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These statesmen, you believe,
| Nor did he like the omen, Send straight for the shrieve,
For fear it might be his doom
One day for lo sing,
With a gullet in string,
-A hymn of Robert Wisdom. That all 's not so well as it should be.
But what was all this business? These three, when they drink,
For sure it was important: How little do they think
For who rides i'th' wet Of banishment, debts, or dying:
When affairs are not great, Not old with their years,
The neighbours make but a sport on't. Nor cold with their fears;
To a goodly fat sow's baby, But their angry stars still defying.
O John, thou hadst a malice, Mirth makes them not mad,
The old driver of swine Nor sobriety sad;
That day sure was thine, But of that they are seldom in danger;
Or thou hadst not quitted Calais. At Paris, at Rome,
At the Hague, they 're at home; The good fellow is no where a stranger.
What gives us that fantastic fit,
A knight by land and water
When 'tis told in Kent,
In a cart that he went,
Being as worthy to sit
On an ambling tit
'Tis plain our eyes and ears are nice,
But oh! the roof of linen,
But the ra'n made an ass
Of tilt and canvass;
SARPEDON’S SPEECH TO GLAUCIS,
IN THE TWELFTU BOOK OF HOMER.
But with thee to inveigle
Who was soak'd to the skin,
Through drugget so thin, Having neither coat nor waistcoat.
Tuus to Glaucus spake
He being proudly mounted,
Defy'd cart so base,
For thief without grace, That goes to make a wry mouth.
Why, as we pass, do those on Xanthus' shore, It is not thou, but we are blind,
And our corporeal eyes (we hud)
Dazzle the optics of our mind.
Love to our citadel resorts, “ Behold cur gallant leaders! These are they Through those deceitful sally-ports, Deserve the greatness; and unenvy'd stand: Our sentinels betray our forts. Since what they act, transcends what they command:”
What subtle witchcraft man constrains, Could the declining of this fate (oh, friend)
| To change his pleasure into pains, Our date to immortality extend ?
And all his freedom into chains ?
May not a prison, or a grave,
Like wedlock, honour's title have ? But since with Fortune Nature doth conspire,
That word makes free-born man a slave, Since age, discase, or some less noble end,
How happy he that'lores not lives! Though not less certain, doth our days attend; Him neither hope nor fear deceives, Since 'tis decreed, and to this period lead
To Fortune who no hostage gives.
How unconcern'd in things to come! . A common sacrifice to honour fall.
If here uneasy, finds at Rome,
Secure from low and private ends,
Though stiil his foes in number grew,
Pr’YTHEE die and set me free,
Or else be
To the grave, to the grave,
That I prize,
Not a spark
And to sce, and to see,
Coats and smocks,
Wise and grave,
Pap by night, pap by night,
But Death in all her forms appears,
This was the cause the poets sung.
Love is as old as place or time;
FRIENDSHIP AND SINGLE LIFE,
Well may'st thou keep this world in awe; Religion, wisdom, honour, law, The tyrant in his triumph draw.. 'Tis he commands the powers above; | Phæbus resigns his darts, and Jove His thunder, to the god of Love.
? His father and son,
To him doth his feign’d mother yield;
Next (like Aurora) Spenser rose, Nor Mars (her champion)'s flaming shield Whose purple blush the day foreshows; Guards him when Cupid takes the field.
The other three, with his own fires,
Phoebus, the poets' god, inspires; He clips Hope's wings, whose airy bliss
By Shakespear's, Jonson's, Fletcher's lines, Much higher than fruition is;
Our stage's lustre Rome's outshines : But less than nothing, if it miss.
These poets near our princes sleep,
And in one grave their mansion keep. A When matches Love alone projects
They liv'd to see so many days, The cause transcending the effects,
Till time had blasted all their bays: That wild-fire's quench'd in cold neglects : But cursed be the fatal hour
That pluck'd the fairest, sweetest flower, Whilst those conjunctions prove the best,
That in the Muses' garden grew, Where Love's of blindness dispossest,
And amongst wither'd laurels threw. By perspectives of interest.
Time, which made them their fame outlive, Though Solomon with a thousand wives,
To Cowley scarce did ripeness give. To get a wise successor strives,
Old mother Wit, and Nature, gave But one (and he a fool) survives.
Shakespeare and Fletcher all they have ;
In Spenser, and in Jonson, Art Old Rome of children took no care,
Of slower Nature got the start; They with their friends their beds did share,
But both in him so equal are, Secure t'adopt a hopeful beir.
None knows which bears the happiest share :
To him no author was unknown, Love drowsy days and stormy nights
Yet what he wrote was all his own; Makes; and breaks friendship, whose delights He melted not the ancient gold, Feed, but not glut, our appetites.
Nor, with Ben Jonson, did make bold
To plunder all the Roman stores Well-chosen friendship, the most noble
Of poets, and of orators : Of virtues, all- our joys makes double,
Horace's wit, and Virgil's state, And into halves divides our trouble.
He did not steal, but emulate ! But when th' unlucky knot we tie,
And when he would like them appear,
Their garb, but not their clothes, did wear: Care, avarice, fear, and jealousy, Make friendship languish till it die.
He not from Rome alone, but Greece,
Like Jason brought the golden fleece ; The wolf, the lion, and the bear,
To him that language (though to none When they their prey in pieces tear,
Of th' others) as his own was known. To quarrel with themselves forbear :
On a stiff gale (as Flaccus sings)
The Theban swan extends his wings, Yet timorous deer, and harmless sheep, When through th' etherial clouds he flies : When love into their veins doth creep,
To the same pitch our swan doth rise ; That law of Nature cease to keep.
Old Pindar's fights by him are reach'd
When on that gale his wings are stretch'd; Who then can blame the amorous boy,
His fancy and his judgment such, Who the fair Helen to enjoy,
Each to the other seem'd too much, To quench his own, set fire on Troy ?
His severe judgment (giving law) Such is the world's preposterous fate,
His modest fancy kept in awe :
As rigid husbands, jealous are,
When they believe their wives too fair.
His English streams so pure did How, But love may beasts excuse, for they
As all that saw and tasted know : Their actions pot by reason sway,
But for his Latin vein, so clear, But their brute appetites obey.
Strong, full, and high it doth appear,
That were immortal Virgil here,
Of that great portraiture, so true
A copy, pencil never drew.
But both their Genii straight appear:
Joy and amazement her did strike, MR. ABRAHAM COWLEY'S DEATH, Two twins she never saw so like. AND BURIAL AMONGST THE 'Twas taught by wise Pythagoras, ANCIENT POETS.
One soul might through more bodies pass.
Seeing such transmigration there, OLD Chaucer, like the morning star,
She thought it not a fable here. To us discovers day from far;
Such a resemblance of all parts, His light those mists and clouds dissoly'd,
Life, death, age, fortune, nature, arts ; Which our dark nation long involv'd :
Then lights her torch at theirs, to tell, But he descending to the shades,
And show the world this parallel : Darkness again the age invades.
Fixt and contemplative their looks,
Still turning over Nature's books:
The wheel that governs all : Their works chaste, moral, and divine,
From thence the change in church and staten Where profit and delight combine;
And all the mischief bears the date
From Haberdashers' Hall.
Did we force Ireland to despair,
Upon the king to cast the war, To the celestial orbs they climb,
To make the world abhor him, And with th' harmonious spheres keep time: Because the rebels us'd his name? Nor did their actions fall behind
Though we ourselves can do the same,
While both alike were for him.
Then the same fire we kindled here
With what was given to quench it there, Who knew, and judg'd what they approv'd,
And wisely lost that nation : Yet having each the same desire,
To do as crafty beggars use, Both from the busy throng retire.
To maim themselves, thereby t'abuse
The simple man's compassion.
Have I so often past between
Windsor and Westminster, unseen, Nor fire nor Bate their bays shall blast,
And did myself divide :
To keep his excellence in awe,
For they knew none beside.
Did I for this take pains to teach
Our zealous ignorants to preach,
And did their lungs inspire ;
Gave them their texts, show'd them their parts,
And taught them all their little arts, To the tune of, “ I went from England."
To Aling abroad the fire ? But will you now to peace incline,
Sometimes to beg, sometimes to threaten, And languish in the main design,
And say the cavaliers have beaten, And leave us in the lurch?
To stroke the people's ears? I would not monarchy destroy,
Then straight when victory grows cheap, But as the only way t' enjoy
And will no more advance the heap, The ruin of the church.
To raise the price of fears.
And now the books, and now the bells,
To edify the people;
The pulpit and the steeple,
Is not the bishop's bill deny'd,
You see the king embraces
That we shall have their places.
Was Saye's and mine together :
Once more t'invite them hither ?
Though more our money than our cause
My labour was not lost.
And these shall quit the cost,
And raise the first sedition?
And sent them their petition,
Either the cause at first was ill,
And thence they will infer,
That we ourselves may err.
So many nights spent in the city
And cannot go asunder:
For all those pretty knacks you compose, But while the wicked starve, indeed
Alas, what are they but poems in prose? The saints have ready at their need
And between those and ours there's no difference, God's providence, and plunder.
But that yours want the ryme, the wit, and the
sense : Princes we are if we prevail,
Rut for lying (the most noble part of a poet) And gallant villains if we fail :
You have it abundantly, and yourselves know it ; When to our fame 'tis told,
And though you are modest and seem to abhor it, It will not be our least of praise,
"T has done you good service, and thank Heli Since a new state we could not raise,
for it: To have destroy'd the old.
Although the old maxim remains still in force,
That a sanctify'd cause must have a sanctify'd Then let us stay and fight, and vote,
If poverty be a part of our trade, fcourse, Till London is not worth a groat;
So far the whole kingdom poets you have made, Oh'tis a patient beast!
Nay even so far as undoing will do it, When we have gall’d and tir'd the mule,
You have made king Charles himself a poct : And can no longer have the rule,
But provoke not his Muse, for all the world We'll have the spoil at least.
Already you have had too much of his prose.
UNS, I Do you not know not a fortnight ago, THE RUMBLE PETITION OF TAE POETS. How they bragg'd of a Western Wonder ?
When a hundred and ten slew five thousand men, AFTER so many concurring petitions
With the help of lightning and thunder?
With a new Thanksgiving, for the dead who are Though set form of prayer be an abomination, To God, and his servant Chidleigh.. Set forms of petitions find great approbation : Therefore, as others from th’ bottom of their | But now on which side was this miracle try'd, souls,
I hope we at last are even ;
[graves, So we from the depth and bottom of our bowls, For sir Ralph and his knaves are risen from their According unto the bless'd form you have taught To cudgel the clowns of Devon. We thank you first for the ills you have brought us : And there Stamford came, for his honour was For the good we receive we thank him that gave Of the gout three months together; (lame And you for the confidence only to crave it. [it, But it prov'd when they fought, but a running Next in course, we complain of the great viola
For his heels were lighter than ever. [gout Of privilege (like the rest of our nation); [tion But 'tis none of yours of which we have spoken,
For now he outruns his arms and his guns, Which never had being until they were broken ;
And leaves all his money behind him ; But ours is a privilege ancient and native,
But they follow after; unless he takes water, Hangs not on an ordinance, or power legislative.
At Plymouth again they will find him.
What Reading hath cost, and Stamford hath Next, that we only may lye by authority ;
Goes deep in the sequestrations ! (lost, But in that also you have got the priority.
These wounds will not heal, with your new great Next, an old custom, our fathers did name it
Nor Jepson's declarations.
(seal. Poetical licence, and always did claim it. Now, Peters and Case, in your prayer and grace By this we have power to change age into youth,
Remember the new Thanksgiving;
Or shortly you'll dig for your living.
A SECOND WESTERN WONDER.
thunder, But when we undertake deposing or killing, Which made the lye so much the louder : They're tyrants and monsters; and yet then the Now list to another, that miracle's brother, poet
Which was done with a firkin of powder.
o what a damp it struck through the camp !