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DEDICATION.

TO THE NO LESSE ENOBLED BY VIRTUE, THAN ANCIENT IN NOBILITIE,

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

EDWARD LORD ZOUCH,

ST. MAURE AND CANTELUPE, AND ONE OF HIS MAJESTIE'S MOST HONOURABLE

PRIVIE COUNSELL.

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HONOR's bright ray
More highly crown’d with vertue then with yeares,
Pardon a rusticke Muse that thus appeares

In shepheards gray,
Intreating your attention to a lay
Fitting a Sylvan bowre, not courtly traines;

Such choiser eares,
Should have Apollo's prieșts, not Pan's rude swaines :
But if the musick of contented plaines

A thought upreares,
For your approvement of that part she beares,
When time (that embrions to perfection brings)

Hath taught her straines,
May better boast their being from the spring
Where brave Heroë's worth the Sisters sing:

(In lines whose raignes
In spight of Envy and her restless paines :
Be unconfin'd as blest eternities :)

The vales shall ring
Thy honor'd name: and every song shall be
A pyramis built to thy memorie.

Your honor's:

W. BROWNE.

TO THE READER,

THE times are swolne so big with nicer wits,
That nought sounds good, but what opinion strikes,
Censure with judgment seld together sits;
And now the man more than the matter likes,

The great rewardresse of a poet's penne,
Fame, is by those so clogg'd she seldome flyes,
The Muses sitting on the graves of men,
Singing that vertue lives and never dyes,
Are chas'd away by the malignant tongues
Of such, by whom detraction is ador❜d:

Hence grows the want of ever-living songs,
With which our ile was whilome bravely stor❜d.
If such a basiliske dart downe his eye,
(Impoyson'd with the dregs of utmost hate)
To kill the first bloomes of my poesie,
It is his worst, and makes me fortunate.
Kinde wits I vaile to, but to fooles precise
I am as confident as they are nice.

From the Inner Temple, June the 18, 1613.

W. W

RECOMMENDATORY POEMS.

IN BUCOLICA G. BROUN,

QUOD, PER SECESSUS RUSTICI OTIA, LICUIT AD AMIC. & BON. LIT. AMANTIST.

ANACREONTICUM.

Κάλλος σὸν Κυθέρεια, Σὸν, Κούραι Διὸς, ἦθος Εμνήσευσαν, Ιλερμί. Τη συμπράξαν. Ερῶτες· Ταῖς συν Παλλάδι Φ. ιβος Τῆς Μοῦσαι προκατῆρχου. Τᾶις Σὺ Δοῦλος ὑπάρχεις· Τῆς οὔμὴν ἀικούσης. Ωἱ γὰρ ἐς' ἀνίρατος Ψυχή, Εννέα τήνου Φέυγουσ ̓ αυτῷ ὅπονται Ος προστύσσετ' Ερώτας Μούσαις κ' Αφρογενέιη Προῦπτον τοῦτο πέλεσκε Νόσσαξ ἀμφοτερῆσιν Οὕτως ἐστὶ φίλιςτος.

AD AMORIS NUMINA.

QUIN Vostrum Paphie, Anteros, Erosque,
Ut regnum capiat mali quid, absit!
Venus, per Syrium nimis venustu a !
Amplexus teneros, pares, suaves
Psyches, per, tibi, basiationum,
Eros quantum erat ! & per Anterotis
Fælices animas! periclitanti
Obtestor, dubiæque consulatis
Rei vostra! Miserûm magis favete
Languori, miserûm favete amantum,
Divi, cordolio! Quod est amatum
Ictu propitii ferite pectus!
Ictus quin sit ab auiea sagitta!
Ortas spe placita fovete flammas !
Ortis quin similes parate fammas!
Suas gnaviter ambiant Neæras!!
Et cautim laciant suos Neæræ !
Dextras sternuite adprobationes!
Adjuctis detur osculum labellis !
Et junctis detur osculum salivis!
Tai nectaris adde, diva, quinctam 2.

1 Amica, domina (nostro idiomate amatorio, MISTRESSE) & Neæra sunt uti synonyma Prudentio, ante alios, Peri Steph. hymn. 12. & alicubi. v. si placet & Jos. Scalig. ad 3. Tibulli. 2 Horat. Carm. 1. od. 13.

Conturbet tremulæ libido lingnæ,
Ne quis basia fascinare possit !
Morsus mutua temperet voluptas
Dormitis, nimiumque defuistis
Procis, atque adamantinis puellis.
Isthæc prospiciens tibi, Cupido,
Audax admonui. Tuas Apollo,

Deusque, Arcadie, Minerva, & Hermes
Supplantant Veneres. Murinus arcum
Tendit, quin jaculis tua pharetra
Surreptis petimur. Camena texit

Cantu dædala, blandulum Aphrodites
Cestum, & insidias plicat. Minervæ
Buxus, Mercurii Chelys, Cicuta
Fauni, dulce melos canunt. Erota
En, olim docuit, plagas Eroti
Jam tendit, juvenis, poeta, pastor,
Isthac prospiciens tibi, Cupido,
Audax admonui. Fave Cupido.

BY THE SAME.

So much a stranger my severer Muse

Is not to love-strains, or a shepward's reed,
But that she knows some rites of Phoebus' dues,
Of Pan, of Pallas, and hir sister's meed.
Read and commend, she durst these tun'd essaies
Of him that loves her (she hath ever found
Hir studies as one circle.) Next she prayes
His readers be with rose and myrtle crown'd!
No willow touch them! As his baies are free
From wrong of bolts, so may their chaplets be!
J. SELDEN, JURIS C.

TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR'. DRIVE forth thy flocke, young pastor, to that plaine, Where our old shepeards wont their flocks to feed: To those cleare walkes, where many a skilfull swaine To'ards the calme ev'ning, tun'd his pleasant reede.

3 Ne scilicet quis pernumeret. Finitus n. & notus numerus fascino, apud veteres, obnoxius. Idque in Basiis observatum habes ap. Catul. Carm. 5. & 7.

4 Amor a pastore omne genus Musices olim edoctus, Bion Idyll. 3.

Baies (faire readers) being the materials of poet's ghirlands (as myrtle and roses are for enjoying lovers, and the fruitlesse willow for them which your unconstancie, too oft, makes most unhappy) are supposed not subject to any hurt of Jupiter's thunderbolts, as other trees are.

See Canto 5. and B. 2. S. 2.

Those, to the Muses once so sacred, downes,
As no rude foote might there presume to stand:
(Now made the way of the unworthiest clownes,
Dig'd and plow'd up with each unhallowed hand)
If possible thou canst, redeeme those places,
Where, by the brim of many a silver spring,
The learned maydens, and delightfull graces
Often have sate to heare our shepheards sing:
Where on those pines the neighb'ring groves among
(Now utterly neglected in these dayes)

Our garlands, pipes, and cornamutes were hong
The monuments of our deserved praise.

So may thy sheepe like, so thy lambes increase,
And from the wolfe feede over safe and free!
So mai'st thou thrive, among the learned prease,
As thou young shepheard art belov'd of me!

MICHAEL DRATTON".

TO HIS INGENIOUS AND WORTHY FRIEND,
THE AUTHOR.

He that will tune his oaten pipe aright,
To great Apollo's harp: he that will write
A living poem; must have many yeres,
And setled judgment 'mongst his equall peeres,
In well-rig'd barke to steere his doubtful course;
Least secret, rockie envy; or the source
Of froathy, but skyc-tow'ring arrogance;
Or fleeting, sandy vulgar censure chance
To leave him ship-wrackt, on the desert maine
Imploring aged Neptune's help in vaine.
The younger cygnet, even at best, doth teare,
With his harsh squealings, the melodious eare:
It is the old, and dying swan that sings
Notes worthy life, worthy the Thespian springs.
But thou art young; and yet thy voyce as sweet,
Thy verse as smooth, composure as discreet
As any swan's, whose tuneful notes are spent
On Thames his bancks; which makes me confident,
He knows no music, hath not ears, nor tongue,
That not commends a voyce so sweet, so young.

ON HIM;

A PASTORALL ODE TO HIS FAIREST SHEPHEARDESSE.

SYREN more than earthly faire,

Sweetly breake the yeelding ayre:
Sing on Albion's whitest rockes:
Sing; whilst Willie to his flockes,
Deftly tunes his various reede.

Sing; and he, whilst younglings feede,
Answere shall thy best of singing,
With his rural musicke, bringing
Equall pleasure; and requite
Musicke's sweets with like delight.
What though Willie's songs be plaine,
Sweet they be: for he's a swaine

He likewise pays him this compliment in his epistle on Poets and Poetry, in the 2d vol of his poems, in fol. printed 1627, p. 208. or vol iv. p. 598 of the present collection.

Then they two Beaumonts and my Browne arose,
My dear companions, whom I freely chose.
My bosom friends *; and in their several wayes
Rightly born poets, and in these last days
Men of much note, and no less noble parts, &c.

Sir John Beaumont, bart. and his brother
Francis Beaumont, esq.

Made of purer mould than earth.
Him did Nature from his birth,
And the Muses single out,
For a second Colin Clout.
Tityrus made him a singer :
Pan him taught his pipe to finger:
Numbers, curious eares to please,
Learn'd he of Philisides.

| Kala loves him: and the lasses
Points at him, as by he passes,
Wishing never tongue that's bad
Censure may so blithe a lad.
Therefore well can he requite
Musicke's sweets with like delight:
Sing then; breake the yeelding ayre,
Syren more than earthly fayre.
è So Int. Templ.

EDWARD HEYWARD.

TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR',

UPON HIS POEM.

THIS plant is knotlesse that puts forth these leaves,
Upon whose branches I his praise doe sing:
Fruitfull the ground, whose verdure it receives
From fertile Nature and the learned spring.
In zeale to good; knowne, but unpractiz'd ill,
Chaste in his thoughts, though in his youthful
prime,

He writes of past'rall love, with nectar'd quill,
And offers up his first fruits unto time. [them
Receive them (Time) and in thy border place
Among thy various flowers of poesie;
No envy blast, nor ignorance deface them,
But keepe them fresh in fayrest memory!
And when from Daphne's tree he plucks more
bajes

[laies.

His shepherd's pipe may chant more heav'nly

CHRISTOPHER BROOKE.

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TO HIS FRIEND THE AUTHOR.

Os (jolly lad) and hye thee to the field
Amongst the best swaines that the vallies yeeld;
Goe boldly, and in presence of them all,
Proceede a shepheard with his pastorall.
Let Pan, and all his rurall traine attending,
From stately mountaines to the plaines descending,
Salute this pastor with their kinde embraces;
And entertaine him to their holy places.
Let all the nymphes of hils and dales together
Kisse him for earnest of his welcome thither :
Crowne him with garlands of the choiscst flowres,
And make him ever dwell within their bowres:

? See Book 2. Canto 2.

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HAD I beheld thy Muse upon the stage,
A poesie in fashion with this age;

Or bad I seen, when first I view'd thy taske,
An active wit dance in a satyre's maske,

I should in those have prais'd thy wit and art,
But not thy ground, a poem's better part:
Which being the perfect'st image of the braine,
Not fram'd to any base end, but to gaine
True approbation of the artist's worth,
When to an open view he sets it forth,
Judiciously: he strives, no lesse t' adorne
By a choise subject, than a curious forme :
Well hast thou then past o'er all other rhime,
And in a pastorall spent thy leasure's time:
Where fruit so fayre, and field so fruitfull is,
That hard it is to judge whether in this
The substance or the fashion more excel,
So precious is the jemme, and wrought so well.
Thus rest thou prais'd of me, fruit, field, jemme
art,

Doe claime much praise to equall such desart.
è So. Med. Templ.

TO THE AUTHOR.

W. FERRAR.

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INGENIOUS Swaine! that highly dost adorne
Clear Tavy! on whose brinck we both were borne!
Just praise in me would ne'er be thought to move
From thy sole worth, but from thy partiall love.
Wherefore I will not do thee so much wrong,
As by such mixture to allay thy song.
But while kind strangers rightly praise each grace
Of thy chaste Muse, I (from the happy place,
That brought thee forth, and thinkes it not unfit
To boast now, that it carst bred such a wit ;)
Would onely have it knowne I much rejoyce,
To hear such matters, sung by such a voyce.

JOHN GLANVILL.

TO HIS FRIEND MR. BROWNE.

ALL that doe reade thy workes, and see thy face, (Where scarce a haire growes up, thy chin to grace)

Doe greatly wonder how so youthful yeeres Could frame a worke, where so much worth appeares,

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He master's no low soule who hopes to please The nephew of the brave Philisides.

ANOTHER TO THE SAME.

WERE all men's envies fixt in one man's lookes,
That monster that would prey on safest fame,
Durst not once checke at thine, not at thy name :
So he who men can reade as well as bookes
Attest thy lines; thus tryde, they show to us
As Scæva's shield, thyselfe Emeritus.

W. HERBERT.

To my BROWNE, yet brightest swaine That woons, or haunts, or hill, or plaine.

POETA NASCITUR.

PIPE on, sweet swaine, till joy, in blisse, sleepe waking!

Hermes, it seems, to thee, of all the swaines,
Hath lent his pipe and art: for, thou art making
With sweet notes (noted) heav'n of hils and plaines!
Nay, as if thou beginn'st, thou dost hold on,
The totall earth thine Arcadie will be;
And Neptune's monarchy thy Helicon :
So, all in both will make a god of thee.
To whom they will exhibit sacrifice

Of richest love and praise; and envious swaines
(Charm'd with thine accents) shall thy notes agnize
To reach above great Pan's in all thy straines.
Then, ply this veyne: for, it may well containe
The richest morals under poorest shroud;
And sit in thee the past' rall spirit doth raigne,
On such wit's treasures let it sit abrood:

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