And now he to his period brought,
From Loue becomes some other thought.

These lines I write not to remoue
Vnited soules from serious loue:
The best attempts by mortals made,
Reflect on things which quickly fade;
Yet neuer will I men perswade
To leaue affections, where may shine
Impressions of the Loue diuine.

THE SHEPHERDESSE.

A SHEPHERDESSE, who long had kept her flocks
On stony Charnwood's dry and barren rocks,
In heate of summer to the vales declin'd,
To seeke fresh pasture for her lambes halfe pin'd.
She (while her charge was feeding) spent the houres
To gaze on sliding brookes and smiling flowres.
Thus hauing largely stray'd, she lifts her sight,
And viewes a palace full of glorious light.
She finds the entrance open, and as bold
As countrey maids, that would the court behold,
She makes an offer, yet againe she stayes,
And dares not dally with those sunny rayes.
Here lay a nymph, of beauty most diuine,
Whose happy presence caus'd the house to shine,
Who much conuerst with mortals, and could know
No honour truly high, that scornes the low:
For she had oft been present, though vnseene,
Among the shepherds' daughters on the greene,
Where eu'ry homebred swaine desires to proue
His oaten pipe and feet before his loue,
And crownes the eu'ning, when the daies are long,
With some plaine dance, or with a rurall song.
Nor were the women nice to hold this sport,
And please their louers in a modest sort.
There that sweet nymph had seene this countrey

dame

For singing crown'd, whence grew a world of fame
Among the sheepecotes, which in her reioyce,
And know no better pleasure than her voyce.
The glitt'ring ladies, gather'd in a ring,
Intreate the silly shepherdesse to sing :
She blusht and sung, while they with words of
praise,

Contend her songs aboue their worth to raise.
Thus being chear'd with many courteous signes,
She takes her leaue, for now the Sunne declines,
And hauing driuen home her flocks againe,
She meets her loue, a simple shepherd swaine;
Yet in the plaines he had a poet's name:
For he could roundelayes and carols frame,
Which, when his mistresse sung along the downes,
Was thought celestiall musick by the clownes.
Of him she begs, that he would raise his mind
To paint this lady, whom she found so kind:
"You oft," saith she, "haue in our homely bow'rs
Discours'd of demi-gods and greater pow'rs:
For you with Hesiode sleeping learnt to know.
The race diuine from Heau'n to Earth below."
"My dear," said he, "the nymph whom thou

hast seene,

Most happy is of all that liue betweene
This globe and Cynthia, and in high estate,
Of wealth and beauty hath an equall mate,
Whose loue hath drawne vncessant teares in floods,
From nymphs, that haunt the waters and the

woods.

First, England, crown'd with roses of the spring,
An off'ring, like to Abel's gift, will bring:
And vowes that she for thee alone will keepe
Her fatest lambes, and fleeces of her sheepe.
Next, Scotland triumphs, that she bore and bred
This ile's delight, and, wearing on her head
A wreath of lillies gather'd in the field,
Presents the min'rals which her mountaines yeeld.
Last, Ireland, like Terpsichore attir'd
With neuer-fading lawrell, and inspir'd
By true Apollo's heat, a Pæan sings,
And kindles zealous flames with siluer strings.
This day a sacrifice of praise requires,

Our brests are altars, and our ioyes are fires.
That sacred head, so soft, so strangely blest
From bloody plots, was now (O feare!) deprest
Beneath the water, and those sunlike beames
Were threat'ned to be quencht in narrow streames.
Ah! who dare thinke, or can endure to heare,
Of those sad dangers, which then seem'd so neare ?
What Pan would haue preseru'd our flocks' increase
From wolues? What Hermes could with words of

peace

Cause whetted swords to fall from angry hands,
And shine the starre of calmes in Christian lands?
But Thou, whose eye to hidden depths extends,
To shew that he was made for glorious ends,
Hast rays'd him by thine all-commanding arme,
Not onely safe from death, but free from harme.

TO HIS LATE MAIESTY,

CONCERNING THE TRUE FORME OF ENGLISH POETRY/

GREAT king, the sou'raigne ruler of this land,
By whose graue care our hopes securely stand:
Since you, descending from that spacious reach,
Vouchsafe to be our master, and to teach
Your English poets to direct their lines,
To mixe their colours, and expresse their signes:
Forgiue my boldnesse, that I here present
The life of Muses yeelding true content
In ponder'd numbers, which with ease I try'd,
When your judicious rules haue been my guide.

He makes sweet musick, who in serious lines,
Light dancing tunes, and heauy prose declines >
When verses like a milky torrent flow,
They equall temper in the poet show.
He paints true formes, who with a modest heart
Giues lustre to his worke, yet couers art.
Vneuen swelling is no way to fame,
But solid ioyning of the perfect frame:
So that no curious finger there can find
The former chinkes, or nailes that fastly bind.
Yet most would haue the knots of stitches seene,
And holes, where men may thrust their hands be-
On halting feet the ragged poem goes
With accents, neither fitting verse nor prose:
The stile mine eare with more contentment fills
In lawyers' pleadings, or phisicians' bills.
For though in termes of art their skill they close,
And joy in darksome words as well as those:
They yet baue perfect sense more pure and cleare
Than enuious Muses, which sad garlands weare
Of dusky clouds, their strange conceits to hide
From humane eyes: and (lest they should be spi'd
By some sharpe Oedipus) the English tongue
For this their poore ambition suffers wrong.

[tween

In eu'ry language now in Europe spoke
By nations which the Roman empire broke,
The rellish of the Muse consists in rime,
One verse must meete another like a chime.
Our Saxon shortnesse hath peculiar grace
In choise of words, fit for the ending place,
Which leaue impression in the mind as well
As closing sounds, of some delightfull bell:
These must not be with disproportion lame,
Nor should an eccho still repeate the same.
In many changes these may be exprest:
But those that ioyne most simply run the best :
Their forme surpassing farre the fetter'd staues,
Vaine care, and needlesse repetition sanes.
These outward ashes keepe those inward fires,
Whose heate the Greeke and Roman works inspires:
Pure phrase, fit epithets, a sober care
Of metaphors, descriptions cleare, yet rare,
Similitudes contracted, smooth and round,
Not vext by learning, but with nature crown'd.
Strong figures drawne from deepe inuentions springs,
Consisting lesse in words, and more in things:
A language not affecting ancient times,
Nor Latine shreds, by which the pedant climes:
A noble subiect which the mind may lift
To easie vse of that peculiar gift,
Which poets in their raptures hold most deare,
When actions by the liuely sound appeare.
Giue me such helpes, I neuer will despaire,
But that our heads which sucke the freezing aire,
As well as hotter braines, may verse adorne,
And be their wonder, as we were their scorne.

TO THE GLORIOUS MEMORY OF OUR LATE

SOUERAIGNE LORD, KING IAMES.

WEEPE, O ye nymphs! that from your caues may

flow

Those trickling drops, whence mighty riuers flow. Disclose your hidden store: let eu'ry spring To this our sea of griefe some tribute bring: And when ye once haue wept your fountaines dry, The Heau'n with showres will send a new supply. But if these cloudy treasures prooue too scant, Our teares shall helpe, when other moystures want. This ile, nay Europe, nay the world, bewailes Our losse, with such a streame as neuer failes. Abundant floods from eu'ry letter rise, [dies. When we pronounce great lames, our soueraigne, And while I write these words, I trembling stand, A sudden darknesse hath possest the land. I cannot now expresse my selfe by signes: All eyes are blinded, none can reade my lines; . Till Charles ascending, driues away the vight, And in his splendour giues my verses light. Thus by the beames of his succeeding flame, I shall describe his father's boundless fame.

The Grecian emp rours gloried to be borne, And nurst in purple, by their parents worne. See here a king, whose birth together twines The Britan, English, Norman, Scottish lines: How like a princely throne his cradle stands ; White diadems become his swathing bands. His glory now makes all the Earth his tombe, But enuious fiends would in his mother's wombe Interre his rising greatnesse, and contend Against the babe, whom heau'nly troopes defend,

words,

And could his beames lay open peoples' harts,
As well as he can view their outward parts;
He here should find a triumph, such as he
Hath neuer seene, perhaps shall neuer see.
Shine forth, great Charles, accept our loyal!
[swords,
Throw from your pleasing eies those conqu'ring
That when vpon your name our voyces call,
The birds may feele our thund'ring noise, and fall:
Soft ayre, rebounding in a circled ring,
Shall to the gates of Heau'n our wishes bring:
For vowes, which with so strong affection flie
From many lips, will doubtlesse pierce the skie :
And God (who knowes the secrets of our minds,
When in our brests he these two vertues finds,
Sincerity and Concord, ioin'd in pray'r
For him, whom Nature made vndoubted heyre
Of three faire kingdoms) will his angels send
With blessings from his throne this pompe t' attend.
Faire citty, England's gemme, the queene of trade,
By sad infection lately desart made,

Cast off thy mourning robes, forget thy teares,
Thy cleare and healthfull Iupiter appeares :
Pale Death, who had thy silent streets possest,
And some foule dampe or angry planet prest
To worke his rage, now from th' Almightie's will
Receiues command to hold his iauelin still.
But since my Muse pretends to tune a song
Fit for this day, and fit t' inspire this throng;
Whence shall I kindle such immortall fires?
From joyes or hopes, from prayses or desires?
To prayse him, would require an endlesse wheele ;
Yet nothing told but what we see and feele.
A thousand tongues for him all gifts intreate,
In which felicity may claime her seate:
Large honour, happy conquest, boundlesse wealth,
Long life, sweete children, vnafflicted health:
But, chiefely, we esteeme that precious thing,
(Of which already we behold the spring)
Directing wisdome; and we now presage
How high that vertue will ascend in age.
In him, our certaine confidence vnites
All former worthy princes' spreading lights;
And addes his glorious father to the summe:
From ancient times no greater name can come
Our hopefull king thus to his subiects shines,
And reades in faithfull hearts these zealous lines:
"This is our countrie's father, this is hee
In whome we liue, and could not liue so free,
Were we not vnder him; his watchfull care
Preuents our dangers: how shall we declare
Our thankfull minds, but by the humble gift
Of firme obedience, which to him we lift?
As he is God's true image choicely wrought,
And for our joy to these dominions brought:
So must we imitate celestiall bands,
Which grudge not to performe diuine commands.
His brest, transparent like a liquid flood,
Discouers his aduice for publike good :
But if we judge it by deceiuing fame,
Like Semele, we thinke Ioue's piercing flame
No more than common fire in ashes nurst,
Till formelesse fancies in their errours burst.
Who know our blisse, and in his iudgement rest.”
Shall we discusse his counsels? We are blest