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diff --git a/41076.txt b/41076.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 48c2d85..0000000 --- a/41076.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3362 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems (1686), by Anne Killigrew - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Poems (1686) - -Author: Anne Killigrew - -Contributor: Richard Morton - -Release Date: October 16, 2012 [EBook #41076] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS (1686) *** - - - - -Produced by David Starner, Paul Marshall and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - [Illustration: Mrs Anne Killigrew _Painted by herself_] - - - POEMS - (1686) - - by - Mrs. Anne Killigrew - - - - - A Facsimile Reproduction - with an Introduction - by - Richard Morton - - - - - Gainesville, Florida - Scholars' Facsimiles & Reprints - 1967 - - - Scholars' Facsimiles & Reprints - 1605 N. W. 14th Avenue - Gainesville, Florida 32601, U.S.A. - Harry R. Warfel, General Editor - - - - - Reproduced from a Copy in - and with the permission of - The Alexander Turnbull Library - - _Wellington, New Zealand_ - - - L. C. Catalog Card Number: 67-10177 - - - Manufactured in the U.S.A. - - - - -INTRODUCTION - -Condemnation by a great poet has lasting impact, while the effects of -praise seldom endure; Shadwell remains MacFlecknoe in our minds, -Shaftesbury Achitophel, but Anne Killigrew, "A _Grace_ for Beauty, and -a _Muse_ for Wit," is virtually forgotten. Her book of verses is known -essentially because of John Dryden's commendatory Ode. Yet we may -justify a study of her own poems. Dryden's piece is not a generalised -encomium; obviously he had read her verses, and his analysis of her art -is firmly based. Our understanding of this famous poem, then, depends -to some degree on our knowledge of Anne Killigrew's output.[1] Her -verses deserve attention on their own merits--Dryden may well be -thought more gallant than scrupulous, but undeniably the poems have an -appealing wit, a picturesque imagination and a touching personal -candour. - -The facts of Anne Killigrew's short life are succinctly and elegantly -related by Anthony Wood.[2] She was born about 1660, the daughter of -Dr. Henry Killigrew, Royalist, theologian and sometime dramatist, and -related through his family to the other theatrical Killigrews--Thomas, -the author of _The Parson's Wedding_, and Sir William, her uncles; and -Thomas, the author of _Chit-Chat_, and Charles, Master of the Revels, -her cousins. Dr. Killigrew became Chaplain to the Duke of York and in -1663 Master of the Savoy. Anne Killigrew grew up to join the household -of the doleful Mary of Modena, Duchess of York, as Maid of Honour. A -companion in this office was Anne Finch, Countess of Winchelsea. -Mistress Killigrew's poems reflect some of the sparkle of Restoration -court life, but more of the sorrow produced by Mary of Modena's -consistent unpopularity. After a short battle with the smallpox, Anne -Killigrew died on 16 June, 1685, to the "unspeakable Reluctancy" of her -many loving relations and friends. - - [1] The most recent study of Dryden's poem is David M. Vieth's "Irony - in Dryden's Ode to Anne Killigrew," _Studies in Philology_, LXII - (January, 1965), pp. 91-100, which lists earlier criticism. Professor - Vieth refers to Anne Killigrew's poems several times to illustrate his - theory of Dryden's intentions. - - [2] Anthony Wood, _Athenae Oxonienses_ (1721), c. 1036. Biographical - and critical comment is also to be found in George Ballard, _Memoirs of - Several Ladies_ (1752), pp. 337-45; T. Cibber, _Lives of the Poets_ - (1753), II, 224-6; Ellen Creathorne Clayton, _English Female Artists_ - (1876), I, 59-70 and _The Poems of Anne Countess of Winchelsea_, edited - by Myra Reynolds (1903), pp. xxiii-xxiv. - -After her untimely death, Dr. Killigrew worked to produce a memorial -edition of her papers, and invited Dryden to write the prefatory poem. -The publication was swift: less than three months after her death the -volume was licensed to be printed (30 September, 1685) and listed in -the Stationers' Register (2 October). It was listed in the Term -Catalogue for November, and advertised in _The Observator_ on 2 -November, 1685.[3] The date of 1686 on the title page must have been -anticipated by actual publication. - - [3] A bibliographical analysis of the volume is given by Hugh - Macdonald, _John Dryden a Bibliography_ (1939), pp. 42-43. - -The poetry in the volume can be described in Dryden's terms: - - Art she had none, yet wanted none: - For Nature did that Want supply. - -Anne Killigrew lacked the artistry which comes from discipline and -practice (which Anne Finch had time to develop), but she felt that the -prompting of passion outweighed the niceties of form: - - Here take no Care, take here no Care, my _Muse_, - Nor ought of Art or Labour use.... - The ruggeder my Measures run when read, - They'l livelier paint th' unequal Paths fond Mortals tread, (p. 51) - -Her verses belong to the generalising conventions of strong-minded -Denham and limpid Waller: - - Such Noble Vigour did her Verse adorn, - That it seem'd borrow'd. - -Yet to judge from her lively objections (pp. 44-47), the attempt to -class her as a plagiarist was unjustified. Court poetry in the age was -so uniform that apparent echoes are a matter of course. We may compare -her - - The bloody Wolf, the Wolf does not pursue; - The Boar, though fierce, his Tusk will not embrue - In his own Kind, Bares, not on Bares do prey: - Then art thou, Man, more savage far than they, (p. 37) - -with Rochester's _Satyr against Mankind_: - - _Birds_, feed on _Birds_, _Beasts_, on each other prey, - But Savage _Man_ alone, does _Man_ betray, - -or Waller on the death of Lady Rich, "But savage beasts, or men as wild -as they!" Anne Killigrew's use of stock epithets and polite locutions -mark a conventionality which inevitably borders on the derivative. But -at her best, as for example "On the Birth-Day of Queen _Katherine_," p. -47, she is able to move effectively beyond the conventional. The -conflict between the formal occasion and the dismal weather becomes a -surprising symbol of paradox, and the dream and scriptural consolation -come to have an intensity more metaphysical than courtly. Similarly, in -the unfinished "Ode," p. 82, or in parts of the "Pastoral Dialogue," -p. 63, she produces some forceful and startling images. - -The individuality of her works lies in their firm, evangelical moral -tone, which is clearly distinguishable from the genteel piety of her -contemporaries. Dryden's comment: - - So cold herself, whilst she such Warmth exprest, - 'Twas _Cupid_ bathing in _Diana's_ Stream, - -is an apt description of, say, her "Pastoral Dialogue," pp. 63-75. Anne -Killigrew's interest in poetic theory is notable; her early -"Alexandreis" prays for the "frozen style" to be warmed with a -"Poetique fire," and her "Love, the Soul of Poetry," contrasts the -flatness of commonplace verse with the rapture and heat produced by a -subject which "Enlarg'd his Fancy, and set free his Muse." The poem "To -My Lord Colrane" meditates on her slothful muse and its awakening of -life. Throughout her writings she keeps the poet's didactic end in view -and has a high regard for the nature of her art. Something of the -severity of the York household is reflected in the writings of the Maid -of Honour. - -The present text is reproduced, by kind permission, from the beautiful -copy in the Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington. This volume, -originally in Dr. Philip Bliss's collection, is listed in the _Huth -Catalogue_ (1913), p. 1207, and described by W. C. Hazlitt, _Second -Series of Bibliographical Collections and Notes_ (1882), p. 328. It -contains on the flyleaf a MS poem by E. E., transcribed below. The Rev. -Joseph Hunter, British Museum Add. MSS. 24492, Vol. VI, p. 100, -suggests that E. E. was Edmund Elys,[4] the learned and contentious -author of occasional poems (_Verses on Several Occasions_, 1699) and -theological pamphlets (for example, _Epistola ad Sam. Parkerum S.T.P._, -1680). The generally vivacious style of the verse and the reference to -the debate with Dr. Parker suggest that the identification is just, but -the relationship between Mrs. Elys and the Killigrews is not known. -Pages 72 and 73 are skipped, and pages 68 and 69 are misnumbered 60 and -61. - - [4] On Elys's life see Anthony Wood, _Athenae Oxonienses_ (1721), c. - 943-44. - -The self-portrait of Anne Killigrew prefixed to the _Poems_ and printed -herein as the frontispiece shows that she was a competent if -conventional artist. Her descriptions of her paintings, pp. 27-29, -suggest that here too moral and scriptural topics predominated over -courtly affairs. E. E., Dryden and the writer of the Epitaph agree on -Anne Killigrew's sanctity and gravity of mind. The modern reader may -gain from her book of verse a moving insight into the thoughts and -preoccupations of a young lady at court in the declining years of the -Stuarts. - - RICHARD MORTON - - _McMaster University - Hamilton, Ontario - November 28, 1965_ - - - - -Notes on the Poems - -Several of Anne Killigrew's friends and relatives appear in the volume: - - sig. b 2 "her Warlike Brother" is Henry Killigrew (d. 1712), - commodore in the 1680's and eventually Admiral, who - was on duty in the Mediterranean when Dryden wrote. - - p. 24 Lady Berkeley and her son are the wife and son, John, of - John, first Baron Berkeley of Stratton (d. 1687). John - the younger was lieutenant in 1685 and attained the - rank of Admiral in 1688. - - p. 49 Lord Colrane is Henry Hare, second Baron Coleraine - (1636-1708), the distinguished antiquary. A copy of - the _Poems_ bearing his bookplate, dated 1702, is in - the University of Michigan Library. - - p. 76 Mrs. A. K., the victim of this extraordinary accident - shortly before the civil broils, was probably Anne, - daughter of Sir Robert Killigrew, the poetess's - grandfather. - - p. 79 The Duchess of Grafton is the daughter of Henry Bennet, - Earl of Arlington and wife of Henry Fitzroy, Duke of - Grafton and son to Charles II and Barbara Villiers. - - - - - On the Death - of - The Truly Virtuous - - Mrs. Anne Killigrew - - who was Related to my (Deceased) Wife. - - I cannot Mourn thy Fate, Sweet Mayd, but Joy - That Thou art gone from all this Worlds Annoy, - From th' hurry of this cursed Age, that draws - Heav'ns Vengeance down by th' breach of all the Laws. - Of GOD, & Man: ther's nothing here but Noise - And Interruption of True Peacefull Joyes. - That which they Pleasure call is _Sport_ for _Apes_ - Which turns the _Phansie_ to a thousand _Shapes_ - And Wrests the _Mind_ from that _Celestial Sphear_ - To which Its _Nature_ ever would adhere - That by a _Constant Revolution_ - Its Rest & Motion ever might be ONE - That which my Mind hath ever Sought, thy Mind - Tho Compast with these walls of Clay did Find: - Pure _Quintessential Love, Aethereal Flame_, - Which Always shines, & Alwayes is the Same: - Here's no faint trembling Flame: all Bright appears - 'Tis ne're blown out with Sighs, nor quencht with tears. - Thy Soul Enflames my Love: the Unitie - I had with Her, who was Allie'd to Thee - Is Now made Perfect: Our Souls Mutual Flame - Tho Higher in _Degree_ in _Nature's_ still the same. - - Her, Thee, & All the Glorious Souls Above - I Now Enioy, whilst in You All I Love - The Boundless Spring of Joy to Ev'ry Mind - That knowes what's _Truly Fair_ & Knowes what's _Truly Kind_. - How have I Labour'd to Depress the Pride - Of one [Dr. Parker] that strives Illustrious Truth to Hide - In the Thick Bushes of Learn'd Sophistrie, - Which he that Enters hardly sees the Skie? - Truth that thy Splendid Soul did clearly see - And of it made a plain Discoverie. - And having Conquer'd Fate, Thou leavst those Arms [Her Poems] - By which Mankind may Conquer All their Harms - And make them Serve their Noble Purposes. - All Good to Gain, All Evil to Repress. - How Bravely did thy _Melibaeus_ shew - The Madness of that Love most men pursue - And how Youth may their strongest Lusts subdue! - O Happy Mayd, who didst so soon Espie - In This _Dark Life, that All is Vanitie_! - May thy Bright Love, All Youthfull Minds Inspire, - And like the SUN, put out all _other Fire_; - May all the Virtuous Celebrate thy Name; - All Poets Hearts Partake of thy Great Flame - That all their Ardors & their Flights may be - The Flames that Fly up to the _Deitie_; - That DAVID's Muse they all may Imitate, - Sing Virtues Triumphs ore the Power of Fate: - That all their Works Resembling Hea'vn may prove - The Blest Effects of Glory, Power, & Love. - - E. E. 1685. - - - - - POEMS - - BY - Mrs Anne Killigrew. - - - Immodicis brevis est aetas, & rara Senectus. - _Mart. l. 6. Ep. 29._ - - - These POEMS are Licensed to be Published, - _Sept. 30. 1685._ - - _Ro. L'Estrange._ - - - [Illustration] - - - _LONDON_: - - Printed for _Samuel Lowndes_, over against - _Exeter Exchange_ in the _Strand_. 1686. - - - - - THE - PUBLISHER - - - - - TO THE - READER. - - Reader, dost ask, What Work we here display? - What fair and Novel Piece salutes the Day? - Know, that a Virgin bright this POEM writ, - A _Grace_ for Beauty, and a _Muse_ for Wit! - Who, when none higher in _Loves_ Courts might sway, - Despis'd the Mertile, for the nobler Bay! - Nor could _Apollo_ or _Minerva_ tell, - Whither her Pen or Pencil did excel! - But while these Pow'rs laid both to her their Claime, - Behold, a Matron of a Heavenly Frame, - Antique, but Great and Comely in her Meen, - Upon whose gorgeous Robe inscrib'd was seen - _Divine Vertue_, took her from both away, } - And thus with Anger and Disdain did say, } - _Of Me she Learn'd, with You she did but Play_. } - - - - - To the Pious Memory - Of the Accomplisht Young LADY - Mrs Anne Killigrew, - Excellent in the two Sister-Arts of Poesie, and Painting. - - - An ODE. - - - I. - - Thou Youngest Virgin-Daughter of the Skies, - Made in the last Promotion of the Blest; - Whose Palmes, new pluckt from Paradise, - In spreading Branches more sublimely rise, - Rich with Immortal Green above the rest: - Whether, adopted to some Neighbouring Star, - Thou rol'st above us, in thy wand'ring Race, - Or, in Procession fixt and regular, - Mov'd with the Heavens Majestick Pace; - Or, call'd to more Superiour Bliss, - Thou tread'st, with Seraphims, the vast Abyss. - What ever happy Region be thy place, - Cease thy Celestial Song a little space; - (Thou wilt have Time enough for Hymns Divine, - Since Heav'ns Eternal Year is thine.) - Hear then a Mortal Muse thy Praise rehearse, - In no ignoble Verse; - But such as thy own voice did practise here, - When thy first Fruits of Poesie were giv'n; - To make thy self a welcome Inmate there: - While yet a young Probationer, - And Candidate of Heav'n. - - - II. - - If by Traduction came thy Mind, - Our Wonder is the less to find - A Soul so charming from a Stock so good; - Thy Father was transfus'd into thy Blood: - So wert thou born into the tuneful strain, - (An early, rich, and inexhausted Vain.) - But if thy Praeexisting Soul - Was form'd, at first, with Myriads more, - It did through all the Mighty Poets roul, - Who _Greek_ or _Latine_ Laurels wore. - And was that _Sappho_ last, which once it was before. - If so, then cease thy flight, _O Heav'n-born Mind_! - Thou hast no Dross to purge from thy Rich Ore. - Nor can thy Soul a fairer Mansion find, } - Than was the Beauteous Frame she left behind: } - Return, to fill or mend the Quire, of thy Celestial kind. } - - - III. - - May we presume to say, that at thy Birth, - New joy was sprung in Heav'n, as well as here on Earth. - For sure the Milder Planets did combine } - On thy Auspicious Horoscope to shine, } - And ev'n the most Malicious were in Trine. } - Thy Brother-Angels at thy Birth - Strung each his Lyre, and tun'd it high, - That all the People of the Skie - Might know a Poetess was born on Earth. - And then if ever, Mortal Ears - Had heard the Musick of the Spheres! - And if no clust'ring Swarm of Bees - On thy sweet Mouth distill'd their golden Dew, - 'Twas that, such vulgar Miracles, - Heav'n had not Leasure to renew: - For all the Blest Fraternity of Love - Solemniz'd there thy Birth, and kept thy Holyday above. - - - IV. - - O Gracious God! How far have we - Prophan'd thy Heav'nly Gift of Poesy? - Made prostitute and profligate the Muse, - Debas'd to each obscene and impious use, - Whose Harmony was first ordain'd Above - For Tongues of Angels, and for Hymns of Love? - O wretched We! why were we hurry'd down - This lubrique and adult'rate age, - (Nay added fat Pollutions of our own) - T'increase the steaming Ordures of the Stage? - What can we say t'excuse our _Second Fall_? - Let this thy _Vestal_, Heav'n, attone for all! - Her _Arethusian_ Stream remains unsoil'd, - Unmixt with Forreign Filth, and undefil'd, - Her Wit was more than Man, her Innocence a Child! - - - V. - - Art she had none, yet wanted: anon - For Nature did that Want supply, - So rich in Treasures of her Own, - She might our boasted Stores defy: - Such Noble Vigour did her Verse adorn, - That it seem'd borrow'd, where 'twas only born. - Her Morals too were in her Bosome bred - By great Examples daily fed, - What in the best of Books, her Fathers Life, she read. - And to be read her self she need not fear, - Each Test, and ev'ry Light, her Muse will bear, - Though _Epictetus_ with his Lamp were there. - Ev'n Love (for Love sometimes her Muse exprest) - Was but a _Lambent-flame_ which play'd about her Brest: - Light as the Vapours of a Morning Dream, - So cold herself, whilst she such Warmth exprest, - 'Twas _Cupid_ bathing in _Diana's_ Stream. - - - VI. - - Born to the Spacious Empire of the _Nine_, - One would have thought, she should have been content - To manage well that Mighty Government: - But what can young ambitious Souls confine? - To the next Realm she stretcht her Sway, } - For _Painture_ neer adjoyning lay, } - A plenteous Province, and alluring Prey. } - A _Chamber of Dependences_ was fram'd, - (As Conquerors will never want Pretence, - When arm'd, to justifie the Offence) - And the whole Fief, in right of Poetry she claim'd. - The Country open lay without Defence: - For Poets frequent In-rodes there had made, - And perfectly could represent - The Shape, the Face, with ev'ry Lineament; - And all the large Demains which the _Dumb-sister_ sway'd - All bow'd beneath her Government, - Receiv'd in Triumph wheresoe're she went. - Her Pencil drew, what e're her Soul design'd, - And oft the happy Draught surpass'd the Image in her Mind. - The _Sylvan_ Scenes of Herds and Flocks, - And fruitful Plains and barren Rocks, - Of shallow Brooks that flow'd so clear, - The Bottom did the Top appear; - Of deeper too and ampler Flouds, - Which as in Mirrors, shew'd the Woods; - Of lofty Trees with Sacred Shades, - And Perspectives of pleasant Glades, - Where Nymphs of brightest Form appear, } - And shaggy Satyrs standing neer, } - Which them at once admire and fear. } - The Ruines too of some Majestick Piece, - Boasting the Pow'r of ancient _Rome_ or _Greece_, - Whose Statues, Freezes, Columns broken lie, - And though deface't, the Wonder of the Eie, - What Nature, Art, bold Fiction e're durst frame, - Her forming Hand gave Shape unto the Name. - So strange a Concourse ne're was seen before, - But when the peopl'd Ark the whole Creation bore. - - - VII. - - The Scene then chang'd, with bold Erected Look - Our Martial King the Eye with Reverence strook: - For not content t'express his Outward Part, - Her hand call'd out the Image of his Heart, - His Warlike Mind, his Soul devoid of Fear, } - His High-designing Thoughts, were figur'd there, } - As when, by Magick, Ghosts are made appear. } - Our Phenix Queen was portrai'd too so bright, - Beauty alone could Beauty take so right: - Her Dress, her Shape, her matchless Grace, - Were all observ'd, as well as heav'nly Face. - With such a Peerless Majesty she stands, - As in that Day she took from Sacred hands - The Crown; 'mong num'rous Heroins was seen, - More yet in Beauty, than in Rank, the Queen! - Thus nothing to her _Genius_ was deny'd, - But like a Ball of Fire the further thrown, - Still with a greater Blaze she shone, - And her bright Soul broke out on ev'ry side. - What next she had design'd, Heaven only knows, - To such Immod'rate Growth her Conquest rose, - That Fate alone their Progress could oppose. - - - VIII. - - Now all those Charmes, that blooming Grace, - The well-proportion'd Shape, and beauteous Face, - Shall never more be seen by Mortal Eyes; - In Earth the much lamented Virgin lies! - Not Wit, nor Piety could Fate prevent; - Nor was the cruel _Destiny_ content - To finish all the Murder at a Blow, - To sweep at once her Life, and Beauty too; - But, like a hardn'd Fellon, took a pride - To work more Mischievously slow. - And plunder'd first, and then destroy' - O double Sacriledge on things Divine, - To rob the Relique, and deface the Shrine! - But thus _Orinda_ dy'd: - Heav'n, by the same Disease, did both translate, - As equal were their Souls, so equal was their Fate. - - - IX. - - Mean time her Warlike Brother on the Seas - His waving Streamers to the Winds displays, - And vows for his Return, with vain Devotion, pays. - Ah, Generous Youth, that Wish forbear, - The Winds too soon will waft thee here! - Slack all thy Sailes, and fear to come, - Alas, thou know'st not, Thou art wreck'd at home! - No more shalt thou behold thy Sisters Face, - Thou hast already had her last Embrace. - But look aloft, and if thou ken'st from far, - Among the _Pleiad_'s a New-kindl'd Star, - If any sparkles, than the rest, more bright, - 'Tis she that shines in that propitious Light. - - - X. - - When in mid-Aire, the Golden Trump shall sound, - To raise the Nations under ground; - When in the Valley of _Jehosaphat_, - The Judging God shall close the Book of Fate; - And there the last Assizes keep, - For those who Wake, and those who sleep; - When ratling Bones together fly - From the four Corners of the Skie, - When Sinews o're the Skeletons are spread, - Those cloath'd with Flesh, and Life inspires the Dead; - The Sacred Poets first shall hear the Sound, } - And formost from the Tomb shall bound: } - For they are cover'd with the lightest Ground } - And streight, with in-born Vigour, on the Wing, - Like mounting Larkes, to the New Morning sing. - There _Thou_, Sweet Saint, before the Quire shalt go, - As Harbinger of Heav'n, the Way to show, - The Way which thou so well hast learn'd below. - - =J. Dryden.= - - - - - The Epitaph - Engraved on her TOMB. - - P. M. S. - Annae Killigrew, - Doctoris KILLIGREW Filiae, - _Quae in ipso AEtatis flore Obiit._ - JUNII 16. 1685. - - - _Heu jacet, fato victa, - Quae stabat ubique victrix - Forma, ingenio, religione; - Plura collegerat in se Una, - Quam vel sparsa mireris in omnibus! - Talem quis pingat, nisi penicillo quod tractavit?_ - _Aut quis canat, nisi Poeta sui similis? - Cum tanta sciret, hoc Unum ignoravit, - Quanta, nempe, esset; - Aut si norit. - Mirare Modestiam, - Tantis incorruptam dotibus. - Laudes meruisse satis illi fuit, - Has ne vel audiret, laudatores omnes fugerat, - Contenta paterno Lare, - Dum & sibi Aula patebat adulatrix. - Mundum sapere an potuit, - Quae ab infantia Christum sapuerat? - Non modo semper Virgo, - Sed & virginum Exemplar. - Gentis suae Decus, - AEvi Splendor, - Sexus Miraculum. - Nulla Vertute inferior cuiquam, - Cuilibet superior multa. - Optimi Deliciae patris, - Etiam numerosa optimaque prole fortunatissimi: - Priorem tamen invidit nemo_, - (_Seu frater, seu soror_) - _Quin potius coluere omnes, omnibus suavem & officiosam, - Amorisque commune Vinculum & Centrum. - Vix ista credes. Hanc si nescieris; - Credet majora qui scierit._ - - _Abi Viator, & Plange: - Si eam plangi oporteat, - Cui, tam pie morienti, - Vel Coelites plauserint._ - - - - - The Same - - Turned into English. - - - By Death, alas, here Conquer'd lies, - She who from All late bore the Prize - In Beauty, Wit, Vertue Divine: - In whom those Graces did combine, - Which we admir'd in others see, - When they but singly scatter'd be! - - Who her, _so Great_, can paint beside, - The Pencil her own Hand did guide? - What Verse can celebrate her Fame, - But such as She herself did frame? - - Though much Excellence she did show, - And many Qualities did know, - Yet this, alone, she could not tell, - To wit, _How much she did excel_. - Or if her Worth she rightly knew, - More to her Modesty was due, - That Parts in her no Pride could raise } - Desirous still to merit Praise, } - But fled, as she deserv'd, the Bays. } - Contented always to retire, - Court Glory she did not admire; - Although it lay so neer and faire, - It's Grace to none more open were: - But with the World how should she close, - Who _Christ_ in her first Childhood chose? - - So with her Parents she did live, - That they to Her did Honour give, - As she to them. In a Num'rous Race - And Vertuous, the highest Place - None envy'd her: Sisters, Brothers - Her Admirers were and Lovers: - She was to all s'obliging sweet, - All in One Love to her did meet. - A Virgin-Life not only led, - But it's Example might be said. - The Ages Ornament, the Name - That gave her Sex and Country Fame. - - Those who her Person never knew, - Will hardly think these things are true: - But those that did, will More believe, - And higher things of her conceive. - - Thy Eyes in tears now, Reader, steep: - For Her if't lawful be to weep, - Whose blessed and Seraphique End - Angels in Triumph did attend. - - - - - Alexandreis. - - I Sing the Man that never Equal knew, - Whose Mighty Arms all _Asia_ did subdue, - Whose Conquests through the spacious World do ring, - That City-Raser, King-destroying King, - Who o're the Warlike _Macedons_ did Reign, - And worthily the Name of _Great_ did gain. - This is the Prince (if Fame you will believe, - To ancient Story any credit give.) - Who when the Globe of Earth he had subdu'd, - With Tears the easie Victory pursu'd; - Because that no more Worlds there were to win, - No further Scene to act his Glorys in. - - Ah that some pitying _Muse_ would now inspire - My frozen style with a Poetique fire, - And Raptures worthy of his Matchless Fame, - Whose Deeds I sing, whose never fading Name - Long as the world shall fresh and deathless last, - No less to future Ages, then the past. - Great my presumption is, I must confess, - But if I thrive, my Glory's ne're the less; - Nor will it from his Conquests derogate - A Female Pen his Acts did celebrate. - If thou O _Muse_ wilt thy assistance give, - Such as made _Naso_ and great _Maro_ live, - With him whom _Melas_ fertile Banks did bear, - Live, though their Bodies dust and ashes are; - Whose Laurels were not fresher, than their Fame - Is now, and will for ever be the same. - If the like favour thou wilt grant to me, - O Queen of Verse, I'll not ungrateful be, - My choicest hours to thee I'll Dedicate, - 'Tis thou shalt rule, 'tis thou shalt be my Fate. - But if Coy Goddess thou shalt this deny, - And from my humble suit disdaining fly, - I'll stoop and beg no more, since I know this, - Writing of him, I cannot write amiss: - His lofty Deeds will raise each feeble line, - And God-like Acts will make my Verse Divine. - - 'Twas at the time the golden Sun doth rise, - And with his Beams enlights the azure skies, - When lo a Troop in Silver Arms drew near, - The glorious Sun did nere so bright appear; - Dire Scarlet Plumes adorn'd their haughty Crests, - And crescent Shields did shade their shining Brests; - Down from their shoulders hung a Panthers Hide, - A Bow and Quiver ratled by their side; - Their hands a knotty well try'd Speare did bear, - Jocund they seem'd, and quite devoyd of fear. - These warlike Virgins were, that do reside - Near _Thermodons_ smooth Banks and verdant side, - The Plains of _Themiscyre_ their Birth do boast, - _Thalestris_ now did head the beauteous Host; - She emulating that Illustrious Dame, - Who to the aid of _Troy_ and _Priam_ came, - And her who the _Retulian_ Prince did aid, - Though dearly both for their Assistance paid. - But fear she scorn'd, nor the like fate did dread, - Her Host she often to the field had lead, - As oft in Triumph had return'd again, - Glory she only sought for all her pain. - - This Martial Queen had heard how lowdly fame, - Eccho'd our Conquerors redoubted Name, - Her Soul his Conduct and his Courage fir'd, - To see the Heroe she so much admir'd; - And to _Hyrcania_ for this cause she went, - Where _Alexander_ (wholly then intent - On Triumphs and such Military sport) - At Truce with War held both his Camp and Court. - And while before the Town she did attend - Her Messengers return, she saw ascend - A cloud of Dust, that cover'd all the skie, - And still at every pause there stroke her eye. - The interrupted Beams of Burnisht Gold, - As dust the Splendour hid, or did unfold; - Loud Neighings of the Steeds, and Trumpets sound - Fill'd all the Air, and eccho'd from the ground: - The gallant _Greeks_ with a brisk March drew near, - And their great Chief did at their Head appear. - And now come up to th'_Amazonian_ Band, - They made a Hault and a respectful Stand: - And both the Troops (with like amazement strook) - Did each on other with deep silence look. - Th'Heroick Queen (whose high pretence to War - Cancell'd the bashful Laws and nicer Bar - Of Modesty, which did her Sex restrain) - First boldly did advance before her Train, - And thus she spake. All but a God in Name, - And that a debt Time owes unto thy Fame. - - _This was the first Essay of this young Lady in Poetry, but - finding the Task she had undertaken hard, she laid it - by till Practice and more time should make her equal - to so great a Work._ - - - - - To the Queen. - - As those who pass the _Alps_ do say, - The Rocks which first oppose their way, - And so amazing-High do show, - By fresh Ascents appear but low, - And when they come unto the last, - They scorn the dwarfish Hills th'ave past. - - So though my _Muse_ at her first flight, - Thought she had chose the greatest height, - And (imp'd with _Alexander_'s Name) - Believ'd there was no further Fame: - Behold an Eye wholly Divine - Vouchsaf'd upon my Verse to Shine! - And from that time I'gan to treat - With Pitty him the World call'd _Great_; - To smile at his exalted Fate, - Unequal (though Gigantick) State. - I saw that Pitch was not sublime, - Compar'd with this which now I climb; - His Glories sunk, and were unseen, - When once appear'd the Heav'n-born Queen: - Victories, Laurels, Conquer'd Kings, - Took place among inferiour things. - - Now surely I shall reach the Clouds, - For none besides such Vertue shrouds: - Having scal'd this with holy Strains, - Nought higher but the Heaven remains! - No more I'll Praise on them bestow, - Who to ill Deeds their Glories owe; - Who build their _Babels_ of Renown, - Upon the poor oppressed Crown, - Whole Kingdoms do depopulate, - To raise a Proud and short-Liv'd State: - I prize no more such Frantick Might, - Than his that did with Wind-Mills Fight: - No, give me Prowess, that with Charms - Of Grace and Goodness, not with Harms, - Erects a Throne i'th' inward Parts, - And Rules mens Wills, but with their Hearts; - Who with Piety and Vertue thus - Propitiates God, and Conquers us. - O that now like _Araunah_ here, - Altars of Praises I could rear, - Suiting her worth, which might be seen - Like a Queens Present, to a Queen! - - 'Alone she stands for Vertues Cause, - When all decry, upholds her Laws: - When to Banish her is the Strife, - Keeps her unexil'd in her Life; - Guarding her matchless Innocence - From Storms of boldest Impudence; - In spight of all the Scoffs and Rage, - And Persecutions of the Age, - Owns Vertues Altar, feeds the Flame, - Adores her much-derided Name; - While impiously her hands they tie, - Loves her in her Captivity; - Like _Perseus_ saves her, when she stands - Expos'd to the _Leviathans_. - So did bright Lamps once live in Urns, - So Camphire in the water burns, - So _AEtna's_ Flames do ne'er go out, - Though Snows do freeze her head without.' - - How dares bold Vice unmasked walk, - And like a Giant proudly stalk? - When Vertue's so exalted seen, - Arm'd and Triumphant in the Queen? - How dares its Ulcerous Face appear, - When Heavenly Beauty is so near? - But so when God was close at hand, - And the bright Cloud did threatning stand - (In sight of _Israel_) on the Tent, - They on in their Rebellion went. - - O that I once so happy were, - To find a nearer Shelter there! - Till then poor Dove, I wandering fly - Between the Deluge and the Skie: - Till then I Mourn, but do not sing, - And oft shall plunge my wearied wing: - If her bless'd hand vouchsafe the Grace, - I'th'Ark with her to give a place, - I safe from danger shall be found, - When Vice and Folly others drown'd. - - - - - A Pastoral Dialogue. - - _Dorinda._ _Sabaean_ Perfumes fragrant Roses bring, - With all the Flowers that Paint the gaudy Spring: - Scatter them all in young _Alexis_'s way, - With all that's sweet and (like himself) that's Gay. - - _Alexis._ Immortal Laurels and as Lasting Praise, - Crown the Divine _Dorinda_'s matchless Laies: - May all Hearts stoop, where mine would gladly yield, - Had not _Lycoris_ prepossest the Field. - - _Dor._ Would my _Alexis_ meet my noble Flame, - In all _Ausonia_ neither Youth nor Dame, - Should so renown'd in Deathless Numbers shine, - As thy exalted Name should do in mine. - - _Alex._ He'll need no Trophie nor ambitious Hearse, - Who shall be honour'd by _Dorinda_'s Verse; - But where it is inscrib'd, _That here doth lie - Lycoris_'s _Love_. That Fame can never die. - - _Dor._ On _Tyber_'s Bank I _Thyrsis_ did espie, - And by his side did bright _Lycoris_ lie; - She Crown'd his Head, and Kist his amorous Brow, - Ah Poor _Alexis_! Ah then where wer't thou? - - _Alex._ When thou saw'st that, I ne'r had seen my Fair, - And what pass'd then ought not to be my Care; - I liv'd not then, but first began to be, - When I _Lycoris_ Lov'd, and she Lov'd me. - - _Dor._ Ah choose a Faith, a Faith that's like thine own, - A Virgin Love, a Love that's newly blown: - 'Tis not enough a Maidens Heart is chast, - It must be Single, and not once mis-plac't. - - _Alex._ Thus do our Priests of Heavenly Pastures tell, - Eternal Groves, all Earthly, that excel: - And think to wean us from our Loves below, - By dazling Objects which we cannot know. - - - - - On Death. - - Tell me thou safest End of all our Woe, - Why wreched Mortals do avoid thee so: - Thou gentle drier o'th' afflicteds Tears, - Thou noble ender of the Cowards Fears; - Thou sweet Repose to Lovers sad dispaire, - Thou Calm t'Ambitions rough Tempestuous Care. - If in regard of Bliss thou wert a Curse, - And then the Joys of Paradise art worse; - Yet after Man from his first Station fell, - And God from _Eden_ _Adam_ did expel, - Thou wert no more an Evil, but Relief; - The Balm and Cure to ev'ry Humane Grief: - Through thee (what Man had forfeited before) - He now enjoys, and ne'r can loose it more. - No subtile Serpents in the Grave betray, - Worms on the Body there, not Soul do prey; - No Vice there Tempts, no Terrors there afright, - No Coz'ning Sin affords a false delight: - No vain Contentions do that Peace annoy, - No feirce Alarms break the lasting Joy. - - Ah since from thee so many Blessings flow, - Such real Good as Life can never know; - Come when thou wilt, in thy afrighting'st Dress, - Thy Shape shall never make thy Welcome less. - Thou mayst to Joy, but ne'er to fear give Birth, - Thou Best, as well as Certain'st thing on Earth. - Fly thee? May Travellers then fly their Rest, - And hungry Infants fly the profer'd Brest. - No, those that faint and tremble at thy Name, - Fly from their Good on a mistaken Fame. - Thus Childish fear did _Israel_ of old - From Plenty and the Promis'd Land with-hold; - They fancy'd Giants, and refus'd to go, - When _Canaan_ did with Milk and Honey flow. - - - - - First EPIGRAM. - - - _Upon being Contented with a Little._ - - We deem them moderate, but _Enough_ implore, - What barely will suffice, and ask no more: - Who say, (O Jove) _a competency give, - Neither in Luxury, or Want we'd live_. - But what is that, which these _Enough_ do call? - If both the _Indies_ unto some should fall, - Such Wealth would yet _Enough_ but onely be, - And what they'd term not Want, or Luxury. - Among the Suits, _O Jove_, my humbler take; - _A little give, I that Enough will make_. - - - - - _The Second_ EPIGRAM. - - - _On_ BILLINDA. - - Wanton _Billinda_ loudly does complain, - I've chang'd my Love of late into disdain: - Calls me unconstant, cause I now adore - The chast _Marcella_, that lov'd her before. - Sin or Dishonour, me as well may blame, - That I repent, or do avoid a shame. - - - - - The Third EPIGRAM. - - - _On an_ ATHEIST. - - _Posthumus_ boasts he does not Thunder fear, - And for this cause would Innocent appear; - That in his Soul no Terrour he does feel, - At threatn'd Vultures, or _Ixion_'s Wheel, - Which fright the Guilty: But when _Fabius_ told - What Acts 'gainst Murder lately were enrol'd, - 'Gainst Incest, Rapine,----straight upon the Tale - His Colour chang'd, and _Posthumus_ grew pale. - His Impious Courage had no other Root, - But that the Villaine, Atheist was to boot. - - - - - _The Fourth_ EPIGRAM. - - - _On_ GALLA. - - Now liquid Streams by the fierce Cold do grow - As solid as the Rocks from whence they flow; - Now _Tibers_ Banks with Ice united meet, - And it's firm Stream may well be term'd its Street; - Now Vot'ries 'fore the Shrines like Statues show, - And scarce the Men from Images we know; - Now Winters Palsey seizes ev'ry Age, - And none's so warm, but feels the Seasons Rage; - Even the bright Lillies and triumphant Red - Which o're _Corinna_'s youthful cheeks are spred, - Look pale and bleak, and shew a purple hew, - And Violets staine, where Roses lately grew. - _Galla_ alone, with wonder we behold, - Maintain her Spring, and still out-brave the Cold; - Her constant white does not to Frost give place, - Nor fresh Vermillion fade upon her face: - Sure Divine beauty in this Dame does shine? - Not Humane, one reply'd, yet not Divine. - - - - - A Farewel - - - To Worldly Joys. - - Farewel ye Unsubstantial Joyes, - Ye Gilded Nothings, Gaudy Toyes, - Too long ye have my Soul misled, - Too long with Aiery Diet fed: - But now my Heart ye shall no more - Deceive, as you have heretofore: - For when I hear such _Sirens_ sing, - Like _Ithacas_'s fore-warned King, - With prudent Resolution I - Will so my Will and Fancy tye, - That stronger to the Mast not he, - Than I to Reason bound will be: - And though your Witchcrafts strike my Ear, - Unhurt, like him, your Charms I'll hear. - - - - - THE - Complaint of a Lover. - - Seest thou younder craggy Rock, - Whose Head o'er-looks the swelling Main, - Where never Shepherd fed his Flock, - Or careful Peasant sow'd his Grain. - - No wholesome Herb grows on the same, - Or Bird of Day will on it rest; - 'Tis Barren as the Hopeless Flame, - That scortches my tormented Breast. - - Deep underneath a Cave does lie, - Th'entrance hid with dismal Yew, - Where _Phebus_ never shew'd his Eye, - Or cheerful Day yet pierced through. - - In that dark Melancholy Cell, - (Retreate and Sollace to my Woe) - Love, sad Dispair, and I, do dwell, - The Springs from whence my Griefs do flow. - - Treacherous Love that did appear, - (When he at first approach't my Heart) - Drest in a Garb far from severe, - Or threatning ought of future smart. - - So Innocent those Charms then seem'd, - When _Rosalinda_ first I spy'd, - Ah! Who would them have deadly deem'd? - But Flowrs do often Serpents hide. - - Beneath those sweets conceal'd lay, - To Love the cruel Foe, Disdain, - With which (alas) she does repay - My Constant and Deserving Pain. - - When I in Tears have spent the Night, - With Sighs I usher in the Sun, - Who never saw a sadder sight, - In all the Courses he has run. - - Sleep, which to others Ease does prove, - Comes unto me, alas, in vain: - For in my Dreams I am in Love, - And in them too she does Disdain. - - Some times t'Amuse my Sorrow, I - Unto the hollow Rocks repair, - And loudly to the _Eccho_ cry, - Ah! gentle Nimph come ease my Care. - - Thou who, times past, a Lover wer't, - Ah! pity me, who now am so, - And by a sense of thine own smart, - Alleviate my Mighty Woe. - - Come Flatter then, or Chide my Grief; - Catch my last Words, and call me Fool; - Or say, she Loves, for my Relief; - My Passion either sooth, or School. - - - - - Love, the Soul of Poetry. - - When first _Alexis_ did in Verse delight, - His Muse in Low, but Graceful Numbers walk't, - And now and then a little Proudly stalk't; - But never aim'd at any noble Flight: - The Herds, the Groves, the gentle purling Streams, - Adorn'd his Song, and were his highest Theams. - - But Love these Thoughts, like Mists, did soon disperse, - Enlarg'd his Fancy, and set free his Muse, - Biding him more Illustrious Subjects choose; - The Acts of Gods, and God-like Men reherse. - From thence new Raptures did his Breast inspire, - His scarce Warm-Heart converted was to Fire. - - Th' exalted Poet rais'd by this new Flame, - With Vigor flys, where late he crept along, - And Acts Divine, in a Diviner Song, - Commits to the eternal Trompe of Fame. - And thus _Alexis_ does prove Love to be, - As the Worlds Soul, the Soul of Poetry. - - - - - To my Lady Berkeley, - - - Afflicted upon her Son, My Lord BERKELEY's Early Engaging in the - Sea-Service. - - So the renown'd _Ithacensian_ Queen - In Tears for her _Telemachus_ was seen, - When leaving Home, he did attempt the Ire - Of rageing Seas, to seek his absent Sire: - Such bitter Sighs her tender Breast did rend; - But had she known a God did him attend, - And would with Glory bring him safe again, - Bright Thoughts would then have dispossess't her Pain. - - Ah Noblest Lady! You that her excel - In every Vertue, may in Prudence well - Suspend your Care; knowing what power befriends - Your Hopes, and what on Vertue still attends. - In bloody Conflicts he will Armour find, - In strongest Tempests he will rule the Wind, - He will through Thousand Dangers force a way, - And still Triumphant will his Charge convey. - And the All-ruling power that can act thus, - Will safe return your Dear _Telemachus_. - - Alas, he was not born to live in Peace, - Souls of his Temper were not made for Ease, - Th'Ignoble only live secure from Harms, - The Generous tempt, and seek out fierce Alarms. - Huge Labours were for _Hercules_ design'd, - _Jason_, to fetch the Golden Fleece, enjoyn'd, - The _Minotaure_ by Noble _Theseus_ dy'd, - In vain were Valour, if it were not try'd, - Should the admir'd and far-sought Diamond lye, - As in its Bed, unpolisht to the Eye, - It would be slighted like a common stone, - It's Value would be small, its Glory none. - But when't has pass'd the Wheel and Cutters hand, - Then it is meet in Monarchs Crowns to stand. - - Upon the Noble Object of your Care - Heaven has bestow'd, of Worth, so large a share, - That unastonisht none can him behold, - Or credit all the Wonders of him told! - When others, at his Years were turning o're, - The Acts of Heroes that had liv'd before, - Their Valour to excite, when time should fit, - He then did Things, were Worthy to be writ! - Stayd not for Time, his Courage that out-ran - In Actions, far before in Years, a Man. - Two _French_ Campagnes he boldly courted Fame, - While his Face more the Maid, than Youth became - Adde then to these a Soul so truly Mild, - Though more than Man, Obedient as a Child. - And (ah) should one Small Isle all these confine, - Vertues created through the World to shine? - Heaven that forbids, and Madam so should you; - Remember he but bravely does pursue - His Noble Fathers steps; with your own Hand - Then Gird his Armour on, like him he'll stand, - His Countries Champion, and Worthy be - Of your High Vertue, and his Memory. - - - - - _St._ John Baptist _Painted by her self in the Wilderness, with Angels - appearing to him, and with a Lamb by him_. - - The Sun's my Fire, when it does shine, - The hollow Spring's my Cave of Wine, - The Rocks and Woods afford me Meat; - This Lamb and I on one Dish eat: - The neighbouring Herds my Garments send, - My Pallet the kind Earth doth lend: - Excess and Grandure I decline, - M'Associates onely are Divine. - - - - - HERODIAS _Daughter presenting to her Mother St._ JOHN_'s Head in a - Charger, also Painted by her self_. - - Behold, dear Mother, who was late our Fear, - Disarm'd and Harmless, I present you here; - The Tongue ty'd up, that made all _Jury_ quake, - And which so often did our Greatness shake; - No Terror sits upon his Awful Brow, - Where Fierceness reign'd, there Calmness triumphs now; - As Lovers use, he gazes on my Face, - With Eyes that languish, as they sued for Grace; - Wholly subdu'd by my Victorious Charms, - See how his Head reposes in my Arms. - Come, joyn then with me in my just Transport, - Who thus have brought the Hermite to the Court. - - - - - _On a Picture Painted by her self, representing two Nimphs of_ - DIANA_'s, one in a posture to Hunt, the other Batheing_. - - We are _Diana_'s Virgin-Train, - Descended of no Mortal Strain; - Our Bows and Arrows are our Goods, - Our Pallaces, the lofty Woods, - The Hills and Dales, at early Morn, - Resound and Eccho with our Horn; - We chase the Hinde and Fallow-Deer, - The Wolf and Boar both dread our Spear; - In Swiftness we out-strip the Wind, - An Eye and Thought we leave behind; - We _Fawns_ and Shaggy _Satyrs_ awe; - To _Sylvan Pow'rs_ we give the Law: - Whatever does provoke our Hate, - Our Javelins strike, as sure as _Fate_; - We Bathe in Springs, to cleanse the Soil, - Contracted by our eager Toil; - In which we shine like glittering Beams, - Or Christal in the Christal Streams; - Though _Venus_ we transcend in Form, - No wanton Flames our Bosomes warm! - If you ask where such Wights do dwell, } - In what Bless't Clime, that so excel? } - The Poets onely that can tell. } - - - - - An Invective against Gold. - - Of all the Poisons that the fruitful Earth - E'er yet brought forth, or Monsters she gave Birth, - Nought to Mankind has e'er so fatal been, - As thou, accursed Gold, their Care and Sin. - - Methinks I the Advent'rous Merchant see, - Ploughing the faithless Seas, in search of thee, - His dearest Wife and Children left behind, - (His real Wealth) while he, a Slave to th' Wind, - Sometimes becalm'd, the Shore with longing Eyes - Wishes to see, and what he wishes, Spies: - For a rude Tempest wakes him from his Dream, - And Strands his Bark by a more sad Extream. - Thus, hopless Wretch, is his whole Life-time spent, - And though thrice Wreck't, 's no Wiser than he went. - - Again, I see, the Heavenly Fair despis'd, - A Hagg like Hell, with Gold, more highly priz'd; - Mens Faith betray'd, their Prince and Country Sold, - Their God deny'd, all for the Idol Gold. - - Unhappy Wretch, who first found out the Oar, - What kind of Vengeance rests for thee in store? - If _Nebats_ Son, that _Israel_ led astray, - Meet a severe Reward at the last Day? - Some strange unheard-of Judgement thou wilt find, - Who thus hast caus'd to Sin all Humane Kind. - - - - - The Miseries of Man. - - In that so temperate Soil _Arcadia_ nam'd, - For fertile Pasturage by Poets fam'd; - Stands a steep Hill, whose lofty jetting Crown, - Casts o'er the neighbouring Plains, a seeming Frown; - Close at its mossie Foot an aged Wood, - Compos'd of various Trees, there long has stood, - Whose thick united Tops scorn the Sun's Ray, - And hardly will admit the Eye of Day. - By oblique windings through this gloomy Shade, - Has a clear purling Stream its Passage made, - The _Nimph_, as discontented seem'd t'ave chose - This sad Recess to murmur forth her Woes. - - To this Retreat, urg'd by tormenting Care, - The melancholly _Cloris_ did repair, - As a fit Place to take the sad Relief - Of Sighs and Tears, to ease oppressing Grief. - Near to the Mourning _Nimph_ she chose a Seat, - And these Complaints did to the Shades repeat. - - Ah wretched, truly wretched Humane Race! - Your Woes from what Beginning shall I trace, - Where End, from your first feeble New-born Cryes, - To the last Tears that wet your dying Eyes? - Man, Common Foe, assail'd on ev'ry hand, - Finds that no Ill does Neuter by him stand, - Inexorable Death, Lean Poverty, - Pale Sickness, ever sad Captivity. - Can I, alas, the sev'ral Parties name, - Which, muster'd up, the Dreadful Army frame? - And sometimes in One Body all Unite, - Sometimes again do separately fight: - While sure Success on either Way does waite, - Either a Swift, or else a Ling'ring Fate. - - But why 'gainst thee, O _Death!_ should I inveigh, - That to our Quiet art the only way? - And yet I would (could I thy Dart command) - Crie, Here O strike! and there O hold thy Hand! - The Lov'd, the Happy, and the Youthful spare, - And end the Sad, the Sick, the Poor Mans Care. - But whether thou or Blind, or Cruel art, - Whether 'tis Chance, or Malice, guides thy Dart, - Thou from the Parents Arms dost pull away - The hopeful Child, their Ages only stay: - The Two, whom Friendship in dear Bands has ty'd, - Thou dost with a remorseless hand devide; - Friendship, the Cement, that does faster twine - Two Souls, than that which Soul and Body joyn: - Thousands have been, who their own Blood did spill, - But never any yet his Friend did kill. - Then 'gainst thy Dart what Armour can be found, - Who, where thou do'st not strike, do'st deepest wound? - Thy Pitty, than thy Wrath's more bitter far, - Most cruel, where 'twould seem the most to spare: - Yet thou of many Evils art but One, - Though thou by much too many art alone. - - What shall I say of _Poverty_, whence flows? - To miserable Man so many Woes? - Rediculous Evil which too oft we prove, - Does Laughter cause, where it should Pitty move; - Solitary Ill, into which no Eye, - Though ne're so Curious, ever cares to pry, - And were there, 'mong such plenty, onely One - _Poor Man_, he certainly would live alone. - - Yet _Poverty_ does leave the Man entire, - But _Sickness_ nearer Mischiefs does conspire; - Invades the Body with a loath'd Embrace, - Prides both its Strength, and Beauty to deface; - Nor does its Malice in these bounds restrain, - But shakes the Throne of Sacred Wit, the Brain, - And with a ne're enough detested Force - Reason disturbs, and turns out of its Course. - Again, when Nature some Rare Piece has made, - On which her Utmost Skill she seems t'ave laid, - Polish't, adorn'd the Work with moving Grace, - And in the Beauteous Frame a Soul doth place, - So perfectly compos'd, it makes Divine - Each Motion, Word, and Look from thence does shine; - This Goodly Composition, the Delight - Of ev'ry Heart, and Joy of ev'ry sight, - Its peevish Malice has the Power to spoyle, - And with a Sully'd Hand its Lusture soyle. - The Grief were Endless, that should all bewaile, - Against whose sweet Repose thou dost prevail: - Some freeze with Agues, some with Feavers burn, - Whose Lives thou half out of their Holds dost turn; - And of whose Sufferings it may be said, - They living feel the very State o'th' Dead. - Thou in a thousand sev'ral Forms are drest, - And in them all dost Wretched Man infest. - - And yet as if these Evils were too few, - _Men_ their own Kind with hostile Aims pursue; - Not Heavens fierce Wrath, nor yet the Hate of Hell, - Not any Plague that e're the World befel, - Not Inundations, Famines, Fires blind rage, - Did ever Mortals equally engage, - As Man does Man, more skilful to annoy, - Both Mischievous and Witty to destroy. - The bloody Wolf, the Wolf does not pursue; - The Boar, though fierce, his Tusk will not embrue - In his own Kind, Bares, not on Bares do prey: - Then art thou, Man, more savage far than they. - - And now, methinks, I present do behold - The Bloudy Fields that are in Fame enroll'd, - I see, I see thousands in Battle slain, - The Dead and Dying cover all the Plain, - Confused Noises hear, each way sent out, - The Vanquishts Cries joyn'd with the Victors shout; - Their Sighs and Groans who draw a painful Breath, - And feel the Pangs of slow approaching Death: - Yet happier these, far happier are the Dead, - Than who into Captivity are led: - What by their Chains, and by the Victors Pride, - We pity these, and envy those that dy'd. - And who can say, when Thousands are betray'd, - To Widdowhood, Orphants or Childless made. - Whither the Day does draw more Tears or Blood, - A greater Chrystal, or a Crimson Floud. - The faithful Wife, who late her Lord did Arm, - And hop'd to shield, by holy Vows, from Harm, - Follow'd his parting-steps with Love and Care, - Sent after weeping Eyes, while he afar - Rod heated on, born by a brave Disdain, - May now go seek him, lying 'mong the Slain: - Low on the Earth she'l find his lofty Crest, - And those refulgent Arms which late his Breast - Did guard, by rough Encounters broke and tore, } - His Face and Hair, with Brains all clotted ore. } - And Warlike Weeds besmeer'd with Dust and Gore. } - - And will the Suffering World never bestow - Upon th'Accursed Causers of such Woe, - A vengeance that may parallel their Loss, - Fix Publick Thieves and Robbers on the Cross? - Such as call Ruine, Conquest, in their Pride, - And having plagu'd Mankind, in Triumph ride. - Like that renounced Murderer who staines - In these our days _Alsatias_ fertile Plains, - Only to fill the future Tromp of Fame, - Though greater Crimes, than Glory it proclame. - _Alcides_, Scourge of Thieves, return to Earth, - Which uncontrolled gives such Monsters birth; - On _Scepter'd-Cacus_ let thy Power be shown, - Pull him not from his Den, but from his Throne. - - Clouds of black Thoughts her further Speech here broke, - Her swelling Grief too great was to be spoke, - Which strugl'd long in her tormented Mind, - Till it some Vent by Sighs and Tears did find. - And when her Sorrow something was subdu'd, - She thus again her sad Complaint renewed. - - Most Wretched Man, were th'Ills I nam'd before - All which I could in thy sad State deplore, - Did Things without alone 'gainst thee prevail, - My Tongue I'de chide, that them I did bewaile: - But, Shame to Reason, thou art seen to be - Unto thy self the fatall'st Enemy, - Within thy Breast the Greatest Plagues to bear, - First them to breed, and then to cherish there; - Unmanag'd Passions which the Reins have broke - Of Reason, and refuse to bear its Yoke. - But hurry thee, uncurb'd, from place to place, - A wild, unruly, and an Uncouth Chace. - Now cursed Gold does lead the Man astray, - False flatt'ring Honours do anon betray, - Then Beauty does as dang'rously delude, - Beauty, that vanishes, while 'tis pursu'd, - That, while we do behold it, fades away, - And even a Long Encomium will not stay. - - Each one of these can the Whole Man employ, - Nor knows he anger, sorrow, fear, or joy, - But what to these relate; no Thought does start - Aside, but tends to its appointed Part, - No Respite to himself from Cares he gives, - But on the Rack of Expectation lives. - If crost, the Torment cannot be exprest, - Which boyles within his agitated Breast. - Musick is harsh, all Mirth is an offence, - The Choicest Meats cannot delight his Sense, - Hard as the Earth he feels his Downy Bed, - His Pillow stufft with Thornes, that bears his Head, - He rolls from side to side, in vain seeks Rest; - For if sleep comes at last to the Distrest; - His Troubles then cease not to vex him too, - But Dreams present, what he does waking do. - On th'other side, if he obtains the Prey, - And Fate to his impetuous Sute gives way, - Be he or Rich, or Amorous, or Great, - He'll find this Riddle still of a Defeat, - That only Care, for Bliss, he home has brought, - Or else Contempt of what he so much sought. - So that on each Event if we reflect, - The Joys and Sufferings of both sides collect, - We cannot say where lies the greatest Pain, - In the fond Pursuit, Loss, or Empty Gain. - - And can it be, Lord of the Sea and Earth, - Off-spring of Heaven, that to thy State and Birth - Things so incompatible should be joyn'd, - Passions should thee confound, to Heaven assign'd? - Passions that do the Soul unguarded lay, - And to the strokes of Fortune ope' a way. - Were't not that these thy Force did from thee take, - How bold, how brave Resistance would'st thou make? - Defie the Strength and Malice of thy Foes, - Unmoved stand the Worlds United Blows? - For what is't, Man, unto thy Better Part, - That thou or Sick, or Poor, or Captive art? - Since no Material Stroke the Soul can feel, - The smart of Fire, or yet the Edge of Steel. - As little can it Worldly Joys partake, - Though it the Body does its Agent make, - And joyntly with it Servile Labour bear, - For Things, alas, in which it cannot share. - Surveigh the Land and Sea by Heavens embrac't, - Thou'lt find no sweet th'Immortal Soul can tast: - Why dost thou then, O Man! thy self torment - Good here to gain, or Evils to prevent? - Who only Miserable or Happy art, - As thou neglects, or wisely act'st thy Part. - - For shame then rouse thy self as from a Sleep, - The long neglected Reins let Reason keep, - The Charret mount, and use both Lash and Bit, - Nobly resolve, and thou wilt firmly sit: - Fierce Anger, boggling Fear, Pride prauncing still, - Bounds-hating Hope, Desire which nought can fill, - Are stubborn all, but thou may'st give them Law; - Th'are hard-Mouth'd Horses, but they well can draw. - Lash on, and the well govern'd Charret drive, - Till thou a Victor at the Goal arrive, - Where the free Soul does all her burden leave, - And Joys commensurate to her self receive. - - - - - _Upon the saying that my_ VERSES _were made by another_. - - Next Heaven my Vows to thee (O Sacred _Muse_!) - I offer'd up, nor didst thou them refuse. - - O Queen of Verse, said I, if thou'lt inspire, - And warm my Soul with thy Poetique Fire, - No Love of Gold shall share with thee my Heart, - Or yet Ambition in my Brest have Part, - More Rich, more Noble I will ever hold - The _Muses_ Laurel, than a Crown of Gold. - An Undivided Sacrifice I'le lay - Upon thine Altar, Soul and Body pay; - Thou shalt my Pleasure, my Employment be, - My All I'le make a Holocaust to thee. - - The Deity that ever does attend - Prayers so sincere, to mine did condescend. - I writ, and the Judicious prais'd my Pen: - Could any doubt Insuing Glory then? - What pleasing Raptures fill'd my Ravisht Sense? - How strong, how Sweet, Fame, was thy Influence? - And thine, False Hope, that to my flatter'd sight - Didst Glories represent so Near, and Bright? - By thee deceiv'd, methought, each Verdant Tree, - _Apollos_ transform'd _Daphne_ seem'd to be; - And ev'ry fresher Branch, and ev'ry Bow - Appear'd as Garlands to empale my Brow. - The Learn'd in Love say, Thus the Winged Boy - Does first approach, drest up in welcome Joy; - At first he to the Cheated Lovers sight - Nought represents, but Rapture and Delight, - Alluring Hopes, Soft Fears, which stronger bind - Their Hearts, than when they more assurance find. - - Embolden'd thus, to Fame I did commit, - (By some few hands) my most Unlucky Wit. - But, ah, the sad effects that from it came! - What ought t'have brought me Honour, brought me shame! - Like _Esops_ Painted Jay I seem'd to all, - Adorn'd in Plumes, I not my own could call: - Rifl'd like her, each one my Feathers tore, - And, as they thought, unto the Owner bore. - My Laurels thus an Others Brow adorn'd, - My Numbers they Admir'd, but Me they scorn'd: - An others Brow, that had so rich a store - Of Sacred Wreaths, that circled it before; - Where mine quite lost, (like a small stream that ran - Into a Vast and Boundless Ocean) - Was swallow'd up, with what it joyn'd and drown'd, - And that Abiss yet no Accession found. - - _Orinda_, (_Albions_ and her Sexes Grace) - Ow'd not her Glory to a Beauteous Face, - It was her Radiant Soul that shon With-in, - Which struk a Lustre through her Outward Skin; - That did her Lips and Cheeks with Roses dy, - Advanc't her Height, and Sparkled in her Eye. - Nor did her Sex at all obstruct her Fame, - But higher 'mong the Stars it fixt her Name; - What she did write, not only all allow'd, - But ev'ry Laurel, to her Laurel, bow'd! - - Th'Envious Age, only to Me alone, - Will not allow, what I do write, my Own, - But let 'em Rage, and 'gainst a Maide Conspire, - So Deathless Numbers from my Tuneful Lyre - Do ever flow; So _Phebus_ I by thee - Divinely Inspired and possest may be; - I willingly accept _Cassandras_ Fate, - To speak the Truth, although believ'd too late. - - - - - On the Birth-day of Queen Katherine. - - While yet it was the Empire of the Night, - And Stars still check'r'd Darkness with their Light, - From Temples round the cheerful Bells did ring, - But with the Peales a churlish Storm did sing. - I slumbr'd; and the Heavens like things did show, - Like things which I had seen and heard below. - Playing on Harps Angels did singing fly, - But through a cloudy and a troubl'd Sky, - Some fixt a Throne, and Royal Robes display'd, - And then a Massie Cross upon it laid. - I wept: and earnestly implor'd to know, - Why Royal Ensigns were disposed so. - An Angel said, The Emblem thou hast seen, - Denotes the Birth-Day of a Saint and Queen. - Ah, Glorious Minister, I then reply'd, - Goodness and Bliss together do reside - In Heaven and thee, why then on Earth below - These two combin'd so rarely do we know? - He said, Heaven so decrees: and such a Sable Morne - Was that, in which the _Son of God_ was borne. - Then Mortal wipe thine Eyes, and cease to rave, - God darkn'd Heaven, when He the World did save. - - - - - TO - My Lord Colrane, - - - _In Answer to his Complemental Verses sent me under the Name of_ - CLEANOR. - - Long my dull _Muse_ in heavy slumbers lay, - Indulging Sloth, and to soft Ease gave way, - Her Fill of Rest resolving to enjoy, - Or fancying little worthy her employ. - When Noble _Cleanors_ obliging Strains - Her, the neglected Lyre to tune, constrains. - Confus'd at first, she rais'd her drowsie Head, - Ponder'd a while, then pleas'd, forsook her Bed. - Survey'd each Line with Fancy richly fraught, - Re-read, and then revolv'd them in her Thought. - - And can it be? She said, and can it be? - That 'mong the Great Ones I a Poet see? - The Great Ones? who their Ill-spent time devide, - 'Twixt dang'rous Politicks, and formal Pride, - Destructive Vice, expensive Vanity, - In worse Ways yet, if Worse there any be: - Leave to Inferiours the despised Arts, - Let their Retainers be the _Men of Parts_. - But here with Wonder and with Joy I find, - I'th' Noble Born, a no less Noble Mind; - One, who on Ancestors, does not rely - For Fame, in Merit, as in Title, high! - - The Severe Godess thus approv'd the Laies: - Yet too much pleas'd, alas, with her own Praise. - But to vain Pride, _My Muse_, cease to give place, - _Virgils_ immortal Numbers once did grace - A _Smother'd Gnat_: by high Applause is shown, - If undeserv'd, the Praisers worth alone: - Nor that you should believ't, is't always meant, - 'Tis often for Instruction only sent, - To praise men to Amendment, and display, - By its Perfection, where their Weakness lay. - This Use of these Applauding Numbers make - Them for Example, not Encomium, take. - - - - - The Discontent. - - - I. - - Here take no Care, take here no Care, my _Muse_, - Nor ought of Art or Labour use: - But let thy Lines rude and unpolisht go, - Nor Equal be their Feet, nor Num'rous let them flow. - The ruggeder my Measures run when read, - They'l livelier paint th'unequal Paths fond Mortals tread. - Who when th'are tempted by the smooth Ascents, - Which flatt'ring Hope presents, - Briskly they clime, and Great Things undertake; - But Fatal Voyages, alas, they make: - For 'tis not long before their Feet, - Inextricable Mazes meet, - Perplexing Doubts obstruct their Way, - Mountains with-stand them of Dismay; - Or to the Brink of black Dispaire them lead, - Where's nought their Ruine to impede, - In vain for Aide they then to Reason call, - Their Series dazle, and their Heads turn round, - The sight does all their Pow'rs confound, - And headlong down the horrid Precipice they fall: - Where storms of Sighs for ever blow, - Where raped streams of Tears do flow, - Which drown them in a Briny Floud. - My Muse pronounce aloud, there's nothing Good, - Nought that the World can show, - Nought that it can bestow. - - - II. - - Not boundless Heaps of its admired Clay, } - Ah, too successful to betray, } - When spread in our fraile Vertues way: } - For few do run with so Resolv'd a Pace, - That for the Golden Apple will not loose the Race. - And yet not all the Gold the Vain would spend, - Or greedy Avarice would wish to save; - Which on the Earth refulgent Beams doth send, - Or in the Sea has found a Grave, - Joyn'd in one Mass, can Bribe sufficient be, - The Body from a stern Disease to free, - Or purchase for the Minds relief - One Moments sweet Repose, when restless made by grief, - But what may Laughter, more than Pity, move: - When some the Price of what they Dear'st Love - Are Masters of, and hold it in their Hand, - To part with it their Hearts they can't command: - But chose to miss, what miss't does them torment, - And that to hug, affords them no Content. - Wise Fools, to do them Right, we these must hold, - Who Love depose, and Homage pay to Gold. - - - III. - - Nor yet, if rightly understood, - Does Grandeur carry more of Good; - To be o'th' Number of the Great enroll'd, - A Scepter o're a Mighty Realm to hold. - For what is this? - If I not judge amiss. - But all th'Afflicted of a Land to take, - And of one single Family to make? - The Wrong'd, the Poor, th'Opprest, the Sad, - The Ruin'd, Malecontent, and Mad? - Which a great Part of ev'ry Empire frame, - And Interest in the common Father claime. - Again what is't, but always to abide - A Gazing Crowd? upon a Stage to spend - A Life that's vain, or Evil without End? - And which is yet nor safely held, nor laid aside? - And then, if lesser Titles carry less of Care, - Yet none but Fools ambitious are to share - Such a Mock-Good, of which 'tis said, 'tis Best, - When of the least of it Men are possest. - - - IV. - - But, O, the Laurel'd Fool! that doats on Fame, - Whose Hope's Applause, whose Fear's to want a Name; - Who can accept for Pay - Of what he does, what others say; - Exposes now to hostile Arms his Breast, - To toylsome Study then betrays his Rest; - Now to his Soul denies a just Content, - Then forces on it what it does resent; - And all for Praise of Fools: for such are those, - Which most of the Admiring Crowd compose. - O famisht Soul, which such Thin Food can feed! - O Wretched Labour crown'd with such a Meed! - Too loud, O Fame! thy Trumpet is, too shrill, - To lull a Mind to Rest, - Or calme a stormy Breast, - Which asks a Musick soft and still. - 'Twas not _Amaleck_'s vanquisht Cry, - Nor _Israels_ shout of Victory, - That could in _Saul_ the rising Passion lay, - 'Twas the soft strains of _David_'s Lyre the Evil Spirit chace't away. - - - V. - - But Friendship fain would yet itself defend, - And Mighty Things it does pretend, - To be of this Sad Journey, Life, the Baite, - The sweet Refection of our toylsome State. - But though True Friendship a Rich Cordial be, - Alas, by most 'tis so alay'd, - Its Good so mixt with Ill we see, - That Dross for Gold is often paid. - And for one Grain of Friendship that is found, } - Falshood and Interest do the Mass compound, } - Or coldness, worse than Steel, the Loyal heart doth wound. } - Love in no Two was ever yet the same, - No Happy Two ere felt an Equal Flame. - - - VI. - - Is there that Earth by Humane Foot ne're prest? - That Aire which never yet by Humane Breast - Respir'd, did Life supply? - Oh, thither let me fly! - Where from the World at such a distance set, - All that's past, present, and to come I may forget: - The Lovers Sighs, and the Afflicteds Tears, - What e're may wound my Eyes or Ears. - The grating Noise of Private Jars, - The horrid sound of Publick Wars, - Of babling Fame the Idle Stories, - The short-liv'd Triumphs Noysy-Glories, - The Curious Nets the subtile weave, - The Word, the Look that may deceive. - No Mundan Care shall more affect my Breast, - My profound Peace shake or molest: - But _Stupor_, like to Death, my Senses bind, - That so I may anticipate that Rest, - Which only in my Grave I hope to find. - - - - - A Pastoral Dialogue. - - _Amintor._ Stay gentle Nymph, nor so solic'tous be? - To fly his sight that still would gaze on thee. - With other Swaines I see thee oft converse, - Content to speak, and hear what they rehearse: - But I unhappy, when I e're draw nigh, - Thou streight do'st leave both Place, and Company. - If this thy Flight, from fear of Harm doth flow, - Ah, sure thou little of my Heart dost know. - - _Alinda._ What wonder, Swain, if the Pursu'd by Flight, - Seeks to avoid the close Pursuers Sight? - And if no Cause I have to fly from thee, - Then thou hast none, why thou dost follow me. - - _Amin._ If to the Cause thou wilt propitious prove, - Take it at once, fair Nymph, and know 'tis Love. - - _Alin._ To my just Pray'r, ye favouring Gods attend, } - These Vows to Heaven with equal Zeal I send, } - My flocks from Wolves, my Heart from Love, defend. } - - _Amin._ The Gods which did on thee such Charms bestow, - Ne're meant thou shouldst to Love have prov'd a Foe, - That so Divine a Power thou shouldst defy. - Could there a Reason be, I'd ask thee, why? - - _Alin._ Why does _Licoris_, once so bright and gay, - Pale as a Lilly pine her self away? - Why does _Elvira_, ever sad, frequent - The lonely shades? Why does yon Monument - Which we upon our Left Hand do behold, - Hapless _Amintas_ youthful Limbs enfold? - Say Shepherd, say: But if thou wilt not tell, - _Damon_, _Philisides_, and _Strephon_ well - Can speak the Cause, whose Falshood each upbraids, - And justly me from Cruel Love disswades. - - _Amin._ Hear me ye Gods. Me and my Flocks forsake, - If e're like them my promis'd Faith I brake. - - _Alin._ By others sad Experience wise I'le be. } - } - _Amin._ But such thy Wisdom highly injures me: } - And nought but Death can give a Remedy. } - Ye Learn'd in Physick, what does it avail, - That you by Art (wherein ye never fail) - Present Relief have for the Mad-dogs Bite? - The Serpents sting? the poisonous _Achonite_? - While helpless Love upbraids your baffl'd skill, - And far more certain, than the rest, doth kill. - - _Alin._ Fond Swain, go dote upon the new blown Rose, - Whose Beauty with the Morning did disclose, - And e're Days King forsakes th'enlighted Earth, - Wither'd, returns from whence it took its Birth. - As much Excuse will there thy Love attend, - As what thou dost on Womens Beauty spend. - - _Amin._ Ah Nymph, those Charms which I in thee admire, - Can, nor before, nor with thy Life expire. - From Heaven they are, and such as ne're can dye, - But with thy Soul they will ascend the Sky! - For though my ravisht Eye beholds in Thee, - Such beauty as I can in none else see; - That Nature there alone is without blame, - Yet did not this my faithful Heart enflame: - Nor when in Dance thou mov'st upon the Plaine, - Or other Sports pursu'st among the Train - Of choicest Nymphs, where thy attractive Grace - Shews thee alone, though thousands be in place! - Yet not for these do I _Alinda_ love, - Hear then what 'tis, that does my Passion move. - That Thou still Earliest at the Temple art, - And still the last that does from thence depart; - _Pans_ Altar is by thee the oftnest prest, - Thine's still the fairest Offering and the Best; - And all thy other Actions seem to be, - The true Result of Unfeign'd Piety; - Strict in thy self, to others Just and Mild; - Careful, nor to Deceive, nor be Beguil'd; - Wary, without the least Offence, to live, - Yet none than thee more ready to forgive! - Even on thy Beauty thou dost Fetters lay, - Least, unawares, it any should betray. - Far unlike, sure, to many of thy Sex, - Whose Pride it is, the doting World to vex; - Spreading their Universal Nets to take - Who e're their artifice can captive make. - But thou command'st thy Sweet, but Modest Eye, - That no Inviting Glance from thence should fly. - Beholding with a Gen'rous Disdain, - The lighter Courtships of each amorous Swain; - Knowing, true Fame, Vertue alone can give: - Nor dost thou greedily even that receive. - And what 'bove this thy Character can raise? - Thirsty of Merit, yet neglecting Praise! - While daily these Perfections I discry, - Matchless _Alinda_ makes me daily dy. - Thou absent, Flow'rs to me no Odours yield, - Nor find I freshness in the dewy Field; - Not _Thyrsis_ Voice, nor _Melibeus_ Lire, - Can my Sad Heart with one Gay Thought inspire; - My thriving Flock ('mong Shepherds Vows the Chief) - I unconcern'd behold, as they my Grief. - This I profess, if this thou not believe, - A further proof I ready am to give, - Command: there's nothing I'le not undertake, - And, thy Injunctions, Love will easie make. - Ah, if thou couldst incline a gentle Ear, - Of plighted Faith, and hated _Hymen_ hear; - Thou hourly then my spotless Love should'st see, - That all my Study, how to please, should be; - How to protect thee from disturbing Care, - And in thy Griefs to bear the greatest share; - Nor should a Joy, my Warie Heart surprize, - That first I read not in thy charming Eyes. - - _Alin._ If ever I to any do impart, - My, till this present hour, well-guarded Heart, - That Passion I have fear'd, I'le surely prove, - For one that does, like to _Amintor_ love. - - _Amintor._ Ye Gods---- - - _Alin._ Shepherd, no more: enough it is that I, - Thus long to Love, have listn'd patiently. - Farewel: _Pan_ keep thee, Swain. - - _Amintor._ And Blessings Thee, - Rare as thy Vertues, still accompany. - - - - - A Pastoral Dialogue. - - - Melibaeus, Alcippe, Asteria, Licida, Alcimedon, _and_ Amira. - - _Melibaeus._ Welcome fair Nymphs, most welcome to this shade, - Distemp'ring Heats do now the Plains invade: - But you may sit, from Sun securely here, - If you an old mans company not fear. - - _Alcippe._ Most Reverend Swaine, far from us ever be - The imputation of such Vanity. - From Hill to Holt w'ave thee unweary'd sought, - And bless the Chance that us hath hither brought. - - _Asteria._ Fam'd _Melibaeus_ for thy Virtuous Lays, - If thou dost not disdain our Female Praise, - We come to sue thou would'st to us recite - One of thy Songs, which gives such high delight - To ev'ry Eare, wherein thou dost dispense - Sage Precepts cloath'd in flowing Eloquence. - - _Licida._ Fresh Garlands we will make for thee each morne, - Thy reverend Head to shade, and to adorne; - To cooling Springs thy fainting Flock we'll guide, - All thou command'st, to do shall be our Pride. - - _Meli._ Cease, gentle Nymphs, the Willing to entreat, - To have your Wish, each needs but take a Seat. - With joy I shall my ancient Art revive, - With which, when Young, I did for Glory strive. - Nor for my Verse will I accept a Hire, - Your bare Attentions all I shall require. - - _Alci._ Lo, from the Plain I see draw near a Pair - That I could wish in our Converse might share. - _Amira_ 'tis and young _Alcimedon_. - - _Lici._ Serious Discourse industriously they shun. - - _Alci._ It being yet their luck to come this way, - The Fond Ones to our Lecture we'll betray: - And though they only sought a private shade, - Perhaps they may depart more Vertuous made. - I will accost them. Gentle Nymph and Swaine, - Good _Melibaeus_ us doth entertain - With Lays Divine: if you'll his Hearers be, - Take streight your Seats without Apology. - - _Alci._ Paying short thanks, at fair _Amiras_ feet, - I'le lay me down: let her choose where 'tis meet - - _Al._ Shepherd, behold, we all attentive sit. - - _Meli._ What shall I sing? what shall my _Muse_ reherse? - Love is a Theme well sutes a Past'ral Verse, - That gen'ral Error, Universal Ill, - That Darling of our Weakness and our Will; - By which though many fall, few hold it shame; - Smile at the Fault, which they would seem to blame. - What wonder then, if those with Mischief play, - It to destruction them doth oft betray? - But by experience it is daily found, - That Love the softer Sex does sorest wound; - In Mind, as well as Body, far more weak - Than Men: therefore to them my Song shall speak, - Advising well, however it succeed: - But unto All I say, _Of Love take heed_. - So hazardous, because so hard to know - On whom they are we do our Hearts bestow; - How they will use them, or with what regard - Our Faith and high Esteem they will reward: - For few are found, that truly acted be - By Principles of Generosity. - That when they know a Virgins Heart they've gain'd, - (And though by many Vows and Arts obtain'd) - Will think themselves oblig'd their Faith to hold - Tempted by Friends, by Interest, or by Gold. - Expect it not: most, Love their Pastime make, - Lightly they Like, and lightly they forsake; - Their Roving Humour wants but a pretence - With Oaths and what's most Sacred to dispence. - When unto such a Maid has given her Heart, - And said, _Alone my Happiness thou art, - In thee and in thy Truth I place my Rest_. - Her sad Surprize how can it be exprest, - When all on which she built her Joy she finds, - Vanish, like Clouds, disperst before the Winds; - Her self, who th'adored Idol wont to be, - A poor despis'd Idolater to see? - Regardless Tears she may profusely spend, - Unpitty'd sighs her tender Breast may rend: - But the false Image she will ne're erace, - Though far unworthy still to hold its place: - So hard it is, even Wiser grown, to take - Th'Impression out, which Fancy once did make. - Believe me Nymphs, believe my hoary hairs, - Truth and Experience waits on many years. - Before the Eldest of you Light beheld, - A Nymph we had, in Beauty all excell'd, - _Rodanthe_ call'd, in whom each Grace did shine, - Could make a Mortal Maid appear Divine. - And none could say, where most her Charms did lye, - In her inchanting Tongue, or conquering Eye. - Her Vertue yet her Beauties so out-shon, - As Beauty did the Garments she put on! - Among the Swains, which here their Flocks then fed, - _Alcander_ with the highest held his head; - The most Accomplish't was esteem'd to be, - Of comely Forme, well-grac't Activity; - The _Muses_ too, like him, did none inspire, - None so did stop the Pipe, or touch the Lyre; - Sweet was his Voice, and Eloquent his Tongue; - Alike admired when he Spoke, or Sung! - But these so much Excelling parts the Swain, - With Imperfections no less Great, did stain: - For proud he was, of an Ungovern'd Will, - With Love Familiar, but a Stranger still - To Faith and Constancy; and did his Heart, - Retaining none, expose to ev'ry Dart. - Hapless _Rodanthe_, the Fond Rover, caught, - To whom, for Love, with usual Arts he sought; - Which she, ah too unwary, did bestow: - 'Cause True her self, believ'd that he was so. - But he, alas, more wav'ring than the Wind, - Streight broke the Chain, she thought so fast did bind; - For he no sooner saw her Heart was gain'd, - But he as soon the Victory disdain'd; - Mad Love else-where, as if 'twere like Renown, - Hearts to subdue, as to take in a Town: - But in the One as Manhood does prevail, - Both Truth and Manhood in the other fail. - And now the Nymph (of late so gay and bright, - The Glory of the Plains and the Delight, - Who still in Wit and Mirth all Pastimes led) - Hung like a wither'd Flow'r her drooping Head. - I need not tell the Grief _Rodanthe_ found, - How all that should asswage, enrag'd her Wound; - Her Form, her Fame, her Vertue, Riches, Wit, - Like Deaths sad Weights upon her Soul did sit: - Or else like Furies stood before her Face, - Still urging and Upbraiding her Disgrace, - In that the World could yield her no Content, - But what alone the False _Alcander_ sent. - 'Twas said, through just Disdain, at last she broke - The Disingenious and Unworthy Yoke: - But this I know, her Passion held long time, - Constancy, though Unhappy, is no Crime. - Remember when you Love, from that same hour - Your Peace you put into your Lovers Power: - From that same hour from him you Laws receive, - And as he shall ordain, you Joy, or Grieve, - Hope, Fear, Laugh, Weep; Reason aloof does stand, - Disabl'd both to Act, and to Command. - Oh Cruel Fetters! rather wish to feel, - On your soft Limbs, the Gauling Weight of Steel; - Rather to bloudy Wounds oppose your Breast - No Ill, by which the Body can be prest; - You will so sensible a Torment find, - As Shackles on your captivated Mind. - The Mind from Heaven its high Descent did draw, - And brooks uneasily any other Law, - Than what from Reason dictated shall be, - Reason, a kind of In-mate Deity. - Which only can adapt to ev'ry Soul - A Yoke so fit and light, that the Controle - All Liberty excels; so sweet a Sway, - The same 'tis to be Happy, and Obey; - Commands so Wise and with Rewards so drest - That the according Soul replys, _I'm Blest_. - This teaches rightly how to Love and Hate, - To fear and hope by Measure and just Weight; - What Tears in Grief ought from our Eyes to flow, - What Transport in Felicity to show; - In ev'ry Passion how to steer the Will, - Tho rude the Shock, to keep it steady still. - Oh happy Mind! what words can speak thy Bliss, - When in a Harmony thou mov'st like this? - Your Hearts fair Virgins keep smooth as your Brow, - Not the least Am'rous Passion there allow; - Hold not a Parly with what may betray - Your inward Freedom to a Forraign Sway; - And while thus ore your selves you Queens remain, - Unenvy'd, ore the World, let others reign: - The highest Joy which from Dominion flows, - Is short of what a Mind well-govern'd knows. - Whither my _Muse_, would'st uncontrouled run? - Contend in Motion with the restless Sun? - Immortal thou, but I a mortal Sire - Exhaust my strength, and Hearers also tire. - - _Al._ O Heaven-taught Bard! to Ages couldst prolong - Thy Soul-instructing, Health-infusing Song, - I with unweary'd Appetite could hear, - And wish my Senses were turn'd all to Ear. - - _Alcim._ Old Man, thy frosty Precepts well betray - Thy Blood is cold, and that thy Head is grey: - Who past the Pleasure Love and Youth can give, - To spoyl't in others, now dost only live. - Wouldst thou, indeed, if so thou couldst perswade, - The Fair, whose Charms have many Lovers made, - Should feel Compassion for no one they wound, - But be to all Inexorable found? - - _Me._ Young man, if my advice thou well hadst weigh'd, - Thou would'st have found, for either Sex 'twas made; - And would from Womens Beauty thee no less - Preserve, than them secure from thy Address. - But let thy Youth thy rash Reproach excuse. - - _Alci._ Fairest _Amira_ let him not abuse - Thy gentle Heart, by his imprinting there - His doting Maxims----But I will not fear: - For when 'gainst Love he fiercest did inveigh, - Methoughts I saw thee turn with Scorn away. - - _Ami._ _Alcimedon_ according to his Will - Does all my Words and Looks interpret still: - But I shall learn at length how to Disdain, - Or at the least more cunningly to feign. - - _Alci._ No wonder thou _Alcimedon_ art rude, - When with no Gen'rous Quality endu'd: - But hop'st by railing Words Vice to defend, - Which Foulers made, by having such a Friend. - _Amira_, thou art warn'd, wisely beware, - Leap not with Open-Eyes into the Snare: - The Faith that's given to thee, was given before - To _Nais_, _Amoret_, and many more: - The Perjur'd did the Gods to Witness call, - That unto each he was the only Thrall. - - _Aste._ Y'ave made his Cheeks with Conscious blushes glow. - - _Alci._ 'Tis the best Colour a False Heart can show; - And well it is with Guilt some shame remains. - - _Meli._ Hast, Shepherd, hast to cleanse away thy stains, - Let not thy Youth, of Time the goodly spring, - Neglected pass, that nothing forth it bring - But noxious Weeds: which cultivated might - Produce such Crop, as now would thee delight, - And give thee after Fame: For Vertues Fruit - Believe it, not alone with Age does sute, - Nought adorns Youth like to a Noble Mind, - In thee this Union let _Amira_ find. - - _Lici._ O fear her not! she'l serve him in his kind. - - _Meli._ See how Discourse upon the Time does prey, - Those hours pass swiftest, that we talk away. - Declining _Sol_ forsaken hath the Fields, - And Mountains highest Summits only gildes: - Which warns us home-wards with our Flocks to make. - - _Alci._ Along with thee our Thanks and Praises take. - - _Aste._ In which our Hearts do all in One unite. - - _Lici._ Our Wishes too, That on thy Head may light, - What e're the Gods as their Best Gifts bestow. - - _Meli._ Kind Nymphs on you may Equal Blessings flow. - - - - - On my Aunt Mrs A. K. - - - _Drown'd under_ London-bridge, _in the_ QUEENS _Bardge_, Anno 1641. - - The Darling of a Father Good and Wise, - The Vertue, which a Vertuous Age did prize; - The Beauty Excellent, even to those were Faire, - Subscrib'd unto, by such as might compare; - The Star that 'bove her Orb did always move, - And yet the Noblest did not Hate, but Love; - And those who most upon their Title stood, - Vail'd also to, because she did more Good. - To whom the Wrong'd, and Worthy did resort, } - And held their Sutes obtain'd, if only brought; } - The highest Saint in all the Heav'n of Court. } - So Noble was her Aire, so Great her Meen, - She seem'd a Friend, not Servant to the Queen. - To Sin, if known, she never did give way, - Vice could not Storm her, could it not betray. - When angry Heav'n extinguisht her fair Light, - It seem'd to say, _Nought's Precious in my sight; - As I in Waves this Paragon have drown'd, - The Nation next, and King I will confound_. - - - - - On a young Lady - _Whose_ LORD _was Travelling_. - - No sooner I pronounced _Celindas_ name, - But Troops of wing'd Pow'rs did chant the same: - Not those the Poets Bows and Arrows lend, - But such as on the Altar do attend. - _Celinda_ nam'd, Flow'rs spring up from the Ground, - Excited meerly with the Charming Sound. - _Celinda_, the Courts Glory, and its fear, - The gaz'd at Wonder, where she does appear. - _Celinda_ great in Birth, greater in Meen, - Yet none so humble as this Fair-One's seen. - Her Youth and Beauty justly might disdain, - But the least Pride her Glories ne're did stain. - _Celinda_ of each State th'ambitious Strife, - At once a Noble Virgin, and a Wife - Who, while her Gallant Lord in Forraign parts - Adorns his Youth with all accomplisht Arts, - Grows ripe at home in Vertue, more than Years, - And in each Grace a Miracle appears! - When other of her Age a madding go, - To th' Park and Plays, and ev'ry publick Show, - Proud from their Parents Bondage they have broke, - Though justly freed, she still does wear the Yoke; - Preferring more her Mothers Friend to be, - Than Idol of the Towns Loose-Gallantry. - On her she to the Temple does attend, - Where they their Blessed Hours both save and spend. - They Smile, they Joy, together they do Pray, - You'd think two Bodies did One Soul obey: - Like Angels thus they do reflect their Bliss, - And their bright Vertues each the other kiss. - Return young Lord, while thou abroad dost rome - The World to see, thou loosest Heaven at Home. - - - - - ON THE - Dutchess of Grafton - _Under the Name of_ ALINDA. - - - A SONG. - - - I. - - Th'ambitious Eye that seeks alone, - Where Beauties Wonders most are shown; - Of all that bounteous Heaven displays, - Let him on bright _Alinda_ gaze; - And in her high Example see, - All can admir'd, or wisht-for, be! - - - II. - - An unmatch't Form, Mind like endow'd, - Estate, and Title great and proud; - A Charge Heaven dares to few commit, - So few, like her, can manage it; - Without all Blame or Envy bear, - The being Witty, Great and Fair! - - - III. - - So well these Murd'ring Weapons weild, - As first Herself with them to shield, - Then slaughter none in proud Disport, - Destroy those she invites to Court: - Great are her Charmes, but Vertue more, - She wounds no Hearts, though All adore. - - - IV. - - 'Tis Am'rous Beauty Love invites, - A Passion, like it self, excites: - The Paragon, though all admire, - Kindles in none a fond desire: - No more than those the Kings Renown - And State applaud, affect his Crown. - - - - - _These following Fragments among many more were found among her - Papers._ - - - - - Penelope to Ulysses. - - Return my dearest Lord, at length return, - Let me no longer your sad absence mourn, - _Ilium_ in Dust, does no more Work afford, - No more Employment for your Wit or Sword. - - Why did not the fore-seeing Gods destroy, - _Helin_ the Fire-brand both of _Greece_ and _Troy_, - E're yet the Fatal Youth her Face had seen, - E're lov'd and born away the wanton Queen? - Then had been stopt the mighty Floud of Woe, - Which now both _Greece_ and _Phrygia_ over-flow: - Then I, these many Teares, should not have shed, - Nor thou, the source of them, to War been led: - I should not then have trembled at the Fame - Of _Hectors_ warlike and victorious Name. - - Why did I wish the Noble _Hector_ Slain? - Why _Ilium_ ruin'd? Rise, O rise again! - Again great City flourish from thine Urne: - For though thou'rt burn'd, my Lord does not return. - Sometimes I think, (but O most Cruel Thought,) - That, for thy Absence, th'art thy self in fault: - That thou art captiv'd by some captive Dame, - Who, when thou fired'st _Troy_, did thee inflame - And now with her thou lead'st thy am'rous Life, - Forgetful, and despising of thy Wife. - - - - - An Epitaph on her Self. - - When I am Dead, few Friends attend my Hearse, - And for a Monument, I leave my VERSE. - - - An ODE. - - Arise my Dove, from mid'st of Pots arise, - Thy sully'd Habitation leave, - To Dust no longer cleave, - Unworthy they of Heaven that will not view the Skies. - Thy native Beauty re-assume, - Prune each neglected Plume, - Till more than Silver white, - Then burnisht Gold more bright, - Thus ever ready stand to take thy Eternal Flight. - - - II. - - The Bird to whom the spacious Aire was given, - As in a smooth and trackless Path to go, - A Walk which does no Limits know - Pervious alone to Her and Heaven: - Should she her Airy Race forget, - On Earth affect to walk and sit; - Should she so high a Priviledge neglect, - As still on Earth, to walk and sit, affect, - What could she of Wrong complain, - Who thus her Birdly Kind doth stain, - If all her Feathers moulted were, - And naked she were left and bare, - The Jest and Scorn of Earth and Aire? - - - III. - - The Bird of Paradice the Soul, - - - - - _Extemporary Counsel given to a_ Young Gallant _in a_ Frolick. - - As you are Young, if you'l be also Wise, - Danger with Honour court, Quarrels despise; - Believe you then are truly Brave and Bold, - To Beauty when no Slave, and less to Gold; - When Vertue you dare own, not think it odd, - Or ungenteel to say, I _fear a God_. - - - - - _These Three following_ ODES _being found among_ Mrs Killigrews - _Papers, I was willing to Print though none of hers_. - - - Cloris Charmes - _Dissolved by_ EUDORA. - - - I. - - Not that thy Fair Hand - Should lead me from my deep Dispaire, - Or thy Love, _Cloris_, End my Care, - And back my Steps command: - But if hereafter thou Retire, - To quench with Tears, thy Wandring Fire, - This Clue I'll leave behinde, - By which thou maist untwine - The Saddest Way, - To shun the Day, - That ever Grief did find. - - - II. - - First take thy Hapless Way - Along the Rocky Northern Shore, - Infamous for the Matchless Store - Of Wracks within that Bay. - None o're the Cursed Beach e're crost, - Unless the Robb'd, the Wrack'd, or Lost - Where on the Strand lye spread, - The Sculls of many Dead. - Their mingl'd Bones, - Among the Stones, - Thy Wretched Feet must tread. - - - III. - - The Trees along the Coast, - Stretch forth to Heaven their blasted Arms, - As if they plaind the North-winds harms, - And Youthful Verdure lost. - There stands a Grove of Fatal Ewe, - Where Sun nere pierc't, nor Wind ere blew. - In it a Brooke doth fleet, - The Noise must guide thy Feet, - For there's no Light, - But all is Night, - And Darkness that you meet. - - - IV. - - Follow th'Infernal Wave, - Until it spread into a Floud, - Poysoning the Creatures of the Wood, - There twice a day a Slave, - I know not for what Impious Thing, - Bears thence the Liquor of that Spring. - It adds to the sad Place, - To hear how at each Pace, - He curses God, - Himself, his Load, - For such his Forlorn Case. - - - V. - - Next make no Noyse, nor talk, - Until th'art past a Narrow Glade, - Where Light does only break the Shade; - 'Tis a Murderers Walk. - Observing this thou need'st not fear, - He sleeps the Day or Wakes elsewhere. - Though there's no Clock or Chime, - The Hour he did his Crime, - His Soul awakes, - His Conscience quakes - And warns him that's the Time. - - - VI. - - Thy Steps must next advance, - Where Horrour, Sin, and Spectars dwell, - Where the Woods Shade seems turn'd Hell, - Witches here Nightly Dance, - And Sprights joyn with them when they call, - The Murderer dares not view the Ball. - For Snakes and Toads conspire, - To make them up a Quire. - And for their Light, - And Torches bright, - The Fiends dance all on fire. - - - VII. - - Press on till thou descrie - Among the Trees sad, gastly, wan, - Thinne as the Shadow of a Man, - One that does ever crie, - She is not; and she ne're will be, - Despair and Death come swallow me, - Leave him; and keep thy way, - No more thou now canst stray - Thy Feet do stand, - In Sorrows Land, - It's Kingdomes every way. - - - VIII. - - Here Gloomy Light will shew - Reard like a Castle to the Skie, - A Horrid Cliffe there standing nigh - Shading a Creek below. - In which Recess there lies a Cave, - Dreadful as Hell, still as the Grave. - Sea-Monsters there abide, - The coming of the Tide, - No Noise is near, - To make them fear, - God-sleep might there reside. - - - IX. - - But when the Boysterous Seas, - With Roaring Waves resumes this Cell, - You'd swear the Thunders there did dwell. - So lowd he makes his Plea; - So Tempests bellow under ground, - And Ecchos multiply the Sound! - This is the place I chose, - Changeable like my Woes, - Now calmly Sad, - Then Raging Mad, - As move my Bitter Throwes. - - - X. - - Such Dread besets this Part, - That all the Horrour thou hast past, - Are but Degrees to This at last. - The sight must break thy Heart. - Here Bats and Owles that hate the Light - Fly and enjoy Eternal Night. - Scales of Serpents, Fish-bones, - Th'Adders Eye, and Toad-stones, - Are all the Light, - Hath blest my Sight, - Since first began my Groans. - - - XI. - - When thus I lost the Sense, - Of all the heathful World calls Bliss, - And held it Joy, those Joys to miss, - When Beauty was Offence: - Celestial Strains did read the Aire, - Shaking these Mansions of Despaire; - A Form Divine and bright, - Stroke Day through all that Night - As when Heav'ns Queen - In Hell was seen, - With wonder and affright! - - - XII. - - The Monsters fled for fear, - The Terrors of the Cursed Wood - Dismantl'd were, and where they stood, - No longer did appear. - The Gentle Pow'r, which wrought this thing, - _Eudora_ was, who thus did sing. - _Dissolv'd is_ Cloris _spell, - From whence thy Evils fell, - Send her this Clue, - 'Tis there most due - And thy Phantastick Hell_. - - - - - Upon a Little Lady - - _Under the Discipline of an Excellent Person_. - - - I. - - How comes the Day orecast? the Flaming Sun - Darkn'd at Noon, as if his Course were run? - He never rose more proud, more glad, more gay, - Ne're courted _Daphne_ with a brighter Ray! - And now in Clouds he wraps his Head, - As if not _Daphne_, but himself were dead! - And all the little Winged Troop - Forbear to sing, and sit and droop; - The Flowers do languish on their Beds, - And fading hang their Mourning Heads; - The little _Cupids_ discontented, shew, - In Grief and Rage one breaks his Bow, - An other tares his Cheeks and Haire, - A third sits blubring in Despaire, - Confessing though, in Love, he be, - A Powerful, Dreadful Deitie, - A Child, in Wrath, can do as much as he: - Whence is this Evil hurl'd, - On all the sweetness of the World? - Among those Things with Beauty shine, - (Both Humane natures, and Divine) - There was not so much sorrow spi'd, - No, not that Day the sweet _Adonis_ died! - - - II. - - Ambitious both to know the Ill, and to partake, - The little Weeping Gods I thus bespake. - Ye Noblest Pow'rs and Gentlest that Above, - Govern us Men, but govern still with Love, - Vouchsafe to tell, what can that Sorrow be, - Disorders Heaven, and wounds a Deitie. - My Prayer not spoken out, - One of the Winged Rout, - With Indignation great, - Sprung from his Airie-Seat, - And mounting to a Higher Cloud, - With Thunder, or a Voice as loud - Cried, Mortal there, there seek the Grief o'th'Gods, - Where thou findst Plagues, and their revengeful Rods! - And in the Instant that the Thing was meant, - He bent his Bow, his Arrow plac't, and to the mark it sent! - I follow'd with my watchful Eye, - To the Place where the Shaft did flie, - But O unheard-of Prodigy. - It was retorted back again, - And he that sent it, felt the pain, - Alas! I think the little God was therewith slain! - But wanton Darts ne're pierce where Honours found, - And those that shoot them, do their own Breasts wound. - - - III. - - The Place from which the Arrow did return, - Swifter then sent, and with the speed did burn, - Was a Proud Pile which Marble Columnes bare, - Tarrast beneath, and open to the Aire, - On either side, Cords of wove Gold did tie - A purfl'd Curtain, hanging from on high, - To clear the Prospect of the stately Bower, - And boast the Owners Dignity and Power! - This shew'd the Scene from whence Loves grief arose, - And Heaven and Nature both did discompose, - A little Nymph whose Limbs divinely bright, - Lay like a Body of Collected Light, - But not to Love and Courtship so disclos'd, - But to the Rigour of a Dame oppos'd, - Who instant on the Faire with Words and Blows, - Now chastens Error, and now Virtue shews. - - - IV. - - But O thou no less Blind, - Than Wild and Savage Mind, - Who Discipline dar'st name, - Thy Outrage and thy shame, - And hop'st a Radiant Crown to get - All Stars and Glory to thy Head made fit, - Know that this Curse alone shall Serpent-like incircle it! - May'st thou henceforth, be ever seen to stand, - Grasping a Scourge of Vipers in thy Hand, - Thy Hand, that Furie like----But see! - By _Apollos_ Sacred Tree, - By his ever Tuneful Lyre, - And his bright Image the Eternal Fire, - _Eudoras_ she has done this Deed - And made the World thus in its Darling bleed! - I know the Cruel Dame, - Too well instructed by my Flame! - But see her shape! But see her Face! - In her Temple such is _Diana_'s Grace! - Behold her Lute upon the Pavement lies, - When Beautie's wrong'd, no wonder Musick dies! - - - V. - - What blood of _Centaurs_ did thy Bosom warme, - And boyle the Balsome there up to a Storme? - Nay Balsome flow'd not with so soft a Floud, - As thy Thoughts Evenly Virtuous, Mildly Good! - How could thy Skilful and Harmonious Hand, - That Rage of Seas, and People could command, - And calme Diseases with the Charming strings, - Such Discords make in the whole Name of Things? - But now I see the Root of thy Rash Pride, - Because thou didst Excel the World beside, - And it in Beauty and in Fame out-shine, - Thou would'st compare thy self to things Divine! - And 'bove thy Standard what thou there didst see, - Thou didst Condemn, because 'twas unlike thee, - And punisht in the Lady as unfit, - What Bloomings were of a Diviner Wit. - Divine she is, or else Divine must be, - A Borne or else a Growing Deitie! - - - VI. - - While thus I did exclaime, - And wildly rage and blame, - Behold the _Sylvan_-Quire - Did all at one conspire, - With shrill and cheerful Throats, - T'assume their chirping Notes; - The Heav'ns refulgent Eye - Dance't in the clear'd-up Skie, - And so triumphant shon, - As seven-days Beams he had on! - The little Loves burn'd with Nobler Fire, - Each chang'd his wanton Bow, and took a Lyre, - Singing chast Aires unto the tuneful strings, - And time'd soft Musick with their downy Wings. - I turn'd the little Nymph to view, - She singing and did smiling shew; - _Eudora_ led a heavenly strain, - Her Angels Voice did eccho it again! - I then decreed no Sacriledge was wrought, - But neerer Heav'n this Piece of Heaven was brought. - She also brighter seem'd, than she had been, - Vertue darts forth a Lightning 'bove the Skin. - _Eudora_ also shew'd as heretofore, - When her soft Graces I did first adore. - I saw, what one did _Nobly Will_, - The other _sweetly did fulfil_; - Their Actions all harmoniously did sute, - And she had only tun'd the Lady like her Lute. - - - - - On the Soft and Gentle Motions of Eudora. - - Divine _Thalia_ strike th'Harmonious Lute, - But with a Stroke so Gentle as may sute - The silent gliding of the Howers, - Or yet the calmer growth of Flowers; - Th'ascending or the falling Dew, - Which none can see, though all find true. - For thus alone, - Can be shewn, - How downie, how smooth, - _Eudora_ doth Move, - How Silken her Actions appear, - The Aire of her Face, - Of a gentler Grace - Then those that do stroke the Eare. - Her Address so sweet, - So Modestly Meet, - That 'tis not the Lowd though Tuneable String, - Can shewforth so soft, so Noyseless a Thing! - O This to express from thy Hand must fall, - Then Musicks self, something more Musical. - - - - - _FINIS._ - - - - - ERRATA. - - In Mr. _Drydens_ Ode, Stanzo 5. at the end of the first line read - [None.] p. 9. v. 6. for her r. its. p. 24. v. 1. for renown'd r. - renowned. p. 38. v. last but one, for renounced r. renowned. p. 57. v. - 1, instead of the Interrogation-point, make a Comma. p. 97. v. 13. r. - burn'd with a nobler fier. - - - - - THE - TABLE. - - Alexandreis. Page 1 - _To the Queen._ 6 - _A Pastoral Dialogue._ 11 - _On Death._ 13 - _First Epigram, Upon being contended with a Little._ 15 - _The Second Epigram, On_ Billinda. ibid. - _The Third Epigram, On an Atheist._ 16 - _The Fourth Epigram, On_ Galla. 17 - _A Farewel to Worldly Joys._ 18 - _The Complaint of a Lover._ 19 - _Love, the Soul of Poetry._ 22 - _To my Lady_ Berkley, _Afflicted upon her Son my - Lord_ Berkley_'s early Engaging in the Sea-Service_. 24 - _St._ John _Baptist Painted by her Self in the Wilderness, - with Angels appearing to him, and with a Lamb by him_. 27 - Herodias_'s Daughter presenting to her Mother St._ Johns _Head - in a Silver Charger, also Painted by her self._ ibid. - _On a Picture Painted by her self, representing two_ Nymphs - _of_ Diana_'s, one in a posture to Hunt, the other Batheing_. 28 - _An Invective against Gold._ 30 - _The Miseries of Man._ 32 - _Upon the saying that my Verses were made by another._ 44 - _On the Birth-Day of Queen_ Katherine. 47 - _To my Lord_ Colrane, _in Answer to his Complemental - Verses sent me under the Name of_ Cleanor. 49 - _The Discontent._ 51 - _A Pastoral Dialogue._ 57 - _A Pastoral Dialogue._ 63 - _On my Aunt Mrs._ A. K. _drowned under_ London-_Bridge - in the Queens Barge, 1641_. 76 - _On a young Lady, whose Lord was Travelling._ 77 - _On the Dutchess of_ Grafton, _under the Name of_ Allinda, - _a Song_. 79 - Penelope _to_ Ulysses. 81 - _An Epitaph on her Self._ 82 - _An Ode._ ibid. - _Extemporary Counsel, given to a young Gallant in a Frolic._ 84 - Cloris _Charms Dissolv'd by_ Eudora. 85 - _Upon a Little Lady under the Discipline of an Excellent Person._ 92 - _On the soft and gentle motions of_ Eudora. 99 - - [** Transcriber's Notes: - - Replaced [oe] ligature in Coelites with simple "oe". - - Right braces spanning multiple lines in the text have been - replaced with vertical "}"'s. - - Changed spelling of "pictturesque" to "picturesque" in first - paragraph of the INTRODUCTION. - - In poem "the Second EPIGRAM" changed spelling of "Bellinda" to - "Billinda" in Line 1 above to make it consistent with title - and TOC. **] - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems (1686), by Anne Killigrew - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS (1686) *** - -***** This file should be named 41076.txt or 41076.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/0/7/41076/ - -Produced by David Starner, Paul Marshall and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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