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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.
O God! So thou forgive me Hell.

Eternitie! when I thinke thee,
(Which never any end must have,
Nor knew'st beginning) and fore-see
Hell is design'd for sinne a grave.

My frighted flesh trembles to dust,
My blood ebbes fearefully away:

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
You to the fate of warre; it claimes applause:
And every worthy hand would plucke a bough
From the best spreading bay, to shade your brow.
Since you unforc'd part from your ladie's bed
Warme with the purest love, to lay your head
Perhaps on some rude turfe, and sadly feele
The night's cold dampes wrapt in a sheete of steele.
You leave your well grown woods; and meadows

which

Our Severne doth with fruitfull streames enrich,
Your woods where we see such large heards of deere,
Your meades whereon such goodly flockes appeare.
You leave your castle, safe both for defence
And sweetly wanton with magnificence
With all the cost and cunning beautified
That addes to state, where nothing wants but pride.
These charmes might have bin pow'rful to have
staid

Great mindes resolv'd for action, and betraid
You to a glorious ease: since to the warre
Men by desire of prey invited are,
Whom either sinne or want makes desperate
Or else disdaine of their own narrow fate,
But you nor hope of fame or a release
Of the most sober goverment in peace,
Did to the hazard of the armie bring
Onely a pure devotion to the king,

In whose just cause whoever fights, must be
Triumphant: since even death is victory.
And what is life, that we to wither it

To a weake wrinckled age, should torture wit
To finde out Nature's secrets; what doth length
Of time deserve, if we want heate and strength?
When a brave quarrell doth to armes provoke
Why should we feare to venter this thin smoke,
This emptie shadow, life? this which the wise
As the foole's idoll, soberly despise?
Why should we not throw willingly away
A game we cannot save, now that we may
Gaine honour by the gift? since haply when
We onely shall be statue of men

And our owne monuments, peace will deny
Our wretched age so brave a cause to dye.
But these are thoughts! And action tis doth give
A soule to courage, and make vertue live:
Which doth not dwell upon the valiant tongue
Of bold philosophie, but in the strong
Vndaunted spirit, which encounters those
Sad dangers, we to fancie scarce propose,
Yet 'tis the true and highest fortitude
To keepe our inward enemies subdued:
Not to permit our passions over sway
Our actions, not our wanton flesh betray
The soule's chaste empire: for however we
To th' outward shew may gaine a victory
And proudly triumph: if to conquour sinne
We combate not, we are at warre within.

VIAS TUAS DOMINE DEMONSTRA MIXI

WHERE have I wandred? In what way
Horrid as night

Increast by stormes did I delight?
Though my sad soule did often say
T'was death and maduesse so to stray.

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By sinne agen,

Be throwne off as a scorne to men?
May th' angry world decree, t'excile
Me to some yet unpeopled isle.

Where while I straggle, and in vaine
Labour to finde

Some creature that shall have a minde,
What justice have I to complaine
If I thy inward grace retaine?

My God, if thou shalt not exclude
Thy comfort thence:

What place can seeme to troubled sence
So melancholly darke and rude,
To be esteem'd a solitude.

Cast me upon some naked shore
Where I may tracke

Onely the print of some sad wracke:

If thou be there, though the seas roare,
I shall no gentler calme implore.
Should the Cymmerians, whom no ray
Doth ere enlight,

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.

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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?
And Nature how dost thou delude
Our search to know?

When the same windes which here intrude
On us with fiosts and onely winter blow:
Breath temprate on th' adjoyning earth,
And gently bring

To the glad field a fruitfull birth

With all the treasures of a wanton spring.
How diversly death doth assaile;
How sporting kill?

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
The other hedg'd in with his snow

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
That is the scheme where all their fate may read. And doth for vanities prepare,

As the spring nere should dye.
The present houre, fattered by all

Reflects not on the last;
COGITABO PRO PECCATO MEO.

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
What obeliskes decreed I fit

Nor antidote but teares.
For Spencer's art, and Sydnye's wit?
But waxing sober soone I found
Fame but an idle sound.

CUPIO DISSOLVL
Then I my blood obey'd

PAULE. And each bright face an idoll made:

The soule which doth with God unite,
Verse in an humble sacrifice,
I offer'd to my mistresse' eyes,

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,
Pale cowards there must stand.

And seeke no higher sphere.
VOL. VI.

li

The wandring pilot sweates to find
The causes that produce the wind
Still gazing on the pole.
The politician scornes all art

But what doth pride and power impart.

And swells the ambitious soule.

But he whom heavenly fire doth warme,
And 'gainst these powerfull follies arme,
Doth soberly disdaine

All these fond humane misteries
As the deceitfull and unwise
Distempers of our braine.

He as a burden beares his clay,
Yet vainely throwes it not away
On every idle cause:

But with the same untroubled eye
Can or resolve to live or dye,
Regardlesse of th' applause.

My God! If 'tis thy great decree
That this must the last moment be

Wherein I breath this ayre;
My heart obeyes, joy'd to retreate
From the false favours of the great

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
Become a loathsome heape of dust
And nere againe appeare.

For in the fire when ore is tryed;
And by that torment purified :
Doe we deplore the losse ?
And when thou shalt my soule refine,
That it thereby may purer shine,

Shall I grieve for the drosse?

THE

POEMS

OF

SIR JOHN SUCKLING.

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