Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub
[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

LINA'S VIRGINITY.
UPON A BAY TREE

Who Lina weddeth, shall most happy be;
NOT LONG SINCE, GROWING IN THE RUINS OF For he a maid shall find,
VIRGIL'S TOMB.

Though maiden none be she,
THOSE stones which once had trust

A girl or boy beneath her waist confind:

And though bright Ceres' locks be never shorn,
Of Maro's sacred dust,

He shall be sure this year to lack no corn.
Which now of their first beauty spoil'd are seen,
That they due praise not want,
Inglorious and remain,
A Delian tree (fair Nature's only plant)

LOVE NAKED.
Now courts and shadows with her tresses green: AND would ye, lovers, know
Sing Io Pæan, ye of Phoebus' train;

Why Love doth naked go?
Though envy, av’rice, time, your tombs throw down, Fond, waggish, changeling lad !
With maiden laurels Nature will them crown. Late whilst Thaumantia's voice

He wond'ring heard, it made him so rejoice,
That he o'erjoy'd ran mad :
And in a frantic fit threw clothes away,

And since from lip and lap hers cannot stray.
FLORA'S FLOWER.
Venus doth love the rose;
Apollo those dear flow'rs

NIOBE.
Which were his paramours;
The queen of sable skies

WRETCH'D Niobe I am;
The subtile lunaries :

Let wretches read my case,
But Flore likes none of those;

Not such who with a tear ne'er wet their face.
For fair to her no flow'r seems save the lily; Seven daughters of me came,
And why? Because one letter turns it P-

And sons as many, which one fatal day,
Orb'd mother! took away.
Thus reft by Heavens unjust,

Grief turn'd me stone, stone too doth me entomb;
MELAMPUS'S EPITAPH.

Which if thou dost mistrust,

Of this hard rock but ope the finty womb,
All that a dog could have

And here thou shalt find marble, and no dust.
The good Melampus had :
Nay, he had more than what in beasts we crave,
For he could play the brave;
And often, like a Thraso stern, go mad:

CHANGE OF LOVE.
And if ye had not seen, but heard him bark,
Ye would have sworn he was your parish clerk.

Once did I weep and groan,
Drink tears, draw loathed breath,
And all for love of one
Who did affect my death :

But now, thanks to disdain !
THE HAPPINESS OF A FLEA.

I live reliev'd of pain.
How happier is that fea,

For sighs I singing go,
Which in thy breast doth play,

I burn not as before-no, no, no, no !
Than that pied butterfly
Which courts the flame, and in the same doth diel
That hath a light delight,
Poor fool! contented only with a sight;

WILD BEAUTY.
When this doth sport, and swell with dearest food, Ip all but ice thou be,
And, if he die, he knight-like dies in blood.

How dost thou thus me burn?
Or how at fire which thou dost raise in me,
Sith ice, thyself in streams dost thou not turn?

But rather, plaintful case!
OF THE SAME.

of ice art marble made, to my disgrace.

O miracle of love, not heard till now !
Poor flea! then thou didst die;

Cold ice doth burn, and hard by fire doth grow.
Yet by so fair a hand,
That thus to die was destine to command:
Thou didst die, yet didst try
A lover's last delight,

CONSTANT LOVE.
To vault on virgin plains, her kiss and bite:

TIME makes great states decay,
Thou diedst, yet hast thy tomb
Between those paps, O dear and stately room ; Time doth May's pomp disgrace,
Flea happier far, more blest,

Time draws deep furrows in the fairest face,

Time wisdom, force, renown, doth take away; Than phenix burning in his spicy nest.

[ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors]

Time doth consume the years,

I shall not fear thus, though she stray alone,
Time changes works in Heaven's eternal spheres; That others her pursue, entice, admire;
Yet this fierce tyrant, which doth all devour, And, though she sometime counterfeit a groan,
To lessen love in me shall have no pow'r.

I shall not think her heart feels upcouth fire;
I shall not style her ruthless to my moan,
Nor proud, disdainful, wayward to desire:

Her thoughts with mine will hold an equal line,
TO CHLORIS.

I shall be hers, and she shall all be mine.
See, Chloris, how the clouds
Tilt in the azure lists;

EURYMEDON'S PRAISE OF MIRA. And now with Stygian mists

Gem of the mountains, glory of our plains !
Each horned hill his giant forehead shrouds.
Jove thund'reth in the air;

Rare miracle of nature, and of love!
The air, grown great with rain

Sweet Atlas, who all beauty's Heavens sustains, Now seems to bring Deucalion's days agaiu : No, beauty's Heaven, where all her wonders more; I see thee quake: come, let us home repair ;

The Sun, from east to west who all doth see, Come, hide thee in mine arms,

On this low globe sees nothing like to thee.
If not for love, yet to shun greater harms,

One phenix only liv'd ere thou wast born,
And Earth but did pne queen of love admire,
Three Graces only did the world adorn,
But thrice three Muses sung to Phæbus' lyre;

Two phenixes be now, love's queens are two, THYRSIS IN DISPRAISE OF BEAUTY.

Four Graces, Muses ten, all made by you. That which so much the doating world doth prize, For those perfections which the bounteous Heaven Fond ladies' only care, and sole delight,

To divers worlds in divers times assign'd, Soon-fading beauty, which of hues doth rise,

With thousands more, to thee at once were given, Is but an abject let of Nature's might; Most woful wretch, whom shining hair and eyes

Thy body fair, more fair they made the mind : Lead to Love's dungeon, traitor'd by a sight,

And, that thy like no age should more behold, Most woful! for be might with greater ease

When thou wast fram’d, they after break the mould. Hell's portals enter and pale Death appease. Sweet are the blushes on thy face wbich shine,

Sweet are the flames which sparkle from thine eye, As in delicious meads beneath the flow'rs,

Sweet are his torments who for thee doth pine, And the most wholesome herbs that May can show, Most sweet his death for thee who sweetly dies; In crystal curls the speckled serpent low'rs; For, if he die, he dies not by annoy, As in the apple, which most fair doth grow, But too much sweetness and abundant joy. The rotteu worm is clos'd, which it devours;

Wbat are my slender lays to show thy worth! As in gilt cups, with Gnossian wine which flow, Oft poison pompously doth hide its sours;

How can base words a thing so high make know? So lewdness, falsehood, mischief them advance,

So wooden globes bright stars to us set forth, Clad with the pleasant rays of beauty's glance.

So in a crystal is Sun's beauty shown:

More of thy praises if my Muse should write, Good thence is chas'd where beauty doth appear;

More love and pity must the same indite.
Mild lowliness, with pity, from it fly;
Where beauty reigps, as in their proper sphere,
Ingratitude, disdain, pride, all descry;

THAUMANTIA.
The flow'r and fruit, which virtue's tree should bear,

AT THE DEPARTURE OF IDMOX.
With her bad shadow beauty maketh die:
Beauty a monster is, a monster hurl'd

Fair Dian, from the height
From angry Heaven, to scourge this lower world. Of Heaven's first orb who chear'st this lower place,

Hide now from me thy light;

And, pitying my case,
As fruits which are unripe, and sour of taste,
To be confect'd more fit than sweet we prove;

Spread with a'scarf of clouds thy blushing face. For sweet, in spite of care, themselves will waste,

Come with your doleful songs, When they long kept the appetite do move:

Night's sable birds, which plain when others sleep; So, in the sweetness of his nectar, Love

Come, solemnize my wrongs, The foul confects, and seasons of his feast:

And concert to me keep, Sour is far better, which we sweet may make,

Sith Heaven, Earth, Hell, are set to cause me seep. Than sweet, which sweeter sweetness will not take. This grief yet I could bear,

If now by absence I were only pin'd; Foul may my lady be; and may her nose,

But, ah! worse evil I fear; A Tenerif, give umbrage to her chin;

Men absent prove unkind, May her gay mouth, which she no time may close, And change, unconstant like the Moon, their mind. So wide be, that the Moon may turn therein: If thought had so much pow'r May eyes and teeth be made conform to those ; Of thy departure, that it could me slay; Eyes set by chance and white, teeth black and thin: How will that ugly hour May all that seen is, and is hid from sight, My feeble sense dismay, Like unto these rare parts be framed right. “Farewel, sweet heart," when I shall bear thee say!

Dear life! sith thou must go,
Take all my joy and comfort hence with thee;

TO HIS AMOROUS THOUGHT.
And leave with me thy woe,

Sweet wanton thought, who art of beauty born, Which, until I thee see,

And who on beauty feed'st, and sweet desire,
Nor time, nor place, nor change shall take from me.

Like taper fly, still circling, and still turn
About that flame, that all so much admire,
That heavenly fair which doth out-blush the morn,

Those ivory hands, those threads of golden wire,
ERYCINE

Thou still surroundest, yet dar’st not aspire ;

Sure thou dost well that place not to come near,
AT THE DEPARTURE OF ALEXIS.

Nor see the majesty of that fair court; “ AND wilt thou then, Alexis mine, depart,

For if thou saw'st what wonders there resort,
And leave these flow'ry meads and crystal streams, Like souls ascending to those joys above,

The pure intelligence that moves that sphere,
These hills as green as great with gold and gems,
Which court thee with rich treasure in each part: What can we hope for more ; what more enjoy ?

Back never wouldst thou turn, nor thence remove.
Shall nothing hold thee? not my loyal heart,
That bursts to lose the comforts of thy beams?

Since fairest things thus soonest have their end,

And as on bodies shadows do attend,
Nor yet this pipe, which wildest satyrs tames ?
Nor lambkins wailing, nor old Dorus' smart?

Soon all our bliss is follow'd with annoy:
O ruthless shepherd ! forests strange among

Yet she's not dead, she lives where she did love;
What canst thou else but fearful dangers find ?

Her meinory on Earth, her soul above.
But, ah! not thou, but honour, doth me wrong ;
O cruel honour! tyrant of the mind.”
This said sad Erycine, and all the powers

PHILLIS
Impearled as she went with eyes' salt showers.

ON THE DEATH OF HER SPARROW.

Ah! if ye ask, my friends, why this salt show'r
COMPARISON

My blubber'd eyes upon this paper ponr?

Gone is my sparrow! he whom I did train,
OF HIS THOUGHTS TO PEARLS.

And turn'd so toward, by a cat is slain :

No more with trembling wings shall he attend WITH opening shells in seas, on heavenly dew His watchful mistress. Would my life could end ! A shining oyster lusciously doth feed;

No more shall I him hear chirp pretty lays;
And then the birth of that etherial seed

Have I not cause to loath my tedious days?
Shows, when conceiv'd, if skies look dark or blue: A Dedalus he was to catch a fly;
So do my thoughts, celestial twins ! of yon, Nor wrath nor rancour men in him could spy.
At whose aspect they first begin and breed, To touch or wrong his tail if any dar'd,
When they came forth to light, demonstrate true He pinch'd their fingers, and against them warr'd:
If ye then smil'd, or low'r'd io mourning weed. Then might that crest be seen shake up and down,
Pearls then are orient fram'd, and fair in form, Which fixed was unto his little crown;
If Heavens in their conceptions do look clear; Like Hector's, Troy's strong bulwark, when in ire
But if they thunder or do threat a storm,

He raged to set the Grecian fleet on fire.
They sadly dark and cloudy do appear:

But ah, alas! a cat this prey espies,
Right so my thoughts, and so my notes do change; Then with a leap did thus our joys surprise.
Sweet, if ye smile, and hoarse, if ye look strange. Undoubtedly this bird was kill'd by treason,

Or otherwise had of that fiend had reason.
Thus was Achilles by weak Paris slain,

And stout Camilla fell by Aruns vain;
ALL CHANGETH.

So that false horse, which Pallas rais'd 'gainst Troy, “ The angry wiuds not aye

King Priam and that city did destroy. Do cuff the roaring deep;

Thou, now whose heart is big with this frail glory,

Shalt not live long to tell thy honour's story.
And, though Heavens often weep,
Yet do they smile for joy when comes dismay;

If any knowledge resteth after death

In ghosts of birds, when they have left to breathe,
Frosts do not ever kill the pleasant flow'rs;
And love hath sweets when gone are all the sours." My darling's ghost shall know in lower place

The vengeance falling on the cattish race.
This said a shepherd, closing in his arms

For never cat nor catling I shall find,
His dear, who blush'd to feel love's new alarms.

But mew shall they in Pluto's palace blind.
Ye, who with gaudy wings, and bodies light,

Do dint the air, turn hitherwards your flight;
SILENUS TO KING MIDAS.

To my sad tears comply these notes of yours,

Unto bis idol bring an harv'st of flow'rs; The greatest gift that from their lofty thrones Let him accept from us, as most divine The all-governing pow'rs to man can give,

Sabæan incense, milk, food, sweetest wine; Is, that he never breathe; or, breathing once, And on a stone let us these words engrave: A suckling end his days, and leave to live;

“Pilgrim the body of a sparrow brave For then he neither knows the woe nor joy

In a fierce glutt'nous cat's womb clos'd remains, Of life, nor fears the Stygian lake's annoy. Whose ghost now graceth the Elysian plaius."

[merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors]

I'll not die martyr for a mortal thing ;

'Tis 'nough to be confessor for a king. PORTRAIT OF THE COUNTESS OF PERTH. Will this you give contentment, honest men?

I've written rebels-pox upon the pen!

ON THE

SONNET.

When with brave art the curious painter drew

III.
This heavenly shape, the band why made he bear,
With golden veins, that flow'r of purple hue, The king a negative voice most justly hath,
Which follows on the planet of the year?

Since the kirk hath found out a negative faith.
Was it to show how in our hemisphere
Like him she shines ? nay, that effects more true
Of pow'r and wonder do in her appear,

IV. While he but flow'rs, and she doth minds subdue?

In parliament one voted for the king; Or would he else to virtue's glorious light Her constant course make known? or is 't that he The crowd did murmur he might for it smart;

His voice again being heard, was no such thing; Doth parallel her bliss with Clitra's plight ?

For that which was mistaken was a fart.
Right so; and thus he reading in her eye
Some lover's end, to grace what he did grave,
For cypress tree this mourning flow'r he gave.

V.

Bold Scots, at Barnnockburn ye kill'd your king, MADRIGAL

Then did in parliament approve the fact;

And would ye Charles to such a nonplus bring, If light be not beguild,

To authorize rebellion by an act? And eyes right play their part,

Well what ye crave who knows but granted may be! This flow'r is not of art, but fairest Nature's child; But, if he do 't, cause swaddle bim for a baby. And though, when Titan's from our world exil'd, She doth not look, her leaves, his loss to moan, To wonder Earth finds now more suns than one.

VI.

A REPLY.

SWADDLED is the baby, and almost two years
EPIGRAMS.

(His swaddling time) did neither cry nor stir;
But star'd, smil'd, did lie still, void of all fears,

And sleep'd, though barked at by every cur: I.

Yea, had not wak’d, if Lesly, that hoarse nurse,

Had not him hardly rock'd-old wives him curse! The Scottish kirk the English church do name; The English church the Scots a kirk do call; Kirk and not church, church and not kirk, O shame!

VII. Your kappa turn in chi, or perish all.

The king nor band nor host had him to follow, Assemblies meet, post bishops to the court :

Of all his subjects; they were given to thee, If these two nations fight, 'tis strangers' sport.

Lesly. Who is the greatest? By Apollo,
The emperor thou; some Palsegrave scarce seerss

Couldst thou pull lords, as we do bishops, doen,
II.

Small distance were between thee and a crowd. AGAINST the king, sir, now why would you fight? Forsooth, because he dubb'd me not a knight. And ye, my lords, why arm ye 'gainst king Charles?

VIII. Because of lords he would not make us earls.

When lately Pym descended into Hell, Earls, why do ye lead forth these warlike bands?

Ere he the cups of Lethe did carouse, Because we will not quit the church's lands.

What place that was, he called loud to tell; Most holy churchmen, what is your intent?

To whom a devil-“ This is the Lower House." The king our stipends largely did augment. Commons to tumult thus why are you driven? Priests us persuade it is the way to Heaven.

IX. Are these just cause of war; good people, grant?

THE STATUE OF ALCIDES. Ho! Plunder! thou ne'er swore our covenant.

FLORA, upon a time, Give me a thousand covenants; I'll subscrive Naked Alcides' statue did behold; Them all, and more, if more ye can contrive And with delight admired each ain'rous limb; Of rage and malice; and let every one

Only one fault, she said, could be of 't told:
Black treason bear, not bare rebellion.

For, by right symmetry,
I'll not be mock’d, hissid, plunderd, banish'd hencc, The craftsman had him wrong'd;
For more years standing for a **** prince. To such tall joints a taller club belong'd-
His castles are all taken, and his crown,

The club hung by his thigh.
His sword, and sceptre, ensigns of renown, To which the statuary did reply:
With that lieutenant Fame did so extol ;

“ Fair nymph, in ancient days, your *** by far And captives carried to the capital.

Were not so bogely vast as now they are,”

A SPEECH

OF A LION.

THE CHARACTER
Grear lies they tell, preach our church cannot err;

OF AN ANTI-COVENANTER, OR MALIGNANT.
Less lies, who say the king's not head of her;
Great lies, who cry we may shed other's blood,

Would you know these royal knaves,
Less lies, who swear dumb bishops are not good;

Of freemen would turn us slaves; Great lies they vent, say we for God do fight,

Who our union do defame Less lies, who guess the king does nothing right;

With rebellion's wicked name? Great lies and less lies all our aims descry;

Read these verses, and ye 'll spring 'em
To pulpits some, to camp the rest apply.

Then on gibbets straight cause hing 'em.
They complain of sin and folly;

In these times so passing holy,
XI.

They their substance will not give,

Libertines that we may live. AT THE KING'S ENTRY INTO THE TOWN OF LINLITHGOW;

Hold those subjects too, too wanton,

Under an old king dare canton.
PRONOUNCED BY MR. JAMES WISEMAN, SCHOOLMASTER
THERE, INCLOSED IN A PLASTZR MADE IN THE FIGURE Neglect they do our circ'lar tables,

Scorn our acts and laws as fables;
THRICE, royal sir, here I do you beseech,

Of our battles talk but meekly, Who art a lion, to hear a lion's speech.

With four sermons pleas'd are weekly ;
A miracle; for, since the days of Æsop,

Swear king Charles is neither papist,
No lion till these times his voice dar'd raise up Arminian, Lutheran, or atheist.
To such a majesty: then, king of men,

But that in his chamber-pray'rs,
The king of beasts speaks to thee from his den ;

Which are pour'd ʼmidst sighs and tears,
Who, though he now enclosed be in plaster,

To avert God's fearful wrath,
When he was free, was Lithgow's wise schoolmaster. Threatning us with blood and death;

Persuade they would the multitude,

This king too holy is and good.
XII.
A COUNTRY maid Amazon-like did ride,

They avouch we'll weep and groan

When hundred kings we serve for one;
To sit more sure, with leg on either side:

That each shire but blood affords,
Her mother who her spied, said that ere long
She should just penance suffer for that wroug;

To serve th' ambition of young lords ;
For when time should on her more years bestow,

Whose debts ere now bad been redoubled,

If the state had not been troubled.
That horse's hair between her thighs would grow.
Scarce winter twice was come, as was her told, Slow they are our oath to swear,
When she found all to frizzle there with gold ; Slower for it arms to bear :
Which first made her afraid, then turn'd her sick, They do concord love, and peace,
And forc'd her keep her bed almost a week. Would our enemies embrace,
At last her mother calls, who scarce for laughter Turn men proselytes by the word,
Could hear the pleasant story of ber daughter; Not by musket, pike, and sword.
But, that this phrenzy should no more her vex,
She swore thus bearded were their weaker sex ;

They swear that for religion's sake
Which when denied, “Think not,” said she, “I scorn; We may not massacre, burn, sack:
Behold the place, poor fool, where thou wast born."

That the beginning of these pleas, The girl that seeing cried, now void of pain, Sprang from the ill-sped A B Cs, Ah! mother, you have ridden on the mane!” For servants that it is not well

Against their masters to rebel.

That that devotion is but slight,
XIII.

Doth force men first to swear, then fight.
God's judgments seldom use to cease, unless That our confession is indeed
The sins which them procur'd men do confess. Not the apostolic creed;
Our cries are Baal's priests, our fasting vain; Which of négations we contrive,
Our pray’rs not heard, nor answer'd us again: Which Turk and Jew may both subscrive.
Till perjury, wrong, rebellion, be confest,
Thiok not on peace, nor to be freed of pest.

That monies should men's daughters marry,
They on frantic war miscarry.
Whilst dear the soldiers they pay,

At last who will snatch all away.
XIV.

And, as times turn worse and worse,
The king gives yearly to his senate gold;

Catechise us by the purse.
Who can deny but justice then is sold ?

That debts are paid with bold stern looks;
That merchants pray on their 'compt books;

That Justice dumb and sullen frowns,
XV.

To see in croslets hang'd her gowns;
Here Rixus lies, a novice in the laws,

That preachers' ordinary theme Who 'plains he came to Hell without a cause. Is 'gainst monarchy to declaim.

[merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors]
« VorigeDoorgaan »