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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 ne'er did Fortune better yet
As you from all old errours free
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.
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.
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
To her in Oxford, and to him in Heaven,
TO THE CUTIER OF COLMAN STREET.
As, when the midland sea is no where clear
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,
Though laded, to put forth upon the stage, All these, if we miscarry here to-day,
Will rather till they rot in th' harbour stay ;
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,
Thus humbly, ere we pass, strike sail to you.
ADDED AT COURT.
But forc'd submission, which I now recall.
The sovereign of these narrow seas of wit ;
'Tis his dominion and domain: as he
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.
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:
Shall grow immortal as thy mind.
To Sacharissa's well-sung name.
So faithfully will I declarc
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.
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.
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
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
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.
'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.
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,
That they might be mistaken too:
They'll call their eyes as false as thee.
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
Within too stor'd enough of love :
That love in all my parts shall live.
CLAD ALL IN WHITE.
Fairest thing that shines below,
Why in this robe dost thou appear?
Would'st thou a white most perfect show,
Thou must at all no garment wear:
Thou wilt seem much whiter so,
Than Winter when 'tis clad with snow.
'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,
The glass will seem as white as those.
Thou now one heap of beauty art;
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.
Such robes the saints departed wear,
Such their exalted bodies are,
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;
When thou hadst an intent to kill !
Of peace and yielding who would doubt, Should steal her quite from me.
When the white flag he sees hung out ?
LEAVING ME, AND THEN LOVING
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.