A1r A1v
Imprimatur. 1663-11-25Nov. 25. 1663. Roger L’Eſtrange.


By the Incomparable,
Mrs. K. P.

Two leafy branches tied in a circle.

Printed by J. G. for Rich. Marriott, at his Shop
under S. Dunſtans Church in Fleet-ſtreet. 16641664.

A2v A3r

To the moſt excellently accompliſh’d Mrs. K. P. upon her Poems.


We allow’d your Beauty, and we did ſubmit

To all the tyrannies of it.

Ah, cruel Sex! will you depoſe us too in Wit?

Orinda does in that too reign,

Does man behind her in proud triumph draw,

And cancel great Apollo’s Salick Law.

We our old Title plead in vain:

Man may be Head, but Woman’s now our Brain.

Worſe then Love’s fire-arms heretofore:

In Beauty’s camp it was not known,

Too many arms beſides the Conquerour, bore.

’Twas the great Cannon we brought down,

T’aſſault a ſtubborn Town.

Orinda firſt did a bold ſally make,

Our ſtrongeſt quarter take,

A3 And A3v

And ſo ſucceſsful prov’d, that ſhe

Turn’d upon Love himſelf his own Artillery.


Women, as if the Body were the whole

Did that, and not the Soul,

Tranſmit to their poſterity;

If in it ſomething they conceiv’d,

Th’ abortive Iſſue never liv’d.

’Twere ſhame and pity, Orinda, if in thee

A Sp’rit ſo rich, ſo noble, and ſo high,

Should unmanur’d or barren lie.

But thou induſtriouſly haſt ſow’d and till’d

The fair and fruitful Field:

And ’tis a ſtrange increaſe that it doth yield.

As when the happy Gods above

Meet all together at a Feaſt,

A ſecret joy unſpeakably does move

In their great Mother Semele’s contented breaſt:

With A4r

With no leſs pleaſure thou methinks ſhouldſt ſee

Thus thy no leſs immortal Progeny:

And in their Birth thou no one touch doſt find,

Of th’ ancient Curſe to Woman-kind;

Thou bring’ſt not forth with pain,

It neither travel is, nor labour of thy Brain.

So eaſily they from thee come,

And there is ſo much room

I’ th’ unexhausted and unfathom’d womb;

That, like the Holland Counteſs, thou might’ſt bear

A Child for ev’ry day of all the fertile year.


Thou doſt my wonder, would’ſt my envy raiſe,

If to be prais’d I lov’d more then to praiſe.

Where-e’re I ſee an excellence,

I muſt admire to ſee thy well-knit Senſe,

Thy Numbers gentle, and thy Paſsions high;

Theſe as thy Forehead ſmooth, thoſe ſparkling as thy Eye.

A4 ’Tis A4v

’Tis ſolid, and ’tis manly all,

Or rather, ’tis Angelical:

For, as in Angels, we

Do in thy Verſes ſee

Both improv’d Sexes eminently meet;

They are then Man more ſtrong, and more then Woman ſweet.


They talk of Nine, I know not who

Female Chimæra’s, that o’re Poets reign;

I ne’re could find that Fancy true,

But have invok’d them oft I’me ſure in vain.

They talk of Sappho, but, alas! the ſhame

I’ th’ manners ſoil the luſtre of her fame.

Orinda’s inward Vertue is ſo bright,

That, like a Lantern’s fair encloſed light,

It through the Paper ſhines where ſhe doth write.

Honour and Friendſhip, and the gen’rous ſcorn

Of things for which we were not born,

Things A5r

(Things which of cuſtom by a fond diſeaſe,

Like that of Girles, our vicious ſtomachs pleaſe)

Are the inſtructive ſubjects of her Pen.

And as the Roman Victory

Taught our rude Land arts and civility,

At once ſhe takes, enſlaves, and governs Men.


But Rome with all her arts could ne’re inſpire

A Female Breaſt with ſuch a fire.

The warlike Amazonian Train,

Which in Elyſium now do peaceful reign,

And Wit’s wild Empire before Arms prefer,

Find ’twill be ſettled in their Sex by her.

Merlin the Prophet (and ſure he’l not lie

In such an awful Company)

Does Prophecies of learn’d Orinda ſhow,

What he had darkly ſpoke ſo long ago.

Even A5v

Even Boadicia’s angry Ghoſt

Forgets her own misfortune and diſgrace,

And to her injur’d Daughters now does boaſt,

That Rome’s o’recome at laſt by a Woman of her race.

Abraham Cowley.

To A6r

To the Incomparable Mrs. K. P. Author of theſe Poems.


The Beauty of your Lines, is’t not ſo clear

You need no Foil to make’t the more appear?

She that’s Superlative, although alone

Conſider’d, gains not by Compariſon.

And yet whate’re hath hitherto been writ

By others, tends to magnifie your Wit.

What’s ſaid of Origen, (When he did well

Interpret Texts, no man did him excell;

When ill, no man did e’re go ſo awry)

We may t’your Sex (though not to you) apply:

For now we’ve ſeen from a Feminine Quill

Poetry good as e’re was, and as ill.

H. A.

The A6v Poems. A8v
B1r 1



Upon the double Murther of K. Charles I. in Anſwer to a Libellous Copy of Rimes made by Vavaſor Powell.

Ithink not on the State, nor am concern’d

Which way ſoever the great Helm is turn’d:

But as that ſon whoſe father’s dangers nigh

Did force his native dumbneſs, and untie

The fetter’d organs; ſo here’s a fair cauſe

That will excuſe the breach of Nature’s laws.

Silence were now a ſin, nay Paſsion now

Wiſe men themſelves for Merit would allow.

What noble eye could ſee (and careleſs paſs)

The dying Lion kick’d by every Aſs?

B Has B1v 2

Has Charles so broke God’s Laws, he muſt not have

A quiet Crown nor yet a quiet Grave?

Tombs have been Sanctuaries; Thieves lie there

Secure from all their penalty and fear.

Great Charles his double miſery was this,

Unfaithful Friends, ignoble Enemies.

Had any Heathen been this Prince’s foe,

He would have wept to ſee him injur’d ſo.

His Title was his Crime, they’d reaſon good

To quarrel at the Right they had withſtood.

He broke God’s Laws, and therefore he muſt die;

And what ſhall then become of thee and I?

Slander muſt follow Treaſon; but yet ſtay,

Take not our Reaſon with our King away.

Though you have ſeiz’d upon all our defence,

Yet do not ſequeſter our common Senſe.

But I admire not at this new ſupply:

No bounds will hold thoſe who at Sceptres fly.

Chriſt B2r 3

Chriſt will be King, but I ne’re underſtood

His Subjects built his Kingdom up with bloud,

Except their own; or that he would diſpence

With his commands, though for his own defence.

Oh! to what height of horrour are they come

Who dare pull down a crown, tear up a Tomb!


On the numerous Acceſs of the Engliſh to wait upon the King in Flanders.

Haſten, Great Prince, unto thy Britiſh Iſles,

Or all thy Subjects will become Exiles.

To thee they flock, thy Presence is their home,

As Pompey’s reſidence made Africk Rome.

They that aſſerted thy Juſt Cauſe go hence

To teſtifie their joy and reverence;

And thoſe that did not, now, by wonder taught,

Go to confeſs and expiate their fault.

B2 So B2v 4

So that if thou doſt ſtay, thy gaſping Land

Will it ſelf empty on the Belgick ſand:

Where the affrighted Dutchman does profess

He thinks it an Invaſion, not Addreſs.

As we unmonarch’d were for want of thee,

So till thou come we ſhall unpeopled be.

None but the cloſe Fanatick will remain,

Who by our Loyalty his ends will gain:

And he th’exhauſted Land will quickly find

As deſolate a place as he deſign’d.

For England (though grown old with woes) will ſee

Her long-deny’d and Soveraign Remedy.

So when old Jacob could but credit give

That his ſo long loſt Joſeph did ſtill live,

(Joseph that was preſerved to reſtore

’Their lives that would have taken his before)

It is enough, (ſaid he) to Egypt I

Will go, and ſee him once before I die.

III. Arion B3r 5


Arion to a Dolphin, On his Majeſty’s paſſage into England.

Whom does this ſtately Navy bring?

O! ’tis Great Britain’s Glorious King.

Convey him then, ye Winds and Seas,

Swift as Deſire and calm as Peace.

In your Reſpect let him ſurvey

What all his other Subjects pay;

And propheſie to them again

The ſplendid ſmoothneſs of his Reign.

Charles and his mighty hopes you bear:

A greater now then Cæſar’s here;

Whoſe Veins a richer Purple boaſt

Than ever Hero’s yet engroſt;

Sprung from a Father so auguſt,

He triumphs in his very duſt.

B3 In B3v 6

In him two Miracles we view,

His Vertue and his Safety too:

For when compell’d by Traitors crimes

To breathe and bow in forein Climes,

Expos’d to all the rigid fate

That does on wither’d Greatneſs wait,

Had plots for Life and Conſcience laid,

By Foes purſu’d, by Friends betray’d;

Then Heaven, his ſecret potent friend,

Did him from Drugs and Stabs defend;

And, what’s more yet, kept him upright

’Midst flattering Hope and bloudy Fight.

Cromwell his whole Right never gain’d,

Defender of the Faith remain’d,

For which his Predeceſſours fought

And writ, but none ſo dearly bought.

Never was Prince ſo much beſieged,

At home provok’d, abroad obliged;

Nor B4r 7

Nor ever Man reſiſted thus,

No not great Athanaſius.

No help of Friends could, or Foes ſpight,

To fierce Invaſion him invite.

Revenge to him no pleaſure is,

He ſpar’d their bloud who gap’d for his;

Bluſh’d any hands the Engliſh Crown

Should faſten on him but their own.

As Peace and Freedom with him went,

With him they came from Baniſhment.

That he might his Dominions win,

He with himſelf did firſt begin:

And that beſt victory obtain’d,

His Kingdom quickly he regain’d.

Th’ illuſtrious ſuff’rings of this Prince

Did all reduce, and all convince.

He onely liv’d with ſuch ſucceſs,

That the whole world would fight with leſs.

B4 Aſsiſtant B4v 8

Aſsiſtant Kings could but ſubdue

Thoſe Foes which he can pardon too.

He thinks no Slaughter-trophees good,

Nor Laurels dipt in Subjects blood;

But with a ſweet reſiſtleſs art

Diſarms the hand, and wins the heart;

And like a God doth reſcue thoſe

Who did themſelves and him oppoſe.

Go, wondrous Prince, adorn that Throne

Which Birth and Merit make your own;

And in your Mercy brighter ſhine

Then in the Glories of your Line:

Find Love at home, and abroad Fear,

And Veneration every where.

Th’ united world will you allow

Their Chief, to whom the Engliſh bow:

And Monarchs ſhall to yours reſort,

As Sheba’s Queen to Judah’s Court;

Returning B5r 9

Returning thence conſtrained more

To wonder, envy, and adore.

Diſguſted Rome will hate your Crown,

But ſhe ſhall tremble at your Frown.

For England ſhall (rul’d and reſtor’d by You)

The ſuppliant world protect, or elſe ſubdue.


On the Fair Weather juſt at Coronation.

So clear a ſeaſon, and ſo ſnatch’d from ſtorms,

Shews Heav’n delights to ſee what Man performs.

Well knew the Sun, if ſuch a day were dim,

It would have been an injury to him:

For then a Cloud had from his eye conceal’d

The nobleſt ſight that ever he beheld.

He therefore check’d th’invading Rains we feared,

And a more bright Parentheſis appeared.

So B5v 10

So that we knew not which look’d moſt content,

The King, the People, or the Firmament.

But the Solemnity once fully paſt,

And Heav’n and Earth each other to out-doe,

Vied both in Cannons and in Fire-works too.

So Isræl past through the divided floud,

While in obedient heaps the Ocean ſtood:

But the ſame Sea (the Hebrews once on ſhore)

Return’d in torrents where it was before.


To the Queen’s Majeſty on her Arrival at Portſmouth, 1662-05-14May 14. 1662.

Now that the Seas & Winds ſo kind are grown,

In our advantage to reſign their own;

Now you have quitted the triumphant Fleet,

And ſuffered English ground to kiſs your Feet,

Whilſt B6r 11

Whil’ſt your glad Subjects with impatience throng

To ſee a Bleſsing they have begg’d ſo long;

Whilſt Nature (who in complement to you

Kept back till now her wealth and beauty too)

Hath, to attend the luſtre your eyes bring,

Sent forth her lov’d Embaſsadour the Spring;

Whilſt in your praiſe Fame’s echo doth conſpire

With the ſoft touches of the ſacred Lyre;

Let an obſcurer Muſe upon her knees

Preſent you with ſuch Offerings as theſe,

And you as a Divinity adore,

That ſo your mercy may appear the more;

Who, though of thoſe you ſhould the beſt receive,

Can ſuch imperfect ones as theſe forgive.

Hail Royal Beauty, Virgin bright and great,

Who do our hopes ſecure, our joys complete.

We cannot reckon what to you we owe,

Who make Him happy who makes us be ſo.

We B6v 12

We did enjoy but half our King before,

You us our Prince and him his peace reſtore.

But Heav’n for us the deſp’rate debt hath paid,

Who ſuch a Monarch hath your Trophee made.

A Prince whoſe Vertue did alone ſubdue

Armies of Men, and of Offences too.

So good, that from him all our bleſsings flow,

Yet is a greater then he can beſtow.

So great, that he diſpenses life and death,

And Europe’s fate depends upon his breath.

(For Fortune would her wrongs to him repair,

By Courtſhips greater then his Miſchiefs were:

As Lovers that of Jealouſie repent

Grow troubleſome in kind acknowledgment.)

Who greater courage ſhew’d in wooing you,

Then other Princes in their battels do.

Never was Spain so generouſly defi’d;

Where they deſign’d a Prey, he courts a Bride.

Hence B7r 13

Hence they may gueſs what will his Anger prove,

When he appear’d ſo brave in making Love;

And be more wiſe then to provoke his Arms,

Who can ſubmit to nothing but your Charms.

And till they give him leiſure to ſubdue,

His Enemies muſt owe their peace to you.

Whilest he and you mixing illuſtrious Rayes,

As much above our wiſhes as our praiſe,

Such Hero’s ſhall produce, that even they

Without regret or bluſhes ſhall obey.


To the Queen-mother’s Majeſty, 1661-01-01Jan. 1. 1660/1.

You juſtly may forſake a Land which you

Have found ſo guilty and ſo fatal too.

Fortune, injurious to your Innocence,

Shot all her poiſon’d arrows here, or hence.

’Twas B7v 14

’Twas here bold Rebels once your Life purſu’d,

(To whom ’twas Treaſon onely to be rude,)

Till you were forc’d by their unwearied ſpight

(O glorious Criminal!) to take your flight.

Whence after you all that was Humane fled;

For here, oh! here the Royal Martyr bled,

Whoſe cauſe and heart must be divine and high,

That having you could be content to die.

Here they purloin’d what we to you did owe,

And paid you in variety of woe.

Yet all thoſe bellows in your breaſt did meet

A heart ſo firm, ſo loyal, and ſo sweet,

That over them you greater conqueſt made

Then your Immortal Father ever had.

For we may reade in ſtory of ſome few

That fought like him, none that indur’d like you:

Till Sorrow bluſh’d to act what Traitors meant,

And Providence it ſelf did firſt repent.

But B8r 15

But as our Active, so our Paſsive, ill

Hath made your ſhare to be the ſufferer’s ſtill.

As from our Miſchiefs all your troubles grew,

’Tis your ſad right to ſuffer for them too.

Elſe our Great Charles had not been hence ſo long,

Nor the Illuſtrious Glou’ſter dy’d ſo young:

Nor had we loſt a Princeſs all confeſt

To be the greateſt, wiſeſt, and the beſt;

Who leaving colder parts, but leſs unkind,

(For it was here ſhe ſet, and there ſhe ſhin’d,)

Did to a moſt ungrateful Climate come

To make a Viſit, and to find a Tomb.

So that we ſhould as much your ſmile deſpair,

As of your ſtay in this unpurged air;

But that your Mercy doth exceed our Crimes

As much as your Example former times,

And will forgive our Off’rings, though the flame

Does tremble ſtill betwixt regret and ſhame.

For B8v 16

For we have juſtly ſuffered more then you

By the ſad guilt of all your ſuff’rings too.

As you the great Idea have been ſeen

Of either fortune, and in both a Queen,

Live ſtill triumphant by the nobleſt wars,

And juſtifie your reconciled ſtars.

See your Offendors for your mercy bow,

And your tri’d Vertue all Mankind allow;

While you to ſuch a Race have given birth,

As are contended for by Heaven and Earth.


Upon the Princeſs Royal her Return into England.

Welcome ſure Pledge of reconciled Powers;

If Kingdoms have Good Angels, you are ours:

For th’ Ill ones check’d by your bright influence,

Could never ſtrike till you were hurried hence.

So C1r 17

But then, as Streams withſtood more rapid grow,

War and Confuſion ſoon did overflow:

Such and ſo many ſorrows did ſucceed,

As it would be a new one now to reade.

But whil’ſt your Luſtre was to us deny’d,

You ſcatter’d bleſsings every where beſide.

Nature and Fortune have ſo gracious been,

To give you Worth, and Scene to ſhew it in.

But we do moſt admire that gen’rous Care

Which did your glorious Brother’s ſufferings ſhare;

So that he thought them in your Preſence none,

And yet your ſuff’rings did increaſe his own.

O wondrous prodigy! Oracle Divine!

Who owe more to your Actions then your Line.

Your Lives exalt your Father’s deathleſs Name,

The bluſh of England, and the boaſt of Fame.

Pardon, Great Madam, this unfit Addreſs,

Which does profane the Glory ’twould confeſs.

C Our C1v 18

Our Crimes have baniſh’d us from you, and we

Were more remov’d by them then by the Sea.

Nor is it known whether we wrong’d you more

When we rebell’d, or now we do adore.

But what Guilt found, Devotion cannot miſs;

And you who pardon’d that, will pardon this.

Your bleſt Return tells us our ſtorms are ceaſed,

Our faults forgiven, and our ſtars appeaſed.

Your Mercy, which no Malice could deſtroy,

Shall firſt beſtow, and then inſtruct, our Joy.

For bounteous Heav’n hath in your Highneſs ſent

Our great Example, Bliſs, and Ornament.


On the Death of the Illuſtrious Duke of Glouceſter.

Great Glou’ſter’s dead, and yet in this we muſt

Confeſs that angry Heaven is wiſe and juſt.

We C2r 19

We have ſo long and yet ſo ill endured

The woes which our offences had procured,

That this new ſtroke would all our ſtrength deſtroy,

Had we not known an intervall of Joy.

And yet perhaps this ſtroke had been excuſed,

If we this interval had not abuſed.

But our Ingratitude and Diſcontent

Deſerv’d to know our mercies were but lent:

And thoſe complaints Heav’n in this rigid fate

Does firſt chaſtise, and then legitimate.

By this it our Diviſions does reprove,

And makes us joyn in grief, if not in love.

For (Glorious Youth) all Parties do agree,

As in admiring, ſo lamenting thee;

The Soveraign Subject, Foreiners delight:

Thou wert the universal Favourite.

Not Rome’s belov’d and brave Marcellus fell

So much a Darling or a Miracle.

C2 Built C2v 20

Though built of richeſt bloud and fineſt earth,

Thou hadſt a heart more noble then thy birth:

Which by th’afflictive changes thou didſt know,

Thou hadſt but too much cauſe and time to ſhew.

For when Fate did thy Infancy expoſe

To the moſt barbarous and ſtupid Foes;

Yet thou didſt then ſo much expreſs the Prince,

As did even them amaze, if not convince.

Nay, that looſe Tyrant whom no bound confin’d,

Whōom neither Laws, nor Oaths, nor Shame could bind,

Although his Soul was than his Look more grim,

Yet thy brave Innocence half ſoftened him.

And he that Worth wherein thy Soul was dreſt

By his ill-favour’d clemency confeſt;

Leſsening the ill which he could not repent,

He call’d that Travel which was Baniſhment.

Eſcap’d from him, thy Trials were encreas’d;

The ſcene was chang’d, but not the danger ceas’d.

Though C3r 21

Now from rough Guardians to Seducers gone,

Thoſe made thy Temper, theſe thy Judgmtent known;

Whil’ſt thou the nobleſt Champion wert for Truth,

Whether we view thy Courage or thy Youth.

If to foil Nature and Ambition claims

Greater reward then to encounter Flames,

All that ſhall know the ſtory muſt allow

A Martyr’s Crown prepared for thy brow.

But yet thou wert ſuſpended from thy Throne,

Til thy Great Brother had regain’d his own:

Who though the braveſt Suff’rer, yet even he

Could not at once have miſt his Crown and Thee.

But as Commiſsion’d Angels make no ſtay,

But having done their errand go their way:

So thy part done, not thy reſtored State,

The future ſplendour which did for thee wait,

Nor that thy Prince and Countrey muſt mourn for

Such a Support, and ſuch a Counſellor,

C3 Could C3v 22

Could longer keep thee from that bliſs whence thou

Look’ſt down with pity on Earth’s Monarchs now;

Where thy capacious Soul may quench her thirſt,

And Younger Brother may inherit firſt.

While on our King Heav’n does this care expreſs,

To make his Comforts ſafe he makes them leſs.

For this ſucceſsful Heathens uſe to ſay,

It is too much, (great Gods,) ſend ſome allay.


To Her Royal Highneſs the Ducheſs of York, on her commanding me to ſend her ſome things that I had written.

To you whoſe Dignity ſtrikes us with aw,

And whoſe far greater Judgment gives us law,

(Your Mind b’ing more tranſcendent then your State,

For while but Knees to this, Hearts bow to that,

Theſe humble Papers never durſt come near,

Had not your pow’rful Word bid them appear;

In C4r 23

In which ſuch majeſty, ſuch ſweetness dwells,

As in one act obliges, and compells.

None can diſpute commands vouchſaf’d by you.

What ſhall my fears then and confuſion doe?

They muſt reſign, and by their juſt pretence

Some value ſet on my obedience.

For in Religious Duties, ’tis confeſt,

The moſt Implicite are accepted beſt.

If on that ſcore your Highneſs will excuſe

This bluſhing tribute of an artleſs Muſe,

She may (encourag’d by your leaſt regard,

Which firſt did worth create, and then reward)

At modeſt diſtance with improved ſtrains

That Mercy celebrate which now ſhe gains.

But ſhould you that ſeverer juſtice uſe,

Which theſe too prompt Approches may produce,

As the ſwift Doe which hath eſcaped long,

Believes a Vulgar hand would be a wrong;

C4 But C4v 24

But wounded by a Prince falls without ſhame,

And what in life she loſes, gains in fame:

So if a Ray from you chance to be ſent,

Which to conſume, and not to warm, is meant;

My trembling Muſe at least more nobly dies,

And falls by that a truer ſacrifice.


On the Death of the Queen of Bohemia.

Although the moſt do with officious heat

Onely adore the Living and the Great;

Yet this Queen’s Merits Fame hath ſo far ſpread,

That ſhe rules ſtill, though diſpoſseſt and dead.

For loſing one, two other Crowns remain’d;

Over all hearts and her own griefs ſhe reign’d.

Two Thrones ſo ſplendid, as to none are leſs

But to that third which ſhe does now poſseſs.

Her C5r 25

Her Heart and Birth Fortune so well did know,

That ſeeking her own fame in ſuch a Foe,

She dreſt the ſpacious Theatre for the fight,

And the admiring World call’d to the ſight:

An Army then of mighty Sorrows brought,

Who all againſt this ſingle Vertue fought;

And ſometimes ſtratagems, and ſometimes blows

To her Heroick Soul they did oppoſe:

But at her feet their vain attempts did fall,

And ſhe diſcovered and ſubdu’d them all.

Till Fortune weary of her malice grew,

Became her Captive and her Trophee too:

And by too late a ſuit begg’d to have been

Admitted Subject to ſo brave a Queen.

But as ſome Hero who a field hath wone,

Viewing the things he had ſo bravely done,

When by his ſpirit’s flight he finds that he

With his own Life muſt buy the Victory,

He C5v 26

He makes the ſlaughter’d heap that next him lies

His Funeral Pile, and then in triumph dies:

So fell this Royal Dame, with conquering ſpent,

And left in every breaſt her monument;

Wherein ſo high an Epitaph is writ,

As I muſt never dare to copy it.

But that bright Angel which did on her wait,

In fifty years contention with her fate,

And in that office did with wonder ſee

How great her troubles, how much greater ſhe;

How ſhe maintain’d her beſt Prerogative,

In keeping ſtill the power to Forgive;

How high ſhe did in her Directions go,

And how her Condeſcenſion ſtoop’d as low;

With how much Glory ſhe had ever been

A Daughter, Siſter, Mother, Wife, and Queen;

Will ſure employ ſome deathleſs Muſe to tell

Our children this instructive Miracle,

Who C6r 27

Who may her ſad Illuſtrious Life recite,

And after all her Wrongs may doe her Right.


On the 1651-09-033. of September, 1651.

As when the glorious Magazine of Light

Approches to his Canopy of Night,

He with new ſplendour clothes his dying Rayes,

And double brightneſs to his Beams conveys;

And, as to brave and check his ending fate,

Puts on his higheſt looks in’s loweſt ſtate,

Dreſt in ſuch terrour as to make us all

Be Anti-Perſians, and adore his Fall;

Then quits the world, depriving it of Day,

While every Herb and Plant does droop away:

So when our gaſping Engliſh Royalty

Perceiv’d her Period was now drawing nigh,

She C6v 28

She ſummons her whole ſtrength to give one blow,

To raiſe her ſelf, or pull down others too.

Big with revenge and hope ſhe now ſpake more

Of terrour then in many moneths before;

And muſters her Attendants, or to ſave

Her from, or elſe attend her to, the Grave:

Yet but enjoy’d the miſerable fate

Of ſetting Majeſty, to die in State.

Unhappy Kings, who cannot keep a Throne,

Nor be ſo fortunate to fall alone!

Their weight ſinks others: Pompey could not fly,

But half the World muſt bear him company;

And captiv’d Sampſon could not life conclude,

Unleſs attended with a multitude.

Who’d truſt to Greatneſs now, whoſe food is air,

Whoſe ruine ſudden, and whoſe end deſpair?

Who would preſume upon his Glorious Birth,

Or quarrel for a ſpacious ſhare of Earth,

That C7r 29

That ſees ſuch Diadems become ſo cheap,

And Hero’s tumble in a common heap?

Oh give me Vertue then, which ſummes up all,

And firmly ſtands when Crowns and Sceptres fall.


To the noble Palæmon, on his imcomparable Diſcourſe of Friendſhip.

We had been ſtill undone, wrapt in diſguiſe,

Secure, not happy; cunning and not wiſe;

War had been our deſign, Intereſt our trade;

We had not dwelt in ſafety, but in ſhade;

Hadſt thou not hung out Light more welcome far

Then wand’ring Sea-men think the Northern-ſtar;

To ſhew, leſt we our happineſs ſhould miſs,

’Tis plac’d in Friendſhip, Mens and Angels bliſs.

Friendſhip, which had a ſcorn or mark been made,

And ſtill had been derided or betray’d;

At C7v 30

At which the great Phyſician ſtill had laugh’d,

The Souldier ſtormed, and the Gallant ſcoff’d;

Or worn not as a Paſsion, but a Plot,

At firſt pretended, and at leaſt forgot;

Hadſt thou not been our great Deliverer,

At firſt diſcover’d, and then reſcu’d her,

And raiſing what rude Malice had flung down,

Unveil’d her Face, and then reſtor’d her Crown:

By ſuch auguſt an action to convince,

’Tis greater to ſupport then be a Prince.

Oh for a Voice which big as Thunder were,

That all Mankind thy conq’ring truths might hear!

Sure the Litigious as amaz’d would ſtand,

As Fairy Knights touch’d with Cabina’s Wand,

Drawn by thy ſofter, and yet ſtronger Charms,

And what more honour can on thee be hurl’d,

Then to protect a Vertue, ſave a World?

But C8r 31

But while great Friendſhip thou haſt copied out,

Thou’ſt drawn thy ſelf ſo well, that we may doubt

Which moſt appears, thy Candour or thy Art,

Or we owe more to thy Brain or Heart.

But this we know without thine own conſent,

Thou’ſt rais’d thy ſelf a glorious Monument;

And that ſo laſting that all Fate forbids,

And will out-live Egyptian Pyramids.

Temples and Statues Time will eat away,

And Tombs (like their Inhabitants) decay;

But there Palæmon lives, and so he muſt

When Marbles crumble to forgotten duſt.


To the Right Honourable Alice Counteſs of Carbury, on her enriching Wales with her Preſence.

As when the firſt day dawn’d Man’s greedy Eye

Was apt to dwell on the bright Prodigy,

Till C8v 32

Till he might careleſs of his Organ grow,

And ſo his wonder prove his danger too:

So when your Countrey (which was deem’d to be

Cloſe-mourner in its own obſcurity,

And in neglected Chaos ſo long lay)

Was reſcu’de by your beams into a Day,

Like men into a ſudden luſtre brought,

We juſtly fear’d to gaze more then we ought.


From hence it is you lose most of your Right,

Since none can pay’t, nor durst doe’t if they might.

Perfection’s misery ’tis that Art and Wit,

While they would honour, do but injure it.

But as the Deity slights our Expence,

And loves Devotion more then Eloquence:

So ’tis our Confidence you are Divine,

Makes us at diſtance thus approch your Shrine.

And D1r 33

And thus ſecur’d, to you who need no art,

I that ſpeak leaſt my wit may ſpeak my heart.


Then much above all zealous injury,

Receive this tribute of our ſhades from me,

While your great Splendour, like eternal Spring,

To theſe ſad Groves ſuch a refreſhment bring,

That the deſpised Countrey may be grown,

And juſtly too, the Envy of the Town.

That ſo when all Mankind at length have loſt

The Vertuous Grandeur which they once did boaſt,

Of you like Pilgrims they may here obtain

Worth to recruit the dying world again.

D XIV. To D1v 34


To Sir Edw. Deering (the noble Silvander) on his Dream and Navy, perſonating Orinda’s preferring Roſannia before Solomon’s Traffick to Ophir.

Then am I happier then is the King; My Merchandiſe does no ſuch danger bring: The Fleet I traffick with fears no ſuch harms, Sails in my ſight, and anchors in my arms. Each new and unperceived grace Diſcovered in that mind and face, Each motion, ſmile, and look from thee Brings pearls and Ophir-gold to me.

Thus far Sir Edw. Deering.

Sir, To be Noble when ’twas voted down,

To dare be Good though a whole Age ſhould frown;

To live within, and from that even ſtate

See all the under-world ſtoops to its fate;

To D2r 35

To give the Law of Honour, and diſpence

All that is handſom, great and worthy thence;

Are things at once your practice and your end,

And which I dare admire, but not commend.

But ſince t’oblige the World is your delight,

You muſt deſcend within our watch and ſight;

For ſo Divinity muſt take diſguiſe,

Leſt Mortals periſh with the bright ſurpriſe.

And thus your Muſe, which can enough reward

All actions, ſtudied to be brave and hard,

And Honours gives then Kings more permanent,

Above the reach of Acts of Parliament,

May ſuffer an Acknowledgment from me,

For having thence receiv’d Eternity.

My thoughts with ſuch advantage you expreſs;

I hardly know them in this charming dreſs.

And had I more unkindneſs for my friend

Then my demerits e’re could apprehend,

D2 Were D2v 36

Were the Fleet courted with this gale of wind,

I might be ſure a rich return to find.

So when the Shepherd of his Nymph complain’d,

Apollo in his ſhape his Miſtreſs gain’d:

She might have ſcorn’d the Swain, & found excuſe;

But could not this great Oratour refuse.

But for Roſannia’s Intereſt I ſhould fear

It would be hard t’obtain your pardon here.

But your firſt Goodneſs will, I know, allow

That what was Beauty then, is Mercy now.

Forgiveneſs is the nobleſt Charity,

And nothing can worthy your favour be.

For you (God-like) are ſo much your own fate,

That what you will accept you muſt create.

XV. To D3r 37


To the truly-noble Mr. Henry Lawes.

Nature, which is the vaſt Creation’s Soul,

That ſteddy curious Agent in the whole,

The Art of Heaven, the Order of this Frame,

Is onely Number in another name.

For as ſome King conqu’ring what was his own,

Hath choice of ſeveral Titles to his Crown;

So Harmony on this ſcore now, that then,

Yet ſtill is all that takes and governs Men.

Beauty is but Compoſure, and we find

Content is but the Accord of the Mind,

Friendſhip the Union of well-tuned Hearts,

Honour’s the Chorus of the nobleſt parts,

And all the World on which we can reflect

Muſick to th’Ear, or to the Intellect.

D3 If D3v 38

If then each man a Little World muſt be,

How many Worlds are copied out in thee,

Who art ſo richly formed, ſo complete

T’epitomize all that is Good and Great;

Whoſe Stars this brave advantage did impart,

Thy Nature’s as harmonious as thy Art?

Thou doſt above the Poets praiſes live,

Who fetch from thee th’Eternity they give.

And as true Reaſon triumphs over Senſe,

Yet is ſubjected to Intelligence;

So Poets on the lower World look down,

But Lawes on them; his Height is all his own.

For, like Divinity it ſelf, his Lyre

Rewards the Wit it did at firſt inſpire.

And thus by double right Poets allow

His and their Laurel ſhould adorn his brow.

Live then, great Soul of Nature, to aſſwage

The ſavage dulneſs of this ſullen Age.

Charm D4r 39

Charm us to Senſe; for though Experience fail

And Reaſon too, thy Numbers may prevail.

Then, like thoſe Ancients, ſtrike, and ſo command

All Nature to obey thy gen’rous hand.

None will reſiſt but ſuch who needs will be

More ſtupid then a Stone, a Fiſh, a Tree.

Be it thy care our Age to new-create:

What built a World may ſure repair a State.


A Sea-Voyage from Tenby to Briſtoll, begun 1652-09-05Sept. 5. 1652. ſent from Briſtoll to Lucaſia 1652-09-08Sept. 8. 1652.

Hoiſe up the ſail, cri’d they who underſtand

No word that carries kindneſs for the Land:

Such ſons of clamour, that I wonder not

They love the Sea, whom ſure ſome Storm begot.

Had he who doubted Motion theſe men ſeen,

Or heard their tongues, he had convinced been.

D4 For D4v 40

For had our Bark mov’d half as faſt as they,

We had not need caſt anchor by the way.

One of the reſt pretending to more wit,

Some ſmall Italian ſpoke, but murther’d it;

For I (thanks to Saburna’s Letters) knew

How to diſtinguiſh ’twixt the falſe and true.

But t’oppoſe theſe as mad a thing would be

As ’tis to contradict a Presbyt’ry.

’Tis Spaniſh though, (quoth I) e’en what you pleaſe:

For him that ſpoke it ’tmight be Bread and Cheeſe.

So ſoftly moves the Bark which none controuls,

As are the meetings of agreeing Souls:

And the Moon-beams did on the water play,

As if at Midnight ’twould create a Day.

The amorous Wave that ſhar’d in ſuch diſpence

Expreſt at once delight and reverence.

Such trepidation we in Lovers ſpy

Under th’oppreſsion of a Miſtreſs eye.

But D5r 41

But then the Wind ſo high did riſe and roar,

Some vow’d they’d never truſt the traitor more.

Behold the fate that all our Glories ſweep,

Writ in the dangerous wonders of the Deep:

And yet behold Man’s eaſie folly more,

How ſoon we curse what erst we did adore.

Sure he that firſt himſelf did thus convey

Had ſome ſtrong paſsion that he would obey.

The Bark wrought hard, but found it was in vain

To make its party good againſt the Main,

Toſs’d and retreated, till at laſt we ſee

She muſt be faſt if e’re ſhe ſhould be free.

We gravely Anchor caſt, and patiently

Lie priſoners to the weather’s cruelty.

We had nor Wind nor Tide, nor ought but Grief,

Till a kind Spring-tide was our firſt relief.

Then we float merrily, forgetting quite

The ſad confinement of the ſtormy night.

E’re D5v 42

E’re we had loſt theſe thoughts, we ran aground,

And then how vain to be ſecure, we found.

Now they were all ſurpriz’d. Well, if we muſt,

Yet none ſhall ſay that duſt is gone to duſt.

But we are off now, and the civil Tide

Aſsiſted us the Tempeſts to out-ride.

But what moſt pleas’d my mind upon the way,

Was the Ship’s poſture when ’t in Harbour lay:

Which ſo cloſe to a rocky Grove was fixed,

That the Trees branches with the Tackling mixed.

One would have thought it was, as then it ſtood,

A growing Navy, or a floating Wood.

But I have done at laſt, and do confeſs

My Voyage taught me so much tediouſneſs.

In ſhort, the Heav’ns muſt needs propitious be,

Becauſe Lucaſia was concern’d in me.

XVII. Friend- D6r 43


Friendſhip’s Myſtery, To my deareſt Lucaſia. Set by Mr. Henry Lawes.


Come, my Lucaſia, ſince we ſee

That Miracles Mens faith do move,

By wonders and by prodigy

To the dull angry world let’s prove

There’s a Religion in our Love.


For though we were design’d t’agree,

That Fate no liberty deſtroyes,

But our Election is as free

As Angels, who with greedy choice

Are yet determin’d to their joyes.

Our D6v 44


Our hearts are doubled by the loſs,

Here Mixture is Addition grown;

We both diffuſe, and both ingroſs:

And we whoſe Minds are ſo much one,

Never, yet ever, are alone.


We count our own captivity

Then greateſt thrones more innocent:

’Twere baniſhment to be ſet free,

Since we wear fetters whoſe intent

Not Bondage is, but Ornament.


Divided joyes are tedious found,

And griefs united eaſier grow:

We are our ſelves but by rebound,

And all our Titles ſhuffled ſo,

Both Princes, and both Subjects too.

Our D7r 45


Our Hearts are mutual Victims laid,

While they (ſuch power in Friendſhip lies)

Are Altars, Prieſts, and Off’rings made:

And each Heart which thus kindly dies,

Grows deathleſs by the Sacrifice.


Content, To my deareſt Lucaſia.


Content, the falſe World’s beſt diſguiſe,

The ſearch and faction of the Wiſe,

Is ſo abſtruſe and hid in night,

That, like that Fairy Red-croſs Knight,

Who trech’rous Falſhood for clear Truth had got,

Men think they have it when they have it not.

For D7v 46


For Courts Content would gladly own,

But ſhe ne’re dwelt about a Throne:

And to be flatter’d, rich, and great,

Are things which do Mens ſenſes cheat.

But grave Experience long ſince this did ſee,

Ambition and Content would ne’re agree.


Some vainer would Content expect

From what their bright Out-ſides reflect:

But ſure Content is more Divine

Then to be digg’d from Rock or Mine:

And they that know her beauties will confeſs,

She needs no luſtre from a glittering dreſs.


In Mirth ſome place her, but ſhe ſcorns

Th’aſsiſtance of such crackling thorns,

Nor D8r 47

Nor owes her ſelf to ſuch thin ſproort,

That is ſo ſharp and yet ſo ſhort:

And Painters tell us, they the ſame ſtrokes place

To make a laughing and a weeping face.


Others there are that place Content

In Liberty from Government:

But who his Paſsions do deprave,

Though free from ſhackles is a ſlave.

Content and Bondage differ onely then,

When we are chain’d by Vices, not by Men.


Some think the Camp Content does know,

And that ſhe fits o’th’ Victor’s brow:

But in his Laurel there is ſeen

Often a Cypreſs-bow between.

Nor will Content herſelf in that place give,

Where Noiſe and Tumult and Deſtruction live.

But D8v 48


But yet the moſt Diſcreet believe,

The Schools this Jewel do receive,

And thus far’s true without diſpute,

Knowledge is ſtill the ſweeteſt fruit.

But whil’ſt men ſeek for Truth they loſe their Peace;

And who heaps Knowledge, Sorrow doth increaſe.


But now ſome ſullen Hermite ſmiles,

And thinks he all the World beguiles,

And that his Cell and Diſh contain

What all mankind wiſh for in vain.

But yet his Pleaſure’s follow’d with a Groan,

For man was never born to be alone.


Content her ſelf beſt comprehends

Betwixt two ſouls, and they two friends,

Whoſe E1r 49

Whoſe either joyes in both are fixed,

And multiply’d by being mixed:

Whoſe minds and intereſts are ſtill the ſame;

Their Griefs, when once imparted, loſe their name.


Theſe far remov’d from all bold noiſe,

And (what is worſe) all hollow joyes,

Who never had a mean deſign,

Whoſe flame is ſerious and divine,

And calm, and even, muſt contented be,

For they’ve both Union and Society.


Then, my Lucaſia, we have

Whatever Love can give or crave;

With ſcorn or pity can ſurvey

The Trifles which the moſt betray;

With innocence and perfect friendſhip fired,

By Vertue joyn’d, and by our Choice retired.

E Whoſe E1v 50


Whoſe Mirrours are the cryſtal Brooks,

Or elſe each others Hearts and Looks;

Who cannot wiſh for other things

Then Privacy and Friendſhip brings:

Whoſe thoughts and perſons chang’d and mixt are one,

Enjoy Content, or elſe the World hath none.


A Dialogue of Abſence ’twixt Lucaſia and Orinda. Set by Mr. Hen. Lawes.


Say, my Orinda, why ſo ſad?


Abſence frōom thee doth tear my heart;

Which, ſince with thine it union had,

Each parting ſplits.


And can we part?


Our Bodies muſt.


But never we:

Our Souls, without the help of Senſe,

By E2r 51

By wayes more noble and more free

Can meet, and hold intelligence.


And yet those Souls, when firſt they met,

Lookt out at windows through the Eyes.


But ſoon did ſuch acquaintance get,

Not Fate not Time can them ſurprize.


Abſence will rob us of that bliſs

To which this Friendſhip title brings:

Love’s fruits and joyes are made by this

Uſeleſs as Crowns to captiv’d Kings.


Friendſhip’s a Science, and we know

There Contemplation’s moſt employ’d.


Religion’s ſo, but practick too,

And both by niceties deſtroy’d.


But who ne’re parts can never meet,

And ſo that happineſs were loſt.


Thus Pain and Death are ſadly ſweet,

Since Health and Heav’n ſuch price muſt coſt.

E2 Chorus E2v 52


But we ſhall come where no rude hand ſhall ſever,

And there wee’l meet and part no more for ever.


To my dear Siſter, Mrs. C. P. on her Nuptial.

We will not like thoſe men our offerings pay

Who crown the cup, then think they crown the day.

We make no garlands, nor an altar build,

Which help not Joy, but Oſtentation yield.

Where mirth is juſtly grounded theſe wild toyes


But theſe ſhall be my great Solemnities,

Orinda’s wiſhes for Caſsandra’s bliſs.

May her Content be as unmix’d and pure

As my Affection, and like that endure;

And E3r 53

And that ſtrong Happineſs may ſhe ſtill find

Not owing to her Fortune, but her Mind.


May her Content and Duty be the ſame,

And may ſhe know no Grief but in the name.

May his and her Pleaſure and Love be ſo

Involv’d and growing, that we may not know

Who most Affection or most Peace engrost;

Whoſe Love is ſtrongeſt, or whoſe Bliſs is moſt.


May nothing accidental e’re appear

But what ſhall with new bonds their Souls endear;

And may they count the hours as they paſs,

By their own Joys, and not by Sun or Glaſs:

While every day like this may ſacred prove

To Friendſhip, Gratitude, and ſtricteſt Love.

E3 XXI. E3v 54


To Mr. Henry Vaughan, Siluriſt, on his Poems.

Had I ador’d the multitude, and thence

Got an antipathy to Wit and Senſe,

And hugg’d that fate in hope the World would grant

’Twas good affection to be ignorant;

Yet the leaſt Ray of thy bright fancy seen,

I had converted, or excuſeleſs been;

For each Birth of thy Muſe to after-times

Shall expiate for all this Age’s crimes.

Firſt ſhines thy Amoret, twice crown’d by thee,

Once by thy Love, next by thy Poetry:

Where thou the beſt of Unions doſt diſpence,

Truth cloth’d in Wit, and Love in Innocence.

So that the muddieſt Lovers may learn here,

No Fountains can be ſweet that are not clear.

There E4r 55

There Juvenal reviv’d by thee declares

How flat man’s Joys are, and how mean his Cares;

And generally upbraids the World that they

Should ſuch a value for their Ruine pay.

But when thy ſacred Muſe diverts her Quill,

The Landskip to design of Leon’s hill;

As nothing elſe was worthy her or thee,

So we admire almoſt t’Idolatry.

What Savage breaſt would not be rap’d to find

Such Jewels in ſuch Cabinets enſhrin’d?

Thou, fill’d with Joys too great to ſee or count,

Deſcend’ſt from thence like Moſes from the Mount,

And with a candid, yet unqueſtion’d aw,

Reſtor’ſt the Golden Age when Verſe was Law,

Instructing us, thou who ſecur’ſt thy fame,

That nothing can diſturb it but my name;

Nay I have hopes that ſtanding ſo near thine

’Twill loſe its dreſs, and by degrees refine.

E4 Live E4v 56

Live till the diſabuſed World conſent,

All Truths of Uſe, or Strength, or Ornament,

Are with ſuch Harmony by thee diſplay’d

As the whole World was firſt by Number made;

And from the charming Rigour thy Muſe brings,

Learn, there’s no pleaſure but in ſerious things.


A retir’d Friendſhip, to Ardelia.

Come, my Ardelia, to this Bower,

Where kindly mingling Souls awhile

Let’s innocently ſpend an hour,

And at all serious follies ſmile.


Here is no quarrelling for Crowns,

Nor fear of changes in our Fate;

No E5r 57

No trembling at the great ones frowns,

Nor any ſlavery of State.


Here’s no diſguiſe nor treachery,

Nor any deep conceal’d deſign;

From Bloud and Plots this place is free,

And calm as are thoſe looks of thine.


Here let us ſit and bleſs our Stars,

Who did ſuch happy quiet give,

As that remov’d from noiſe of Wars

In one anothers hearts we live.


Why ſhould we entertain a fear?

Love cares not how the World is turn’d:

If crouds of dangers ſhould appear,

Yet Friendſhip can be unconcern’d.

We E5v 58


We wear about us ſuch a charm,

No horrour can be our offence;

For miſchief’s ſelf can doe no harm

To Friendſhip or to Innocence.


Let’s mark how ſoon Apollo’s beams

Command the flocks to quit their meat,

And not entreat the neighbouring Springs

To quench their thirſt, but cool their heat.


In ſuch a ſcorching Age as this

Who would not ever ſeek a ſhade,

Deſerve their Happineſs to miſs,

As having their own peace betray’d.


But we (of one anothers mind

Aſsur’d) the boiſterous World diſdain;

With E6r 59

With quiet Souls and unconfin’d

Enjoy what Princes wiſh in vain.


To Mrs. Mary Carne, when Philaſter courted her.


As ſome great Conqueror who knows no bounds,

But hunting Honour in a thouſand wounds,

Purſues his rage, and thinks that Triumph cheap

That’s but attended with the common heap,

Till his more happy fortune doth afford

Some Royal Captive that deſerv’d his ſword,

And onely now is of his Laurel proud,

Thinking his dang’rous valour well beſtow’d;

But then retreats, and ſpending hate no more,

Thinks Mercy now what Courage was before:

As E6v 60

As Cowardiſe in fight, ſo equally

He doth abhor a bloudy Victory.

So, Madam, though your Beauty were allow’d

To be ſevere unto the yielding Croud,

That were ſubdu’d e’re you an Object knew

Worthy your Conqueſt and your Mercy too;

Yet now ’tis gain’d, your Victory’s complete,

Onely your Clemency ſhould be as great.

None will diſpute the power of your Eyes,

That underſtands Philaſter is their prize.

Hope not your Glory can have new acceſs,

For all your future Trophees will grow leſs:

And with that Homage be you ſatisfi’d

From him that conquers all the World beſide.

Nor let your Rigour now the Triumph blot,

And loſe the honour which your Beauty got.

Be juſt and kind unto your Peace and Fame,

In being ſo to him, for they’re the ſame:

And E7r 61

And live and die at once, if you would be

Nobly tranſmitted to Poſterity.

Take heed leſt in thy story they peruſe

A murther which no language can excuſe:

But wiſely ſpare the trouble of one frown;

Give him his happineſs, and know your own.

Thus ſhall you be as Honour’s ſelf eſteem’d,

Who have one Sex oblig’d, your own redeem’d.

Thus the Religion due unto your Shrine

Shall be as Univerſal, as Divine:

And that Devotion ſhall this bleſsing gain,

Which Law and Reaſon do attempt in vain.

The World ſhall joyn, maintaining but one ſtrife,

Who ſhall moſt thank you for Philaſter’s life.

XXIV. To E7v 62


To Mr. J. B. the noble Cratander, upon a Compoſition of his which he was not willing to own publickly.

As when ſome injur’d Prince aſſumes Diſguiſe,

And ſtrives to make his Carriage ſympathize,

Yet hath a great becoming Meen and Air,

Which ſpeaks him Royal ſpight of all his care:

So th’ Iſſues of thy Soul can ne’re be hid,

And the Sun’s force may be as ſoon forbid

As thine obſcur’d; there is no ſhade ſo great

Through which it will not dart forth light and heat.

Thus we diſcover thee by thy own Day

Againſt thy will ſnatching the Cloud away.

Now the Piece ſhines, and though we will not ſay,

Parents can Souls, as Tapers lights, convey;

Yet we muſt grant thy Soul tranſmitted here

In beams almoſt as laſting and as clear.

And E8r 63

And that’s our higheſt praiſe, for that thy Mind

Thy Works could never a reſemblance find.

That mind whoſe ſearch can Nature’s ſecret hand

At one great ſtroke diſcover and command,

Which cleareth times and things, before whoſe eyes

Nor Men nor Notions dare put on diſguiſe.

And were all Authors now as much forgot

As proſperous Ignorance her ſelf would plot,

Had we the rich ſupplies of thy own breaſt,

The knowing World would never miſs the reſt.

Men did before from Ignorance take their Fame,

But Learning’s ſelf is honour’d by thy Name.

Thou ſtudieſt not belief to introduce

Of Novelties, more fit for ſhew then uſe;

But think’ſt it noble Charity t’ uphold

The credit and the Beauty of the old:

And with one hand canſt eaſily ſupport

Learning and Law, a Temple and a Court.

And E8v 64

And this ſecures me: for as we below

Valleys from Hills, Houſes from Churches know,

But to their ſight who ſtand extremely high,

Theſe forms will have one flat Equality:

So from a lower Soul I might well fear

A critick cenſure when ſurvey’d too near;

But from Cratander (who above the beſt

Lives in a height which levells the reſt)

I may that Royalty of Soul expect,

That can at once both pardon and neglect.

Thus I approch, and wanting wit and ſenſe,

Let Trepidation be my Reverence.



Not to oblige Lucaſia by my voice,

To boaſt my fate, or juſtifie my choice,

Is F1r 65

Is this deſign’d; but pity does engage

My Pen to reſcue the declining Age.

For ſince ’tis grown in faſhion to be bad,

And to be vain or angry, proud or mad,

(While in their Vices onely Men agree)

Is thought the onely modern Gallantry;

How would ſome brave Examples check the crimes,

And both reproch, and yet reform, the Times?

Nor can Mortality it ſelf reclaim

Th’apoſtate World like my Lucaſia’s name:

Lucaſia, whoſe rich Soul had it been known

In that Time th’Ancients call’d the Golden one,

When Innocence and Greatneſs were the ſame,

And Men no battels knew but in a game,

Chuſing what Nature, not what Art, prefers;

Poets were Judges, Kings Philoſophers;

Even then from her the Wiſe would copies draw,

And ſhe to th’infant World had giv’n a Law.

F That F1v 66

That Souls were made of Number could not be

An Obſervation, but a Prophecy.

It meant Lucaſia, whoſe harmonious ſtate

The Spheres and Muſes faintly imitate.

But as then Muſick is beſt underſtood,

When every Chord’s examin’d and found good:

So what in others Judgment is and Will,

In her is the ſame even Reaſon ſtill.

And as ſome Colour various ſeems, but yet

’Tis but our diff’rence in considering it:

So ſhe now light, and then does light diſpence,

But is one ſhining Orb of Excellence:

And that ſo piercing when ſhe Judgment takes,

She doth not ſearch, but Intuition makes:

And her Diſcoveries more eaſie are

Than Cæſar’s Conqueſt in his Pontick War.

As bright and vigorous her beams are pure,

And in their own rich candour ſo ſecure,

That F2r 67

That had ſhe liv’d where Legends were deviſed,

Rome had been juſt, and ſhe been canonized.

Nay Innocence her ſelf leſs clear muſt be,

If Innocence be any thing but ſhe.

For Vertue’s ſo congenial to her mind,

That Liquid things, or Friends, are leſs combin’d.

So that in her that Sage his wiſh had ſeen,

And Vertue’s ſelf had perſonated been.

Now as diſtilled Simples do agree,

And in th’Alembick loſe variety;

So Vertue, though in pieces ſcatter’d ’twas,

Is by her Mind made one rich uſeful maſs.

Nor doth Diſcretion put Religion down,

Nor haſty Zele uſurp the Judgment’s crown.

Wiſdom and Friendſhip have one ſingle Throne,

And make another Friendſhip of their own.

Each ſev’ral piece darts ſuch fierce pleaſing rayes,

Poetick Lovers would but wrong in praiſe.

F2 All F2v 68

All hath proportion, all hath comlineſs,

And her Humility alone exceſs.

Her Modeſty doth wrong a Worth ſo great,

Which Calumny herſelf would noblier treat:

While true to Friendſhip and to Nature’s truſt,

To her own Merits onely ſhe’s unjuſt.

But as Divinity we beſt declare

By ſounds as broken as our Notions are;

So to acknowledge ſuch vaſt Eminence,

Imperfect Wonder is our evidence.

No Pen Lucaſia’s glories can relate,

But they admire beſt who dare imitate.


Wiſton Vault.

And why this Vault and Tomb? alike we muſt

Put off Diſtinction, and put on Duſt.

Nor F3r 69

Nor can the ſtatelieſt fabrick help to ſave

From the corruptions of a common Grave;

Nor for the Reſurrection more prepare,

Then if the Duſt were ſcatter’d into air.

What then? Th’ambition’s juſt, ſay ſome, that we

May thus perpetuate our Memory.

Ah falſe vain task of Art! ah poor weak Man!

Whoſe Monument does more then’s Merit can:

Who by his Friends beſt care and love’s abuſ’d,

And in his very Epitaph miſuſed:

For did they not ſuſpect his Name would fall,

There would not need an Epitaph at all.

But after death too I would be alive,

And ſhall, if my Lucaſia do, ſurvive.

I quit theſe pomps of Death, and am content,

Having her Heart to be my Monument:

Though ne’re Stone to me, ’twil Stone for me prove,

By the peculiar miracles of Love.

F3 There F3v 70

There I’le Inſcription have which no Tomb gives,

Not, Here Orinda lies, but, Here ſhe lives.


Friendſhip in Embleme, or the Seal. To my deareſt Lucaſia.


The Hearts thus intermixed ſpeak

A Love that no bold ſhock can break:

For joyn’d and growing both in one,

Neither can be diſturb’d alone.


That means a mutual Knowledge too;

For what is’t either heart can doe,

Which by its panting Centinel

It does not to the other tell?

That F4r 71


That Friendſhip Hearts ſo much refines,

It nothing but it ſelf deſigns:

The Hearts are free from lower ends,

For each point to the other tends.


They flame, ’tis true, and ſeveral wayes,

But ſtill thoſe Flames do ſo much raiſe,

That while to either they incline

They yet are noble and divine.


From ſmoke or hurt thoſe Flames are free,

From groſneſs or mortality:

The Heart (like Moſes Buſh preſumed)

Warm’d and enlightned, not conſumed.

F4 The F4v 72


The Compaſſes that ſtand above

Expreſs this great immortal Love;

For Friends, like them, can prove this true,

They are, and yet they are not, two.


And in their poſture is expreſt

Friendſhip’s exalted Intereſt:

Each follows where the other leans,

And what each does each other means.


And as when one foot does ſtand faſt,

And t’other circles ſeeks to caſt,

The ſteddy part does regulate

And make the Wandrer’s motion ſtraight:

So F5r 73


So Friends are onely two in this,

T’reclaim each other when they miſs:

For whoſoe’re will groſly fall,

Can never be a Friend at all.


And as that uſeful Inſtrument

For Even lines was ever meant;

So Friendſhip from good Angels ſprings,

To teach the world Heroick things.


As theſe are found out in deſign

To rule and meaſure every Line;

So Friendſhip governs actions beſt,

Preſcribing unto all the reſt.

And F5v 74


And as in Nature nothing’s ſet

So juſt as Lines in Number met;

So Compaſses for theſe b’ing made,

Do Friendſhip’s harmony perſuade.


And like to them, ſo Friends may own

Extenſion, not Diviſion:

Their Points, like Bodies, ſeparate;

But Head, like Souls, knows no ſuch fate.


And as each part ſo well is knit,

That their Embraces ever fit:

So Friends are ſuch by deſtiny,

And no third can the place ſupply.

There F6r 75


There needs no Motto to the Seal:

But that we may the mind reveal

To the dull Eye, it was thought fit

That Friendſhip onely ſhould be writ.


But as there are Degrees of bliſs,

So there’s no Friendſhip meant by this,

But ſuch as will tranſmit to Fame

Lucaſia and Orinda’s name.


In Memory of T. P. who died at Acton the 1660-05-2424. May 1660. at 12 and ½ of Age.

If I could ever write a laſting Verſe,

It ſhould be laid, dear heart, upon thy Herſe.

But F6v 76

But Sorrow is no Muſe, and does confeſs

That it leaſt can what it would moſt expreſs.

Yet that I may ſome bounds to Grief allow,

I’le try if I can weep in Numbers now.

Ah beauteous Bloſsom too untimely dead!

Whither? ah whither is thy ſweetneſs fled?

Where are the charms that alwayes did ariſe

From the prevailing language of thy Eyes?

Where is thy lovely air and lovely meene,

And all the wonders that in thee were ſeen?

Alas! in vain, in vain on thee I rave;

There is no pity in the ſtupid Grave.

But ſo the Bankrupt, ſitting on the brim

Of thoſe fierce Billows which had ruin’d him,

Begs for his loſt Eſtate, and does complain

To the inexorable Flouds in vain.

As well we may enquire when Roſes die,

To what retirement their ſweet Odours flie;

Whither F7r 77

Whither their Virtues and their Bluſhes haſte,

When the ſhort triumph of their life is paſt;

Or call their periſhing Beauties back with tears,

As adde one moment to thy finiſh’d years.

No, thou art gone, and thy preſaging Mind

So thriftily thy early hours deſign’d,

That haſty Death was baffled in his Pride,

Since nothing of thee but thy Body dy’d.

Thy Soul was up betimes, and ſo concern’d

To graſp all Excellence that could be learn’d,

That finding nothing fill her thirſting here,

To the Spring-head ſhe went to quench it there;

And ſo prepar’d, that being freed from ſin

She quickly might become a Cherubin.

Thou wert all Soul, and through thy Eyes it ſhin’d:

Aſham’d and angry to be ſo confin’d,

It long’d to be uncag’d, and thither flown

Where it might know as clearly as ’twas known.

In F7v 78

In theſe vaſt hopes we might thy change have found,

But that Heav’n blinds whom it decrees to wound.

For Parts ſo ſoon at ſo ſublime a pitch,

A Judgment ſo mature, Fancy ſo rich,

Never appear unto unthankful Men,

But as a Viſion to be hid again.

So glorious Scenes in Maſques Spectators view

With the ſhort pleaſure of an hour or two;

But that once paſt, the Ornaments are gone,

The Lights extinguiſh’d, and the Curtains drawn.

Yet all theſe Gifts were thy leſs noble part,

Nor was thy Head ſo worthy as thy Heart;

Where the Divine Impreſsion ſhin’d ſo clear,

As ſnatch’d thee hence, and yet endear’d thee here:

For what in thee did moſt command our love

Was both the cauſe and ſign of thy remove.

Such fools are we, ſo fatally we chooſe:

For what we moſt would keep we ſooneſt looſe.

The F8r 79

The humble greatneſs of thy Pious thought,

Sweetneſs unforc’d, and Baſhfulneſs untaught,

The native Candour of thine open breaſt,

And all the Beams wherein thy Worth was dreſt,

Thy Wit ſo bright, ſo piercing and immenſe,

Adorn’d with wiſe and lovely Innocence,

Might have foretold thou wert not ſo complete,

But that our joy might be as ſhort as great.

’Tis ſo, and all our cares and hopes of thee

Fled like a vaniſh’d Dream or wither’d Tree.

So the poor Swain beholds his ripened Corn

By ſome rough Wind without a Sickle torn.

Never, ah! never let ſad Parents gueſs

At once remove of future happineſs:

But reckon Children ’mong thoſe paſsing joys

Which one hour gives, and the next hour deſtroys.

Alas! we were ſecure of our content;

But find too late that it was onely lent,

To F8v 80

To be a Mirrour wherein we may ſee

How frail we are, how ſpotleſs we ſhould be.

But if to thy bleſt Soul my grief appears,

Forgive and pity theſe injurious tears:

Impute them to Affection’s ſad exceſs,

Which will not yield to Nature’s tenderneſs,

Since ’twas through deareſt ties and higheſt truſt

Continued from thy Cradle to thy Duſt;

And ſo rewarded and confirm’d by thine,

That (wo is me!) I thought thee too much mine.

But I’le reſign, and follow thee as faſt

As my unhappy Minutes will make haſt.

Till when the freſh remembrances of thee

Shall be my Emblems of Mortality.

For ſuch a loſs as this (bright Soul!) is not

Ever to be repaired or forgot.

XXIX. In G1r 81


In memory of that excellent perſon Mrs. Mary Lloyd of Bodiſciſt in Denbigh-ſhire, who died 1656-11-13Nov. 13. 1656. after ſhe came thither from Pembroke-ſhire.

Icannot hold, for though to write were rude,

Yet to be ſilent were Ingratitude,

And Folly too; for if Poſterity

Should never hear of ſuch a one as thee,

And onely know this Age’s brutiſh fame,

They would think Vertue nothing but a Name.

And though far abler Pens muſt her define,

Yet her Adoption hath engaged mine:

And I muſt own where Merit ſhines ſo clear,

’Tis hard to write, but harder to forbear.

Sprung from an ancient and an honour’d Stem,

Who lent her luſtre, and ſhe paid it them;

G So G1v 82

So ſtill in great and noble things appeared,

Who yet their Country lov’d, and yet they feared.

Match’d to another as good and great as they,

Who did their Country both oblige and ſway.

Behold herſelf, who had without diſpute

More then both Families could contribute.

What early Beauty Grief and Age had broke,

Her lovely Reliques and her Offspring ſpoke.

She was by nature and her Parents care

A Woman long before moſt others are.

But yet that antedated ſeaſon ſhe

Improv’d to Vertue, not to Liberty.

For ſhe was ſtill in either ſtate of life

Meek as a Virgin, Prudent as a Wife.

And ſhe well knew, although ſo young and fair,

Juſtly to mix Obedience and Care;

Whil’ſt to her Children ſhe did ſtill appear

So wiſely kind, ſo tenderly ſevere,

That G2r 83

That they from her Rule and Example brought

A native Honour, which ſhe ſtampt and taught.

Nor can a ſingle Pen enough commend

So kind a Siſter and so dear a Friend.

A Wiſdom from above did her ſecure,

Which though ’twas peaceable, was ever pure.

And if well-order’d Commonwealths muſt be

Paterns for every private Family,

Her Houſe, rul’d by her hand and by her eye,

Might be a Patern for a Monarchy.

Her noble Beauty was her prudent Care,

Who handſom freedom gave, yet regular.

Solomon’s wiſeſt Woman leſs could do;

She built her houſe, but this preſerv’d hers too.

She was ſo pious when that ſhe did die,

She ſcarce chang’d Place, I’m ſure not Company.

Her Zele was primitive and practick too;

She did believe, and pray, and reade, and doe.

G2 So G2v 84

So firm and equal Soul ſhe had engroſt,

Juſt ev’n to thoſe that diſoblig’d her most,

She loſt all ſenſe of wrong, glad to believe

That it was in her power to Forgive.

Her Alms I may admire, but not relate,

But her own works ſhall praiſe her in the gate.

Her Life was checquer’d with afflictive years,

And even her Comfort ſeaſon’d in her Tears.

Scarce for a Husband’s loſs her eyes were dried,

And that loſs by her Children half ſupplied,

When Heav’n was pleas’d not theſe dear Props t’afford,

But tore moſt off by ſickneſs or by ſword.

She, who in them could ſtill their Father boaſt,

Was a freſh Widow every Son ſhe loſt.

Litigious hands did her of Light deprive,

That after all ’twas Penance to ſurvive.

She ſtill theſe Griefs hath nobly undergone,

Which few ſupport at all, but better none.

Such G3r 85

Such a ſubmiſsive Greatneſs who can find?

A tender Heart with ſo reſolv’d a Mind?

But ſhe, though ſenſible, was ſtill the ſame,

Of a refined Soul, untainted Fame,

Nor were her Vertues courſly ſet, for ſhe

Out-did Example in Civility.

To beſtow bleſsings, to oblige, relieve,

Was all for which ſhe could endure to live.

She had a joy higher in doing good,

Then they to whom the benefit accru’d.

Though none of Honour had a quicker ſenſe,

Never had Woman more of Complaiſance;

Yet loſt it not in empty forms, but ſtill

Her Nature noble was, her Soul gentile.

And as in Youth ſhe did attract (for ſhe

The Verdure had without the Vanity)

So ſhe in Age was milde and grave to all,

Was not moroſe, but was majeſtical.

G3 Thus G3v 86

Thus from all other Women ſhe had skill

To draw their good, but nothing of their ill.

And ſince ſhe knew the mad tumultuous World,

Saw Crowns revers’d, Temples to ruine hurl’d;

She in Retirement choſe to ſhine and burn,

As ancient Lamps in ſome Egyptian Urn.

At laſt, when ſpent with ſickneſs, grief and age,

Her Guardian Angel did her death preſage:

(So that by ſtrong impulſe ſhe chearfully

Diſpenſed bleſsings, and went home to die;

That ſo ſhe might, when to that place removed,

Marry his Aſhes whom ſhe ever loved)

She dy’d, gain’d a reward, and paid a debt.

The Sun himſelf did never brighter ſet.

Happy were they that knew her and her end,

More happy they that did from her deſcend:

A double bleſsing they may hope to have,

One ſhe convey’d to them, and one ſhe gave.

All G4r 87

All that are hers are therefore ſure to be

Bleſt by Inheritance and Legacy.

A Royal Birth had leſs advantage been.

’Tis more to die a Saint then live a Queen.


To the truly competent Judge of Honour, Lucaſia, upon a ſcandalous Libel made by J. Jones.

Honour, which differs man frōom man much more

Then Reaſon differ’d him from Beaſts before,

Suffers this common Fate of all things good,

By the blind World to be miſunderſtood.

For as ſome Heathens did their Gods confine,

While in a Bird or Beaſt they made their ſhrine;

Depos’d their Deities to Earth, and then

Offer’d them Rites that were too low for Men:

So thoſe who moſt to Honour ſacrifice,

Preſcribe to her a mean and weak diſguiſe;

G4 Im G4v 88

Impriſon her to others falſe Applauſe,

And from Opinion do receive their Laws.

While that inconſtant Idol they implore,

Which in one breath can murther and adore.

From hence it is that thoſe who Honour court,

(And place her in a popular report)

Do proſtitute themſelves to ſordid Fate,

And from their Being oft degenerate.

And thus their Tenents are too low and bad,

As if ’twere honourable to be mad:

Or that their Honour had concerned been

But to conceal, not to forbear, a ſin.

But Honour is more great and more ſublime,

Above the battery of Fate or Time.

We ſee in Beauty certain airs are found,

Which not one Grace can make, but all compound.

Honour’s to th’Mind as Beauty to the Senſe,

The fair reſult of mixed Excellence.

As G5r 89

As many Diamonds together lie,

And dart one luſtre to amaze the Eye:

So Honour is that bright Ætherial Ray

Which many Stars doth in one light diſplay.

But as that Beauty were as truly ſweet,

Were there no Tongue to praiſe, no Eye to ſee’t;

And ’tis the Privilege of a native Spark,

To ſhed a conſtant Splendour in the dark:

So Honour is its own Reward and End,

And ſatisfi’d within, cannot deſcend

To beg the ſuffrage of a vulgar Tongue,

Which by commending Vertue doth it wrong.

It is the Charter of a noble Action,

That the performance giveth satisfaction.

Other things are below’t; for from a Clown

Would any Conqueror receive his Crown?

’Tis reſtleſs Cowardice to be a drudge

To an uncertain and unworthy Judge.

So G5v 90

So the Cameleon, who lives on air,

Is of all Creatures moſt inclin’d to fear.

But peaceable reflexions on the Mind

Will in a ſilent ſhade Contentment find.

Honour keeps Court at home, and doth not fear

To be condemn’d abroad, if quiet there.

While I have this retreat, ’tis not the noiſe

Of Slander, though believ’d, can wrong my Joyes.

There is advantage in’t: for Gold uncoin’d

Had been unuſeful, nor with glory ſhin’d:

This ſtamp’d my Innocency in the Ore,

Which was as much, but not ſo bright, before.

Till an Alembick wakes and outward draws,

The ſtrength of Sweets lies ſleeping in their Cauſe:

So this gave me an opportunity

To feed upon my own Integrity.

And though their Judgment I muſt ſtill diſclaim,

Who can nor give nor take away a fame:

Yet G6r 91

Yet I’le appeal unto the knowing few,

Who dare be juſt, and rip his heart to you.


To Antenor, on a Paper of mine which J. Jones threatens to publiſh to prejudice him.

Must then my Crimes become his Scandal too?

Why, ſure the Devil hath not much to doe.

The weakneſs of the other Charge is clear,

When ſuch a trifle muſt bring up the Rear.

But this is mad deſign, for who before

Loſt his Repute upon anothers ſcore?

My Love and Life I muſt confeſs are thine,

But not my Errours, they are only mine.

And if my Faults muſt be for thine allow’d,

It would be hard to diſsipate the Cloud:

For Eve’s Rebellion did not Adam blaſt,

Untill himſelf forbidden Fruit did taſte.

’Tis G6v 92

’Tis possible this Magazine of Hell

(Whoſe name would turn a Virge into a ſpell,

Whoſe miſchief is congenial to his life)

May yet enjoy an honourable Wife.

Nor let his ill be reckoned as her blame,

Nor yet my Follies blaſt Antenor’s name.

But if thoſe lines a Puniſhment could call

Laſting and great as this dark Lanthorn’s gall;

Alone I’d court the Torments with content,

To teſtifie that thou art Innocent.

So if my Ink through malice prov’d a ſtain,

My Bloud ſhould juſtly waſh it off again.

But ſince that Mint of ſlander could invent

To make ſo dull a Ryme his Inſtrument,

Let Verſe revenge the quarrel. But he’s worſe

Then wiſhes, and below a Poet’s curſe;

And more then this Wit knows not how to give,

Let him be ſtill himſelf, and let him live.

XXXII. To G7r 93


To the truly Noble Mrs. Anne Owen, on my firſt Approches.


As in a Triumph Conquerors admit

Their meaneſt Captives to attend on it,

Who, though unworthy, have the power confeſt,

And juſtifi’d the yielding of the reſt:

So when the buſie World, in hope t’excuſe

Their own ſurprize, your Conqueſt do peruſe,

And find my name, they will be apt to ſay,

Your charms were blinded, or elſe thrown away.

There is no honour got in gaining me,

Who am a prize not worth your Victory.

But this will clear you, that ’tis general,

The worſt applaud what is admir’d by all.

But G7v 94

But I have Plots in’t: for the way to be

Secure of fame to all Poſterity,

Is to obtain the honour I purſue,

To tell the World I was ſubdu’d by you.

And ſince in you all wonders common are,

Your Votaries may in your Vertues ſhare,

While you by noble Magick worth impart:

She that can Conquer, can reclaim a heart.

Of this Creation I ſhall not deſpair,

Since for your own ſake it concerns your care.

For ’tis more honour that the World ſhould know,

You made a noble Soul, than found it ſo.


Roſannia ſhadowed whileſt Mrs. Mary Awbrey.

If any could my dear Roſannia hate,

They onely ſhould her Character relate.

Truth G8r 95

Truth ſhines ſo bright there, that an enemy

Would be a better Oratour then I.

Love ſtifles Language, and I muſt confeſs,

I had ſaid more if I had loved leſs.

Yet the moſt critical who that Face ſee

Will ne’re ſuſpect a partiality.

Others by time and by degrees perſuade,

But her firſt look doth every heart invade.

She hath a Face ſo eminently bright,

Would make a Lover of an Anchorite:

A Face whoſe conqueſt mixt with modeſty

Are both completed in Divinity.

Not her leaſt glance but ſets them all on fire,

And checks them if they would too much aſpire.

Such is the Magick of her Looks, the ſame

Beam doth both kindle and refine our flame.

If she doth ſmile, no Painter e’re would take

Another Rule when he would merry make.

And G8v 96

And to her ſplendour Heaven hath allow’d,

That not a poſture can her Beauty cloud:

For if ſhe frown, none but would phanſie then

Juſtice deſcended here to puniſh Men.

Her common looks I know not how to call

Any one Grace, they are compos’d of all.

And if we Mortals could the doctrine reach,

Her Eyes have language, and her Looks do teach.

Such is her whole frame, Heaven does afford

Her not to be deſir’d, but ſtill ador’d.

But as in Palaces the outmoſt worſt

Rooms entertain our wonder at the firſt;

But once within the Preſence-chamber door,

We do deſpise whate’re we ſaw before:

So when you with her Mind acquaintance get,

You’l hardly think upon the Cabinet.

Her Soul, that Ray ſhot from the Deity,

Doth ſtill preſerve its native purity;

Which H1r 97

Which Earth can neither threaten or allure,

Nor by falſe joyes defile it, or obſcure.

Such Innocence within her heart doth dwell,

Angels themselves do onely parallel.

And ſhould her whole Sex to diſſembling fall,

Her own Integrity redeems them all,

Tranſparent, clear, and will not words admit,

And all Compariſons but ſlubber it.

More gently ſoft then is an Evening-ſhower:

And in that ſweetneſs there is coucht a Power,

Which ſcorning pride, doth think it very hard

If Modeſty ſhould need ſo mean a Guard.

Her Honour is protected by her Eyes,

As the old Flaming Sword kept Paradiſe.

Such Conſtancy of temper, truth and law,

Guides all her actions, that the World may draw

From her own ſelf the nobleſt Precedent

Of the moſt ſafe, wiſe, vertuous Government.

H She H1v 98

She courts Retirement, is herſelf alone

Above a Theatre, and beyond a Throne.

So rich a Soul, none can ſay properly

She hath, but is each noble Quality.

And as the higheſt Element is clear

From all the Tempeſts which diſturb the Air:

So ſhe above the World and its rude noiſe

Within a Storm a quiet Calm enjoys.

She ſcorns the ſullen trifles of the Time,

But things tranſcendent do her thoughts ſublime.

Unlike thoſe Gallants which take far leſs care

To have their Souls then make their Bodies fair;

Who (ſick with too much leiſure) time do paſs

With theſe two books, Pride, and a Looking-glaſs:

Plot to ſurprize Mens hearts, their pow’r to try,

And call that Love, which is mere Vanity.

But ſhe, although the greateſt Murtherer,

(For ev’ry glance commits a Maſſacre)

Yet H2r 99

Yet glories not that ſlaves her power confeſs,

But wiſhes that her Monarchy were leſs.

And if ſhe love, it is not thrown away,

As many doe, onely to ſpend the day;

But her’s is ſerious, and enough alone

To make all Love become Religion.

Yea to her Friendship ſhe ſo faithful is,

That ’tis her onely blot and prejudice:

For Envy’s ſelf could never errour ſee

Within that Soul, ’bating her love to me.

Now as I muſt confeſs the name of Friend

To her that all the World doth comprehend

Is a moſt wild Ambition; ſo for me

To draw her picture is flat Lunacy.

Oh! I muſt think the reſt; for who can write

Or into words confine what’s Infinite?

H2 XXXIV. To H2v 100


To the Queen of Inconſtancy, Regina Collier, in Antwerp.


Unworthy, ſince thou haſt decreed

Thy Love and Honour both ſhall bleed,

My Friendſhip could not chuſe to die

In better time or company.


What thou haſt got by this Exchange

Thou wilt perceive, when the Revenge

Shall by thoſe treacheries be made,

For which our Faith thou haſt betray’d.


When thy Idolaters ſhall be

True to themſelves, and falſe to thee,

Thou’lt H3r 101

Thou’lt ſee that in Heart-merchandiſe,

Value, not Number, makes the price.


Live to that day my Innocence

Shall be my Friendſhip’s juſt defence:

For this is all the World can find,

While thou wert noble, I was kind.


The deſp’rate game that thou doſt play

At private Ruines cannot ſtay;

The horrid treachery of that Face

Will ſure undo its native place.


Then let the Frenchmen never fear

The victory while thou art there:

For if Sins will call Judgments down,

Thou haſt enough to ſtock the Town.

H3 XXXV. To H3v 102


To the Excellent Mrs. Anne Owen, upon her receiving the name of Lucaſia, and Adoption into our Society, 1651-12-28Decemb. 28. 1651.

We are complete, and Fate hath now

No greater bleſsing to beſtow:

No, the dull World muſt now confeſs

We have all worth, all happineſs.

Annals of State are trifles to our fame,

Now ’tis made ſacred by Lucaſia’s name.

But as though through a Burning-glaſs

The Sun more vigorous doth paſs,

Yet ſtill with general freedom ſhines;

For that contracts, but not confines:

So though by this her beams are fixed here,

Yet ſhe diffuſes glory every where.

Her H4r 103

Her Mind is ſo entirely bright,

The ſplendour would but wound our ſight,

And muſt to ſome diſguiſe ſubmit,

Or we could never worſhip it.

And we by this relation are allow’d

Luſtre enough to be Lucaſia’s Cloud.

Nations will own us now to be

A Temple of Divinity;

And Pilgrims ſhall ten Ages hence

Approch our Tombs with reverence.

May then that time which did ſuch bliſs convey

Be kept by us perpetual Holy-day.

H4 XXXVI. To H4v 104


To my Excellent Lucaſia, on our Friendſhip.

Idid not live untill this time

Crown’d my felicity,

When I could ſay without a crime,

I am not thine, but Thee.

This Carcaſs breath’d, and walkt, and ſlept,

So that the World believ’d

There was a Soul the Motions kept;

But they were all deceiv’d.

For as a Watch by art is wound

To motion, ſuch was mine:

But never had Orinda found

A Soul till ſhe found thine;

Which H5r 105

Which now inſpires, cures and ſupplies,

And guides my darkned Breaſt:

For thou art all that I can prize,

My Joy, my Life, my Reſt.

No Bridegrooms nor Crown-conquerors mirth

To mine compar’d can be:

They have but pieces of this Earth,

I’ve all the World in thee.

Then let our Flame ſtill light and ſhine,

And no falſe fear controul,

As innocent as our Deſign,

Immortal as our Soul.

XXXVII. Ro- H5v 106


Roſannia’s private Marriage.

It was a wiſe and kind deſign of Fate,

That none ſhould this day’s glory celebrate:

For ’twere in vain to keep a time which is

Above the reach of all Solemnities.

The greateſt Actions paſs without a noiſe,

And Tumults but prophane diviner Joyes.

Silence with things tranſcendent neareſt ſuits,

The greateſt Emperours are ſerv’d by Mutes.

And as in ancient time the Deities

To their own Prieſts reveal’d no Myſteries

Untill they were from all the World retir’d,

And in ſome Cave made fit to be inſpir’d.

So when Roſannia (who hath them out-vied,

And with more Juſtice might be Deified;

Who H6r 107

Who if ſhe had their Rites and Altars, we

Should hardly think it were Idolatry)

Had found a breaſt that did deſerve to be

Receptacle of her Divinity;

It was not fit the gazing World ſhould know

When ſhe convey’d her ſelf to him, or how.

An Eagle ſafely may behold the Sun,

When weak Eyes are with too much Light undone.

Now as in Oracles were underſtood,

Not the Prieſts only, but the common good:

So her great Soul would not imparted be,

But in deſign of general Charity.

She now is more diffuſive then before;

And what men then admir’d, they now adore.

For this Exchange makes not her Power leſs,

But only fitter for the World’s Addreſs.

May then that Mind (which if we will admit

The Univerſe one Soul, muſt ſure be it)

In- H6v 108

Inform this All, (which, till ſhe ſhin’d out, lay

As drouſie men do in a cloudy day)

And Honour, Vertue, Reaſon so diſpence,

That all may owe them to her influence:

And while this Age is thus employ’d, may ſhe

Scatter new Bleſsings for Poſterity.

I dare not any other wiſh prefer,

For only her beſtowing adds to her.

And to a Soul ſo in her ſelf complete

As would be wrong’d by any Epithete,

Whoſe ſplendour’s fix’d unto her choſen Sphear,

And fill’d with Love and Satisfaction there,

What can increaſe the Triumph, but to ſee

The World her Convert and her Hiſtory?

XXXVIII. In- H7r 109


Injuria Amicitiæ.

Lovely Apoſtate! what was my offence?

Or am I puniſh’d for Obedience?

Muſt thy ſtrange Rigour find as ſtrange a time?

The Act and Seaſon are an equal Crime.

Of what thy moſt ingenuous ſcorns could doe

Muſt I be Subject and Spectator too?

Or were the Sufferings and Sins too few

To be ſuſtain’d by me, perform’d by you?

Unleſs (with Nero) your uncurb’d deſire

Be to ſurvey the Rome you ſet on fire.

While wounded for and by your Power, I

At once your Martyr and your Proſpect die.

This is my doom, and ſuch a ridling Fate

As all impoſsibles doth complicate.

For H7v 110

For Obligation here is Injury,

Conſtancy Crime, Friendſhip a Hereſie.

And you appear ſo much on Ruine bent,

Your own destruction gives you now Content:

For our twinne-Spirits did ſo long agree,

You muſt undoe your ſelf to ruine me.

And, like ſome Frantick Goddeſs, you’r inclin’d,

To raze the Temple where you are enſhrin’d

And, what’s the Miracle of Cruelty,

Kill that which gave you Immortality.

While glorious Friendſhip, whence your Honour ſprings,

Lies gaſping in the Croud of common things;

And I’me ſo odious, that for being kind

Doubled and ſtudied Murthers are deſign’d.

Thy ſin’s all Paradox, for ſhould’st thou be

Thy ſelf again, th’wouldſt be ſevere to me.

For thy Repentance coming now ſo late,

Would only change, and not relieve thy Fate.

So H8r 111

So dangerous is the conſequence of ill,

Thy leaſt of Crimes is to be cruel ſtill.

For of thy Smiles I ſhould yet more complain,

If I ſhould live to be betray’d again.

Live then (fair Tyrant) in Security,

From both my Kindneſs and Revenge be free;

While I, who to Swains had ſung your Fame,

And taught each Echo to repeat your Name,

Will now my private Sorrow entertain,

To Rocks and Rivers, not to thee, complain.

And though before our Union cheriſh’d me,

’Tis now my pleaſure that we diſagree.

For from my Paſsion your laſt Rigour grew,

And you kill’d me ’cauſe that I worſhipp’d you.

But my worſt Vows ſhall be your Happineſs,

And not to be diſturb’d by my diſtreſs.

And though it would make my ſacred flames pollute,

To make my heart a ſcorned proſtitute;

Yet H8v 112

Yet I’le adore the Author of my Death,

And kiſs your Hand that robs me of my breath.


To Regina Collier, on her Cruelty to Philaſter.

Triumphant Queen of ſcorn! how ill doth ſit

In all that Sweetneſs, ſuch injurious Wit?

Unjuſt and Cruel! what can be your prize,

To make one heart a double Sacrifice?

Where ſuch ingenuous Rigour you do ſhew,

To break his Heart, you break his Image too;

And by a Tyranny that’s ſtrange and new,

You Murther him becauſe he Worſhips you.

No Pride can raiſe you, or can make him ſtart,

Since Love and Honour do enrich his heart.

Be Wiſe and Good, leſt when Fate will be juſt,

She ſhould o’rethrow thoſe glories in the duſt,

Rifle I1r 113

Rifle your Beauties, and you thus forlorn

Make a cheap Victim to another’s ſcorn;

And in thoſe Fetters which you do upbraid

Your ſelf a wretched Captive may be made.

Redeem the poyson’d Age, let it be ſeen

There’s no ſuch freedom as to ſerve a Queen.

But you I ſee are lately Round-head grown,

And whom you vanquiſh you inſult upon.


To Philaſter, on his Melancholy for Regina.

Give over now thy tears, thou vain

And double Murtherer;

For every minute of thy pain

Wounds both thy ſelf and her.

Then leave this dulneſs; for ’tis our belief,

Thy Queen muſt cure, or not deſerve, thy Grief.

I XLI. Phi- I1v 114


Philoclea’s parting, 1650-02-25Feb. 25. 1650.

Kinder then a condemned Man’s Reprieve

Was your dear Company that bad me live,

When by Roſannia’s ſilence I had been

The wretchedſt Martyr any Age hath ſeen.

But as when Traytors faint upon the Rack,

Tormentors ſtrive to call their Spirits back;

Not out of kindneſs to preſerve their breath,

But to increase the Torments of their Death:

So was I raiſed to this glorious height,

To make my fall the more unfortunate.

But this I know, none ever dy’d before

Upon a ſadder or a nobler ſcore.

XLII. To I2r 115


To Roſannia, now Mrs. Montague, being with her, 1652-09-25Septemb. 25. 1652.


As men that are with Viſions grac’d

Muſt have all other thoughts diſplac’d,

And buy thoſe ſhort deſcents of Light

With loſs of Senſe; or Spirit’s flight:


So ſince thou wert my happineſs,

I could not hope the rate was leſs;

And thus the Viſion which I gain

Is ſhort t’enjoy, and hard t’attain.


Ah then! what a poor trifle’s all

That thing which here we Pleaſure call,

I2 Since I2v 116

Since what our very Souls hath coſt

Is hardly got and quickly loſt?


Yet is there Juſtice in the fate;

For ſhould we dwell in bleſt eſtate,

Our Joyes thereby would ſo inflame,

We ſhould forget from whence we came.


If this ſo ſad a doom can quit

Me for the follies I commit;

Let no eſtrangement on thy part

Adde a new ruine to my heart.


When on my ſelf I do reflect,

I can no ſmile from thee expect:

But if thy Kindneſs hath no plea,

Some freedom grant for Charity.

Elſe I3r 117


Elſe the juſt World muſt needs deny

Our Friendſhip an Eternity:

This Love will ne’re that title hold;

For thine’s too hot and mine’s too cold.


Divided Rivers loſe their name;

And ſo our too-unequal flame

Parted, will Paſsion be in me,

And an Indifference in thee.


Thy Abſence I could eaſier find,

Provided thou wert well and kind,

Than ſuch a Preſence as is this,

Made up of ſnatches of my bliſs.


So when the Earth long gaſps for rain,

If ſhe at laſt ſome few drops gain,

I3 She I3v 118

She is more parched then at firſt;

That ſmall recruit increas’d the thirſt.


To my Lucaſia.

Let dull Philoſophers inquire no more

In Nature’s womb, or Cauſes ſtrive t’explore,

By what ſtrange harmony and courſe of things

Each body to the whole a tribute brings;

What ſecret unions ſecret Neighbourings make,

And of each other how they do partake.

Theſe are but low Experiments: but he

That Nature’s harmony intire would ſee,

Muſt ſearch agreeing Souls, ſit down and view

How ſweet the mixture is, how full, how true;

By what ſoft touches Spirits greet and kiſs,

And in each other can complete their bliſs.

A won- I4r 119

A wonder ſo ſublime, it will admit

No rude Spectator to comtemplate it.

The Object will refine, and he that can

Friendſhip revere muſt be a Noble man.

How much above the common rate of things

Muſt they then be from whom this Union ſprings?

But what’s all this to me, who live to be

Diſprover of my own Morality?

And he that knew my unimproved Soul,

Would ſay I meant all Friendſhip to controul.

But Bodies move in time, and ſo muſt Minds;

And though th’attempt no eaſie progreſs finds,

Yet quit me not, leſt I ſhould deſp’rate grow,

And to ſuch Friendſhip adde ſome Patience now.

O may good Heav’n but ſo much Vertue lend,

To make me fit to be Lucaſia’s Friend!

But I’le forſake my ſelf, and ſeek a new

Self in her breaſt that’s for more rich and true.

I4 Thus I4v 120

Thus the poor Bee unmark’d doth humme and fly,

And droan’d with age would unregarded dy,

Unleſs ſome curious Artiſt thither come

Will bleſs the Insect with an Amber-tomb.

Then glorious in its funeral the Bee

Gets Eminence and gets Eternity.


On Controverſies in Religion.

Religion, which true Policy befriends,

Deſign’d by God to ſerve Man’s nobleſt ends,

Is by that old Deceiver’s ſubtile play

Made the chief party in its own decay,

And meets that Eagle’s deſtiny, whoſe breaſt

Felt the ſame ſhaft which his own feathers dreſt.

For that great Enemy of Souls perceiv’d,

The notion of a Deity was weav’d

So I5r 121

So cloſely in Man’s Soul; to ruine that,

He muſt at once the World depopulate.

But as thoſe Tyrants who their Wills pursue,

If they expound old Laws, need make no new:

So he advantage takes of Nature’s light,

And raiſes that to a bare uſeless height;

Or while we ſeek for Truth, he in the Queſt

Mixes a Paſsion, or an Intereſt,

To make us loſe it; that, I know not how,

’Tis not our Practice, but our Quarrel now.

And as in th’ Moon’s Eclipſe ſome Pagans thought

Their barbarous Clamours her deliverance wrought:

So we ſuppose that Truth oppreſſed lies,

And needs a Reſcue from our Enmities.

But ’tis Injuſtice, and the Mind’s Diſeaſe,

To think of gaining Truth by loſing Peace.

Knowledge and Love, if true, do ſtill unite;

God’s Love and Knowledge are both Infinite.

And I5v 122

And though indeed Truth does delight to lie

At ſome Remoteneſs from a Common Eye;

Yet ’tis not in Thunder or a Noiſe,

But in ſoft Whiſpers and the ſtiller Voice.

Why ſhould we then Knowledge so rudely treat,

Making our weapon what was meant our meat?

’Tis Ignorance that makes us quarrel ſo;

The Soul that’s dark will be contracted too.

Chimæra’s make a noiſe, ſwelling and vain,

And ſoon reſolve to their own ſmoak again.

But a true Light the ſpirit doth dilate,

And robs it of its proud and ſullen ſtate;

Makes Love admir’d becauſe ’tis underſtood,

And makes us Wiſe becauſe it makes us Good.

’Tis to a right Proſpect of things that we

Owe our Uprightneſs and our Charity.

For who reſiſts a beam when ſhining bright,

Is not a Sinner of a common height.

That I6r 123

That ſtate’s a forfeiture, and helps are ſpent,

Not more a Sin, than ’tis a Puniſhment.

The Soul which ſees things in their Native frame,

Without Opinion’s Mask or Cuſtom’s name,

Cannot be clogg’d to Senſe, or count that high

Which hath its Eſtimation from a Lie.

(Mean ſordid things, which by miſtake we prize,

And abſent covet, but enjoy’d deſpiſe.)

But ſcorning theſe hath robb’d them of their art,

Either to ſwell or to ſubdue the Heart;

And learn’d that generous frame to be above

The World in hopes, below it all in love:

Touch’d with Divine and Inward Life doth run,

Not reſting till it hath its Centre won;

Moves ſteadily untill it ſafe doth lie

I’ th’ Root of all its Immortality;

And reſting here hath yet activity

To grow more like unto the Deity;

Good I6v 124

Good, Univerſal, Wiſe and Juſt as he,

(The ſame in kind, though diff’ring in degree)

Till at the laſt ’tis ſwallow’d up and grown

With God and with the whole Creation one;

It ſelf, ſo ſmall a part, i’ th’ Whole is loſt,

And Generals have Particulars engroſt.

That dark contracted Perſonality,

Like Miſts before the Sun, will from it flie.

And then the Soul, one ſhining ſphear, at length

With true Love’s wiſdom fill’d and purged ſtrength,

Beholds her higheſt good with open face,

And like him all the World ſhe can embrace.


To the Honoured Lady, E. C.


Ido not write to you that men may know

How much I’m honour’d that I may doe ſo:

Nor I7r 125

Nor hope (though I your rich Example give)

To write with more ſucceſs then I can live,

To cure the Age; nor think I can be juſt,

Who only dare to write becauſe I muſt.

I’m full of you, and ſomething muſt expreſs,

To vent my wonder and your pow’r confeſs.

Let me then breathe in Verſe, which though undue,

The beſt would ſeem ſo when it ſhadows you.

Had I ne’re heard of your Illuſtrious Name,

Nor known the Scotch or Engliſh Honour’s fame;

Yet if your glorious Frame did but appear,

I could have ſoon made all your Grandeur there.

I could have ſeen in each majeſtick ray

What Greatneſs Anceſtours could e’re convey;

And in the luſtre of your Eyes alone,

How near you were allied to the Throne:

Which yet doth leſſen you, who cannot need

Thoſe bright advantages which you exceed.

For I7v 126

For you are ſuch, that your Deſcent from Kings

Receives more Honour from you then it brings:

As much above their Glories as our Toil.

A Court to you were but a handſom foil.

And if we name the Stock on which you grew,

’Tis rather to doe right to it then you:

For thoſe that would your greateſt ſplendour ſee,

Muſt reade your Soul more then your Pedigree.

For as the ſacred Temple had without

Beauty to feed thoſe eyes that gaz’d about,

And yet had riches, ſtate and wonder more,

For thoſe that ſtood within the ſhining door;

But in the Holy place they admit few,

Luſtre receiv’d and Inſpiration too:

So though your Glories in your Face be ſeen,

And ſo much bright Inſtruction in your Meen;

You are not known but where you will impart

The treaſures of your more illuſtrious Heart.

Re- I8r 127

Religion all her odours ſheds on you,

Who by obeying vindicate her too:

For that rich Beam of Heaven was almoſt

In nice Diſputes and falſe Pretences loſt;

So doubly injur’d, ſhe could ſcarce ſubſiſt

Betwixt the Hypocrite and Caſuiſt;

Till you by great Example did convince

Us of her nature and her reſidence,

And choſe to ſhew her face, and eaſe her grief,

Leſs by your Arguments then by your Life;

Which, if it ſhould be copied out, would be

A ſolid Body of Divinity.

Your Principle and Practice light would give

What we ſhould doe, and what we ſhould believe:

For the extenſive Knowledge you profeſs,

You do aquire with more eaſe then confeſs.

And as by you Knowledge has thus obtain’d

To be refin’d, and then to be explain’d:

So I8v 128

So in return ſhe uſeful is to you,

In Practice and in Contemplation too.

For by the various ſuccours ſhe hath lent,

You act with Judgment, and think with Content.

Yet thoſe vaſt Parts with ſuch a Temper meet,

That you can lay them at Religion’s feet.

Nor is it half ſo bold as it is true,

That Vertue is her ſelf oblig’d to you:

For being dreſt by your ſeducing Charms,

She conquers more then did the Roman Arms.

We ſee in you how much that Malice ly’d

That ſtuck on Goodneſs any ſullen Pride;

And that the harſhneſs some Profeſſours wear

Falls to their own, and not Religion’s ſhare.

But your bright Sweetneſs if it but appear,

Reclaims the bad, and ſoftens the auſtere.

Men talk’d of Honour too, but could not tell

What was the ſecret of that active ſpell.

That K1r 129

That beauteous Mantle they to divers lent,

Yet wonder’d what the mighty Nothing meant.

Some did confine her to a worthy Fame,

And ſome to Royal Parents gave her Name.

You having claim unto her either way,

By what a King could give, a World could pay,

Have a more living Honour in your breaſt,

Which juſtifies, and yet obſcures the reſt;

A Principle from Fame and Pomp unty’d,

So truly high that it deſpiſes Pride;

Buying good actions at the deareſt rate,

Looks down on ill with as much ſcorn as hate;

Acts things ſo generous and bravely hard,

And in obliging finds ſo much Reward;

So Self-denying great, ſo firmly juſt,

Apt to confer, ſtrict to preſerve a Truſt;

That all whoſe Honour would be juſtified,

Muſt by your ſtandard have it ſtamp’d and tried.

K But K1v 130

But your Perfection heightens others Crimes,

And you reproch while you inform the Times.

Which ſad advantage you will ſcarce believe;

Or if you muſt, you do conceal and grieve.

You ſcorn ſo poor a foil as others ill,

And are Protectour to th’ unhappy ſtill;

Yet are ſo tender when you ſee a ſpot,

You bluſh for thoſe who for themſelves could not.

You are ſo much above your Sex, that we

Believe your Life our greateſt courteſie:

For Women boaſt, they have you while you live

A Pattern and a Repreſentative.

And future Mothers who in Child-bed groan,

Shall wiſh for Daughters knowing you are one.

The world hath Kings whoſe Crowns are cemented

Or by the bloud they boaſt, or that they ſhed:

Yet theſe great Idols of the ſtooping crew

Have neither Pleaſure ſound nor Honour true.

They K2r 131

They either fight, or play, and Power court,

In trivial anger, or in civil ſport.

You, who a nobler Privilege enjoy,

(For you can ſave whom they can but deſtroy)

An Empire have where different mixtures kiſs;

You’r grave, not ſour, and kind, but not remiſs.

Such ſweetned Majeſty, ſuch humble State,

Do love and Reverence at once create.

Pardon (dear Madam) theſe untaught Eſſayes,

I can admire more fitly then I praiſe.

Things ſo ſublime are dimly underſtood,

And you are born ſo great, and are ſo good,

So much above the Honour of your Name,

And by neglect do ſo ſecure your Fame;

Whoſe Beautie’s ſuch as captivates the Wiſe,

Yet you only of all the World deſpiſe;

That have ſo vaſt a Knowledge ſo ſubdued,

Religion ſo adorn’d, and ſo purſued;

K2 A K2v 132

A Wit ſo ſtrong, that who would it define,

Will need one ten times more acute then mine;

Yet rul’d so that its Vigour manag’d thus

Becomes at once graceful and generous;

Whoſe Honour has ſo delicate a Senſe,

Who alwayes pardon, never give offence;

Who needing nothing, yet to all are kind,

Who have ſo large a Heart, ſo rich a Mind;

Whoſe Friendſhip ſtill’s of the obliging ſide,

And yet ſo free from tyranny and Pride;

Who do in love like Jonathan descend,

And ſtrip your ſelf to cloath your happy friend;

Whoſe kindneſs and whoſe modeſty is ſuch,

T’expect ſo little and deſerve ſo much;

Who have ſuch candid worth, ſuch dear concern,

Where we ſo much may love, and ſo much learn;

Whoſe very wonder though it fills and ſhines,

It never to an ill exceſs declines;

But K3r 133

But all are found ſo ſweetly oppoſite,

As are in Titian’s Pieces Shade and Light:

That he that would your great Deſcription try,

Though he write well, would be as loſt as I,

Who of injurious Zele convicted ſtand,

To draw you with ſo bold and bad a hand;

But that, like other Glories, I preſume

You will enlighten, where you might conſume.


Parting with Lucaſia, 1657-01-13Jan. 13. 1657. A Song.


Well, we will doe that rigid thing

Which makes Spectators think we part;

Though Abſence hath for none a ſting

But thoſe who keep each others heart.

K3 And K3v 134


And when our Senſe is diſpoſſeſt,

Our labouring Souls will heave and pant,

And graſp for one anothers breaſt,

Since they their Conveyances want.


Nay, we have felt the tedious ſmart

Of abſent Friendſhip, and do know

That when we die we can but part;

And who knows what we ſhall doe now?


Yet I muſt go: we will ſubmit,

And ſo our own Diſpoſers be;

For while we noblier ſuffer it,

We triumph o’re Neceſsity.


By this we ſhall be truly great,

If having other things o’recome,

To K4r 135

To make our victory complete

We can be Conquerors at home.


Nay then to meet we may conclude,

And all Obſtructions overthrow,

Since we our Paſsion have ſubdu’d,

Which is the ſtrongeſt thing I know.


Againſt Pleaſure. Set by Dr. Coleman.


There’s no ſuch thing as Pleaſure,

’Tis all a perfect Cheat,

Which does but ſhine and diſappear,

Whoſe Charm is but Deceit:

The empty bribe of yielding Souls,

Which firſt betrays, and then controuls.

K4 ’Tis K4v 136


’Tis true, it looks at diſtance fair;

But if we do approch,

The fruit of Sodom will impair,

And periſh at a touch:

It being then in phancy leſs,

And we expect more then poſſeſs.


For by our Pleaſures we are cloy’d,

And ſo Deſire is done;

Or elſe, like Rivers, they make wide

The Channel where they run:

And either way true bliſs deſtroys,

Making Us narrow, or our Joys.


We covet Pleaſure eaſily,

But it not ſo poſſeſs;

For K5r 137

For many things muſt make it be,

But one way makes it leſs.

Nay, were our ſtate as we could chuſe it,

’Twould be conſum’d for fear to loſe it.


What art thou then, thou winged Air,

More ſwift then winged Fame?

Whoſe next ſucceſſour is Deſpair,

And its attendant Shame.

Th’Experience-Prince then reaſon had,

Who ſaid of Pleaſure, It is mad.


Out of Mr. More’s Cop. Conf.

Thrice happy he whoſe Name is writ above,

Who doeth good though gaining infamy,

Requiteth evil turns with hearty love,

And cares not what befalls him outwardly;

Whoſe K5v 138

Whoſe worth is in himſelf, and onely bliſs

In his pure Conſcience, which doth nought amiſs:

Who placeth pleaſure in his purged Soul,

And Vertuous Life his treaſure does eſteem;

Who can his Paſsions maſter and controul,

And that true Lordly Manlineſs doth deem:

Who from this World himſelf hath dearly quit,

Counts nought his own but what lives in his ſp’rit.

So when his Spirit from this vain World ſhall flit,

It bears all with it whatsoe’re was dear

Unto it ſelf, paſsing an eaſie Fit;

As kindly Corn ripened comes out of th’ear,

Careleſs of what all idle men will ſay,

He takes his own and calmly goes his way.

Eternal K6r 139

Eternal Reaſon, Glorious Majeſty,

Compar’d to whom what can be ſaid to be?

Whoſe Attributes are Thee, who art alone

Cauſe of all various things, and yet but One;

Whoſe Eſsence can be no more be ſearch’d by Man,

Then Heav’n thy Throne be graſped with a Span.

Yet if this great Creation was deſign’d

To ſeveral ends fitted for every kind;

Sure Man (the World’s Epitome) muſt be

Form’d to the beſt, that is, to ſtudy thee.

And as our Dignity, ’tis Duty too,

Which is ſumm’d up in this, to know and doe.

Theſe comely rowes of Creatures ſpell thy Name,

Whereby we grope to find from whence they came,

By thy own Change of Cauſes brought to think

There muſt be one, then find that higheſt Link.

Thus all created Excellence we ſee

Is a reſemblance faint and dark of thee.

Such K6v 140

Such ſhadows are produc’d by the Moon-beams

Of Trees or Houſes in the running ſtreams.

Yet by Impreſsions born with us we find

How good, great, juſt thou art, how unconfin’d.

Here we are ſwallowed up, and daily dwell

Safely adoring what we cannot tell.

All we know is, thou art ſupremely good,

And doſt delight to be ſo underſtood.

A ſpicy Mountain on the Univerſe,

On which thy richeſt Odours do diſperſe.

But as the Sea to fill a Veſſel heaves

More greedily then any Cask receives,

Beſieging round to find ſome gap in it,

Which will a new Infuſion admit:

So doſt thou covet that thou mayſt diſpence

Upon the empty World thy Influence;

Lov’ſt to diſburſe thy ſelf in kindneſs: Thus

The King of Kings waits to be gracious.

On K7r 141

On this account, O God, enlarge my heart

To entertain what thou wouldſt fain impart.

Nor let that Soul, by ſeveral titles thine,

And moſt capacious form’d for things Divine,

(So nobly meant, that when it moſt doth miſs,

’Tis in miſtaken pantings after Bliſs)

Degrade it ſelf in ſordid things delight,

Or by prophaner mixtures loſe its right.

Oh! that with fixt unbroken thoughts it may

Admire the light which does obſcure the day.

And ſince ’tis Angels work it hath to doe,

May its compoſure be like Angels too.

When ſhall these clogs of Senſe and Fancy break,

That I may hear the God within me ſpeak?

When with a ſilent and retired art

Shall I with all this empty hurry part?

To the Still Voice above, my Soul, advance;

My light and joy’s plac’d in his Countenance.

By K7v 142

By whoſe diſpence my Soul to ſuch frame brought,

May tame each trech’rous, fix each ſcat’ring thought;

With ſuch diſtinctions all things here behold,

And ſo to ſeparate each droſs from gold,

That nothing my free Soul may ſatisfie,

But t’ imitate, enjoy and ſtudy thee.


To Mrs. M. A. upon Abſence. Set by Mr. Hen. Lawes.


Tis now ſince I began to die

Four Moneths and more, yet gaſping live;

Wrapp’d up in ſorrow do I lie,

Hoping, yet doubting, a Reprieve.

Adam from Paradiſe expell’d

Juſt ſuch a wretched being held.

’Tis K8r 143


’Tis not thy Love I fear to loſe,

That will in ſpight of abſence hold;

But ’tis the benefit and uſe

Is loſt as in impriſon’d Gold:

Which, though the Sum be ne’re ſo great,

Enriches nothing but conceit.


What angry Star then governs me

That I muſt feel a double ſmart,

Priſoner to fate as well as thee;

Kept from thy face, link’d to thy heart?

Becauſe my Love all love excells,

Must my Grief have no Parallels?


Sapleſs and dead as Winter here

I now remain, and all I ſee

Copies K8v 144

Copies of my wild ſtate appear,

But I am their Epitome.

Love me no more, for I am grown

Too dead and dull for thee to own.


L’Amitie. To Mrs. Mary Awbrey.

Soul of my Soul, my joy, my crown, my Friend,

A name which all the reſt doth comprehend;

How happy are we now, whoſe Souls are grown

By an incomparable mixture one:

Whoſe well-acquainted Minds are now as near

As Love, or Vows, or Friendſhip can endear?

I have no thought but what’s to thee reveal’d,

Nor thou deſire that is from me conceal’d.

Thy Heart locks up my Secrets richly ſet,

And my Breaſt is thy private Cabinet.

Thou L1r 145

Thou ſhed’ſt no tear but what my moiſture lent,

And if I ſigh, it is thy breath is ſpent.

United thus, what Horrour can appear

Worthy our Sorrow, Anger, or our Fear?

Let the dull World alone to talk and fight,

And with their vaſt Ambitions Nature fright;

Let them deſpiſe so Innocent a flame,

While Envy, Pride and Faction play their game:

But we by Love ſublim’d ſo high ſhall riſe,

To pity Kings, and Conquerours deſpiſe;

Since we that Sacred Union have engroſt

Which they and all the ſullen World have loſt.


In Memory of Mr. Cartwright.

Stay, Prince of Phancie, ſtay, we are not fit

To welcome or admire thy Raptures yet:

L Such L1v 146

Such horrid Ignorance benights the Times,

That Wit and Honour are become our Crimes.

But when thoſe happy Pow’rs which guard thy duſt

To us and to thy Mem’ry ſhall be juſt,

And by a flame from thy bleſt Genius lent

Reſcue us from our dull Impriſonment,

Unſequeſter our Fancies, and create

A Worth that may upon thy Glories wait:

We then ſhall underſtand thee, and deſcry

The ſplendour of reſtored Poetry.

Till when let no bold hand profane thy ſhrine,

’Tis high Wit-Treaſon to debaſe thy coin.


Mr. Francis Finch, the Excellent Palæmon.

This is confeſt Preſumption, for had I

All that rich ſtock of Ingenuity

Which L2r 147

Which I could wiſh for this, yet would it be

Palæmon’s blot, a pious Injury.

But as no Votaries are ſcorn’d when they

The meaneſt Victim in Religion pay;

Not that the Pow’r they worſhip needs a gume,

But that they ſpeak their thanks for all with ſome:

So though the moſt contemptible of all

That do themſelves Palæmon’s Servants call,

I know that Zele is more then Sacrifice,

(For God did not the Widow’s Mite deſpiſe,)

And that Palæmon hath Divinity,

And Mercy in its higheſt property:

He that doth such tranſcendent Merit own,

Muſt have imperfect Offerings or none.

He’s one rich Luſtre which doth Rayes diſpense,

As Knowledge will when ſet in Innocence.

For Learning did ſelect his noble breaſt,

Where (in her native Majeſty) to reſt;

L2 Free L2v 148

Free from the Tyranny and Pride of Schools,

Who have confin’d her to Pedantick Rules;

And that gentiler Errour which doth take

Offence at Learning for her Habit’s ſake:

Palæmon hath redeem’d her, who may be

Eſteem’d himſelf an Univerſity;

And yet ſo much a Gentleman, that he

Needs not (though he enjoys) a Pedigree.

Sure he was built and ſent to let us know

What man completed could both be and doe.

Freedom from Vice is in him Nature’s part,

Without the help of Diſcipline or Art.

He’s his own Happineſs and his own Law,

Whereby he keeps Paſsion and Fate in awe.

Nor was this wrought in him by Time and Growth,

His Genius had anticipated both.

Had all men been Palæmons, Pride had ne’re

Taught one man Tyranny, the other Fear;

Ambi- L3r 149

Ambition had been full as Monſtrous then

As this ill World doth render Worthy men.

Had men his Spirit, they would ſoon forbear

Groveling for dirt, and quarrelling for air.

Were his harmonious Soul diffus’d in all,

We ſhould believe that men did never fall.

It is Palæmon’s Soul that hath engroſt

Th’ ingenuous candour that the World hath loſt;

Whoſe own Mind ſeats him quiet, ſafe and high,

Above the reach of Time or Deſtiny.

’Twas he that reſcu’d gaſping Friendſhip when

The Bell toll’d for her Funeral with men:

’Twas he that made Friends more then Lovers burn,

And then made Love to ſacred Friendſhip turn:

’Twas he turn’d Honour inward, set her free

From Titles and from Popularity.

Now fix’d to Vertue she begs Praiſe of none,

But’s Witneſs’d and Rewarded both at home.

L3 And L3v 150

And in his breaſt this Honour’s ſo enſhrin’d,

As the old Law was in the Ark confin’d:

To which Poſterity ſhall all conſent,

And leſs diſpute then Acts of Parliament.

He’s our Original, by whom we ſee

How much we fail, and what we ought to be.

But why do I to Copy him pretend?

My Rymes but libel whom they would commend.

’Tis true; but none can reach what’s ſet too high:

And though I miſs, I’ve noble Company:

For the moſt happy language muſt confeſs,

It doth obſcure Palæmon, not expreſs.


To Mrs. M. A. at parting.


Ihave examin’d and do find,

Of all that favour me

There’s L4r 151

There’s none I grieve to leave behind

But onely onely thee.

To part with thee I needs muſt die,

Could Parting ſeparate thee and I.


But neither Chance nor Complement

Did element our Love;

’Twas ſacred Sympathy was lent

Us from the Quire above.

That Friendſhip Fortune did create

Still fears a wound from Time or Fate.


Our chang’d and mingled Souls are grown

To ſuch acquaintance now,

That if each would aſſume their own,

Alas! we know not how.

We have each other ſo engroſt,

That each is in the Union loſt

L4 And L4v 152


And thus we can no Abſence know,

Nor ſhall we be confin’d;

Our active Souls will daily go

To learn each others mind.

Nay, ſhould we never meet to Senſe,

Our Souls would hold Intelligence.


Inſpired with a Flame Divine

I ſcorn to court a ſtay;

For from that noble Soul of thine

I ne’re can be away.

But I ſhall weep when thou doſt grieve;

Nor can I die whil’ſt thou doſt live.


By my own temper I ſhall gueſs

At thy felicity,

And L5r 153

And onely like thy happineſs

Becauſe it pleaſeth thee.

Our hearts at any time will tell

If thou or I be ſick, or well.


All Honour ſure I muſt pretend,

All that is Good or Great;

She that would be Roſannia’s Friend,

Muſt be at leaſt complete.

If I have any bravery,

’Tis ’cauſe I have ſo much of thee.


Thy Leiger Soul in me ſhall lie,

And all thy thoughts reveal;

Then back again with mine ſhall flie,

And thence to me ſhall ſteal.

Thus ſtill to one another tend;

Such is the ſacred name of Friend.

Thus L5v 154


Thus our twin-ſouls in one ſhall grow,

And teach the World new Love,

Redeem the Age and Sex, and ſhew

A Flame Fate dares not move:

And courting Death to be our friend,

Our Lives together too ſhall end.


A Dew ſhall dwell upon our Tomb

Of ſuch a quality,

That fighting Armies, thither come

Shall reconciled be.

We’l ask no Epitaph, but ſay

Orinda and Rosannia.

LIV. To. L6r 155


To my deareſt Antenor, on his Parting.

Though it be juſt to grieve when I muſt part

With him that is the Guardian of my Heart;

Yet by an happy change the loſs of mine

Is with advantage paid in having thine.

And I (by that dear Gueſt inſtructed) find

Abſence can doe no hurt to Souls combin’d.

As we were born to love, brought to agree

By the impreſsions of Divine Decree:

So when united nearer we became,

It did not weaken, but increaſe, our Flame.

Unlike to thoſe who diſtant joys admire,

But ſlight them when poſſeſt of their deſire.

Each of our Souls did in its temper fit,

And in the other’s Mould ſo faſhion’d it,

That L6v 156

That now our Inclinations both are grown,

Like to our Intereſts and Perſons, one;

And Souls whom ſuch an Union fortifies,

Paſsion can ne’re deſtroy, nor Fate ſurprize.

Now as in Watches, though we do not know

When the Hand moves, we find it ſtill doth go:

So I, by ſecret Sympathy inclin’d,

Will abſent meet, and underſtand thy mind;

And thou at thy return ſhalt find thy Heart

Still ſafe, with all the love thou didſt impart.

For though that treaſure I have ne’re deſerv’d,

It ſhall with ſtrong Religion be preſerv’d.

And beſides this thou ſhalt in me ſurvey

Thy ſelf reflected while thou art away.

For what ſome forward Arts do undertake,

The Images of abſent Friends to make,

And repreſent their actions in a Glaſs,

Friendſhip it ſelf can onely bring to paſs,

That L7r 157

That Magick which both Fate and Time beguiles,

And in a moment runs a thouſand miles.

So in my Breaſt thy Picture drawn ſhall be,

My Guide, Life, Object, Friend, and Deſtiny:

And none ſhal know, though they imploy their wit,

Which is the right Antenor, thou, or it.


Engraven on Mr. John Collier’s Tomb-ſtone at Bedlington.

Here what remains of him doth lie,

Who was the World’s Epitome,

Religion’s Darling, Merchants Glory,

Mens true Delight, and Vertue’s Story;

Who, though a Priſoner to the Grave,

A glorious Freedom once ſhall have:

Till when no Monument is fit,

But what’s beyond our love and wit.

LVI. On L7v 158


On the little Regina Collier, on the ſame Tomb-ſtone.

Vertue’s Bloſſom, Beautie’s Bud,

The Pride of all that’s fair and good,

By Death’s fierce hand was ſnatched hence

In her ſtate of Innocence:

Who by it this advantage gains,

Her wages got without her pains.



Let the dull brutiſh World that know not Love

Continue Hereticks, and diſapprove

That noble Flame; but the refined know

’Tis all the Heaven we have here below.

Nature L8r 159

Nature ſubſiſts by Love, and they do tie

Things to their Cauſes but by Sympathy.

Love chains the different Elements in one

Great Harmony, link’d to the Heav’nly Throne.

And as on Earth, ſo the bleſt Quire above

Of Saints and Angels are maintain’d by Love;

That is their Buſineſs and Felicity,

And will be ſo to all Eternity.

That is the Ocean, our Affections here

Are but ſtreams borrow’d from the Fountain there.

And ’tis the nobleſt Argument to prove

A Beauteous mind, that it knows how to Love.

Thoſe kind Impreſsions which Fate can’t controul,

Are Heaven’s mintage on a worthy Soul.

For Love is all the Arts Epitome,

And is the Sum of all Divinity.

He’s worſe then Beaſt that cannot Love, and yet

It is not bought for Money, Pains or Wit;

For L8v 160

For no change or deſign can Spirits move,

But the Eternal deſtiny of Love:

And when two Souls are chang’d and mixed ſo,

It is what they and none but they can doe.

This, this is Friendſhip, that abſtracted flame

Which groveling Mortals know not how to name.

All Love is ſacred, and the Marriage-tie

Hath much of Honour and Divinity.

But Luſt, Deſign, or ſome unworthy ends

May mingle there, which are deſpis’d by Friends.

Paſsion hath violent extreams, and thus

All oppoſitions are contiguous.

So when the end is ſerv’d their Love will bate,

If Friendſhip make it not more fortunate:

Friendſhip, that Love’s Elixir, that pure fire

Which burns the clearer ’cauſe it burns the higher.

For Love, like earthly fires (which will decay

If the material fuel be away)

Is M1r 161

Is with offenſive ſmoke accompanied,

And by reſiſtance only is ſupplied:

But Friendſhip, like the fiery Element,

With its own Heat and Nouriſhment content,

Where neither hurt, nor ſmoke, nor noiſe is made,

Scorns the aſsiſtance of a forein aid.

Friendſhip (like Heraldry) is hereby known,

Richeſt when plaineſt, braveſt when alone;

Calm as a Virgin, and more Innocent

Then ſleeping Doves are, and as much content

As Saints in Viſions; quiet as the Night,

But clear and open as the Summer’s light;

United more then Spirits Faculties,

Higher in thoughts then are the Eagle’s eyes;

Free as firſt Agents are, true friends and kind,

As but their ſelves I can no likeneſs find.

M LVIII. The M1v 162


The Enquiry.


If we no old Hiſtorian’s name

Authentick will admit,

But think all ſaid of Friendſhip’s fame

But Poetry or Wit:

Yet what’s rever’d by Minds ſo pure

Muſt be a bright Idea ſure.


But as our Immortality

By inward ſenſe we find,

Judging that if it could not be,

It would not be deſign’d:

So here how could ſuch Copies fall,

If there were no Original?

But M2r 163


But if Truth be in ancient Song,

Or Story we believe,

If the inſpir’d and greater Throng

Have ſcorned to deceive;

There have been Hearts whoſe Friendſhip gave

Them thoughts at once both ſoft and grave.


Among that conſecrated Crew,

Some more Seraphick ſhade

Lend me a favourable Clew

Now miſts my eyes invade.

Why, having fill’d the World with fame,

Left you ſo little of your flame?


Why is’t so difficult to ſee

Two Bodies and one Mind?

M2 And M2v 164

And why are thoſe who elſe agree

So difficultly kind?

Hath Nature ſuch fantaſtick art,

That ſhe can vary every Heart?


Why are the bands of Friendſhip tied

With so remiſs a knot,

That by the moſt it is defied,

And by the moſt forgot?

Why do we ſtep with ſo light ſenſe

From Friendſhip to Indifference?


If Friendſhip Sympathy impart,

Why this ill-ſhuffled game,

That Heart can never meet with Heart,

Or Flame encounter Flame?

What does this Cruelty create?

Is’t the Intrigue of Love or Fate?

Had M3r 165


Had Friendſhip ne’re been known to Men,

(The Ghoſt at laſt confeſt)

The World had then a ſtranger been

To all that Heav’n poſſeſt.

But could it all be here acquir’d,

Not Heav’n it ſelf would be deſir’d.


To my Lucaſia, in defence of declared Friendſhip.


Omy Lucaſia, let us ſpeak our Love,

And think not that impertinent can be,

Which to us both doth ſuch aſſurance prove,

And whence we find how juſtly we agree.


Before we knew the treaſures of our Love,

Our noble aims our joys did entertain;

M3 And M3v 166

And ſhall enjoyment nothing then improve?

’Twere beſt for us then to begin again.


Now we have gain’d, we muſt not ſtop, and ſleep

Out all the reſt of our myſterious reign:

It is as hard and glorious to keep

A victory, as it is to obtain.


Nay, to what end did we once barter Minds,

Onely to know and to neglect the claim?

Or (like ſome Wantons) our Pride pleaſure finds

To throw away the thing at which we aim.


If this be all our Friendſhip does deſign,

We covet not enjoyment then, but power:

To our Opinion we our Bliſs confine,

And love to have, but not to ſmell, the flower.

Ah! M4r 167


Ah! then let Miſers bury thus their Gold,

Who though they ſtarve no farthing wil produce:

But we lov’d to enjoy and to behold,

And ſure we cannot ſpend our ſtock by uſe.


Think not ’tis needleſs to repeat deſires;

The fervent Turtles alwayes court and bill,

And yet their ſpotleſs paſsion never tires,

But does increaſe by repetition ſtill.


Although we know we love, yet while our Soul

Is thus impriſon’d by the Flesh we wear,

There’s no way left that bondage to controul,

But to convey tranſactions through the Ear.


Nay, though we reade our paſsions in the Eye,

It will oblige and pleaſe to tell them too:

M4 Such M4v 168

Such joys as theſe by motion multiply,

Were’t but to find that our Souls told us true.


Believe not then, that being now ſecure

Of either’s heart, we have no more to doe:

The Spheres themſelves by motion do endure,

And they move on by Circulation too.


And as a River, when it once hath paid

The tribute which it to the Ocean owes,

Stops not, but turns, and having curl’d and play’d

On its own waves, the ſhore it overflows:


So the Soul’s motion does not end in bliſs,

But on her ſelf ſhe ſcatters and dilates,

And on the Object doubles ſtill; by this

She finds new joys which that reflux creates.

But M5r 169


But then becauſe it cannot all contain,

It ſeeks a vent by telling the glad news,

Firſt to the Heart which did its joys obtain,

Then to the Heart which did thoſe joys produce.


When my Soul then doth ſuch excurſions make,

Unleſs thy Soul delight to meet it too,

What ſatisfaction can it give or take,

Thou being abſent at the interview?


’Tis not Diſtruſt; for were that plea allow’d,

Letters and Viſits all would uſeleſs grow:

Love, whoſe expreſsion then would be its cloud,

And it would be refin’d to nothing ſo.


If I diſtruſt, ’tis my own worth for thee,

’Tis my own fitneſs for a love like thine;

And M5v 170

And therefore ſtill new evidence would ſee,

T’aſſure my wonder that thou canſt be mine.


But as the Morning-Sun to drooping Flowers,

As weary Travellers a Shade do find,

As to the parched Violet Evening-ſhowers;

Such is from thee to me a Look that’s kind.


But when that Look is dreſt in Words, ’tis like

The myſtick pow’r of Muſick’s union;

Which when the Finger doth one Viol ſtrike,

The other’s ſtring heaves to reflection.


Be kind to me, and juſt then to your love,

To which we owe our free and dear Converſe;

And let not tract of Time wear or remove

It from the privilege of that Commerce.

Tyrants M6r 171


Tyrants do baniſh what they can’t requite:

But let us never know ſuch mean deſires;

But to be grateful to that Love delight

Which all our joys and noble thoughts inſpires.


La Grandeur d’eſprit.

Achosen Privacy, a cheap Content,

And all the Peace a Friendſhip ever lent,

A Rock which civil Nature made a Seat,

A Willow that repels the mid-day heat,

The beauteous quiet of a Summer’s day,

A Brook which ſobb’d aloud and ran away,

Invited my Repoſe, and then conſpir’d

To entertain my Phancie that retir’d.

As Lucian’s Ferry-man aloft did view

The angry World, and then laugh’d at it too:

So M6v 172

So all its ſullen Follies ſeem to me

But as a too-well acted Tragedy.

One dangerous Ambition doth befool,

Another Envies to see that man Rule:

One makes his Love the Parent of his Rage,

For private Friendſhip publickly t’engage:

And ſome for Conſcience, ſome for Honour die;

And ſome are merely kill’d they know not why.

More different then mens faces are their ends,

Whom yet one common Ruine can make Friends.

Death, Duſt and Darkneſs they have only won,

And haſtily unto their Periods run.

Death is a Leveller; Beauty, and Kings

And Conquerours, and all thoſe glorious things,

Are tumbled to their Graves in one rude heap,

Like common duſt, as common and as cheap.

At greater Changes who would wonder then,

Since Kingdoms have their Fates as well as men?

They M7r 173

They muſt fall sick and die; nothing can be

In this World certain, but uncertainty.

Since Pow’r and Greatneſs are ſuch ſlippery things,

Who’d pity Cottages, or envy Kings?

Now leaſt of all, when, weary of deceit,

The World no longer flatters with the Great.

Though ſuch Confuſions here below we find,

As Providence were wanton with Mankind:

Yet in this Chaos ſome things do ſend forth,

Like Jewels in the dark, a Native worth.

He that derives his high Nobility,

Not from the mention of a Pedigree;

Who thinks it not his Praiſe that others know

His Anceſtors were gallant long agoe;

Who ſcorns to boaſt the Glories of his bloud,

And thinks he can’t be great that is not good;

Who knows the World, and what we Pleaſure call,

Yet cannot sell one Conſcience for them all;

VVho M7v 174

Who hates to hoard that Gold with an excuſe,

For which he can find out a nobler uſe;

Who dares not keep that Life that he can ſpend,

To ſerve his God, his Country, and his Friend;

Falſhood and Flattery doth ſo much hate,

He would not buy ten Lives at ſuch a rate;

Whoſe Soul, then Diamonds more rich and clear,

Naked and open as his face doth wear;

Who dares be good alone in ſuch a time,

When Vertue’s held and puniſh’d as a Crime;

Who thinks dark crooked Plots a mean defence,

And is both ſafe and wiſe in Innocence;

Who dares both fight and die, but dares not fear;

Whoſe only doubt is, if his cause be clear;

Whose Courage and his Juſtice equal worn,

Can dangers grapple, overcome and ſcorn,

Yet not inſult upon a conquer’d foe,

But can forgive him and oblige him too;

VVhoſe M8r 175

Whoſe Friendſhip is congenial with his Soul,

Who where he gives a heart beſtows it whole;

Whoſe other ties and Titles here do end,

Or buried or completed in the Friend;

Who ne’re reſumes the Soul he once did give,

While his Friend’s company and Honour live;

And if his Friend’s content could coſt the price,

Would count himſelf a happy Sacrifice;

Whoſe happy days no Pride infects, nor can

His other Titles make him ſlight the man;

No dark Ambitious thoughts do cloud his brow,

Nor reſtleſs cares when to be Great, and how;

Who ſcorns to envy Truth where e’re it be,

But pities ſuch a Golden Slavery;

With no mean fawnings can the people court,

Nor wholly ſlight a popular report;

Whoſe houſe no Orphan groans do ſhake or blaſt,

Nor any riot of help to ſerve his taſte;

VVho M8v 176

Who from the top of his Proſperities

Can take a fall, and yet without ſurprize;

Who with the ſame auguſt and even ſtate

Can entertain the beſt and worſt of Fate;

Whoſe ſuffering’s ſweet, if Honour once adorn it;

Who ſlights Revenge, not that he fears, but ſcorns it;

Whose Happineſs in ev’ry Fortune lives,

For that no Fortune either takes or gives;

Who no unhandſome wayes can bribe his Fate,

Nay, out of Priſon marches through the Gate;

Who loſing all his Titles and his Pelf,

Nay, all the World, can never loſe himſelf;

This Perſon ſhines indeed, and he that can

Be Vertuous is the great Immortal man.

LXI. A N1r 177


A Country-life.

How Sacred and how Innocent

A Country-life appears,

How free from Tumult, Diſcontent,

From Flattery or Fears!

This was the firſt and happieſt Life,

When man enjoy’d himſelf;

Till Pride exchanged Peace for Strife,

And Happineſs for Pelf.

’Twas here the Poets were inſpir’d,

And ſang their Myſteries;

And while the liſtning World admir’d,

Mens Minds did civilize.

That Golden Age did entertain

No Paſsion but of Love;

N The N1v 178

The thoughts of Ruling and of Gain

Did ne’re their Fancies move.

None then did envy Neighbour’s wealth,

Nor Plot to wrong his bed:

Happy in Friendſhip and in Health,

On Roots, not Beaſts, they fed.

They knew no Law nor Phyſick then,

Nature was all their Wit.

And if there yet remain to men

Content, ſure this is it.

What Bleſsings doth this World afford

To tempt or bribe deſire?

For Courtſhip is all Fire and Sword,

Who would not then retire?

Then welcome deareſt Solitude,

My great Felicity;

Though ſome are pleas’d to call thee rude,

Thou art not ſo, but we.

Such N2r 179

Such as do covet only reſt

A Cottage will ſuffice:

Is it not brave to be poſſeſt

Of Earth, but to deſpiſe?

Opinion is the rate of things,

From hence our Peace doth flow;

I have a better Fate then Kings,

Because I think it ſo.

When all the ſtormy World doth wear

How unconcern’d am I:

I cannot fear to tumble lower

That never could be high.

Secure in theſe unenvi’d walls

I think not on the State,

And pity no mans caſe that falls

From his Ambition’s height.

Silence and Innocence are ſafe;

A heart that’s nobly true

N2 At N2v 180

At all theſe little Arts can laugh

That do the World ſubdue.

While others Revel it in State,

Here I’le contented ſit,

And think I have as good a Fate

As Wealth and Pomp admit.

Let ſome in Courtſhip take delight,

And to th’ Exchange reſort;

There Revel out a Winter’s night,

Not making Love, but Sport.

Theſe never know a noble Flame,

’Tis Luſt, Scorn, or Deſign:

While Vanity playes all their Game,

Let Peace and Honour mine.

When the inviting Spring appears,

To Hide-Parke let them go,

And haſting thence be full of fears

To loſe Spring-Garden ſhew.

Let N3r 181

Let others (nobler) ſeek to gain

In Knowledge happy Fate,

And others buſie them in vain

To ſtudy wayes of State.

But I, reſolved from within,

Confirmed from without,

In Privacy intend to ſpin

My future Minutes out.

And from this Hermitage of mine

I baniſh all wild toyes,

And nothing that is not Divine

Shall dare to tempt my Joyes.

There are below but two things good,

Friendſhip and Honeſty,

And only thoſe alone I would

Ask for Felicity.

In this retir’d Integrity,

Free from both War and noiſe,

N3 I live N3v 182

I live not by Neceſsity,

But wholly by my Choice.


To Mrs. Wogan, my Honoured Friend, on the Death of her Husband.

Dry up your tears, there’s enough ſhed by you,

And we muſt pay our ſhare of Sorrows too.

It is no private loſs when ſuch men fall,

The World’s concern’d, and Grief is general.

But though of our Misfortune we complain,

To him it is injurious and vain.

For ſince we know his rich Integrity,

His real Sweetneſs and full Harmony;

How free his heart and houſe were to his Friends,

Whom he oblig’d without Deſign or Ends;

How univerſal was his Courteſie,

How clear a Soul, how even, and how high;

How N4r 183

How much he ſcorn’d diſguiſe or meaner Arts,

But with a native Honour conquer’d Hearts;

We muſt conclude he was a Treaſure lent,

Soon weary of this ſordid Tenement.

The Age and World deſerv’d him not, and he

Was kindly ſnatch’d from future Miſery.

We can ſcarce ſay he’s Dead, but gone to reſt,

And left a Monument in ev’ry breaſt.

For you to grieve then in this ſad exceſs,

Is not to ſpeak your Love, but make it leſs.

A noble Soul no Friendſhip will admit,

But what’s Eternal and Divine as it.

The Soul is hid in mortal fleſh we know,

And all its weakneſſes muſt undergo,

Till by degrees it does ſhine forth at length,

And gathers Beauty, Purity, and Strength:

But never yet doth this Immortal Ray

Put on full ſplendour till it put off Day.

N4 So N4v 184

So Infant Love is in the worthieſt breaſt

By Senſe and Paſsion fetter’d and oppreſt;

But by degrees it grows ſtill more refin’d,

And ſcorning clogs only concerns the Mind.

Now as the Soul you lov’d is here ſet free

From its material groſs capacity;

Your Love ſhould follow him now he is gone,

And quitting Paſsion, put Perfection on.

Such Love as this will its own good deny,

If its dear Object have Felicity.

And ſince we cannot his great Loſs Reprieve,

Let’s not loſe you in whom he ſtill doth Live.

For while you are by Grief ſecluded thus,

It doth appear your Funeral to us.

LXIII. In N5r 185


In memory of the moſt juſtly honoured, Mrs. Owen of Orielton.

As when the ancient World by Reaſon liv’d,

The Aſian Monarchs deaths were never griev’d;

Their glorious Lives made all their Subjects call

Their Rites a Triumph, not a Funeral:

So ſtill the Good are Princes, and their Fate

Invites us not to weep, but imitate.

Nature intends a progreſs of each ſtage

Whereby weak Man creeps to ſucceeding Age,

Ripens him for that Change for which he’s made,

Where th’active Soul is in her Centre laid.

And ſince none ſtript of Infancy complain,

’Cauſe ’tis both their neceſsity and gain:

So Age and Death by ſlow approches come,

And by that juſt inevitable doom

By N5v 186

By which the Soul (her cloggy droſs once gone)

Puts on Perfection, and reſumes her own.

Since then we mourn a happy Soul, O why

Diſturb we her with erring Piety?

Who’s ſo enamour’d on the beauteous Ground,

When with rich Autumn’s livery hung round,

As to deny a Sickle to his Grain,

And not undreſs the teeming Earth again?

Fruits grow for uſe, Mankind is born to die;

And both Fates have the ſame neceſsity.

Then grieve no more, ſad Relatives, but learn;

Sigh not, but profit by your juſt concern.

Reade over her Life’s volume: wiſe and good,

Not ’cauſe ſhe muſt be ſo, but ’cauſe ſhe wou’d.

To choſen Vertue ſtill a conſtant friend,

She ſaw the Times which chang’d, but did not mend.

And as ſome are ſo civil to the Sun,

They’d fix his beams, and make the Earth to run:

So N6r 187

So ſhe unmov’d beheld the angry Fate

Which tore a Church, and overthrew a State:

Still durſt be Good, and own the noble Truth,

To crown her Age which had adorn’d her Youth.

Great without Pride, a Soul which ſtill could be

Humble and high, full of calm Majeſty.

She kept true ſtate within, and could not buy

Her Satisfaction with her Charity.

Fortune or Birth ne’re rais’d her Mind, which ſtood

Not on her being rich, but doing good.

Oblig’d the World, but yet would ſcorn to be

Paid with Requitals, Thanks or Vanity.

How oft did ſhe what all the World adore,

Make the Poor happy with her uſeful ſtore?

So general was her Bounty, that ſhe gave

Equality to all before the Grave.

By ſeveral means ſhe different perſons ty’d,

Who by her Goodneſs onely were ally’d.

Her N6v 188

Her Vertue was her Temper, not her Fit;

Fear’d nothing but the Crimes which ſome commit;

Scorn’d thoſe dark Arts wchhich paſs for Wiſdom now,

Nor to a mean ignoble thing could bow.

And her vaſt Prudence had no other end,

But to forgive a Foe, endear a Friend:

To uſe, but ſlight, the World; and fixt above,

Shine down in beams of Piety and Love.

Why ſhould we then by poor and juſt complaint

Prove envious Sinners ’cauſe ſhe is a Saint?

Cloſe then the Monument; let not a Tear

That may prophane her Aſhes now appear:

For her beſt Obſequies are that we be

Prudent and Good, Noble and Sweet, as ſhe.

LXIV. A N7r 189


A Friend.


Love, Nature’s Plot, this great Creation’s Soul,

The Being and the Harmony of things,

Doth ſtill preſerve and propagate the whole,

From whence Mans Happineſs & Safety ſprings:

The earlieſt, whiteſt, bleſſedſt Times did draw

From her alone their univerſal Law.


Friendſhip’s an Abſtract of this noble Flame,

’Tis Love refin’d and purg’d from all its droſs,

The next to Angels Love, if not the ſame,

As ſtrong in paſsion is, though not ſo groſs:

It antedates a glad Eternity,

And is an Heaven in Epitome.

Nobler N7v 190


Nobler then Kindred or then Marriage-band,

Becauſe more free; Wedlock-felicity

It ſelf doth onely by this Union ſtand,

And turns to Friendſhip or to Miſery.

Force or Deſign Matches to paſs may bring.

But Friendſhip doth from Love and Honour ſpring.


If Souls no Sexes have, for Men t’ exclude

Women from Friendſhip’s vaſt capacity,

Is a Deſign injurious or rude,

Onely maintain’d by partial tyranny.

Love is allow’d to us and Innocence,

And nobleſt Friendſhips do proceed from thence.


The chiefeſt thing in Friends is Sympathy:

There is a Secret that doth Friendſhip guide,

Which N8r 191

Which makes two Souls before they know agree,

Who by a thouſand mixtures are ally’d,

And chang’d and loſt, ſo that it is not known

Within which breaſt doth now reſide their own.


Eſſential Honour muſt be in a Friend,

Not ſuch as every breath fans to and fro;

But born within, is its own judge and end,

And dares not ſin though ſure that none ſhould know.

Where Friendſhip’s ſpoke, Honeſty’s underſtood;

For none can be a Friend that is not Good.


Friendſhip doth carry more then common truſt,

And Treachery is here the greateſt ſin.

Secrets depoſed then none ever muſt

Preſume to open, but who put them in.

They that in one Cheſt lay up all their ſtock,

Had need be ſure that none can pick the Lock.

A Breaſt N8v 192


A breaſt too open Friendſhip does not love,

For that the others Truſt will not conceal;

Nor one too much reſerv’d can it approve,

Its own Condition this will not reveal.

We empty Paſsions for a double end,

To be refreſh’d and guarded by a Friend.


Wiſdom and Knowledge Friendſhip does require,

The firſt for Counſel, this for Company;

And though not mainly, yet we may deſire

For complaiſance and Ingenuity.

Though ev’ry thing may love, yet ’tis a Rule,

He cannot be a Friend that is a Fool.


Diſcretion uſes Parts and beſt knows how;

And Patience will all Qualities commend:

That O1r 193

That ſerves a need beſt, but this doth allow

The Weakneſſes and Paſsions of a Friend.

We are not yet come to the Quire above:

Who cannot Pardon here, can never Love.


Thick Waters ſhew no Images of things;

Friends are each others Mirrours, and ſhould be

Clearer then Cryſtal or the Mountain Springs,

And free from Clouds, Deſign or Flattery.

For vulgar Souls no part of Friendſhip ſhare:

Poets and Friends are born to what they are.


Friends should obſerve & chide each others Faults,

To be ſevere then is moſt juſt and kind;

Nothing can ’ſcape their ſearch who know the thoughts:

This they ſhould give and take with equal Mind.

For Friendſhip, when this Freedom is deny’d,

Is like a Painter when his hands are ty’d.

O A Friend O1v 194


A Friend ſhould find out each Neceſsity,

And then unask’d reliev’t at any rate:

It is not Friendſhip, but Formality,

To be deſir’d; for Kindneſs keeps no ſtate.

Of Friends he doth the Benefactour prove,

That gives his Friend the means t’ expreſs his Love.


Abſence doth not from Friendſhip’s right excuſe:

They, who preſerve each others heart and fame,

Parting can ne’re divide, it may diffuſe;

As Liquors which aſunder are the ſame.

Though Preſence help’d them at the firſt to greet,

Their Souls know now without thoſe aids to meet.


Conſtant and Solid, whom no ſtorms can ſhake,

Nor death unfix, a right Friend ought to be;

And O2r 195

And if condemned to ſurvive, doth make

No ſecond choice, but Grief and Memory.

But Friendſhip’s beſt Fate is, when it can ſpend

A Life, a Fortune, all to ſerve a Friend.


L’Accord du Bien.


Order, by which all things are made,

And this great World’s foundation laid,

Is nothing elſe but Harmony,

Where different parts are brought t’agree.


As Empires are ſtill beſt maintain’d

Thoſe ways which first their Greatneſs gain’d:

So in this univerſal Frame

What made and keeps it is the ſame.

O2 Thus O2v 196


Thus all things unto peace do tend;

Even Diſcords have it for their end.

The cauſe why Elements do fight,

Is but their Inſtinct to Unite.


Muſick could never pleaſe the Senſe

But by United excellence:

The ſweeteſt Note which Numbers know,

If ſtruck alone, would tedious grow.


Man, the whole World’s Epitome,

Is by creation Harmony.

’Twas Sin first quarrel’d in his breaſt,

Then made him angry with the reſt.


But Goodneſs keeps that Unity,

And loves its own ſociety

So O3r 197

So well, that ſeldom it is known

One real Worth to dwell alone.


And hence it is we Friendſhip call

Not by one Vertue’s name, but all.

Nor is it when bad things agree

Thought Union but Conſpiracy.


Nature and Grace, ſuch enemies

That when one fell t’other did riſe,

Are now by Mercy even ſet,

As Stars in Conſtellations met.


If Nature were it ſelf a ſin,

Her Author (God) had guilty been:

But Man by ſin contracting ſtain,

Shall purg’d from that be clear again.

O3 To O3v 198


To prove that Nature’s excellent

Even Sin it ſelf’s an argument:

Therefore we Nature’s ſtain deplore,

Becauſe it ſelf was pure before.


And Grace deſtroys not, but refines,

Unveils our Reaſon, then it ſhines;

Reſtores what was depreſt by ſin,

The fainting beam of God within.


The main ſpring (Judgment) rectify’d,

Will all the leſser Motions guide,

To ſpend our Labour, Love and Care,

Not as things ſeem, but as they are.


’Tis Fancy loſt, Wit thrown away,

In trifles to imploy that Ray,

Which O4r 199

Which then doth in full luſtre ſhine

When both Ingenuous and Divine.


To Eyes by Humours vitiated

All things ſeem falſly coloured:

So ’tis our prejudicial thought

That makes clear Objects ſeem in fault.


They ſcarce believe united good,

By them ’twas never underſtood:

They think one Grace enough for one,

And ’tis becauſe their ſelves have none.


We hunt Extremes, and run ſo faſt,

We can no ſteddy judgment caſt:

He best ſurveys the Circuit round

Who ſtands i’ th’ middle of the ground.

O4 That O4v 200


That happy mean would let us ſee

Knowledge and Meekneſs may agree;

And find, when each thing hath its name,

Paſsion and Zeel are not the ſame.


Who ſtudies God doth upwards fly,

And height’s ſtill leſser to our eye;

And he that knows God, ſoon will ſee

Vaſt cauſe for his Humility.


For by that ſearch it will be known

There’s nothing but our Will our own:

And whoſo doth that ſtock imploy,

Will find more cauſe for Shame then Joy.


We know ſo little and ſo dark,

And ſo extinguish our own ſpark,

That O5r 201

That he who furtheſt here can go,

Knows nothing as he ought to know.


It will with the moſt Learned ſute

More to enquire then diſpute:

But Vapours ſwell within a Cloud;

And Ignorance ’tis makes us proud.


So whom their own vain Heart belies,

Like Inflammations quickly riſe:

But that Soul which is truly great

Is loweſt in its own conceit.


Yet while we hug our own miſtake,

We Cenſures, but not Judgments, make;

And thence it is we cannot ſee

Obedience ſtand with Liberty.

Provi- O5v 202


Providence ſtill keeps even ſtate;

But he can beſt command his Fate,

Whoſe Art by adding his own Voice

Makes his Neceſsity his Choice.


Rightly to rule ones ſelf muſt be

The hardest, largeſt Monarchy:

Whoſe Paſsions are his Maſters grown,

Will be a Captive in a Throne.


He moſt the inward freedom gains,

Who juſt Submiſsions entertains:

For while in that his Reaſon ſways,

It is himſelf that he obeys.


But onely in Eternity

We can these beauteous Unions ſee:

For O6r 203

For Heaven’s ſelf and Glory is

But one harmonious conſtant Bliſs.


Invitation to the Country.

Be kind my dear Roſannia, though ’tis true

Thy Friendſhip will become thy Penance too;

Though there be nothing can reward the pain,

Nothing to ſatiſfie or entertain;

Though all be empty, wild, and like to me,

Who make new Troubles in my Company:

Yet is the action more obliging great;

’Tis Hardſhip only makes Deſert complete.

But yet to prove Mixtures all things compound,

There may in this be ſome advantage found;

For a Retirement from the noiſe of Towns,

Is that for which ſome Kings have left their Crowns:

And O6v 204

And Conquerours, whoſe Laurel preſt the brow,

Have chang’d it for the quiet Myrtle-bow.

For Titles, Honours, and the World’s Addreſs,

Are things too cheap to make up Happineſs;

The eaſie Tribute of a giddy race,

And pay’d leſs to the Perſon then the place.

So falſe reflected and ſo ſhort content

Is that which Fortune and Opinion lent,

That who moſt try’d it have of it complain’d,

With Titles burthen’d and to Greatneſs chain’d.

For they alone enjoy’d what they poſseſt,

Who reliſht moſt and underſtood it beſt.

And yet that underſtanding made them know

The empty ſwift diſpatch of all below.

So that what moſt can outward things endear,

Is the beſt means to make them diſappear:

And even that Tyrant (Senſe) doth theſe deſtroy,

As more officious to our Grief then Joy.

Thus O7r 205

Thus all the glittering World is but a cheat,

Obtruding on our Senſe things Groſs for Great.

But he that can enquire and undiſguiſe,

Will ſoon perceive the thing that hidden lies;

And find no Joys merit eſteem but thoſe

Whoſe Scene lies only at our own diſpoſe.

Man unconcern’d without himſelf may be

His own both Proſpect and Security.

Kings may be Slaves by their own Paſsions hurl’d,

But who commands himſelf commands the World.

A Country-life aſsiſts this ſtudy beſt,

Where no diſtractions do the Soul arreſt:

There Heav’n and Earth lie open to our view,

There we ſearch Nature and its Author too;

Poſſeſt with Freedom and a real State

Look down on Vice, and Vanity, and Fate.

There (my Roſannia) will we, mingling Souls,

Pity the Folly which the World controuls;

And O7v 206

And all thoſe Grandeurs which the World do prize

We either can enjoy, or can deſpiſe.


In Memory of Mrs. E. H.

As ſome choice Plant cheriſh’d by Sun and Air,

And ready to requite the Gard’ner’s care,

Bloſſoms and flouriſhes, but then we find

Is made the Triumph of ſome ruder Wind:

So thy untimely Grave did both entomb

Thy Sweetness now, and wonders yet to come.

Hung full of hopes thou felt’ſt a lovely prize,

Juſt as thou didſt attract all Hearts and Eyes.

Thus we might apprehend, for had thy years

Been lengthen’d to have paid thoſe vaſt arrears

The World expected, we ſhould then conclude,

The Age of Miracles had been renew’d.

For O8r 207

For thou already haſt with eaſe found out

What others ſtudy with ſuch pains and doubt;

That frame of Soul which is content alone,

And needs no Entertainment but its own.

Thy even Mind, which made thee good and great,

Was to thee both a ſhelter and retreat.

Of all the Tumults which the World do fill

Thou wert an unconcern’d Spectatour ſtill:

And, were thy duty punctually ſupply’d,

Indifferent to all the World beſide.

Thou wert made up with a Reſolv’d and fix’d,

And wouldſt not with a baſe Allay be mix’d;

Above the World, couldſt equally deſpiſe

Both its Temptations and its Injuries;

Couldst ſumme up all, and find not worth deſire

Thoſe glittering Trifles which the moſt admire;

But with a nobler aim, and nobler born,

Look down on Greatness with contempt and scorn.

Thou O8v 208

Thou hadſt no Arts that others this might ſee,

Nor lov’dſt a Trumpet to thy Piety:

But ſilent and retir’d, calm and ſerene,

Stol’ſt to thy bleſsed Haven hardly ſeen.

It were vain to deſcribe thee then, but now

Thy vaſt acceſsion harder is to know;

How full of light, and ſatisfy’d thou art,

So early from this treach’rous World to part;

How pleas’d thou art reflexions now to make,

And find thou didſt not things below miſtake;

In how abſtracted converſe thou doſt live,

How much thy Knowledge is intuitive;

How great and bright a glory is enjoy’d

With Angels, and in Myſteries employ’d.

’Tis ſin then to lament thy Fate, but we

Should help thee to a new Eternity;

And by ſucceſsive Imitation ſtrive,

Till Time ſhall die, to keep thee ſtill alive;

And P1r 209

And (by thy great Example furniſh’d) be

More apt to live then write this Elogy.



’Tis ſo, and humbly I my will reſign,

Nor dare diſpute with Providence Divine.

In vain, alas! we ſtruggle with our chains,

But more entangled by the fruitleſs pains.

For as i’ th’ great Creation of this All

Nothing by chance could in ſuch order fall,

And what would ſingle be deform’d confeſt,

Grows beauteous in its union with the reſt:

So Providence like Wiſdom we allow,

(For what created once does govern now)

And the ſame Fate that ſeems to one Reverſe,

Is neceſſary to the Univerſe.

P All P1v 210

All theſe particular and various things,

Link’d to their Cauſes by ſuch ſecret Springs,

Are held ſo faſt, and govern’d by ſuch Art,

That nothing can out of its order ſtart.

The World’s God’s watch, where nothing is ſo ſmal,

But makes a part of what compoſes all:

Could the leaſt Pin be loſt or elſe diſplac’d,

The World would be diſorder’d and defac’d.

It beats no Pulſe in vain, but keeps its time,

And undiſcern’d to its own height doth climb;

Strung firſt, and daily wound up by his hand

Who can its motions guide or underſtand.

No ſecret cunning then nor multitude

Can Providence divert, croſs or delude.

And her juſt full decrees are hidden things,

Which harder are to find then Births of Springs.

Yet all in various Conſorts fitly found,

And by their Diſcords Harmony compound.

Hence P2r 211

Hence is that Order, Life and Energy,

Whereby Forms are preſerv’d though Matters die;

And ſhifting dreſs keep their own living ſeat:

So that what kills this, does that propagate.

This made the ancient Sage in Rapture cry,

That ſure the world had full Eternity.

For though it ſelf to Time and Fate ſubmit,

He’s above both who made and governs it;

And to each Creature hath ſuch Portion lent,

As Love and Wiſdom ſees convenient.

For he’s no Tyrant, nor delights to grieve

The Beings which from him alone can live.

He’s moſt concern’d, and hath the greateſt ſhare

In man, and therefore takes the greateſt care

To make him happy, who alone can be

So by Submiſsion and Conformity.

For why ſhould Changes here below ſurprize,

When the whole World its reſolution tries?

P2 Where P2v 212

Where were our Springs, our Harveſts pleaſant uſe,

Unleſs Viciſsitude did them produce?

Nay, what can be ſo weariſome a pain

As when no Alterations entertain?

To loſe, to ſuffer, to be ſick and die,

Arreſt us by the ſame Neceſsity.

Nor could they trouble us, but that our mind

Hath its own glory unto droſs confin’d.

For outward things remove not from their place,

Till our Souls run to beg their mean embrace;

Then doating on the choice make it our own,

By placing Trifles in th’ Opinion’s Throne.

So when they are divorc’d by ſome new croſs,

Our Souls ſeem widow’d by the fatal loſs:

But could we keep our Grandeur and our ſtate,

Nothing below would ſeem unfortunate;

But Grace and Reaſon, which best ſuccours bring,

Would with advantage manage every thing;

And P3r 213

And by right Judgment would prevent our moan

For loſing that which never was our own.

For right Opinion’s like a Marble grott,

In Summer cool, and in the Winter hot;

A Principle which in each Fortune lives,

Beſtowing Catholick Preſervatives.

’Tis this reſolves, there are no loſſes where

Vertue and Reaſon are continued there.

The meaneſt Soul might ſuch a Fortune ſhare,

But no mean Soul could ſo that Fortune bear.

Thus I compoſe my thoughts grown inſolent,

As th’ Iriſh harper doth his Inſtrument;

Which if once ſtruck doth murmure and complain,

But the next touch will ſilence all again.

P3 LXIX. P3v 214


2 Cor. 5. 19. God was in Chriſt Reconciling the World to himſelf.

When God, contracted to Humanity,

Could ſigh and ſuffer, could be ſick and die;

When all the heap of Miracles combin’d

To form the greateſt, which was, ſave Mankind:

Then God took ſtand in Chriſt, ſtudying a way

How to repair the Ruin’d World’s decay.

His Love, Pow’r, Wiſdom, muſt ſome means procure

His Mercy to advance, Juſtice ſecure:

And ſince Man in ſuch Miſery was hurl’d,

It coſt him more to ſave then made the World.

Oh! what a deſp’rate load of ſins had we,

When God muſt plot for our Felicity?

When God muſt beg us that he may forgive,

And dy himſelf before Mankind could live?

And P4r 215

And what ſtill are we, when our King in vain

Begs his loſt Rebels to be Friends again?

What flouds of Love proceed from Heaven’s ſmile,

At once to pardon and to reconcile?

Oh wretched Men! who dare your God confine,

Like thoſe who ſeparate what he does joyn.

Go ſtop the Rivers with an Infant’s hand,

Or count with your Arithmetick the Sand;

Forbid the Light, the fertile Earth perſwade

To ſhut her boſome from the Lab’rer’s Spade:

And yield your God (if theſe cannot be done)

As univerſal as the Sea or Sun.

What God hath made he therefore cannot hate,

For ’tis one act to Love and to Create:

And he’s too perfect full of Majeſty,

To need additions from our Miſery.

He hath a Father’s, not a Tyrant’s, joy;

’Tis equal Pow’r to ſave, as to deſtroy.

P4 Did P4v 216

Did there ten thouſand Worlds to ruine fall,

One God could ſave, one Chriſt redeem them all.

Be ſilent then, ye narrow Souls, take heed

Leſt you reſtrain the Mercy you will need.

But, O my Soul, from theſe be different,

Imitate thou a nobler Precedent:

As God with open Arms the World does woe,

Learn thou like God to be enlarged too;

As he begs thy conſent to pardon thee,

Learn to ſubmit unto thy Enemy;

As he ſtands ready thee to entertain,

Be thou as forward to return again;

As he was Crucify’d for and by thee,

Crucifie thou what caus’d his Agony;

And like to him be mortify’d to ſin,

Die to the World as he dy’d for it then.

LXX. The P5r 217


The World.

We falſly think it due unto our Friends,

That we ſhould grieve for their untimely ends.

He that ſurveys the World with ſerious eyes,

And ſtrips her from her groſs and weak disguiſe,

Shall find ’tis Injury to mourn their Fate;

He onely dies untimely who dies late.

For if ’twere told to Children in the Womb,

To what a Stage of Miſchiefs they muſt come;

Could they foreſee with how much toil and ſweat

Men court that guilded nothing, being Great;

What pains they take not to be what they ſeem,

Rating their bliſs by others falſe eſteem,

And ſacrificing their Content, to be

Guilty of grave and ſerious Vanity;

How P5v 218

How each Condition hath its proper Thorns;

And what one man admires, another ſcorns,

How frequently their Happineſs they miſs,

And ſo far from agreeing what it is,

That the ſame Perſon we can hardly find

Who is an hour together in one mind:

Sure they would beg a Period of their breath,

And what we call their Birth would count their Death.

Mankind are mad; for none can live alone,

Becauſe their Joys ſtand by compariſon:

And yet they quarrel at Society,

And ſtrive to kill they know not whom, nor why.

We all live by Miſtake, delight in Dreams,

Loſt to our ſelves, and dwelling in Extremes;

Rejecting what we have, though ne’re ſo good,

And prizing what we never underſtood.

Compar’d t’ our boiſterous inconſtancy

Tempeſts are calm, and Diſcords harmony.

Hence P6r 219

Hence we reverſe the World, and yet do find

The God that made can hardly pleaſe our Mind.

We live by chance, and ſlip into Events;

Have all of Beaſts except their Innocence.

The Soul, which no man’s pow’r can reach, a thing

That makes each Woman Man, each Man a King,

Doth ſo much loſe, and from its height ſo fall,

That ſome contend to have no Soul at all.

’Tis either not obſerv’d, or at the beſt

By Paſsion fought withal, by Sin depreſt.

Freedom of Will (God’s Image) is forgot;

And, if we know it, we improve it not.

Our Thoughts, though nothing can be more our own,

Are ſtill unguided, very ſeldom known.

Time ’ſcapes our hands as Water in a Sieve,

We come to die e’re we begin to live.

Truth, the moſt ſutable and noble prize,

Food of our Spirits, yet neglected lies.

Errour P6v 220

Errour and Shadows are our choice, and we

Owe our perdition to our own decree.

If we ſearch Truth, we make it more obſcure;

And when it ſhines, we can’t the light endure.

For moſt men now, who plod, and eat, and drink,

Have nothing leſs their bus’neſs then to think.

And thoſe few that enquire, how ſmall a ſhare

Of Truth they find, how dark their Notions are!

That ſerious Evenneſs that calms the Breaſt,

And in a Tempeſt can beſtow a Reſt,

We either not attempt, or elſe decline,

By ev’ry trifle ſnatch’d from our deſign.

(Others he muſt in his deceits involve,

Who is not true unto his own Reſolve.)

We govern not our ſelves, but looſe the Reins,

Courting our Bondage to a thouſand chains;

And with as many Slaveries content

As there are Tyrants ready to torment,

We P7r 221

We live upon a Rack extended ſtill

To one Extreme or both, but always ill.

For ſince our Fortune is not underſtood,

We ſuffer leſs from bad then from the good.

The Sting is better dreſt and longer laſts,

As Surfeits are more dangerous then Faſts.

And to complete the miſery to us,

We ſee Extremes are ſtill contiguous.

And as we run ſo faſt from what we hate,

Like Squibs on Ropes, to know no middle ſtate;

So outward ſtorms ſtrengthned by us, we find

Our Fortune as diſordered as our Mind.

But that’s excus’d by this, it doth its part;

A trech’rous World befits a trech’rous Heart.

All ill’s our own, the outward ſtorms we lothe

Receive from us their Birth, their Sting, or both.

And that our Vanity be paſt a doubt,

’Tis one new Vanity to find it out.

Happy P7v 222

Happy are they to whom God gives a Grave,

And from themſelves as from his wrath doth ſave.

’Tis good not to be born; but if we muſt,

The next good is, ſoon to return to duſt.

When th’ uncag’d Soul fled to Eternity

Shall reſt, and live, and ſing, and love, and ſee.

Here we but crawl and grapple, play and cry;

Are firſt our own, then others, enemy:

But there ſhall be defac’d both ſtain and ſcore,

For Time, and Death, and Sin ſhall be no more.


The Soul.


How vain a thing is Man, whoſe noblest part,

That Soul wchhich through the World doth come,

Traverſes Heav’n, finds out the depths of Art,

Yet is so ignorant at home?

In P8r 223


In every Brook our Mirrour we can find

Reflections of our face to be;

But a true Optick to preſent our Mind

We hardly get, and darkly ſee.


Yet in the ſearch after our ſelves we run,

Actions and Cauſes we ſurvey;

And when the weary Chaſe is almoſt done,

Then from our Queſt we ſlip away.


’Tis ſtrange and sad, that ſince we do believe

We have a Soul muſt never die,

There are so few that can a Reaſon give

How it obtains that Life, or why.


I wonder not to find thoſe that know moſt,

Profeſs ſo much their Ignorance;

Since P8v 224

Since in their own Souls greateſt Wits are loſt,

And of themſelves have ſcarce a glance.


But ſomewhat ſure doth here obſcurely lie,

That above Droſs would fain advance,

And pants and catches at Eternity,

As ’twere its own Inheritance.


A Soul ſelf-mov’d, which can dilate, contract,

Pierces and judges things unſeen:

But this groſs heap of Matter cannot act,

Unleſs impulſed from within.


Diſtance and Quantity, to Bodies due,

The ſtate of Souls cannot admit;

And all the Contraries which Nature knew

Meet there, nor hurt themſelves nor it.

God Q1r 225


God never made a Body ſo bright and clean,

Which Good and Evil could diſcern:

What theſe words Honeſty and Honour mean,

The Soul alone knows how to learn.


And though ’tis true ſhe is impriſon’d here,

Yet hath ſhe Notions of her own,

Which Senſe doth onely jog, awake, and clear,

But cannot at the firſt make known.


The Soul her own felicity hath laid,

And independent on the Senſe,

Sees the weak terrours which the World invade

With pity or with negligence.


So unconcern’d ſhe lives, ſo much above

The Rubbiſh of a clotty Jail,

Q That Q1v 226

That nothing doth her Energy improve

So much as when thoſe ſtructures fail.


She’s then a ſubſtance ſubtile, ſtrong and pure,

So immaterial and refin’d,

As ſpeaks her from the Body’s fate ſecure,

As wholly of a diff’rent kind.


Religion for reward in vain would look,

Vertue were doom’d to miſery,

All actions were like bubbles in a brook,

Were it not for Mortality.


And as that Conquerour who Millions ſpent

Thought it too mean to give a Mite;

So the World’s Judge can never be content

To beſtow leſs then Infinite.

Treaſon Q2r 227


Treaſon againſt Eternal Majeſty

Muſt have eternal Juſtice too;

And ſince unbounded Love did ſatisfie,

He will unbounded Mercy ſhew.


It is our narrow thoughts ſhorten theſe things,

By their companion Fleſh inclin’d;

Which feeling its own weakneſs gladly brings

The ſame opinion to the Mind.


We ſtifle our own Sun, and live in Shade;

But where its beams do once appear,

They make that perſon of himſelf afraid,

And to his own acts moſt ſevere.


For ways, to ſin cloſe, and our breaſts diſguiſe

From outward ſearch, we ſoon may find:

Q2 But Q2v 228

But who can his own Soul bribe or ſurprise,

Or ſin without a ſting behind?


He that commands himſelf is more a Prince

Then he who Nations keeps in aw;

And thoſe who yield to what their Souls convince,

Shall never need another Law.



Nature courts Happineſs, although it be

Unknown as the Athenian Deity.

It dwells not in Man’s Senſe, yet he ſupplies

That want by growing fond of its diſguiſe.

The falſe appearances of Joy deceive,

And ſeeking her unto her like we cleave.

For ſinning Man hath ſcarce ſenſe left to know

Whether the Plank he graſps will hold or no.

While Q3r 229

While all the buſineſs of the World is this,

To ſeek that Good which by mistake they miſs.

And all the ſeveral Paſsions men expreſs

Are but for Pleaſure in a diff’rent dreſs.

They hope for Happineſs in being Great,

Or Rich, or Lov’d, then hug their own conceit.

And thoſe which promise what they never had,

I’ th’ midſt of Laughter leave the ſpirit ſad.

But the Good man can find this treaſure out,

For which in vain others do dig and doubt;

And hath ſuch ſecret full Content within,

Though all abroad be ſtorms, yet he can ſing.

His peace is made, all’s quiet in that place,

Where Nature’s cur’d and exercis’d by Grace.

This inward Calm prevents his Enemies,

For he can neither envy nor deſpiſe:

But in the beauty of his ordered Mind

Doth ſtill a new rich ſatisfaction find.

Q3 Innocent Q3v 230

Innocent Epicure! whoſe ſingle breaſt

Can furniſh him with a continual feaſt.

A Prince at home, and Sceptres can refuſe,

Valuing onely what he cannot loſe.

He ſtudies to doe good; (a man may be

Harmleſs for want of Opportunity:)

But he’s induſtrious kindneſs to diſpence,

And therein onely covets eminence.

Others do court applauſe and fame, but he

Thinks all that giddy noiſe but Vanity.

He takes no pains to be obſerv’d or ſeen,

While all his acts are echoed from within.

He’s ſtill himſelf, when Company are gone,

Too well employ’d ever to be alone.

For ſtudying God in all his volumes, he

Begins the buſineſs of Eternity.

And unconcern’d without, retains a power

To ſuck (like Bees) a ſweet from ev’ry flower.

And Q4r 231

And as the Manna of the Iſraelites

Had ſeveral taſtes to pleaſe all Appetites:

So his Contentment is that catholick food,

That makes all ſtates ſeem fit as well as good.

He dares not wiſh, nor his own fate propound;

But, if God ſends, reads Love in every wound:

And would not loſe for all the joys of Senſe

The glorious pleaſures of Obedience.

His better part can neither change nor loſe,

And all God’s will can bear, can doe, can chuſe.

Q4 LXXIII. Death Q4v 232




How weak a Star doth rule Mankind,

Which owes its ruine to the ſame

Cauſes which Nature had deſign’d

To cheriſh and preſerve the frame!


As Commonwealths may be ſecure,

And no remote Invaſion dread;

Yet may a ſadder fall endure

From Traitors in their boſom bred:


So while we feel no violence,

And on our active Health do truſt,

A ſecret hand doth ſnatch us hence,

And tumbles us into the duſt.

Yet Q5r 233


Yet careleſly we run our race,

As if we could Death’s ſummons wave;

And think not on the narrow ſpace

Between a Table and a Grave.


But ſince we cannot Death reprieve,

Our Souls and Fame we ought to mind,

For they our Bodies will ſurvive;

That goes beyond, this ſtayes behind.


If I be ſure my Soul is ſafe,

And that my Actions will provide

My Tomb a nobler Epitaph,

Then that I onely liv’d and dy’d,


So that in various accidents

I Conſcience may and Honour keep;

I with Q5v 234

I with that eaſe and innocence

Shall die, as Infants go to ſleep.


To the Queen’s Majeſty, on her late Sickneſs and Recovery.

The publick Gladneſs that’s to us reſtor’d,

For your eſcape from what we ſo deplor’d,

Will want as well reſemblance as belief,

Unleſs our Joy be meaſur’d by our Grief.

When in your Fever we with terrour ſaw

At once our Hopes and Happineſs withdraw;

And every criſis did with jealous fear

Enquire the News we ſcarce durſt ſtay to hear.

Some dying Princes have their Servants ſlain,

That after death they might not want a Train.

Such cruelty were here a needleſs ſin;

For had our fatal Fears prophetick been,

Sor- Q6r 235

Sorrow alone that ſervice would have done,

And you by Nations had been waited on.

Your danger was in ev’ry Viſage seen,

And onely yours was quiet and ſerene.

But all our zealous Grief had been in vain,

Had not Great Charles’s call’d you back again:

Who did your ſuff’rings with ſuch pain diſcern,

He loſt three Kingdoms once with leſs concern.

Lab’ring your ſafety he neglected his,

Nor fear’d he Death in any ſhape but this.

His Genius did the bold Diſtemper tame,

And his rich Tears quench’d the rebellious Flame.

At once the Thracian Hero lov’d and griev’d,

Till he his loſt Felicity retriev’d;

And with the moving accents of his wo

His Spouſe recover’d from the ſhades below.

So the King’s grief your threatned loſs withſtood,

Who mourn’d with the ſame fortune that he woo’d:

And Q6v 236

And to his happy Paſsion we have been

Now twice oblig’d for ſo ador’d a Queen.

But how ſevere a Choice had you to make,

When you muſt Heav’n delay, or Him forſake?

Yet ſince thoſe joys you made ſuch haſte to find

Had ſcarce been full if he were left behind,

How well did Fate decide your inward ſtrife,

By making him a Preſent of your Life?

Which rescu’d Bleſsing we muſt long enjoy,

Since our Offences could it not deſtroy.

For none but Death durſt rival him in you;

And Death himſelf was baffled in it too.




  • For Roſannia read Roſania throughout.
  • Pag. 81. for Bodiſciſt read Bodidriſt.
Q7v Q8r Q8v R1r 237


Upon Mr. Abraham Cowley’s Retirement.



No, no, unfaithful World, thou haſt

Too long my eaſie Heart betray’d,

And me too long thy Foot-ball made:

But I am wiſer grown at laſt,

And will improve by all that I have paſt.

I know ’twas juſt I ſhould be practis’d on;

For I was told before,

And told in ſober and inſtructive lore,

How little all that truſted thee have won:

And yet I would make haſte to be undone.

Now by my ſuff’ring I am better taught,

And ſhall no more commit that ſtupid fault.

R Go R1v 238

Go, get ſome other Fool,

Whom thou mayſt next cajole:

On me thy frowns thou doſt in vain beſtow;

For I know how

To be as coy and as reſerv’d as thou.


In my remote and humble ſeat

Now I’m again poſseſt

Of that late fugitive, my Breaſt,

From all thy tumults and from all thy heat

I’le find a quiet and a cool retreat;

And on the Fetters I have worn

Look with experienc’d and revengeful ſcorn

In this my ſov’raign Privacy.

’Tis true I cannot govern thee,

But yet my ſelf I may ſubdue;

And that’s the nobler Empire of the two.

If R2r 239

If ev’ry Paſsion had got leave

Its ſatisfaction to receive,

Yet I would it a higher pleaſure call,

To conquer one, then to indulge them all.


For thy inconſtant Sea, no more

I’le leave that ſafe and ſolid Shore:

No, though to proſper in the cheat,

Thou ſhouldſt my Deſtiny defeat,

And make me be Belov’d, or Rich, or Great:

Nor from my ſelf ſhouldſt me reclaim

With all the noiſe and all the pomp of Fame.

Judiciouſly I’le thee deſpiſe;

Too ſmall the Bargain, and too great the Price,

For them to cozen twice.

At length this ſecret I have learn’d;

Who will be happy, will be unconcern’d,

R2 Muſt R2v 240

Muſt all their Comfort in their Boſom wear,

And ſeek their treaſure and their power there.


No other Wealth will I aſpire,

But of Nature to admire;

Nor envy on a Laurel will bestow,

Whil’ſt I have any in my Garden grow.

And when I would be Great,

’Tis but aſcending to a Seat

Which Nature in a lofty Rock hath built;

A Throne as free from trouble as from guilt.

Where when my Soul her wings does raiſe

Above what Worldlings fear or praiſe,

With innocence and quiet pride I’le ſit,

And ſee the humble Waves pay tribute to my feet.

O Life Divine, when free from joys diſeas’d,

Not always merry, but ’tis always pleas’d!

A Heart, R3r 241


A Heart, which is too great a thing

To be a Preſent for a Perſian King,

Which God himſelf would have to be his Court,

Where Angels would officiouſly reſort,

From its own height ſhould much decline,

If this Converſe it ſhould reſign

(Ill-natur’d World!) for thine.

Thy unwiſe rigour hath thy Empire loſt;

It hath not onely ſet me free,

But it hath made me ſee,

They onely can of thy poſseſsion boaſt,

Who do enjoy thee leaſt, and underſtand thee moſt.

For lo, the Man whom all Mankind admir’d,

(By ev’ry Grace adorn’d, and ev’ry Muſe inſpir’d)

Is now triumphantly retir’d.

The R3v 242

The mighty Cowley this hath done,

And over thee a Parthian Conqueſt won:

Which future Ages ſhall adore,

And which in this ſubdues thee more

Then either Greek or Roman ever could before.