Forgets the English language, and the ground, And knowes not what our drums and trumpets

sound."

To others' minds their willing oaths he drawes,
He tells his just decrees, and healthfull lawes,
And makes large proffers of his future grace.
Thus hauing ended, with as chearefull face,
As Nature, which his stepdame still was thought,
Could lend to one, without proportion wrought,
Some, with loud shouting, make the valleyes ring,
But most with murmur sigh, “ God saue the king."
Now carefull Henry sends his seruant Bray
To Stanley, who accounts it safe to stay,
And dares not promise, lest his haste should bring
His sonne to death, now pris'ner with the king.
About the same time, Brakenbury came,
And thus to Stanley saith, in Richard's name :
My lord, the king salutes you, and commands
That to his ayde you bring your ready bands,
Or else he sweares by him that sits on high,
Before the armies ioyne, your sonne shall die."
At this the lord stood, like a man that heares
The judge's voyce, which condemnation beares;
Till, gathering vp his spirits, he replies:
"My fellow Hastings' death hath made me wise,
More than my dreame could him, for I no more
Will trust the tushes of the angry bore;
If with my George's bloud he staine his throne,
I thanke my God, I haue more sonnes than one :
Yet, to secure his life, I quiet stand
Against the king, not lifting vp my hand."
The messenger departs of hope deny`d.
Then noble Stanley, taking Bray aside,
Saith: "Let my sonne proceede, without despaire,
Assisted by his mother's almes, and prayre,
God will direct both him and me to take
Best courses, for that blessed woman's sake."
The earle, by this delay, was not inclin'd
To feare nor anger, knowing Stanley's mind;
But, calling all his chiefe commanders neare,
He boldly speakes, while they attentiue heare:
"It is in vaine, braue friends, to shew the right
Which we are forc'd to seeke by ciuill fight.
Your swords are brandisht in a noble cause,
To free your country from a tyrant's jawes.
What angry planet, what disastrous signe,
Directs Plantagenet's afflicted line'

Ah! was it not enough, that mutuall rage
In deadly battels should this race ingage,
Till by their blowes themselues they fewer make,
And pillers fall, which France could neuer shake?
Bat must this crooked monster now be found,
To lay rough hands on that vnclosed wound?
His secret plots haue much increast the flood;
He, with his brother's and his nephews' blood,
Hath stain'd the brightnesse of his father's flowres,
And made his owne white rose as red as ours.
This is the day, whose splendour puts to flight
Obscuring clouds, and brings an age of light.
We see no hindrance of those wished times,
But this vsurper, whose depressing crimes
Will drive him from the mountaine where he
stands,

So that he needs must fall without our hands.
In this we happy are, that by our armes,
Both Yorke and Lancaster reuenge their harmes.
Here Henry's seruants ioyne with Edward's friends,
And leave their priuat griefes for publike ends."
Thas ceasing, he implores th' Almightie's grace,
And bids, that euery captaine take his place.

His speach was answer'd with a gen'rall noyse Of acclamations, doubtlesse signes of ioyes Which souldiers vtterd, as they forward went, The sure forerunners of a faire euent:

So when the Winter to the Spring bequeathes The rule of time, and mild Fauonius breathes, A quire of swans to that sweete musicke sings, The ayre resounds the motion of their wings, When ouer plaines they flie in orderd rankes, To sport themselues vpon Caïster's bankes.

Bold Oxford leades the vantguard vp amaine, Whose valiant offers heretofore were vaine, When he his loue to Lancaster exprest, But now, with more indulgent fortune blest, His men he toward Norfolke's quarter drew, And straight the one the other's ensignes knew; For they in seu'rall armies were display'd, This oft in Edward's, that in Henry's ayde: The sad remembrance of those bloudy fights, Incenst new anger in these noble knights. A marish lay betweene, which Oxford leaues Vpon his right hand, and the Sunne receiues Behind him, with aduantage of the place; For Norfolke must endure it on his face, And yet his men ad hance their speares and swords Against this succour, which the Heau'n affords; His horse and foote possest the field in length, While bowmen went before them, for their strength: Thus marching forth, they set on Oxford's band, He feares their number, and with strict command, His souldiers closely to the standard drawes : Then Howard's troupes, amaz'd, begin to pause; They doubt the slights of battell, and prepare To guard their valour with a trench of care. This sudden stop made warlike Vere more bold, To see their fury in a moment cold;

His rankes he in a larger forme displayes, Which all were archers counted in those dayes, The best of English souldiers, for their skill Could guide their shafts according to their will; The feather'd wood they from their bowes let flie, No arrow fell, but caus'd some man to die: So painfull bees, with forward gladnesse, striue To joyne themselues in throngs before the hiue, And with obedience till that hour attend, When their commander shall his watchword send: Then to the winds their tender sailes they yield, Depresse the flowres, depopulate the field: Wise Norfolke, to auoyde these shafts the more, Contriues his battaile thin, and sharpe before; He thus attempts to pierce into the hart, And breake the orders of the aduerse part: As when the cranes direct their flight on high, To cut their way, they in a trigon flie, Which pointed figure may with ease dinide Opposing blasts, through which they swiftly glide. But now the wings make haste to Oxford s ayde, The left by valiant Sauage was display'd; His lusty souldiers were attir'd in white, They moue like drifts of snow, whose sudden fright Constraines the weary passenger to stay, And, beating on his face, confounds his way. Braue Talbot led the right, whose grandsire's name Was his continuall spurre to purchase fame: Both these rusht in, while Norfolke, like a wall," Which, oft with engines crackt, disdaines to fall, Maintaines his station by defensiue fight, Till Surrey pressing forth, with youthfull might, Sends many shadowes to the gates of Death. When dying mouths had gaspt forth purple breath,

His father followes: age and former paines
Had made him slower, yet he still retaines
His ancient vigour; and with much delight
To see his sonne do maruailes in his sight,
He seconds him, and from the branches cleaues
Those clusters, which the former vintage leaues.
Now Oxford flyes (as lightning) thro' his troupes,
And with his presence cheares the part that
droupes :

His braue endeuours Surrey's force restraine
Like bankes, at which the ocean stormes in vaine.
The swords and armours shine as sparkling coales,
Their clashing drownes the grones of parting soules;
The peacefull neighbours, who had long desir'd
To find the causes of their feare expir'd,
Are newly grieu'd, to see this scarlet flood,
And English ground bedew'd with English blood.
Stout Rice and Herbert leade the power of Wales,
Their zeale to Henry moues the hills and dales
To sound their country-man's beloued name,
Who shall restore the British off-spring's fame;
These make such slaughter with their glaucs and
hooks,

That carefull bardes may fill their precious bookes
With prayses, which from warlike actions spring,
And take new themes, when to their harpes they
sing.

Besides these souldiers borne within this ile,
We must not of their part the French beguile,
Whom Charles for Henry's succour did prouide,
A lord of Scotland, Bernard, was their guide,
A blossome of the Stuarts' happy line,

Which is on Britaine's throne ordain'd to shine: The Sun, whose rayes the Heau'n with beauty crowne,

From his ascending, to his going downe,
Saw not a brauer leader in that age;
And Bosworth field must be the glorious stage,
In which this northerne eagle learnes to flie,

And tries those wings, which after rayse him high,
When he, beyond the snowy Alpes renown'd,
Shall plant French lillies in Italian ground,
And cause the craggy Apennine to know,
What fruits on Caledonian mountaines grow.
Now in this ciuill warre, the troupes of France
Their banners dare on English ayre aduance,
And on their launces' points destruction bring
To fainting seruants of the guilty king;
When heretofore they had no powre to stand
Against our armies in their natiue land,
But melting fled, as wax before the flame,
Dismay'd with thunder of Saint George's name.

Now Henry with his vnkle Pembroke moues,
The rereward on, and Stanley then approues
His loue to Richmond's person, and his cause,
He from his army of three thousand drawes
A few choyse men, and bids the rest obay
His valiant brother, who shall proue this day
As famous as great Warwick, in whose hand
The fate of England's crowne was thought to stand:
With these he closely steales to helpe his friend,
While his maine forces stirre not, but attend
The younger Stanley, and to Richard's eye
Appeare not parties, but as standers by.
Yet Stanley's words so much the king incense,
That he exclaimes: "This is a false pretense:
His doubtfull answere shall not saue his sonne,
Yong Strange shall die: see, Catesby, this be done."
Now like a lambe, which taken from the folds,
The slaughter-man with rude embraces holds,

And for his throte prepares a whetted knife,
So goes this harmelesse lord to end his life;
The axe is sharpen'd, and the block prepar'd,
But worthy Ferrers equall portion shar'd
Of griefe and terrour which the pris'ner felt,
His tender eyes in teares of pity melt,
And hasting to the king, he boldly said:
"My lord, too many bloody staines are laid
By enuious tongues vpon your peacefull raigne ;
O may their malice euer speake in vaine!'
Afford not this aduantage to their spite,
None should be kill'd to day, but in the fight:
Your crowne is strongly fixt, your cause is good;
Cast not vpon it drops of harmelesse blood;
His life is nothing, yet will dearely cost,
If, while you seek it, we perhaps haue lost
Occasions of your conquest: thither flie,
Where rebels arm'd, with cursed blades shall die,
And yeeld in death to your victorious awe :
Let naked hands be censur'd by the law."
Such pow'r his speech and seemely action hath,
It mollifies the tyrant's bloody wrath,
And he commands, that Strange's death be stay'd.
The noble youth (who was before dismay'd
At death's approching sight) now sweetly cleares
His cloudy sorrowes, and forgets his feares:
As when a steare to burning altars led,
Expecting fatall blowes to cleaue his head,
Is by the priest, for some religious cause,
Sent backe to liue, and now in quiet drawes
The open ayre, and takes his wonted food,
And neuer thinkes how neere to death he stood.

The king, though ready, yet his march delayd,
To haue Northumberland's expected ayde.
To him industrious Ratcliffe swiftly hies;
But Percy greets him thus: "My troubled eyes
This night beheld my father's angry ghost,

Aduising not to ioyne with Richard's host:

Wilt thou,' said he, 'so much obscure my shield, To beare mine azure lion in the field With such a gen'rall? Aske him, on which side His sword was drawne, when I at Towton died.'” When Richard knew that both his hopes were He forward sets with cursing and disdaine, [vaine, And cries: "Who would not all these lords detest? When Percy changeth, like the Moone, his crest." This speech the heart of noble Ferrers rent: He answers: "Sir, though many dare repent, That which they cannot now without your wrong, And onely grieue they haue been true too long, My brest shall neuer beare so foule a staine; If any ancient blood in me remaine, Which from the Norman conqu'rours tooke descent, It shall be wholly in your seruice spent ; I will obtaine to day, aliue or dead,

66

The crownes that grace a faithfull souldier's head."
Blest be thy tongue," replies the king, “in thee
The strength of all thine ancestors I see,
Extending warlike armes for England's good,
By thee their heire, in valour as in blood."

But here we leaue the king, and must reuiew
Those sonnes of Mars, who cruell blades imbrue
In riuers, sprung from hearts that bloodlesse lie,
And staine their shining armes in sanguine die.
Here valiant Oxford and fierce Norfolke meet,
And with their speares each other rudely greete ;
About the ayre the shiuered pieces play,
Then on their swords their noble hands they lay,
And Norfolke first a blow directly guides
To Oxford's head, which from bis helmet slides

Vpon his arme, and, biting through the steele,
Inflicts a wound, which Vere disdaines to feele;
He lifts his fauchion with a threatning grace,
And hewes the beuer off from Howard's face.
This being done, he, with compassion charm'd,
Retires, asham'd to strike a man disarm'd:
But straight a deadly shaft, sent from a bow,
(Whose master, though farre off, the duke could
know)

Vatimely brought this combat to an end,

And pierc'd the braine of Richard's constant friend.
When Oxford saw him sinke, his noble soule
Was full of griefe, which made him thus condole:
"Farewell, true knight, to whom no costly graue
Can give due honour: would my teares might saue
Those streames of blood, deseruing to be spilt
In better seruice: had not Richard's guilt
Such heauy weight vpon his fortune laid,
Thy glorious vertues had his sinnes outwaigh'd.”
Couragious Talbot had with Surrey met,
And after many blowes begins to fret,

That one so young in armes should thus, vnmou'd,
Resist his strength, so oft in warre approu'd.
And now the earle beholds his father fall;
Whose death like horrid darknesse frighted all :
Some giue themselues as captiues, others flie,
But this young lion casts his gen'rous eye
On Mowbray's lion, painted in his shield,
And with that king of beasts repines to yeeld:
"The field," saith he," in which the lion stands,
Is blood, and blood I offer to the hands
Of daring foes; but neuer shall my flight
Die blacke my lion, which as yet is white."
His enemies (like cunning huntsmen) striae
In binding snares, to take their prey aliue,
While he desires t' expose his naked brest,
And thinkes the sword that deepest strikes is best.
Young Howard single with an army fights,
When, mou'd with pitie, two renowned knights,
Strong Clarindon, and valiant Coniers, trie
To rescue him, in which attempt they die;
For Sauage, red with blood of slaughter'd foes,
Doth them in midst of all his troopes inclose,
Where, though the captaine for their safetie
striues,

Yet baser hands depriue them of their liues.
Now Surrey fainting, scarce his sword can hold,
Which made a common souldier grow so bold,
To lay rude hands vpon that noble flower;
Which be disdaigning, (anger giues him power)
Erects his weapon with a nimble round,
And sends the peasant's arme to kisse the ground.
This done, to Talbot he presents his blade,
And saith: "It is not hope of life hath made
This my submission, but my strength is spent,
And some, perhaps of villaine blood, will vent
My weary soule. this fauour I demand,
That I may die by your victorious hand."
"Nay, God forbid that any of my name,"
Quoth Talbot, "should put out so bright a flame
As burnes in thee, braue youth! where thou hast
It was thy father's fault, since he preferr'd [err'd,
A tyrant's crowne before the iuster side."
The earle, still mindfull of his birth, replied:
"I wonder, Talbot, that thy noble hart
Insults on ruines of the vanquisht part:
We had the right, if now to you it flow,
The fortune of your swords hath made it so :
I neuer will my lucklesse choyce repent,
Nor can it staine mine honour or descent;

Set England's royall wreath vpon a stake,
There will I fight, and not the place forsake:
And if the will of God hath so dispos'd,
That Richmond's brow be with the crowne inclos'd,
I shall to him, or his, giue doubtlesse signes,
That duty in my thoughts, not faction, shines."
The earnest souldiers still the chase pursue :
But their commanders grieue they should imbrue
Their swords in blood which springs from English
veines,

The peacefull sound of trumpets them restraines
From further slaughter, with a milde retreat
To rest contented in this first defeate.

The king intended, at his setting out,
To helpe his vantguard, but a nimble scout
Runnes crying: "Sir, I saw not farre from hence,
Where Richmond houers with a small defence,
And, like one guilty of some heynous ill,
Is couer'd with the shade of yonder hill."
The rauen, almost famisht, ioyes not more,
When restlesse billowes tumble to the shore
A heap of bodies shipwrackt in the seas,
Than Richard with these newes himselfe doth
He now diuerts his course another way, [please:
And, with his army led in faire array,
Ascends the rising ground, and taking view
Of Henry's souldiers, sees they are but few:
Imperiall courage fires his noble brest,
He sets a threatning speare within his rest,
Thus saying: "All true knights, on me attend,
I soone will bring this quarrell to an end:
If none will follow, if all faith be gone,
Behold, I goe to try my cause alone.”
He strikes his spurres into his horse's side,
With him stout Louell and bold Ferrers ride;
To them braue Ratcliffe, gen'rous Clifton, haste,
Old Brakenbury scornes to be the last :
As borne with wings, all worthy spirits flye,
Resolu'd for safety of their prince to dye;
And Catesby to this number addes his name,
Though pale with feare, yet ouercomne with shame.
Their boldnesse Richmond dreads not, but admires;
He sees their motion like to rolling fires,
Which by the winde along the fields are borne
Amidst the trees, the hedges, and the corne,
Where they the hopes of husbandmen consume,
And fill the troubled ayre with dusky fume.
Now as a carefull lord of neighb'ring grounds,
He keepes the flame from entring in his bounds,
Each man is warn'd to hold his station sure,
Prepar'd with courage strong assaults t' endure:
But all in vaine, no force, no warlike art,
From sudden breaking can preserue that part,
Where Richard like a dart from thunger falles:
His foes giue way, and stand as brezen walles
On either side of his inforced path,

|

While he neglects them, and reserues his wrath For him whose death these threatning clouds would cleare,

Whom now with gladnes he beholdeth neere,

And all those faculties together brings,
Which moue the soule to high and noble things.
Eu'n so a tyger, hauing follow'd long

The hunter's steps that robb'd her of her young:
When first she sees him, is by rage inclin'd
Her steps to double, and her teeth to grind.

Now horse to horse, and man is ioyn'd to man,
So strictly, that the souldiers hardly can
Their aduersaries from their fellowes know:
Here each braue champion singles out his foe.

In this confusion Brakenbury meetes
With Hungerford, and him thus foulely greetes:
Ah, traytor! false in breach of faith and loue,
What discontent could thee and Bourchier moue,
Who had so long my fellowes been in armes,
To flie to rebels? What seducing charmes
Could on your clouded minds such darknesse bring,
To serue an out-law, and neglect the king?"
With these sharpe speeches Hungerford, enrag'd,
Tvphold his honour, thus the battaile wag'd:

Thy doting age," saith he, delights in words, But this aspersion must be try'd by swords." Then leauing talke, he by his weapon speakes, And driues a blow, which Brakenbury breakes, By lifting vp his left hand, else the steele Had pierc'd his burgonet, and made him fecle The pangs of death: but now the fury fell Vpon the hand that did the stroke repell, And cuts so large a portion of the shield, That it no more can safe protection yeeld. Bold Hungerford disdaines his vse to make Of this aduantage, but doth straight forsake His massy target, render'd to his squire, And saith: "Let cowards such defence desire." This done, these valiant knights dispose their And still the one the other's face inuades; [blades, Till Brakenbury's helmet giuing way

To those fierce strokes that Hungerford doth lay, Is brus'd and gapes, which Bourchier, fighting neare,

[beare,

Percciues, and cries: "Braue Hungerford, for-
Bring not those siluer baires to timelesse end,
He was, and may be once againe, our friend."
But, oh! too late! the fatall blow was sent
From Hungerford, which he may now repent,
But not recall, and digges a mortall wound
In Brakenbury's head, which should be crown'd
With precious metals, and with bayes adorn'd
For constant truth appearing, when he scorn'd
To staine his hand in those young princes' blood,
And like a rocke amidst the ocean stood
Against the tyrant's charmes and threats vnmou'd,
Tho' death declares how much he Richard lou'd.
Stout Ferrers aimes to fixe his mighty launce
In Pembroke's heart, which on the steele doth
glaunce,

And ruines in vaine the empty ayre to presse :
But Pembroke's speare, obtaining wisht successe,
Through Ferrers' brest-plate and his body sinkes,
And vitall blood from inward vessels drinkes.
Here Stanley, and braue Louel, trie their strength,
Whose equall courage drawes the strife to length;
They thinke not how they may themselues defend,
To strike is all their care, to kill their end.
Só meete two bulls vpon adioyning hills
Of rocky Charnwood, while their murmur fills
The hollow crags, when, striuing for their bounds,
They wash their piercing hornes in mutuall
wounds.

If, in the midst of such a bloody fight,
The name of friendship be not thought too light,
Recount, my Muse, how Byron's faithfull loue
To dying Clifton did it selfe approue:
For Clifton, fighting brauely in the troope,
Receiues a wound, and now begins to droope:
Which Byron seeing, though in armes his foe,
In heart his friend, and hoping that the blow
Had not been mortall, guards him with his shield
From second hurts, and cries: "Deare Clifton,

yeeld;

Thou hither cam'st, led by sinister fate,
Against my first aduce; yet now, though late,
Take this my counsel." Clifton thus replied:
"It is too late, for I must now prouide

To seeke another life: liue thou, sweet friend,
And when thy side obtaines a happy end,
Vpon the fortunes of my children looke,
Remember what a solenne oath we tooke,
That he whose part should prone the best in fight,
Would with the conqu'rour trie his vtmost might,
To sane the other's lands from rau'nous pawes,
Which seaze on fragments of a lucklesse cause.
My father's fall our house had almost drown'd,
But I by chance aboord in shipwracke found.
May neuer more such danger threaten mine:
Deale thou for them, as I would doe for thine."
This said, his senses faile, and pow'rs decay,
While Byron calles : "Stay, worthy Clifton, stay!
And heare my faithfull promise once againe,
Which, if I breake, may all my deeds be vaine."
But now he knowes, that vitall breath is fled,
And needlesse words are vtter'd to the dead;
Into the midst of Richard's strength he flies,
Presenting glorious acts to Henry's eyes,
And for his seruice be expects no more
Than Clifton's sonne from forfeits to restore.

While Richard, bearing downe with eager mind The steps by which his passage was confin'd, Laies hands on Henrie's standard as his prey, Strong Brandon bore it, whom this fatall day Markes with a blacke note, as the onely knight, That on the conqu'ring part forsakes the light. But Time, whose wheeles with various motion

runne,

Repayes this seruice fully to his sonne,
Who marries Richmond's daughter, borne betweene
Two royall parents, and endowed a queene.
When now the king perceiues that Brandon striues
To saue his charge, he sends a blow that riues
His skull in twaine, and, by a gaping hole,
Giues ample scope to his departing soule;
And thus insults: "Accursed wretch, farewell!
Thine ensignes now may be display'd in Hell!
There thou shalt know, it is an odious thing,
To let thy banner flie against thy king."
With scorn he throwes the standard to the ground,
When Cheney, for his height and strength re-

nown'd,

Steps forth to couer Richmond, now expos'd
To Richard's sword: the king with Cheney clos'd,
And to the earth this mighty giant fell'd.
Then like a stag, whom fences long with-held
From meddowes, where the spring in glory raignes,
Now hauing leuell'd those vnpleasing chaines,
And treading proudly on the vanquisht flowres,
He in his hopes a thousand ioyes deuoures:
For now no pow'r to crosse his end remaines,
But onely Henry, whom he neuer daines
To name his foe, and thinkes he shall not brane
A valiant champion, but a yeelding slaue.
Alas! how much deceiu'd, when he shall find
An able body and couragious minde:
For Richmond boldly doth himselfe oppose
Against the king, and giues him blowes for blowes,
Who now confesseth, with an angry frowne,
His riuall not vnworthy of the crowne.

The younger Stanley then no longer staid,
The earle in danger needs his present aide,
Which he performes as sudden as the light,
His comming turnes the ballance of the fight.

So threatning clouds, whose fall the ploughmen feare,

Which long vpon the mountaine's top appeare,
Dissolue at last, and vapours then distill
To watry showres that all the valleys fill.
The first that saw this dreadfull storme arise,
Was Catesby, who to Richard loudly cries:
"No way but swift retreate your life to saue,
It is no shame with wings t' auoide the graue."
This said, he trembling turnes himselfe to flie,
And dares not stay to heare the king's replic,
Who, scorning his aduice as foule and base,
Returnes this answer with a wrathfull face:
"Let cowards trust their horses' nimble feete,
And in their course with new destruction meete;
Gaine thou some houres to draw thy fearefull
breath:

To me ignoble flight is worse than death."
But at th' approach of Stanley's fresh supply,
The king's side droopes: so gen'rous horses lie
Vaapt to stirre, or make their courage knowne,
Which vnder cruell masters sinke and grone.
There at his prince's foote stout Ratcliffe dies;
Net fearing, but despairing, Louell flies,
For he shall after end his weary life
In not so faire, but yet as bold a strife.
The king maintaines the fight, though left alone:
For Henrie's life he faine would change his owne,
And as a lionesse, which compast round
With troopes of men, receiues a smarting wound
By some bold hand, though hinder'd and opprest
With other speares, yet slighting all the rest,
Will follow him alone that wrong'd her first:
So Richard, pressing with reuengefull thirst,
Admits no shape but Richmond's to his eye;
And would in triumph on his carcase die:
But that great God, to whom all creatures yeeld,
Protects his seruant with a beau'nly shield;
His pow'r, in which the earle securely trusts,
Rebates the blowes, and falsifies the thrusts.
The king growes weary, and begins to faint,
It grienes him that his foes perceive the taint:
Some strike him, that till then durst not come
neare,

[beare,

With weight and number they to ground him Where trampled down, and hew'd with many swords,

He softly vtter'd these his dying words:
"Now strength no longer fortune can withstand,
I perish in the center of my land."

His hand he then with wreathes of grasse infolds,
And bites the earth, which he so strictly holds,
As if he would haue borne it with him hence,
So loth he was to lose his right's pretence.

AN

EXPRESSION OF SIBYLL'S ACROSTICHS.

I

Combin'd with flesh, and compast with his saints, His words diuiding soules before his throne, Redeeme the world from thornés and barren taints. In vaine then mortals leaue their wealth, and sinne : [tame: S trong force the stubborne gates of Hell shall The saints, though dead, shall light and freedome winne :

VOL VI

So thriue not wicked men, with wrathfull flame O pprest, whose beames can search their words and deeds,

No darkesome brest can couer base desires,
New sorrow, gnashing teeth, and wailing breeds;
E xempt from sunny rayes, or starry quires,
O Heau'n, thou art roll'd vp, the Moone shall die,
From vales he takes their depth, from hilles their
height,

Great men no more are insolent and high:
On seas no nimble ships shall carry weight:
Dire thunder, arm'd with heat, the Earth con-
founds,
[restraine,
Sweet springs and bubbling streames their course
A heau'nly trumpet sending dolefull sounds,
V pbraydes the world's misdeeds, and threatens
paine,

In gaping Earth infernall depths are seene; Our proudest kings are summon'd by his call V nto his seate, from Heau'n with anger keene R euengefull floods of fire and brimstone fall.

VIRGIL. ECLOG. IV.

CICILIAN Muses, sing we greater things,
All are not pleas'd with shrubs and lowly springs,
More fitly to the consull woods belong.
Now is fulfild Cumaan Sibyl's song,

Long chaines of better times begin againe,
The Maide returnes, and brings backe Saturne's
raigne ;

New progenies from lofty Heau'n descend:
Thou, chaste Lucina, be this infant's friend,
Whose birth the dayes of ir'n shall quite deface,
And through the world the golden age shall place:
Thy brother Phoebus weares his potent crowne,
And thou (O Pollio!) know thy high renowne,
Thy consulship this glorious change shall breed,
Great months shall then endeuour to proceed:
Thy rule the steps of threatning sinne shall cleare,
And free the Earth from that perpetuall feare:
He with the gods shall liue, and shall behold,
With heauenly spirits noble soules enroll'd,
And seene by them shall guide this worldly frame,
Which to his hand his father's strength doth tame.
To thee (sweet child) the earth brings natiue

dowres,

The wandring iuy, with faire bacchar's flowres,
And colocasia sprung from Egypt's ground,
With smiling leaues of greene acanthus crown'd;
The gotes their swelling vdders home shall beare,
The droues no more shall mighty lions feare;
For thee thy cradle pleasing flowres shall bring,
Imperious Death shall blunt the serpent's sting,
No herbes shall with deceitfull poyson flow,
And sweet amomum eu'ry where shall grow.

But when thou able art to reade the facts
Of worthies, and thy father's famous acts,
To know what glories Vertue's name adorne,
The fields to ripenesse bring the tender corne;

C