Place me alone in some fraile boate 'Mid th' horrours of an angry sea: Where I, while time shall move, may floate, Despairing either land or day! Or under earth my youth confine To th' night and silence of a cell: Where scorpions may my limbes entwine. Eternitie! when I thinke thee, My frighted flesh trembles to dust, Both guilty that they did to lust And vanity, my youth betray. My eyes, which from each beautious sight Drew spider-like blacke venome in: Close like the marigold at night Opprest with dew to bath my sin. My eares shut up that easie dore Which did proud fallacies admit: And vow to hear no follies more; Deafe to the charmes of sinne and wit. My hands (which when they toucht some faire Imagin'd such an excellence, As th' ermine's skin ungentle were) Contract themselves, and loose all sence. But you bold sinners! still pursue Your valiant wickednesse, and brave Th' Almighty iustice: hee'le subdue And make you cowards in the grave. Then when he as your judge appeares, In vaine you'le tremble and lament. And hope to soften him with teares, To no advantage penitent. Then will you scorne those treasures, which So fiercely now you doate upon: Then curse those pleasures did bewitch You to this sad illusion. The neigh'ring mountaines which you shall Wooe to oppresse you with their weight: Disdainefull will deny to fall; By a sad death to ease your fate. In vaine some midnight storme at sea To swallow you, you will desire : In vaine upon the wheele youle pray Broken with torments to expire. Death, at the sight of which you start, In a mad fury then you'le court: Yet hate th' expressions of your heart, Which onely shall be sigh'd for sport. No sorrow then shall enter in With pitty the great judges eares. This moment's ours. Once dead, his sin Man cannot expiate with teares. SIR, MILITIA EST VITÀ HOMINIS, TO SIR HEN. PER. WERE it your appetite of glory, (which In noblest times, did bravest soules bewitch To fall in love with danger), that now drawes which Our Severne doth with fruitfull streames enrich, Great mindes resolv'd for action, and betraid In whose just cause whoever fights, must be To a weake wrinckled age, should torture wit And our owne monuments, peace will deny VIAS TUAS DOMINE DEMONSTRA MIXI WHERE have I wandred? In what way Increast by stormes did I delight? By sinne agen, Be throwne off as a scorne to men? Where while I straggle, and in vaine Some creature that shall have a minde, My God, if thou shalt not exclude What place can seeme to troubled sence Cast me upon some naked shore Onely the print of some sad wracke: If thou be there, though the seas roare, But gaine thy grace, th' have lost their night: Not sinners at high noone, but they 'Mong their blind cloudes have found the day. ET EXALTAVIT HUMILES. How cheerefully th' unpartiall Sunne Gilds with his beames The narrow streames O'th' brooke which silently doth runne Without a name? And yet disdaines to lend his flame To the wide channell of the Thames? The largest mountaines barren lye And lightning fcare, Though they appeare To bid defiance to the skie; Which in one houre W' have seene the opening earth devoure When in their height they proudest were. A tempest awe; When the distracted Ocean Swells to sedition, and obeys no law? How wretched doth the tyrant stand Without a boast? When his rich fleete even touching land He by some storme in his owne port sees lost! Vaine pompe of life! what narrow bound Ambition Is circled with? How false a ground Hath humane pride to build its triumphs on? When the same windes which here intrude To the glad field a fruitfull birth With all the treasures of a wanton spring. While one is scorcht up in the vale The other is congeal'd o'th' neighboring hill. RECOGITABO TIBI OMNES ANNOS MEOS. ISAY. While he with heates, doth dying glow Abore he sees And envies him his ice, although he freeze. Time! where didst thou those yeares inter Proud folly of pretending art, Which I have seene decease? Be ever dumbe. My soule's at war and truth bids her Aud humble thy aspiring heart, Finde out their hidden sepulcher, When thou findest glorious reason overcome. To give her troubles peace. Pregnant with flowers doth not the spring And you astrologers, whose eye Like a late bride appeare? Survayes the starres ! Whose fether'd musicke onely bring And offer thence to prophesie Caresses, and no requiem sing Successe in peace, and the event of warres. On the departed yeare? Throw downe your eyes upon that dust The earth, like some rich wanton heire, You proudly tread! Whose parents coffin'd lye, And know to chat resolve you must! Forgets it once lookt pale and bare As the spring nere should dye. Reflects not on the last; But I, like a sad factor shall T'account my life each moment call, Ix what darke silent grove And onely weepe the past. Profao'd by no unholy love, My mem'ry trackes each severall way Where witty melancholy nere Since reason did begin Did carve the trees or wound the ayre, Over my actions her first sway: Shall I religious leisure winne, And teacheth me that each new day To weepe away my sinne? Did onely vary sin. How fondly have I spent Poore banckrout conscience! where are those My youthe's unvalued treasure, lent Rich houres but farm'd to thee? To trallique for cælestiall joyes, How carelessely I some did lose, My unripe yeares pursuing toyes, And other to my lust dispose, Iudging things best that were most gay, As no rent day should be? Fled unobserv'd away. I have infected with impure Disorders my past yeares. Growne elder I admired But ile to penitence inure Our poets as from Heaven inspired, Those that succeed. There is no cure Nor antidote but teares. CUPIO DISSOLVL PAULE. And each bright face an idoll made: The soule which doth with God unite, Those gayities how doth she slight Which ore opinion sway? But I no sooner grace did win Like sacred virgin wax, wbich shines But met the devill within. On altars or on martyrs' shrines But growne more polliticke How doth she burne away? I tooke account of each state tricke: How violent are her throwes till she Observ'd each motion, judg'd him wise, From envious earth delivered be, Who bad a conscience fit to rise. Which doth her flight restraine? Whom soone I found but forine and rule How doth she doate on whips and rackes, And the more serious foole. On fires and the so dreaded axe, And every murd'ring paine? But now my soule prepare How soone she leaves the pride of wealth, To ponder what and where we are, The flatteries of youth and health How fraile is life, how vaine a breath And fame's more precious breath. Opinion, how uncertaine death : And every gaudy circumstance How onely a poore stone shall beare That doth the pompe of life advance Witnesse that once we were. At the approach of death? How a shrill trumpet shall The cunning of astrologers V's to the barre as traytors call. Observes each motion of the starres Then shall we see too late that pride Placing all knowledge there : Hath bope with Aattery bely'd And lovers in their niistresse' eyes And that the mighty in command Contract those wonders of the skies, And seeke no higher sphere. li The wandring pilot sweates to find But what doth pride and power impart. And swells the ambitious soule. But he whom heavenly fire doth warme, All these fond humane misteries He as a burden beares his clay, But with the same untroubled eye My God! If 'tis thy great decree Wherein I breath this ayre; And treachery of the faire. When thou shalt please this soule t' enthrowne Above impure corruption; What should I grieve or feare, To thinke this breathlesse body must For in the fire when ore is tryed; Shall I grieve for the drosse? |