XIV.
HAST. thee, harsh verse, as ïast as thy lame measure XVill give thee leave, to him: my pain and pleasure I bave given thee, and yet thou art too weak, Fcet, and a reasoning soul, and tongue to speak. Tcll hiln, all questions which men bave defendcd Both of the place and pains of hell, are ended; And tis decreed our hcll is but privation Of him, at least in this earth's habitation. And "tis where I ara, where in every street Infections follow, ovcrtake, and meet: Lire I or die, by you my love is sent, And you're my pawns, or clse my testament.
XV. To Mr. T. 11: PRE«rA,r again with th' old twins, hope and fear, Oft have I asked tbr thce, both how and where Thou wert, and what mv hopes of letters were.
As in our streets sly beggars narrowly "Vatch motions of the giver's hand or eye, And evermore conceive some hope thercby. And now thy ahns is given, thv ]etter is rcad, Thy body riscn again, the which was dcad, And thy poor star'eling bountifullv fed. Ater this banquet my ul doth say grace, And praise thee tbr it, and zealously embracc Thy Ios'e, though ] think thy love in this case To be as gluttonç, which y "midst their meat, They love that best of which they most do car. At once, ri'oto hence, my lines and l depaoE, I to mv soK still walks, thcy to my hcart; ] to the nurse, they to the chihl of Yet as a firm bouse, though the carpentcr Pcrish, doth stand; as an ambassador Lies sat, howe'er his king be in danger: So, though I languish, prest with nmlancholy, My verse, the strict ma l) of my misery, Shall lire to s¢e that. for whose want I dic.
Thcrefore I envy them. and do repent, That from unhappy me, things hal»py are sent; Yet as a picture, or bare sacrament, Accept these lines, and if in them the'e bc 5lotit of love, bestow that lo,'e,m me.
XVI. To Mr. C. Ttv ïriend, whom thy deserts to thee enehain, Urged by this unexcusable occasion, Thce and the saint of his affection Leaving behind, doth of both wants coml)lain; And let the love I bear to both sustain 5To blot nor maire by this division; Strong is this love which ties out hearts in ont, Probably, Christophcr Brook.—lg).
And strcmg that love imrsued with amorous pain; But thtmgh besicles thvself 1 Icave hehind l leavcu's liberal and earth's thrice-fidr sun, Going to where stern winter are doth w,m, Yct Iove's hot rires, which martyr my sad ntincl, 1 o send tbrth scahling sighs, which have the art To melt ail icc, but that vhich wall hcr heart.
XVII.
() ïttot" which to sear('h out the secret 1,arts If tltc lndia, or rather l,aradise t" knowlcdge, hast with courage attd advice Lately latmched into the vast sea of arts, Disdain hot in thy constant travelling To do as othcr voyagers, and makc Some turns into lcss creeks, and wiscly tako Frcslt watcr af the Ileliconian si)ring: I ing n«,t, sireu-like, fo tcmpt; tlu" 1 Ara ]mrsh, nor as those schismatics with you, Which draw ail wits of good hope ,» thcir crcw; But sceing in vou bright sparks of l)octry, 1, though 1 brought no thcl, had desirc With thcse articulatc blasts to blow thc tire.
XVIlI.
To Mr. B. Is hot thy sacred hungcr of science Yct satisfied: ls hot thy brain's rich hivo Fulfill'd with honey which thou dost derive From thc arts" spirits and their quintessence. Then wean thyself at last, and thee withdraw From Cambridge thy old nurse, and, as the res¢, tlere toughly ehew, and sturdily digest Th" immense vast volulnes of out" COllllllOn law; Probably Samuel Brook.—Et). " This Poem seems fo be addreed to the saine person as the last.—Eo.
AS iii ollr streets sly beggars narrowly Vratch motions of the giver's hand or eyc, klll evermore conceive some hope the,'ebv. And iiow thy allns is given, thv letter is l'cad, Thy body l'iSell again, the which was dcad,)i nd thy poor starveling bountifullv fed. Ai'ter this banquet my soul doth say graee, And praise tllee tr it, and zealously embracc Thy love, though I think thy love i, this ca.e Ïo be as.¢..,hlttons , whidl sav "lllid.t their ineat, They love tl,at best of which they Inost do eat. At o,iee, ri'oto hellCe, my lines al,d I del,art, I to lllV sort oEill valks, tlley to iny hea,'t; I to the nul'se, they to the chihl of a,'t. 'et as a flrill bouse, thongh the carpenter l'erish, doth.stand; as ail ambassador Lies safe, howe'er his kilg be iii danger: So, though I langui»h, prest with melanchol.v, ]|y verse, tl,e strict lnap of* lny lniser.x-, ShMI live fo see that. for whose want I clic.
Therefore I envy tllem, and do repent, That ri-oto t, nhappy ine, things hapl,y are sent; Yet as a picture, or bare sacrament, Accept these lines, and i|" in thel, there bc.Merit of love, bestow that love {)ll nie.
XVI. ToMe'. C.B.* T,,v frielld, whom thy deserts to thec enehain, Urged by this unexcusable occasion, Thce and the saint of llis affection Leaving behind, doth of both wants complain; And let tlle love I bear to both sustain 1'o blot ilor maim by this division; Strong is this love which ties our hearts in one, Probably, ChristopIlei- lrool«—ED.
And strong that love |mrsned with alllorons pain; But th«ugh besicles thvself I leave hehind lt eaven's liberal and earth's thrice-tfir sou, Going to where stern winter aye doth won. Yet Iove's hot rires, which martyr my sad mi.d, ];o send tbrth scalding sigh,s, which bave the art To melt ail icc, but that which wall. hcr heart.
() TIIOC wh;ch to search out the secret 1,arts ;f the lndia, or rather paradise {;f knowledge, hast with courage and advice Lately launched into the vast sea of arts, Disdain hot in thv constant travelling To do as other voyagers, and make Some turns into ]css creeks, and wiscly take Fresh water at the Itelieonian sprint; 1 sing not. siren-like, to tempt; tbr I Ara harsh, nor as those schimatics with yon, Which draw ail wits of good hope to thcir crew; Bnt sceing in vou hright q»al'ks of poetry,!, though I brought no fiicl, had desire With these articulatc hlasts to blow thc tire.
To Mr. B. B T. ]. hot thy sacred hunger of science Yet satisfied . ]s hot thy brain's rich hivo Fulfill'd with honey whieh thou dost derive l"fore the arts" spirits and their quintessence. Then wean thyself at last, and thee withdraw From Cambridge thy old nurse, and, as the test, Here toughly ehew, and sturdily digest Th" immense vast vohlnles of oui, eonnllon law; Probably Samuel Brook.E». " This Poem seems to be addressed to the smne person as the last.—E,.
XXI. Te.lIr. I. P. BLEST are your north parts, for ail this long time My sun is with you, cold and dark is out clime; Heaven's sun, which staid se long t¥om us this year, Staid in your uorth (i think) ibr she was there, And hither by kind nature drawu ii'on thenee, ] lere rages, chais, and threatens pestilence; Yet l: as long as she ri'oto hence doth sta.v, Think this no south, no summer, ner no dav. Vith thee mv kind and unkind heart is run. There sacrifice it te that beauteous sun: Se may thy pastures with their flowery feasts, As suddenly as lard, fat thy lean beats; Se may thy woods oft pollcd, yet cver wear A green, and when thee* list a golden hair; Se may ail thy sheep bring fi»rth twins; and o In chaee and 'race nmy thv herse ail out-,,to; Se mav thv love and courage ne'er be eold; Thv son ne'er ward; thy loved wife ne'er seem o1,1; But may'st thou wish great things, and them attain, As thou tell'st her and noue but ber my pain.
XXII. Te E. er D., with 81x lloly,S'onnets af. SEr. Sir, how as the sun's hot masculine flame Begets strange creatures on Nile's dirtv slime, In me, your fatherly yet lusty rhwne (For these songs are their fruits) have wrought the samc; But though the engendcring force ri'oto whence they came Be strong enough, and nature de adnfit Seven te be born at once, I senti as yet But six; they say, the seventh bath still seine maire; I ehoose your judgment, which the saine degree Doth with her sister, your invention, hold, As tire these drossy rhymes te purify, )r as elixir, te change them te gold; You are that alchymist which always had Wit, whose one spark could make good things of bad. She.—.ndersoa. "t The Earl of Donc, aster.—Ev.
XXIII.
To Nir lieur!! IIootton, at his ffoing Ambaasador fo Veniee.
A FTER those reverend papers, whose soul is ()ur good and great king's loved hand and fear'd naine, By whieh to you he derives much of his, And (how he may) makes you almost the saine,
A taper of his torch, a copy writ From his original, and a fair beam Of the saine warm, and dazzling sun, though it Must in another sphere his virtue stream:
After those leamed papers, which your hand Hath stor'd vith notes of use and pleasures too, From which rich treasury you may command Fit marrer whether you wdl write or do:
After those loving papers, where fl'iends send SVith glad grief, to your sea-ward steps, farewell, Which thieken on you now, as prayers ascend To heaven in troops at a good man's passing bell
Adroit this llonest paper, and allow It such an audience as yourself wouhl ask; SVllat you must say at Venice, this means now, And hath for nature, what you bave for task.
To swear nmch love, hot to be cllanged, before ]Ionour alone will to your fortuue fit; Nor.hall I then honour your fortune, more Than I llave doue you honour, wanting it*.
But 'tis an casier load (though both oppress) To waut, than govern greatness, for we are In that, out own and only business, In this, we luust for others" vices care.
It is therefore well your spirits now are placed lu their last furnace, in activity; SVhich fits them (schools and courts and wars o'eq)as.'d) To touch and test in anv best degree.
XXI. To Air. I. P. B v.s'r are your nOl'th parts, for all thi, long rime My snn is with yon, eold and dark i. out elime; Heaven's sun, whieh staid so long from us this year, Staid in your north (l thiuk) fbr she was there, And hither by kind nature drawn from thenee, lIere rages, ehafes, and threatens pestilence; Yet I: as long as she front henee doth sta.v, Think thi.s no south, no summer, nor no dav. XVith thee my kind and unkild heart is run, There sacrifice it to that beauteous.uu: 8o may thy pa.stures with their flowery f'easts, As suddenly as lard, fat thy lean l,ea,ts,qo may thy woods oft polled, yet ever wear A green, and when thee* list a golden hair;,So may ail thy sheep bring forth twins; and o In ehaee and'raee nmy thy horse all out-go; So may thy love and eonrage ne'er be eold; Thy son ne'er ward; thy loved wife ne'er seem o1«i; lhlt nlay'st thou wi.h great thing., aud them attahl, A. thou tell'st her and none but her my pain.
XXII. To lç. of D.,,cith Siz lloly,b'onnets "1". S Sir, how as the sun's hot masculine flame Begets strange ereatures on!X'ile's dirtv slime, In me, yoar fatherly yet la.ty rhvme (For these songs are their ri'uit.s) have wrought the saine; But though the engendcring force ri'ont whence they came Be strong enough, and nature do adroit Seven to be born af once, I send as yet But six they say, the seventh hath soEill some maire; I choose your judgment, whieh the sanie degree Doth with her sister, your invention, hold, As tire these drossy rhymes to purify, I r as elixir, to change them to gold; You are that alehymist which ahvays had XVit, whose oae spark could make good things of bad. 8he..4nderon. ¢ The Earl of Doncaster.Ev.
AF'I'EIt those reverend papers, whose soul is Out good and great king's loved hand and fear'd naine, By whieh to;)'ou he derives much of his, And (how he ma)') makes you almost the saine,
A taper of his torch, a copy writ l"rom his original, and a fait beam Of the saine warm, and dazzli.g sun, though it Must in another sphere his virtue stream:
After those learned papers, whieh your hand Hath stor'd with notes of use and l)leasures too, From which rich treasur")'ou nmy eommand Fit marrer whether you wfll write or do:
After those loving papers, where friends send Uith glad grief, to your sea-ward steps, fitrewell. Which thiekeu on)'ott now, as prayers ascend To heaven in troops at a good man's passing bell
Adroit this houest pal»er, and allow If such an audience as yourselï wouhl ask; What you must say at Venice, this means now, Aud hath for nature, what you bave for task.
To swear much love, not to be changed, belote Honour alone will to your fortune fit; Nor shall I then honour your fortune, more Than I have donc you honour, wanting it*.
But "tis an easier load (though both oppress) To waut, than govern greatness, for we are In that, out own and onh" business, I, this, we must for others" vices care.
It is therefore well your spirits now are plaeed In their last furnace, in activity; Which fits them (schools and courts and wars o'erpas'd) To touch anti test in anv best degree.
For me, (if there be such a thing as I) FoloEune (if there be such n thing as she) Spies that I bear so well her t)rauny, That she thinks nothing else so fit for me;
But though she part us, to hear my oft prayers For your increase, God is as near me here; And to send you what I shall beg, his stairs In length and ease are alike everywhere.
XXIV. To the 6'ountess of Bedford. Hoova is so sublime perfection, And so refined; that when God was alone And creatureless at first, himselï had none;
But as of the elements, these which we tread, Produce all things with which we're joyed or fed, And those are barren both above out head:
.qo from low persons doth ail honour flow; Kings, whom they would have honoured, to us show, And but direct out honour, hot bestow.
For when from herbs the pure part must be won From gross, by stilling, this is better donc By despised dung, than by the tire or sun.
Care not thCll, madam, how low your praises lie; hl labourers ballads more of piety God finds, than in Te Deum's melody.
And orduance raised on towers so many mlle Send not their voice, nor last so long a while As rires from the earth's low vaults in Sicil Isle.
Should I s,y I lived darker than were true, Your radiation tan all clouds subdue, But one; it is best light to contemplate you.
You, for whose body God ruade better clay, Or took soul's stuff such as shall late decay, Or such as needs small change at the last day.
This, as an amber drop enwraps a bee, Covering discovers your quick soul; that we May in your through-shine front our hearts" thoughts see. You teach (though we learn not) a thing unknown To out late rimes, the use of specu|ar stone, Through which all things within, without are shown. Of such were temples; so and such you are; leing and seeming is your equal care, And virtue's whole sum is but know and date. But as out souls of growth and souls of sense Have birthright of out reason's soul, yet hence They fly hot from that, nor seek precedence. Natures first lesson, so, discretion, Must not grudge zeal a place, nor yet keep none, Not banish itself, nor religion. Discretion is a wiso man's soul, and so Religion is a Christian's, and you know How these are one; ber yea, is hot ber no, Nor may we hope to solder still and knit These two, and date to break them; nor must wit De colleague to religion, but be it. In those poor types of God (round circles) so Religious types, the pieceless centres flow, And are lu all the lines whlch always go. If either ever wrought in you alone Or priacipally, then religion "Wrought your ends, and your way's discretion. Go thither still, go the same way you went, "Who so would change, do covet or repent; Neither can reach you, great and innocent.
XXV. To tke Couttess of Bedford. Begun in France, but never perfected. Tnovc.H I be dead, and buried, yet I have (Living in you,} court enough in my grave,
As «,ft as there I think mvself to ho, So la.,,, resurrections waken That thankfidness your farours hare begot In me, emba]ms me; that I do hot rot; This season as tis Easter, as tis Must both to growth and to confessiou bl'n My thouhts disposed unto yonr influence, so, These verses bud so these confessions groxv First I confess I have to others lent Your stock, and over prodigally spent Your treasure, for since I had never known Virtne or beauty, but as they are growii In you I should hot think or say they slfine, (So as I llave) in any other mine 'ext I confess tlfis mv For "tis some fault tlns ranch to touch npon Your praise to Sou, where hall rights seel too nmcl h Alld make your iiind*s sincere complexion l»lush. ext I contss my hnpenitence, tbr I Can scaree repent mv first fault, since therehv Hemote low spirits, which shall neer read you, Mat in ]ess ]esson.s nd enough to Hv studng copies hot orihmls. 9esunt c«ctera.
! IF.ae where by ail, ail saints invoked are, "Twere too much schism to be singular, And "gains a practice general to war. 'et turning to saints, shouhl my humi]itv To other saint than vou directed be, That were to make my schism, heresy. Nor would I be a convertite so cohl, As not to tell it; if this be too bold, Pardons are iu this market cheaply sold. Vhere, beeause faith is in too low dem'ee, I thought it some apostleship in me To speak things which by faith alone I see.
Tbat is, of you, who is a firmament Of virtues, where no one is grown, or" spent. They are vour matcrial, uot yottr ornament. Others whom we call virtuous, are hot so In their whole mthstanee; but their viues grov But iu their humours, and at seasons show. For when through tasteless fiat humility In dough-baked men some harmlessness we sec, 'Tis but his phle#m that's virtuons, and hot he. So is the bld sometimes wbo ever ran To danger uuimportuned, he was than 'o better than a sanguine virtuous mau. So cioisteral men, who, in pretence of fear Ail coutributions to this litç forbear, Have viue in melaneholy, aud only there. Spiritual choleric critics, which in ail Religions fiud fimlt, and forgive no fall, Have, througb their zeal, virtue but in their gall. We are thus but parcel-guiit; to goid we are grown When virtue is our soul's complexion; Who knows his viue's naine or place, bath none. Virtue is but anguish, when "tis several, By casiou waked, and cireumstantial. Truc virtue is soul, always in ail dees ail. This virtue thinking to glve diity To your ul, round there no infirmity, For your soul was as go viue, as she. She therefore wrought upon that part of you Which is scarce less than sonl, as she could do, And so bath ruade your beauty, vitue too. Hence comes if, tha/your beauty wounds hot hearts As othe, with profane and sensual das, But as an influence, virtuous thoughts impas. But if such friend, by the honour of your sight Grow capable of this so great a light, As to paake your virtues, and their might. VOl,. VI. 2 1
Vhat must I think that influence must do, Vhere it finds sympathy and matter too, Virtue, and beauty of the saine stuff, as vou. Which is, your noble worthy sister, she Of whom, if what in this my ecstasy And revelation of you both I sec I should write here, as in short galleries The toaster at the end large glass ries, So to present the room twiee to out eyes, So I should give this letter length, and y That which I said of you, there is no way From either, but by* the other hot fo stray. May therefore this be enough to testify My truc devotion, free from flattery; He that believes himself, doth never lie.
F,IR, great, and good, since seeing you, we see SVhat heaven ean do, and what auy earth can be: Since now your beauty shines, now when the sun Grown stale, is to so low a value run, That his dishevelled beams and scattered rires Serve but for ladies' periwigs and tires In loyers" sonnets: you conte to repair God's book of creatures, teaching what is fair. Since now, when all is withered, shrunk, and dried, Ail virtues ebbed out to a dead low tide, Ail the world's frame being crumbled into sand, SVhere every man thinks by himsdf to stand, Integrity, friendship, and confidence, (Cements of greatness) being vapoured hence, And narrow man beivg filled with little shares, Court, city, church, are ail shops of small wares, Ail having blown to sparks their noble tire, And drawn their sound, gold-ingot into wire;
AI1 trying by a love of littleness To make abridgements, and to draw to less, Even that nothing, which at first we were; Since in these times, your greatness doth appear, And that we learn by it, that man to get Towards him that's infinite, must first be great. Since in an age so iii, as none is fit So much as to accuse, much less mend it, (For who can judge, or witness of those times Where all alike are guilty of the crimes.) Where he that would be good, is thought by ail A monster, or at best fantastical: Since now you durst be good, and that I do Discern, by daring to contemplate you, That there may be degrees of fait, great, good, Through your light, largeness, virtue understood: If in this sacrifice of mine, be shown Any small spark of these, call it your own. And if things like these, have been said by me Of others; call hot that idolatry. For had God ruade man first, and man had seet The third day's fruits, and flowers, and various green, He might have said the best that he could say Of those fait creatures, which were ruade that day; And when next day he had admired the birth Of sun, moon, stars, fairer than ]ate-praised earth, He might have said the best that he could say, And hot be chid for praising yesterday: So though some things are not together true, As, that another is worthiest, and, that you: 'et, to say so, doth not condenm a nmn, If when he spoke them, they were both true then. How fair a proof of this, in oto" soul grows. We first bave souls of growth, and sense, and those, Vhen out last soul, our soul immortal came, ,Vere swallowed into it, and have no naine. Nor doth he injure those sortis, which doth cast The power and praise of both them, on the last; 1o more do I wrong any; I adore The saine things now, which I adored before, The subject changed, and measure; the saine thing In a low coustable, aud in the king
I reverence; his power to work Oll Ii|C So did I humbly reverence each degree (l lair reat, ood» but more now I ara corne Frotn having found their walks, to find their home. And as I owe tny first soul's thanks, that thev For my last soul did fit attd mould my clay, So ara [ debtor unto them, whose worth Enablcd me to profit, and take forth This new great lesson, thus to study you; Which none, not ading others, first, cou|d do. 1N'or lack I light to read this book, though I In a dark cave, yea, in a grave do lie; For as your fellow-angels, so you do Illustrate them who conte to study you. 'rite first whom we in histories do find To have professed all arts, was one born blind: ile lacked those eyes beasts bave as wel| as we, Xot those, by which angels are seen attd sec; So, though I atn born without those eyes to li,'e, XVhich fortune, who hath none herselt; doth give, Which are fit means to sec bright courts and you Yet may I sec you thus, as now I do; I shall by that, ail goodness have discerned, And though I btu'n my librat T, be learned.
Aih ANATOMY OF THE WORLD.
THE FnsT A.':[VEaSARY. 'HEN that rich soul which to ber heaven is gone, Vho all do celebrate, who lnow they have one, (For who is sure he hath a soul, unless It see, and judge, and follow worthiness, And by deeds praise it. he who doth hot this, Iay lodge an inlnate sou], but "tis hOt his.)
Vhen that queen ended here her progress time, And as to her standing-houso, to heaven did climb, V'hero, loth to mako the saints attend her long, She's now a part both of tho choir, and song; This world in that great earthquako languished; For in a eommon bath of tears it bled, Which drew tho strongost vital spirits out: But sueeoured then with a perplexed doubt, Whether thc world did lose, or gain in this, (Because since now no other way there is, But goodness, to see ber, whom ail would see, All must endeavour to be good as she.) This great consumption to a ïever turned, And so the world had fits; it joyed, it mourned; And, as men think, that agues physic are, And the agme being spent, give over tare; So thou sick world, mistake'st thyselï to be Well, when Mas! thou'rt in a lethargy. Her death did wound and rame thee then, and than Thou might'st have better spared the sun, or man. That wound was deep, but 'ris more misery, That thou hast lost thy sense and memory. 'Twas heavy theu to hear thy voice of moan, But this is worse, that thou art speechless grosvn. Thou hast ïorgot thy naine thou hadst; thou wast lothing but she, and ber thou hast o'erpast. For as a child kept ïrom the ïount, until A prince, expected long, corne to filfil The ceremonies, thou unnamed had'st laid, Had hot her eoming, thee her palace ruade: Her naine defined thee, gave thee ïorm, and ïrane, And thou forger'st to celebrate thy name. Some months she bath been dead (but being dead, Measures of times are ail determined) But long she'ath been away, long, long,.vet none Offers to tell us who it is that's gone. But as in states doubtfitl of future heirs, When sickness without remedy impairs The present prince, they're loth it should be said, The prince doth languish, or the prince is dead: So mankind ïeeling now a general thaw, A strong example gone, equal to law:
The cernent which did faithfully compact. And glue ail virtues, now resolved, and slackcd, Thought it some blasphemy to say she was dead. Or that out weakness was discovered In that confession; therefore spoke no more Than tongues, the soul being gone, the loss deplore. But thou.,..,h it be too late to suceour thee, Sick world,.vea, dead, yea putrefied, since she Thy intrinsic bahu, and thy preservative, Can never be renewed, thou never lire: I (since no man tan make thee lire) will try, VChat we nlay gaill }).v tllv anatonl)'. lier death hath taught us dearly, that thou art Cora'upt and nlortal i thy purcst part. Let no amn sa.v, the world itself being dead, "Tis labour lost to have discovered The world's infirnlities, since there is none Alive to studv this dissection; For there's a kind of world remaining till, Though she which did inaninmte and fill The world, be gone, yet in this last long night, Her ghost doth walk, that is, a glimmering light, A faint weak love of virtue, and of good, Refleet fivm her, on them which mlderst«»od Her worth; and though she havc shut in all da)', The twilight of her memory d.th stay; VChich, ri'oto the carcase of the ohl world free, Ceates a new world, and new ereatures bc Produced: the matter and the stuffof this, IIer virtue, and the fi)rm out practiee i.: And, thought to bc thus elemented, arm These ereatures, from home-born intrinsic harm, (For all assumed unto this diguity, So many weedless paradises be, VChich of themselves produce no venomous sin, Except some foreign serpent bring it in) Yet beeause outward storms the strongest break, And strength itself by confidence grows weak, This new world may be safer, being told The dangers and diseases of the old; For with due temper men do then forego. ()r eovet tllings, when they their true worth know.
There i n,, heahb: I,hysi-ian- »v that we, At best enjr,y Imt a neutrallt. And cau there be worse sickne, than to know That wo am nec-er well, nor can be soi We are horn ruinous: poor mothers cry, That children corne hot right, nor orderlyç Except they headlong corne and thll Ul,On An ominrms precipitation. l low wittv's r,fin, how import,mtc Upan mankind it laboured to fi'utrate Evcn I;od's lmrpose; and ruade woman, sent For man's reliet cause of his languishment. Tl,ev werc to w,od ends, and thev are so still. But acecssory, and principal in iii; For that first marriage was out rimerai: he woumn at one blow, then killed us ail, And singly, oue by one, they kili us now. We do delightfidly ourselves allow To that consumption; aud profusely blind, We kill om'selves to i»ropagate out kind. A,,d yet we do not that; we are hot men: There is hot uow that mankind, which was then, Vhen as the sun and man did seem to strive, (3oint teuants of the world) who shouhl sur'i*'e; Vheu stag, and raven, and the long-lived trec, Con,l»ared with n,an, died in minorit); Vhen, if a slow-l»aced star had stolon away From the ol»servcr's marking, he might stay Two or three hundred years to sec it again, And then make up his observation plain; Vhen. as the age was long, the size was great; Man's growth canfessed, and recompensed the me at; So sl»acions and large, that ever" soul Did a fait kingdom, and large reahn control: And when the very stature, thus erect, Did that soul a good wav towards heaveu direct. Where is this mankiud uow who lires to age, Fit to bo ruade Methusalem his page Alas, we scarce lire loug enough to t,'y Whether a truc ruade dock ruu right, or lie. I)ld 'andsires talk of yesterdav with sorrow, And tbr out children we reser'e to-morrow.
So short is lire that every peasant strives, In a torn bouse, or field to bave three lires. And as in lasting, so in lenh is man, Contracted fo an inch, who was a span For had a man at first in forests strayed, Or shipwrecked in the sea, one would have laid A wager, that an elephant, or whale, That met him, would not hastily assail A thing so equal to him: now alas, The fairies, and the pigmies well may pass As credible: mankind decays so soon, We are scarce out fathers' shadows cast at noon. Only death adds to out length: nor are we grown In stature to be men, till we are none. But this were light, did out less volume hold All the old text; or had we ehanged to gohl Their silver, or disposed into less glass Spirits of virtue, which then scattered was. But "ris uot so: we're not retired, but dampt; And as out bodies, so out minds, are crampt; "Tis shrinking, not close weaving, that hath thus, In mind and body both bedwarfed us. We seem ambitious, God's whole work to undo; Of nothing he made us, and we strive too, To bring ourselves to nothing baek; and we Do what we tan, to do it soon as he. SVith new diseases on ourselves we war, And with new physic, a worse englue far. Thus man, this world's vice-emperor, in whom All faculties, all graces are at home; And if in other creatures they appear, They are but man's ministers, and legats there, To work on their rebellions, and reduce Them to civility, and to man's use; This man, whom God did woo, and loth to attend Till man came up, did down to man descend, This man so great, that all that is, is his, O what a trifle, and poor thing he is! If man were anything, ho's nothing now: Help, or at least some rime to waste, allow To his other wants, yet when he did depart Vith her whom we lament, he lost his heart.
She, of whom th » ancients seem'd to prophesy, When they call'd virtues by the naine of she; She in whom virtue was so much refin'd, That for alloy unto so pure a mind She took the weaker sex: she that could drive The poisonous tincture, and the stain of Eve, Out of her thought, and deeds; and purify Ail, by a true religlous alchymy; She, she is dead: she»s dead: when thou know'st this, Thou know'st how poor a trifling thing man is. And learnst thus much by out anatomy, The heart being perish'd, no part can be free. And that except thou feed (hOt banquet) on The supernatural food, religion: Thy better growtll grows withered, and scant; Be more than man, or thou'rt less than an ant. Then as mankind, so is the 'orld's whole frame Quite out of joint, almost created lame: For, before God had ruade up ail the rest, Corruption entered, and deprav'd the best: If seizd the angels, and then first of ail The world did in her cradle take a fall, And turn'd hcr brains, and took a general maire, Vronging each joint of the universal frame. The noblest part, man, felt it first; and than Both beasts and plants, curst in the curse of man, So did the world from the first hour decay, That evening was beginnilg of the day, And now the springs and summers which we see, -Like sons of women after fifty be. And new philosophy calls ail in doubt, The element of tire is quite put out; The sun is lost, and the earth and no man's wit Can well direct him where to look for it. And freely men confess that this world's spent, Vhen in the planets, and the firmament They seek so many new; they see that this Is crumbled out again to his atomies. "Tis ail in pieces, ail coherence gone i AI1 just supply, and ail relation: Prince, subject father, son, are things forgot, For every man alone, thinks he hath got
To bc a phcenix, an,I tbat there tan hc N,»ne of that kind. of which he is, but he. This ix the worl,l'. con«litioli now. and now She that should ail parts to reunion bow, She that had ail magnetic force a]one, To draw, and fasten hundred parts in one; She whom wise naturc had ilmvented then $$'hen she obscrv'd that ever)" sooE of men Dit! in their voyage in this world's.ea stra.v, And needed a ncw colnpa.s for their wav; qlle that was best, and first original Of l fait copies, ad the general Steward to rate; she whose rich e.ves, and breast, ;lt the Vest Indies, and perfinn'd the East, $'llose having breath'd in this world, did bcstov Spice on those isle., and bade tllem still smell so, And that rich India which doth gol,! inter, Is but a single money coin'd froln her: She to wholn this world Illll.St itself refer, As suburbs, or the inierocosm of lleq She, she is dead! she's dead: when thon know'st this Thou know'st how lame a cripp]e this world is: And ]earn'st tllus mueh by out anatomy. That this world's gelleral sickness doth not lic In any humour, or one certain part; But a. thou sawest it rotten at the heart, Thou seest 3 hectic fer'er hath got hold If the who]e substance, ilOt to be eontrolled, And that thou hast but one way, not t'adroit The world's infection, to be none of it. For the world's subtlest immaterial part. Feel this consuming wound, and age's darts. For the world's beauty is decay'd, or golle, Beauty, that's colour, and proportion. We think the heavens enjoy their spherical, Their round proportion, embraeing ail, But yet their various and perplexed course, Observ'd in divers ages, doth enforce Men to find out so many eecentric parts, Such divers down right lines, such overthwarts, As disproportion that pure form: it tears The firmanent in eight-and-forty shire_,
And in tbese constellations then arise New.t.r., an,! o1.1 do vanish fro:n out eyea: As tbouyh hcav'n suffered earthquakes, peace or war, %Vhcn new towcrs rise, and old demolish'd are. They bave ilupal'd with a zodiac The frêe-born sun, and keep twelve sic-ms awake To watch his steps; the goat and crab control, And fright him back, who else to either pole (Did hot these tropics fetter bhu) might run For his course is not round; nor can the sun Pcrlït a circle, or mantain bis way One inch direct: but where he rose to-day tle cornes no more, but witb a cozening line, Steals by that point, and so is serpentine: And seeing weary with his reeling thus, He means to sleep, being now thllen near u.. So, of the stars which boast that they do run lu circle still, none ends where he beguu. A I1 tbeir proportiou's lame, it si[ks, it swells. For of meridiau.% and parallels, Man bath weaved out a net, and tbis net thrown [pou the heavens, and now they are his own. Lotit to go up tbe 1611, or labour thus To go to beaven, we make heaven corne to us. We spur, wc rein tbe stars, and in their race They're diverselv content to obey out peace. ]lut I¢eeps the eartb he round proportion still. Doth not a Teuarus or higber hill Rise so bigh like a rotin, tbat one might thinl Tbe floatin. lnOOn wouhl shipwreck there and sink. Seas are so deep, that xx'hales being struck to day, Perchauce to-morroxv searce at middle way Of their wisb'd journey's end, the bottom, die. And men, to sound depths, so much line untie, As one might justly tbiuk, that there would fise At end thereof, oue of the antipodes: If undcr ail, a vault infernal be, (Vhich sure is spacious, except that we Invent anotbcr torment, that there must Millious iuto a straight hot room be thrust) Theu solidnes., and roundness have no place. Are these but watts, and pockholes in the face
Of the earth. think so: but yet confess, in this The world's proportion disfigured is; That those two legs whereon it doth rely, leward and punishment, are bent awry. And, O, it can no more be questioned, That beauty's best proportion, is dead, Since even grief itself, which now alone Is left us, is without proportion. She by whose lines proportion should be Examined, measure of a|l symmetry, XVhom had that aneient seen, who thought souls ruade Of harmony, he would at next have said That harmony was she, and thenee infer, That souls were but resaltanees from ber, And did from her into our bodies go, As to our eyes, the forms from objects flow: She, who if those great doctors truly said That the ark to man's proportion was ruade, Had been a type for that, as that might be A type of her in this, that eontrary Both elements and passions lived at peace In her, who eaused ail civil war to eease. She, after whom, what form soever we see, I. diseord, and rade ineongraity; She, she is dead! she's dead; when thou know'st this, Thou know'st how ugly a monster this world is: And learnst thus mueh by our anatomy, That here is nothing to enaronr thee: And that, hOt only faults in inward parts, Corraptions in our brains, or in oar hearts, Poisoning the foantains, whence our actions spring, Endanger us: but that if every thing Be not done fitly and in proportion, To satisfy wi, aad good lookers on, (Sinee most men be saeh as most think they be) They are loathsome too, by this deformity. For good, and well, must in our actions meet Wicked is hot mueh worse than indiscreet. But beauty's other second element, Colour, and lastre now, is as near spent. And had the world his just proportion, XVere it a ring still, yet the stone is gone,
As a compassionate turquoise which doth tell By looking pale, the wearer is hot well, As gold falls sick being stung with mercmT, Ail the world's parts of such complexion be. Vhen nature was most busy, the first week, Swadling the new born earth, God seemd to like That she should sport herself sometimes, and play, To mingle, and vary colours every day: And then, as though she could hot make enough, Himself llis various rainboxv did allow, Sight is the noblest sense of any one, Yet sight hath only colour to feed on, Aud colour is decay'd; summer's robe grows Dusky, and like an ot-dyed garment shows. Out blushiug red, which used in cheeks to spread, Is inward sunk, and only out souls are red. Perchance the world might have recovered, If she whom xve lainent had hot been dead: But she, in whom ail white, and red, and blue (Beauty's ingredients) vohmtary grew, As lu an unvext paradise; from whom Did ail thitlgs verdure, and their lustre corne, XVhose composition was miraculous, Being all colour, ail diaphanous, (For air, and tire but thick gross bodies were, And liveliest stones but drowsy, and pale to her,) She, she is dead! she's dead; when thou know'st this, Thou kuow'st how wan a ghost this our 'orld is: And learn'st thus nmch by out anatomy, That it should more affi'ight, then pleasure thee. Aud that, since ail fait colour then did sink, It is now but xvicked vanity, to think To co|om" vicious deeds with good pretence, O," with bought colom's to illude men's sense. Nor in ought more this worlds decay appears, Than that her iufluence the heaven forbears, (If that the elements do hot feel this, The father, or the mother barren is. The clouds conceive hot tain, or do hot pour, Iu the due birth-time, down the balmy shore; The air doth ot nlotherly sit on the earth, To hatch ler seasons, and give ail things birth;
Spring-time. were eonun(,n eradles, bnt are t«,mhs; And false conceptions fill the general wombs; The air shows such mcteors, as none can sec, çot onlv what they mean, but what they be; Earth such new worms, as would have trouhled tnuch The Eg.vptian magi to bave ruade more such. What artist now dates boast that he can bring lteaven hither, or constellate anv rhin._-,, So as the influence of those stars mav bc lmprison'd in an herb, or charm, or tree, And do bv tonch, ail whieh those stars could The art is lost, attd correspondence too. For heaven gives little, attd the earth takes less, And nmn least knows their trade and purpo.es. If this commerce "twixt heaven and earth were hot Embarr'd, attd ail this traille quite tbrgot,,She, for whose l»ss we have lamented thus, V%uld work more fldly, and powerfully on u: Sittce herb., attd roots, by d.vin.,_, lose n-t ail, But they, yea a.hes too, are medicinal. Death conld hot quench ber virtue so, but that It would be (if hot foll»w'd) wondered at: And ail the world would be o;e dying swan, To sing her rimerai praise, aud vanish then. lnt as some serpents" poison hurteth hot, Except it be from the lire serpent No doth her virtue need her here, to fit That unto us: she working more than it. But she, in whom to such maturitv Virtue was grown, past growth, that it muet die;.qhe, from whose influence ail impres.ion came, But by receivers" impotencies, lame, Vho, though she could hot transubstantiate Ail states to gold, yet gilded everv state, So that some princes bave soute temperance, Some councillors some lmrpose to advance The common profit; and some people bave, Some stay, no more than kings shouhl give, to crave; Some women have some taeiturnity, Some nunneries some grains of chastity. She that did thus much, and much more could do, But that out ae was iron, and rusty too,
FUNERAL ELEGIESo
She, she is dead! she's dead; when thou knowst this, Thou know'st how drv a cinder this world is. And learn'st thus much by out anatomy, That it is vain to dew, or mollify It with thy tears, or sweat, or blood: nothing Is worth out travail, grief, or perishing, But those rich joys, which did possess ber heart, Of which she's now partaker, and a part. But as in cutting up a man that's dead, The body will not last out, to have read On every part, nd therefore men direct Their.pecch to parts, that are of most eft'ect; So the world's carcase would hot last, if I Vere punctua] in this anatomy Nor smells it wcll to hearers, if one tell Them their disease, who ïain would think they're well. Jlere therefore be the end: and, blessed nmid, (f whom is meaut what ever hath beet sid, Or shall be spoken wcll by any tougue, SVhose naine refi||es course lines, and makes prose song, Accept this tribute, and his first year's rent, SVho till his dark.-:hort taper's end be spent, As oft as thv feast seest this widowed earth, SVill yearly celebrate thy second birth, That is, thv death; for though the soul of man Be got whcn man is ruade, 'ris born but than SVhen man doth die; out body's as the womb, And, as a midwife, death directs it home. And you her creaturcs, whom she works upon, And have your last, and best concoction From ber example, and her vioEue, if you In reverence to ber, do think it due, That no one.hould her praises thus rehearse, As marrer fit for chronicle, hot verse; Vouchsafe to call to mind that God did make A last, and lasting'st peace, a song. He spake To Moses, to deliver unto all, That song, because he knew they would let rail The law, the prophets, and the history, But keep the song still in thcir memory: Sueh an opinions, in due measure, ruade Me this great office boMly to invade: VOL. VI. K
Nor could incomprehensibleness deter Me, from thus trying to imprison her, Which when I saw that a strict grave could do, I saw hOt why verse might hOt do so too. Verse hath a middle nature, heaven keeps souls, The grave keeps bodies, verse the fame enrolls.
"Tls lost to trust a tomb with such a gucst, Or to confine her in a nmrble chest, Alas, what's marble, jet, or porphyry, Priz'd with the chysolite of either eye, Or with those pearls, and rubies, wbich sbe was. Join the two Indies in one tomb, "ris glass; And sois all to ber materials, Though every inch were ten escurials; Yet she's demolish'd: tan we keep her then In works of hands, or of the wits of men. (_'an these memorials, rags of paper, give Life to that naine, by which naine they nmst lire Sick]y, alas, short-liCd, aborted be Those carcass verses, whose soul is not she. And tan she, who no longer would be she, Being such a tabernacle, stoop to be In paper wrapt; or when she would not lie In such a house, dwell in an elegy. But "tis no matter: we may well allow Verse to lire so long as the world will now, For her death wounded it. The world contains Princes for arms, and counsellors for brains, LaTers for tongues, divines for hearts, and more, The rich for Stolnachs, and for backs the poor; The oflàcers for hands, merchants for feet, By which, remote and distant countries meet. But those fine spirits which do tune, and set This organ, are those pieces, which beget SVonder and love; and these were she; and she Being spent, the world must needs decrepit be;
For since death will proceed to triumph still, He can find nothing, after ber, to kill, Except the world itself, so great was she. Thus brave and confident may nature be, Death cannot give ber such another blov, Because she cannot such another show. But must we say she's dead. may't not be said That as a sund'red clock is piecereal laid, lot to be lost, but by t?le maker's hand Repolish'd, without error then to stand, Or as the Afi'ic liger strearn invombs Itself into the earth, and after cornes (Having first ruade a natural bridge, fo pass For many leagues) far greater than it was, May't hot be said, that ber grave shall restore Her, greater, purer, firmer, than belote. Heaven may say this; and joy in't; but can we Who lire, and lack ber, here, this "vantage sec. Vhat is't to us, Mas, if there bave been An angel ruade, a throne, or cherubin . We lose by't: and as aged men are glad Being tasteless grown, to joy in joys they had, So now the sick starv'd world must feed upon This joy, that we had ber, who now is gone. Rejoice then nature, and this world, that you, Fearing the last rires hasteniug to subdue Your force and vigour, ere it were near gone, Wisely bestow'd and laid it ail on one; One, whose clear body was so pure and thin, Because it need disguise no thought within. "Twas but a through-light scarf, ber mind çenroll; Or exhalation breath'd out from her soul. One, whom all men who durst no more, adroit'd: And whom, whoe'er had vork enough, desir'd; As when a temple's built, saints emulate To which of them it shall be consecrate. But, as when heaven looks on us with nev eyes, Those new stars every artist exercise, What place they should assign to them they douht, Argue, and agree hot, till those stars go out: So the world studied whose this piece should be, Till site tan be nobody's else, nor she: 2K2
But as a lamp of Bal.amnm, desi:d Rather to adorn, than la.t,.he soon expir'd, ('ioth'd in her virghl white integrit.v, For marl'ia.e, though it doth hot.tain, doth d.ve. To eseape the infirmities whieh wait npon V'oman,.she went away, before he was one; And the worhl' bn.v noise to overeome, Took so much death, as serv'd for opium; l"or thou.,..,h she could hot, nor could ehoose to die, She bath vielded to too long an eestasy: He whieh hot knowing her said histor.v,.qhonld eonle to read the book of destin)', How fait, and chaste, humble, all| high she'd heen,,Much promis'al, nltlC|l pel'form'd, at hot fifteen, Anti measuring fitnre things, by thin befol'e, Shouh| turn the ieaf to l'ead, and read no more, V¢onld tllink that either destiny mistook, Or that some leaves were torn out of the book. But 'tis hot so fate did but nsher lier To years of reason's use, and then infer Her destiny to herself, which libertv.qhe took, but for thus nnch, thus lunch to die. Her modesty hot snflèring ber to be Fellow-eommissioner with destiny,,qhe did no more but die: if after bel" $tll}" shaii lire, which tiare true good pi'clef Every sueh person is her delegate, T' aecomplish that which shouid bave heen her rate. They shail make up that book anti shail have thanks Of rate, and ber, for fiiling up their blanks. For fiture virtuous deeds are iegaeies, SVhieh from the gift of her examl»le fise; And "tis in heav'n part of spiritual mirth, To see how well the good pl,y her, on earth.