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THE STATIONER TO THE READER.

[Prefixed to the first Edition of Milton's Poems, printed in 1645.]

IT is not any private respect of gain, gentle Reader, for the slightest pamphlet is now-a-days more vendible than - the works of learnedest-men'; but it is the love I have to our own language, that hath made me diligent to collect and fet forth fuch pieces both in profe and verse, aș may renew the wonted honor and efteem of our English tongue and it's the worth of these both English and Latin poems, not the florish of any prefixed encomiums, that can invite thee to buy them, though these are not without the highest commendations and applaufe of the learnedeft Academics, both domestic and foreign; and amongst thofe of our own country, the unparalleled attestation of that renowned Provost of Eton, Sir Henry Wotton. I know not thy palate bow it relishes fuch dainties, nor how harmonious thy foul is; perhaps more trivial airs may pleafe thee better. But howfoever thy opinion` is spent upon thefe, that encouragement I have already received from the most ingenious men in their clear and courteous entertainment of Mr.Waller's late choice pieces, hath once more made me adventure into the world, prefenting it with these ever-green, and not to be blasted laurels. The Author's more peculiar excellency in thefe

Audies was too well known to conceal his papers, or to keep me from attempting to folicit them from him. Let the event guide itfelf which way it will, I shall deserve of the age, by bringing into the light as true a birth as the Mufes have brought forth fince our famous Spenfer wrote; whefe poems in thefe English ones are as rarely imitated as fweetly excell'd. Reader, if thou art eagleey'd to cenfure their worth, I am not fearful to expose them to thy exacteft perusal.

Thine to command,

HUMPH. MOSELEY.

1. Anno ætatis 17. On the death of a fair infant, dying of a cough.

I.

FAIREST flower! no fooner blown but blafted, Soft filken primrose fading timelesly,

Summer's chief honor, if thou hadst out-lasted
Bleak Winter's force that made thy bloffom dry;
For he being amorous on that lovely dye

That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss,
But kill'd, alas, and then bewail'd his fatal blifs.

II.

For fince grim Aquilo his charioteer
By boiftrous
rape th'Athenian damfel got,
He thought it touch'd his deity full near,
If likewife he fome fair one wedded not,
Thereby to wipe away th' infamous blot

Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld,

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Which 'mongst the wanton gods a foul reproach was

III.

So mounting up in icy-pearled car,

[held.

Through middle empire of the freezing air
He wander'd long, till thee he spy'd from far:
There ended was his quest, there ceas'd his care.
Down he defcended from his fnow-soft chair,

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But all unwares with his cold kind embrace Unhous'd thy virgin foul from her fair biding place

IV.

Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate;
For fo Apollo, with unweeting hand,
Whilome did flay his dearly-loved mate,
Young Hyacinth born on Eurotas' strand,
Young Hyacinth the pride of Spartan land;

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But then transform'd him to a purple flower: Alack that fo to change thee Winter had no power, V.....

Yet can I not perfuade me thou art dead,

Or that thy corfe corrupts in earth's dark womb, 30
Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed,

Hid from the world in a low delved tomb;
Could Heav'n for pity thee so strictly doom?

Oh no! for fomething in thy/face did shine
Above mortality, that show'd thou waft divine. 35
BDI VIA tw

Refolve me then, oh Soul moft furely bleft,
(If fo it be that thou these plaints doft hear)
Tell me, bright Spirit, where'er thou hoverest,
Whether above that high firft-moving sphere,
Or in the Elyfian fields, (if fuch there were))

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Oh fay me true, if thou wert mortal wight, And why from us fo quickly thou didst take thy flight.

VIL

Wert thou fome star which from the ruin'd roof
Offhak'd Olympus by mifchance didst fall;
Which careful Jove in Nature's true behoof

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Took up, and in fit place did reinstall?
Or did of late Earth's fons besiege the wall

Of sheeny Heav'n, and thou some goddess fled Amongst us here below, to hide thy nectar'd head?

VIII.

Or wert thou that just maid who once before
Forfook the hated earth, O tell me footh,

And cam'st again to visit us once more?
Or wert thou that sweet smiling youth,

Or that crown'd matron fage white-robed Truth?
Or any other of that heav'nly brood

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Let down in cloudy throne to do the world fome good?

IX.

Or wert thou of the golden-winged hoft,
Who having clad thyself in human weed,
To Earth from thy prefixed feat didst post,
And after short abode fly back with speed,
As if to fhow what creatures Heav'n doth breed,

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Thereby to fet the hearts of men on fire To fcorn the fordid world, and unto Heav'n aspire?

X.

But oh why didst thou not stay here below

To bless us with thy Heav'n-lov'd innocence,

To flake his wrath whom fin hath made our foe,

To turn swift-rushing black Perdition hence,
Or drive away the flaughtering Peftilence,

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To stand 'twixt us and our deferved smart? But thou canst best perform that office where thou art.

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