pluck'd the fairest, sweetest flower Whilst those conjunctions prove the best,
That in the Muses' garden grew, Where Love's of blindness dispossest,
And amongst wither'd laurels threw. By perspectives of interest.
Time, which made them their fame outlive,
To Cowley scarce did ripeness give. Though Solomon with a thousand wives,
Old mother Wit, and Nature, gave To get a wise successor strives,
Shakespeare and Fletcher all they have ; But one (and he a fool) survives.
In Spenser, and in Jonson, Art Old Rome of children took no care,
Of slower Nature got the start; They with their friends their beds did share,
But both in him so equal are, Secure ľadopt a hopeful heir.
None knows which bears the happiest share ;
To him no author was unknown, Lore drowsy days and stormy nights
Yet what he wrote was all his own ; Makes; and breaks friendship, whose delights He melted not the ancient gold, Feed, but not glut, our appetites.
Nor, with Ben Jonson, did make bold
To plunder all the Roman stores Well-chosen friendship, the most noble
Of poets, and of orators : Of virtues, all our joys makes double,
Horace's wit, and Virgil's state, And into halves divides our trouble.
He did not steal, but emulate ! But when th' unlucky knot we tie,
And when he would like them appear, Care, avarice, fear, and jealousy,
Their garb, but not their clothes, did wear :
He not from Rome alone, but Greece, Make friendship languish till it die.
Like Jason brought the golden fleece ; The wolf, the lion, and the bear,
To him that language (though to none When they their prey in pieces tear,
Of th' others) as his own was known. To quarrel with themselves forbear :
On a stiff gale (as Flaccus sings)
The Theban swan extends his wings,
To the same pitch our swan doth rise ;
Old Pindar's flights by him are reach'd
When on that gale his wings are stretch'd; Who then can blame the amorous boy,
His fancy and his judgment such, Who the fair Helen to enjoy,
Each to the other seer'd too much, To quench his own, set fire on Troy?
His severe judgment (giving law)
His modest fancy kept in awe : Such is the world's preposterous fate,
As rigid husbands, jealous are, Amongst all creatures, mortal hate
When they believe their wives too fair. Love (though immortal) doth create.
His English streams so pure did flow, But love may beasts excuse, for they
As all that saw and tasted know : 'Their actions pot by reason sway,
But for his Latin vein, so clear, But their brute appetites obey.
Strong, full, and high it doth appear,
That were immortal Virgil here,
Of that great portraiture, so truc
A copy, pencil never drew.
Joy and amazement her did strike,
One soul might through more bodies pass.
Seeing such transmigration there,
She thought it not a fable here.
Such a resemblance of all parts,
Then lights her torch at theirs, to tell,
| And show the world this parallel : Darkness again the age invades,
Fixt and contemplative their looks,
Still turning over Nature's books :
The wheel that governs all: Their works chaste, moral, and divine,
From thence the change in church and state, Where profit and delight combine;
And all the mischief bears the date
From Haberdashers' Hall.
Did we force Ireland to despair,
Upon the king to cast the war, To the celestial orbs they climb,
To make the world abhor him, And with th' harmonious spheres keep time:
Because the rebels us'd his name? Nor did their actions fall behind
Though we ourselves can do the same,
While both alike were for him.
Then the same fire we kindled here
With what was given to quench it there, Who knew, and judg'd what they approv'd,
And wisely lost that nation : Yet having each the same desire,
To do as crafty beggars use, Both from the busy throng retire.
To maim themselves, thereby t'abuse
The simple man's compassion.
Have I so often past between
Windsor and Westminster, unseen, Nor fire nor Fate their bays shall blast,
And did myself divide :
To keep his excellence in awe,
For they knew none beside.
A SPEECH AGAINST PEACE
| Did I for this take pains to teach
And did their lungs inspire;
To Aing abroad the fire ?
But will you now to peace incline,
And leave us in the lurch?
The ruin of the church.
Sometimes to beg, sometimes to threaten,
To stroke the people's ears?
To raise the price of fears,
And now the books, and now the bells,
To edify the people;
The pulpit and the steeple,
Is not the bishop's bill deny'd,
You see the king embraces
That we shall have their places.
Was Saye's and mine together :
Once more t'invite them hither ?
Though more our money than our cause
My labour was not lost.
And these shall quit the cost.
And raise the first sedition ?
And sent them their petition.
And shall we kindle all this flame
And must we now give o'er,
If we can do no more.
That breaks both law and vath?
But us against them both,
And thence they will infer,
That we ourselves may err.
So many nights spent in the city
TO FIVE MEMBERS OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. ' 249
And cannot go asunder :
For all those pretty knacks you compose, But while the wicked starve, indeed
Alas, what are they but poems in prose ? The saints have ready at their need
And between those and ours there's no difference, God's providence, and plunder.
But that yours want the ryme, the wit, and the
sense : Princes we are if we prevail,
Rut for lying (the most noble part of a poet) And gallant villains if we fail :
You have it abundantly, and yunrselves know it ; When to our fame 'tis told,
And though you are modest and seem to abhor it, It will not be our least of praise,
'T has done you good service, and thank Hell Since a new state we could not raise,
for it : To have destroy'd the old.
Although the old maxim remains still in force,
That a sanctify'd cause must have a sanctify'd Then let us stay and fight, and vote,
If poverty be a part of our trade, [course, Till London is not worth a groat;
So far the whole kingdom poets you have made, Oh'tis a patient beast !
Nay even so far as undoing will do it, When we have gall’d and tir'd the mule,
You have made king Charles himself a poct : And can no longer have the rule,
But provoke not his Muse, for all the world
Already you have had too much of his prose.
Do you not know not a fortnight ago, THE RUMBLE PETITION OF THE POETS. How they bragg'd of a Western Wonder ?
When a hundred and ten slew five thousand men, AFTER SO many concurring petitions
With the help of lightning and thunder ?
With a new Thanksgiving, for the dead who are Though set form of prayer be an abomination, To God, and his servant Chidleigh. Set forms of petitions find great approbation : Therefore, as others from th’ bottom of their But now on which side was this miracle try'd, souls,
I hope we at last are even ;
[graves, So we from the depth and bottom of our bowls, For sir Ralph and his knaves are risen from their According unto the bless'd form you have taught To cudgel the clowns of Devon,
us, Wethank you first for the ills you have brought us : And there Stamford came, for his honour was For the good we receive we thank him that gave
Of the gout three months together ; [lame And you for the confidence only to crave it. [it, But it prov'd when they fought, but a running Next in course, we complain of the great viola For his heels were lighter than ever. [gout Of privilege (like the rest of our nation) ; [tion But'tis none of yours of which we have spoken,
For now he outruns his arms and his guns, Which never had being until they were broken ;
And leaves all his money behind him ; But ours is a privilege ancient and native,
But they follow after; unless he takes water, Hangs not on an ordinance, or power legislative.
At Plymouth again they will find him.
What Reading hath cost, and Stamford hath Next, that we only may lye by authority ;
Goes deep in the sequestrations! Clost,
These wounds will not heal, with your new great But in that also you have got the priority. Next, an old custom, our fathers did name it
Nor Jepson's declarations.
Or shortly you'll dig for your living.
A SECOND WESTERN WONDER.
Which was done with a firkin of powder.
O what a damp it struck through the camp !
When out came the book which the news-monger | But, alas ! he had been feasted
From the preaching ladies letter, stook | With a spiritual collation, Where, in the first place, stood the Conqueror's By our frugal mayor, Which made it show much the better. [face, Who can dine on a prayer,
And sup on an exhortation. But now without lying, you may paint him flying,
At Bristol they say you may find him, | 'Twas mere impulse of spirit, Great William the Con, so fast he did run, Though he us'd the weapon carnal: That he left half his name behind him.
“ Filly foal," quoth he,
“ My bride thou shalt be, And now came the post, save all that was lost, And how this is lawful, learn all.
But alas, we are past deceiving
“ For if no respect of persons Might amount to a new Thanksgiving.
Be due 'mongst sons of Adam,
In a large extent, This made Mr. Case, with a pitiful face,
Thereby may be meant In the pulpit to fall a weeping, reyes, | That a mare 's as good as a madam." Though his mouth utter'd lyes, truth fell from his
Then without more ceremony, Which kept the lord-mayor from sleeping.
Not bonnet vail'd, nor kiss'd her, Now shut up shops, and spend your last drops,
But took her by force,
For better for worse, For the laws, not your cause, you that loath
| And us'd her like a sister. 'em, Lest Essex should start, and play the second part Now when in such a saddle Of the worshipful sir John Hotham.
A saint will needs be riding,
Though we dare not say
'Tis a falling away, NEWS FROM COLCHESTER:
May there be not some back-sliding? Or, A proper New Ballad of certain Carnal Pas-1“ No surely,” quoth James Naylor, sages betwixt a Quaker and a Colt, at Horsly,
“ 'Twas but an insurrection near Colchester, in Essex.
Of the carnal part,
For a Quaker in heart
Can never lose perfection.
“ For (as our masters' teach us) Near Colchester the zealous, .
The intent being well directed,
Though the Devil trepan
The Adamical man,
The saint stands uninfected." Help Woodcock, Fox, and Naylor,
But alas ! a Pagan jury For brother Green 's a stallion :
Ne'er judges what 's intended; Now, alas, what hope
Then say what we can, Of converting the Pope,
Brother Green's outward man When a Quaker turns Italian :
I fear will be suspended. Even to our whole profession
And our adopted sister A scandal 'twill be counted,
Will find no better quarter,
But when him we enrol
For a saint, Filly Foal
Shall pass herself for a martyr.
No longer is thy debtor,
O Colchester, now
Who's Sodom but thou,
Even according to the letter?
Hadst thou sweeten'd thy gums
In cottages and smoaky cells, Roll'd up in wanton swine's flesh,
Hates gilded roofs and beds of down; The fiend might have crep into thee; .
And though he fears no prince's frown, Then fullness of gut
Flies from the circle of a crown.
$ The Jesuits.