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With every fierce encounter they are forc'd
To quit their boats, and fare like men unhors'd.
The bigger whale like some huge carrack lay,
Which wanteth sea-room with her foes to play:
Slowly she swims, and when, provok'd, she would
Advance her tail, her head salutes the mud :
The shallow water doth her force infringe,
And renders vain her tail's impetuous swinge :
The shining steel her tender sides receive,
And there, like bees, they all their weapons leave.
This sees the cub, and does himself oppose Betwixt his cumber'd mother and her foes : With desperate courage he receives her wounds, And men and boats his active tail confounds. Their forces join'd, the seas with billows fill, And make a tempest though the winds be still.
Now would the men with half their hoped prey Be well content, and wish this cub away: Their wish they have : he (to direct his dam Unto the gap through which they thither came) Before her swims, and quits the hostile lake, A prisoner there but for his mother's sake. • She, by the rocks compellid to stay behind, Is by the vastness of her bulk confin'd. They shout for joy! and now on her alone Their fury falls, and all their darts are thrown. Their lances spent, one, bolder than the rest, With his broad sword provok'd the sluggish beast: Her oily side devours both blade and haft, And there his steel the bold Bermudan left. Courage the rest from his example take, And now they change the colour of the lake : Blood flows in rivers from her wounded side, As if they would prevent the tardy tide, And raise the food to that propitious height, As might convey her from this fatal streight. She swims in blood, and blood does spouting throw To Heav'n, that Heav'n men's cruelties might know.
air fixed javelins in her side she wears, And on her back a grove of pikes appears ;
You would have thought had you the monster seen
Thus drest, she had another island been.
Roaring she tears the air with such a noise,
As well resembled the conspiring voice
Of routed armies, when the field is won,
To reach the ears of her escaped son.
He, though a league removed from the foe,
Hastes to her aid: the pious Trojan so,
Neglecting for Creüsa's life his own,
Repeats the danger of the burning town.
The men, amazed, blush to see the seed
Of monsters human piety exceed.
Well proves this kindness, what the Grecian sung,
That Love's bright mother from the Ocean sprung.
Their courage droops, and, hopeless now, they wish
For composition with the unconquer'd fish;
So she their weapons would restore again,
Through rocks they'd hew her passage to the main.
But how instructed in each other's mind ?
Or what commerce can men with monsters find ?
Not daring to approach their wounded foe,
Whom her courageous son protected so,
They charge their muskets, and with hot desire
Of fell revenge, renew the fight with fire;
Standing aloof, with lead they bruise the scales,
And tear the flesh of the incensed whales.
But no success their fierce endeavours found,
Nor this way could they give one fatal wound.
Now to their fort they are about to send
For the loud engines which their isle defend ;
But what those pieces, fram'd to batter walls,
Would have effected on those mighty whales,
Great Neptune will not have us know, who sends
A tide so high that it relieves his friends :
And thus they parted with exchange of harms;
Much blood the monsters lost, and they their arms.
EPISTLE To a Lady, from whom he received the Copy of the Poem entitled 'Of a Tree cut in Paper,' which for
many Years had been lost.
NOTHING lies hid from radiant eyes ;
All they subdue become their spies.
Secrets, as choicest jewels, are
Presented to oblige the fair :
No wonder, then, that a lost thought
Should there be found where souls are caught.
The picture of fair Venus, (that
For which men say the goddess sat)
Was lost, till Lely from your look
Again that glorious image took.
If Virtue's self were lost, we might From your fair mind new copies write. All things but one you can restore ; The heart you get returns no more.
Tell her that wastes her time and me,
That now she knows
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Tell her, that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung
In deserts, where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.
Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retired.
Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desired,
And not blush so to be admired,
Then die, that she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee:
How small' a part of time they share,
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
why should we delay
Pleasures shorter than the day?
Could we (which we never can)
Stretch our lives beyond their span,
Beauty like a shadow fies,
And our youth before us dies.
Or would youth and beauty stay,
Love hath wings, and will away.
Love hath swifter wings than time,
Change in love to heav'n doth climb;
Gods, that never change their state,
Vary oft their love and hate.
Phillis, to this truth we owe
All the love betwixt us two;
Let not you and I inquire
What hath been our past desire ;
On what shepherds you have smil'd,
Or what nymphs I have beguild;
Leave it to the planets too
What we shall hereafter do;
For the joys we now may prove,
Take advice of present love.
OF MY LADY ISABELLA PLAYING ON THE
LUTE. SUCH moving sounds from such a careless touch !
So unconcern'd herself, and we so much! What art is this, that with so little pains Transports us thus, and o'er our spirits reigns ?
The trembling strings about her fingers crowd,
And tell their joy for every kiss aloud,
Small force there needs to make them tremble so;
Touch'd by that hand, who would not tremble too?
Here Love takes stand, and while she charms the ear,
Empties his quiver on the listening deer.
Music so softens and disarms the mind,
That not an arrow does resistance find.
Thus the fair tyrant celebrates the prize,
And acts herself the triumph of her eyes :
So Nero once, with harp in hand, survey'd
His flaming Rome, and as it burn'd he play'd.
OF THE MARRIAGE OF THE DWARFS.
ESIGN or Chance makes others wive,
But Nature did this match contrive:
Eve might as well have Adam fled,
As she denied her little bed
To him, for whom Heav'n seem'd to frame
And measure out this only dame.
Thrice happy is that humble pair,
Beneath the level of all care !
Over whose heads those arrows fly
Of sad distrust and jealousy ;
Secured in as high extreme,
As if the world held none but them.
To him the fairest nymphs do show
Like moving mountains topp'd with snow;
And every man a Polypheme
Does to his Galatea seem :
None may presume her faith to prove;
He proffers death that proffers love.
Ah, Chloris ! that kind Nature thus
From all the world had sever'd us;
Creating for ourselves us two,
As Love has me for only you !