The real object must command

Those smallest things of Nature let me know, Each judgment of his eye and motion of his hand. Rather than all their greatest actions do! From these and all long errours of the way

Whoever would deposed Truth advance In which our wandering predecessors went,

Into the throne usurp'd from it, And, like th’old Hebrews, many years did stray

Must feel at first the blows of Ignorance, In deserts, but of small extent,

And the sharp points of envious Wit. Bacon, like Moses, led us forth at last :

So, when, by various turns of the celestial dance, The barren wilderness he past;

In many thousand years Did on the very border stand

A star, so long unknown, appears, Of the blest Promis'd land ;

Though Heaven itself more beauteous by it grow, And from the mountain's top of his exalted wit,

It troubles and alarms the world below, Saw it himself, and show'd us it.

Does to the wise a star, to fools a meteor, show. But life did never to one man allow

With courage and success you the bold work Time to discover worlds, and conquer too;

begin; Nor can so short a line sufficient be

Your cradle has not idle been : To fathom the vast depths of Nature's sea.

None e'er, but Hercules and you, would be The work' he did we ought t admire;

At five years age worthy a history :
And were unjust if we should more require

And ne'er did Fortune better yet
From his few years, divided 'twixt th' excess Th’ historian to the story fit:
Of low affliction and high happiness :

As you from all old errours free
For who on things remote can fix his sight, And purge the body of Philosophy ;
That's always in a triumph or a fight?

So from all modern follies he From you, great champions! we expect to get

Has vindicated Eloquence and Wit. These spacious countries, but discover'd yet;

His candid style like a clean stream does slide, Countries, where yet, instead of Nature, we

And his bright fancy, all the way, Her images and idols worship'd see:

Does like the sun-shine in it play ; These large and wealthy regions to subdue,

It does, like Thames, the best of rivers ! glide, Though Learning has whole armies at command, Where the god does not rudely overturn, Quarter'd about in every land,

But gently pour,

the crystal urn, A better troop she ne'er together drew :

And with judicious hand does the whole current Methinks, like Gideon's little band,

guide: God with design has pick'd out you,

'T bas all the beauties Nature can impart, To do those noble wonders by a few :

And all the comely dress, without the paint, of When the whole host he saw, "They are" (said

Art. he) "Too many to o'ercome for me :'' And now he chooses out his men, Much in the way that he did then ;

THE CHAIR MADE OUT OF SIR Not those many whom he found Idly extended on the ground,

FRANCIS DRAKE'S SHIP, To drink with their dejected head

PRESENTED TO THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY OF OXFORD, The stream, just so as by their mouths it Aed :

BY JOHN DAVIS, OF DEPTFORD, ESQUIRE.
No; but those few who took the waters up,
And made of their laborious hands the cup.

To this great ship, which round the globe bas'

run, Thus you prepard, and in the glorious fight

And match'd in race the chariot of the Sun, Their wondrous pattern too you take ;

This Pythagorean ship (for it may claim Their old and empty pitchers first they brake,

Without presumption so deserv'd a name, And with their hands then lifted up the light.

By knowledge once, and transformation now) Io ! sound too the trumpets here!

In her new shape, this sacred port allow.
Already your victorious lights appear;
New scenes of Heaven already we espy,

Drake and his ship could not have wish'd from

Fate And crowds of golden worlds on high,

A more blest station, or more blest estate ; Which from the spacious plains of earth and sea

For lo! a seat of endless rest is given
Could never yet discover'd be,

To her in Oxford, and to him in Heaven,
By sailors' or Chaldeans' watchful eye.
Nature's great works no distance can obscure,
No smallness her near objects can secure;

PROLOGUE
Y' have taught the curious sight to press

TO THE CUTIER OF COLMAN STREET.
Into the privatest recess
Of her imperceptible littleness !

As, when the midland sea is no where clear
Y have learn’d to read her smallest hand, From dreadful fleets of Tunis and Argier-
And well begun her deepest sense to understand! Which coast about, to all they meet with foes,
Mischief and true dishonour fall on those And upon which nought can be got but blows-
Who would to laughter or to scorn expose

The merchant-ships so much their passage doubt, So virtuous and so noble a design,

That, though full freighted, none dares venture So buman for its use, for knowledge so divine. out, Thethings which these proud men despise, and call And trade decays, and scarcity ensues : Impertinent, and vain, and sınall,

Just so the timorous wits of late refuse,

UPON

Though laded, to put forth upon the stage, All these, if we miscarry here to-day,
Affrighted by the critics of this age.

Will rather till they rot in th' harbour stay ;
It is a party numerous, watchful, bold ;

Nay, they will back again, though they were come They can froin nought, which sails in sight, with- | Ev'n to their last safe road, the tyring-room. hold;

Therefore again I say, if you be wise,
Nor do their cheap, though mortal, thunder spare; Let this for once pass free ; let it suffice
They shoot, alas! with wind-guns charg'd with air. That we, your sovereign power here to avow,
But yet, gentlemen-critics of Argier,

Thus humbly, ere we pass, strike sail to you.
For your own interest I'd advise ye here,

ADDED AT COURT.
To let this little forlorn-hope go by
Safe and untouch'd. “ That must not be”' (you'll STAY, gentlemen : what I have said was all
cry.)

But forc'd submission, which I now recall.
If ye be wise, it must; I'll tell you why. Ye're all but pirates now again ; for here
There are seven, eight, nine-stay-there are Does the true sovereign of the seas appear,
behind

The sovereign of these narrow seas of wit ;
Ten plays at least, which wait but for a wind, 'Tis his own Thames; he knows and governs it.
And the glad news that we the enemy miss;

'Tis his dominion and domain: as he
And those are all your own, if you spare this. Pleases, 'tis either shut to us, or free.
Some are but new trimm'd up, others quite new ; Not only, if his passport we obtain,
Some by known shipwrights built, and others too We fear no little rovers of the main;
By that great author made, whoe'er he be, But, if our Neptune his calm visage show,
That styles himself“ Person of Quality.” No wave shall dare to rise or wind to blow.

THE MISTRESS,

OR
SEVERAL COPIES OF LOVE-VERSES.
Hæret lateri lethalis arundo.

Virg.

THE REQUEST.

Th’excess of heat is but a fable;

We know the torrid zone is now found habitable. J'ave often wish'd to love ; what shall I do? Among the woods and forests thou art found, Me still the cruel boy does spare ;

There boars and lions thou dost tame; And I a double task must bear,

Is not my heart a nobler game? First to woo him, and then a mistress too. Let Venus, men; and beasts, Diana, Hound! Come at last and strike, for shame,

Thou dost the birds thy subjects make; If thou art any thing besides a name;

Thy nimble feathers do their wings o'ertake: I'll think thee else no god to be,

Thou all the spring their songs dost hear; But poets rather gods, who first created thee. Make me love too, I'll sing to thecall the year! I ask not one in whom all beauties grow;

What service can mute fishes do to thee? Let me but love, whate'er she be,

Yet against them thy dart prevails, She cannot seem deform'd to me,

Fiercing the armour of their scales; And I would have her seem to others so.

And still thy sea-born mother lives i'th' sea Desire takes wings and straight does fly, Dost thou deny only to me It stays not duliy to inqaire the why.

The no great privilege of captivity? That happy thing, a lover, grown,

I beg or challenge here thy bow; I shall not see with others' eyes, scarce with Either thy pity to me, or else thiuc anger, shost. mine own.

Come ! or I'll teach the world to scorn that bowy l' she be coy, and scorn my noble fire

I'll teach them thousand wholesome arts If her chill, beart I cannot move;

Both to resist and cure thy darts, Why I'll enjoy the very love,

More than thy skilful Ovid e'er did know. And make a mistress of my own desire.

Music of sighs thou shalt not hear, Flames their most vigorous heat do hold, Nor drink one wretched lover's tasteful tear : And purest light, if compass'd round with cold: Nay, unless soon thou woundest me,

Su, when sharp Winter means most harm, My verses shall not only wound, but murder, thee The springing plants are by the snow itself kept

THE THRALDOM. Put do not touch my heart, and so be gone; I CAME, I saw, and was undone ; Strike deep thy burning arrows in !

Lightning did through my bories and marrow rur; Lukewarmness I account a sin,

A pointed pain pierc'd deep my heart; As great in love as in religion.

A swift cold trembling seiz'd on every part; Come arm'd with flames; for I would prove My head turn'd round, nor could it beas All the extremities of mighty Love,

The poison that was enter'd there.

warm.

So a destroying-angel's breath

Fond lover! you a mistress have Blows in the plague, and with it hasty death : Of her that's but your fellow-slave. Such was the pain, did so begin,

What should those poets mean of old, To the poor wietch, when Legion enter'd in.

That made their god to woo in gold? “ Forgive me, God!" I cry'd; for I

Of all men, sure, they had no cause Flatter'd myself I was to die.

To bind Love to such costly laws; But quickly to my cost I found,

And yet I scarcely blame them now; 'Twas cruel Love, not Death, had made the wound; For who, alas! would not allow, Death a more generous rage does use ;

That women should such gifts receive, Quarter to all he conquers does refuse :

Could they, as he, be what they give. Whilst Love with barbarous mercy saves If thou, my dear, thyself shouldst prize, The vanquish'd lives, to make them slaves.

Alas! what value would suffice? I am thy slave then ; let me know,

The Spaniard could not do 't, though he Hard master! the great task I have to do: Should to both Indies jointure thee. Who pride and scorn do undergo,

Thy beauties therefore wrong will take, In tempests and rough seas thy galleys row;

If thou shouldst any bargain make; They pant, and groan, and sigh; but find To give all, will befit thee well; Their sighs increase the angry wind.

But not at under-rates to sell. Like an Egyptian tyrant, some

Bestow thy beauty then on me, Thou weariest out in building but a tomb;

Freely, as Nature gave 't to thee; Others, with sad and tedious art,

'Tis an exploded popish thought Labour i' th’quarries of a stony heart :

To think that Heaven may be bought. Of all the works thou dost assign,

Prayers, hymns, and praises, are the way, To all the several slaves of thine,

And those my thankful Muse shall pay:
Employ me, mighty Love! to dig the mine. Thy body, in my verse enshrin'd,

Shall grow immortal as thy mind.
I'll fix thy title next in fame

To Sacharissa's well-sung name.
THE GIVEN LOVE.

So faithfully will I declarc
P'le on; for what should hinder me

What all thy wondrous beauties are, From loving and enjoying thee?

That when, at the last great assize, Thou canst not those exceptions make,

All women shall together rise, Which vulgar, sordid mortals take,

Men straight shall cast their eyes on thee, That my fate's too mean and low;

And know at first that thou art she. 'Twere pity I should love thee so, If that dull cause could hinder me

THE SPRING. In loving and enjoying thee.

THOUGH you be absent here, I needs must say It does not me a whit displease,

The trees as beauteous are, and flowers as gay, That the rich all honours seize;

As ever they were wont to be ; That you all titles make your own,

Nay, the birds' rural music too Are valiant, learned, wise, alone :

Is as melodious and free, But, if you claim o'er women too

As if they sung to pleasure you : The power which over men ye do;

I saw a rose-bud ope this morn—I'll swear If you alone must lovers be;

The blushing Morning open'd not more fair. For that, sirs, you must pardon me.

How could it be so fair, and you away? Rather than lose what does so near

How could the trees be beauteous, flowers so gay? Concern my life and being here,

Could they remember but last year, I'll some such crooked ways invent,

How you did them, they you, delight, As you, or your forefathers, went:

The sprouting leaves which saw you here, I'm fatter or oppose the king,

And call'd their fellows to the sight, Turn Puritan, or any thing;

Would, looking round for the same sight in vain, I'll force my mind to arts so new:

Creep back into their silent barks again. Grow rich, and love as well as you.

Where'er you walk'd, trecs were as reverend But rather thus let me remain,

made, As man in Paradise did reign;

As when of old gods dwelt in every shade. When perfect love did so agree

Is 't possible they should not know, With innocence and poverty,

What loss of honour they sustain Adam did no jointure give;

That thus they smile and flourish now, Himself was jointure to bis Eve:

And still their former pride retain? Untouch'd with avarice yet, or pride,

Dull creatures ! 'tis not without cause that she, The rib' came freely back this side.

Who fled the god of wit, was made a tree. A curse upon the man who taught

In ancient times, sure, they much wiser were, Women, that love was to be bought;

When they rejoic'd the Thracian verse to hear; Rather doat only on your gold,

In vain did Nature bid them stay, And that with greedy avarice hold;

When Orpheus had his song begun Por, if woman too submit

They call'd their wondering roots away, To that, and sell herself foi t,

And bade them silent to him run.

WRITTEN IN

How would those learned trees have follow'd | Oh, no; there's sense in this, and mystery you !

Thou now may'st change thy author's name, You would have drawn them and their poet too. And to her hand lay noble claim;

For, as she reads, she makes, the words in thee, But who can blame them now? for, since you're

Yet, if thine own unworthiness gone,

Will still that thou art mine, not her's, confess, They're here the only fair, and shine alone; You did their vatural rights invade;

Consume thyself with fire before her eyes,

And so her grace or pity move: Wherever you did walk or sit,

The gods, though beasts they do not love, The thickest boughs could make no shade,

Yet like them when they 're burnt in sacrifice. Although the Sun had granted it: The fairest flowers could please no more, near

you, Than painted flowers, set next to them, could do.

INCONSTANCY.

Five years ago (says story) I lov'd you, hene'er then you come hither, that shall be he time, which this to others is, to me.

For which you call me most inconstant now, The little joys which here are now,

Pardon me, madam, you mistake the man,

For I am not the same that I was then; The name of punishments do bear;

No flesh is now the same 'twas then in me, When by their sight they let us know How we depriv'd of greater are:

And that my mind is chang’d, yourself may see. 'Tis you the best of seasons with you bring;

The same thoughts to retain still, and intents, This is for beasts, and that for men, the Spring.

W'ere more inconstant far; for accidents
Must of all things most strangely inconstant

prove,
If from one subject they t’ another more;
My members then the father members were,

From whence these take their birth which now JUICE OF LEMON.

are here. WHILST what I write I do not see,

If then this body love what th' other did, I dare thus, ev'n to you, write poetry.

"Twere incest; which by Nature is forbid. Ah, foolish Muse! which dost so high aspire,

You might as well this day inconstant name,

Because the weather is not still the same
And know'st ber judgment well,
How much it does thy power excel,

That it was yesterday—or blame the year, Yet dar'st be read by, thy just doom, the fire.

'Cause the spring flowers, and autumn fruit, dees

bear. Alas! thou think'st thyself secure,

The world's a scene of changes; and to be Because thy form is innocent and pure:

Constant, in Nature were inconstancy; Like hypocrites, which seem unspotted here; For 'twere to break the laws herself has made: But, when they sadly come to die,

Our substances themselves do feet and fade; And the last fire their truth must try,

The most fix'd being still does move and fly, Scrawl'd o'er like thee, and blotted, they appear. Swift as the wings of Time 'tis ineasur'd by. Go then, but reverently go,

T'imagine then that love should never cease And, since thou needs must sin, confess it too: (Love, which is but the ornament of these) Confess 't, and with humility clothe thy shame; Were quite as senseless, as to wonder why For thou, who else must burned be

Beauty and colour stays not when we die.
An heretic, if she pardon thee,
May'st, like a martyr, then enjoy the flame.
But, if her wisdom grow severe,

NOT FAIR.
And suffer not her goodness to be there;

'Tis very true, I thought you once as fair If her large mercies cruelly it restrain ;

As women in th' idea are; Be not discourag'd, but require

Whatever here seems beauteous, seem'd to be A more gentle ordeal fire,

But a faint metaphor of thee : And bid her by Love's flames read it again.

But then, methoughts, there something shind, Strange power of heat! thou yet dost show

within, Like winter-earth, naked, or cloath'd with snow: Which cast this lustre o'er thy skin; But as, the quickening Sun approaching near, Nor could ( chuse but count it the Sun's light, The plants arise up by degrees;

Which made this cloud appear so bright. A sudden paint adorns the trees,

But, ince I knew thy falschood and thy pride, And all kind Nature's characters appear:

And all thy thousand faults beside, So, nothing yet in thee is seen;

A very Moor, methinks, plac'd near to thee,

White as his teeth would seem to be.
But, when a genial heat warms thee within,
A new-born wood of various lines there grows;

So men (they say) by Hell's delusions led,

Have ta'en a succubus to their bed; Here buds an A, and there a B,

Believe it fair, and themselves happy call, Here sprouts a V, and there a T,

Till the cleft foot discovers all : And all the flourishing letters stand in rows.

Then they start from 't, half ghosts themselves Still, silly Paper! thou wilt think,

with fear; That all this might as well be writ with ink:

And devil, as ’tis, it does appear.

So, since against my will I found thee foul,

Deform'd and crooked in thy soul,
My reason straight did to my senses show,

That they might be mistaken too:
Nay, when the world but knows how false you

are,
There's not a man will think you fair ;
Thy shape will monstrous in their fancies be,

They'll call their eyes as false as thee.
Be what thou wilt, Hate will present thee so
As Puritans do the pope, and Papists Luther do.

But, like the Persian tyrant, Love within

Keeps his proud court, and ne'er is seen, Oh! take my heart, and by that means you'll

prove

Within too stor'd enough of love :
Give me but your's, I 'll by that change so

thrive,

That love in all my parts shall live.
So powerful is this change, it render can
My outside woman, and your inside man.

CLAD ALL IN WHITE.
PLATONIC LOVE.

Fairest thing that shines below,
INDEED I must confess,

Why in this robe dost thou appear?

Would'st thou a white most perfect show,
When souls mix 'tis an happiness;

Thou must at all no garment wear:
But not complete till bodies too combine,

Thou wilt seem much whiter so,
And closely as our minds together join :

Than Winter when 'tis clad with snow.
But half of Heaven the souls in glory taste,
Till by love in Heaven, at last,

'Tis not the linen shows so fair ; Their bodies too are plac'd.

Her skin shines through, and makes it bright:

So clouds themselves like suns appear, In thy immortal part,

When the San pierces them with light: Man, as well as I, thou art;

So, lilies in a glass enclose,
But something 'tis that differs thee and me;

The glass will seem as white as those.
And we must one even in that difference be,
I thee, both as a man and woman, prize;

Thou now one heap of beauty art;
For a perfect love implies

Nought outwards, or within, is foul : Love in all capacities.

Condensed beams make every part ; Can that for true love pass,

Thy body's cloathed like thy soul; When a fair woman courts her glass?

Thy soul, which does itself display,

Like a star plac'd i’ th' milky-way.
Something unlike must in Love's likeness be;
His wonder is, one, and variety :

Such robes the saints departed wear,
For he, whose soul nought but a soul can move, Woven all with light divine ;
Does a new Narcissus prove,

Such their exalted bodies are,
And his own image love.

And with such full glory shine : That souls do beauty know,

But they regard not mortals' pain; Tis to the bodies' help they owe;

Men pray, I fear, to both in vain. If, when they know 't, they straight abuse that Yet, seeing thee so gently pure, trust,

My hopes will needs continue still;
And shut the body from 't, 'tis as unjust Thou would'st not take this garment, sure,
As if I brought my dearest friend to see

When thou hadst an intent to kill !
My mistress, and at th' instant he

Of peace and yielding who would doubt, Should steal her quite from me.

When the white flag he sees hung out ?

THE CHANGE.

LEAVING ME, AND THEN LOVING

MANY.
Love in her sunny eyes does basking play;
Love walks the pleasant mazes of her hair;

So men, who once have cast the truth away, Lore does on both her lips for ever stray,

Forsook by God, do strange wild lusts obey ; And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there: So the vain Gentiles, when they left t'adore In all her outward parts Love's always seen;

One deity, could not stop at thousands more: But oh! he never went within.

Their zeal was senseless straight, and boundless,

grown; Within, Love's foes, his greatest foes, abide,

They worship'd many a beast and many stone. Malice, Inconstancy, and Pride :

Ah, fair apostate! couldst thou think to flee 80, the Earth's face trees, herbs, and flowers, do From truth and goodness, yet keep unity? dress,

I reign'd alone ; and my blest self could call With other beauties numberless;

The universal monarch of her all. But at the centre darkness is, and Hell;

Mine, mine, her fair East-Indies were above, There wicked spirits, and there the damned, where those suns rise that cheer the world of dwell.

Love; With me, alas ! quite contrary it fares; Where beauties shine like gems of richest price; Darkness and death lie in my weeping eyes, Where coral grows, and every breath is spice: Despair and paleness in my face appears,

Mine too her rich West-Indies were below, And grief, and fear, Love's greatest enemies; Where mines of gold and endless treasures grow.