So have I seen some tender flip,

Sav'd with care from winter's nip,
The pride of her carnation train,
Pluck'd up by some unheedy fwain,
Who only thought to crop the flow'r
New shot up from vernal show'r;
But the fair blossom hangs the head
Side-ways, as on a dying bed,
And those pearls of dew she wears,
Prove to be presaging tears,
Which the fad morn had let fall

On her haft'ning funeral.

Gentle Lady, may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have;

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That thy noble house doth bring,
Here be tears of perfect moan
Wept for thee in Helicon,

And some flowers, and fome bays,
For thy herse, to ftrow the

ways,

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Sent thee from the banks of Came,

Devoted to thy virtuous name;

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Whilst thou, bright Saint, high sitst in glory,

Next her much like to thee in ftory,

That

That fair Syrian shepherdess,

Who after years of barrenness,
The highly favor'd Joseph bore
To him that ferv'd for her before,

And at her next birth much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,
Far within the bofom bright

Of blazing Majesty and Light:

There with thee, new welcome Saint,
Like fortunes may her foul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant sheen,
No Marchioness, but now a Queen.

SONG.

IX.

On MAY MORNING.

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OW the bright morning star, day's harbinger,

Now

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Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowflip, and the pale primrose. Hail bounteous May that dost inspire Mirth and youth and warm defire; Woods and groves are of thy dreffing, Hill and dale doth boast thy bleffing. Thus we falute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

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On

X.

On SHAKESPEAR. 1630.

WH

HAT needs my Shakespear for his honor'd
The labor of an age in piled ftones, (bones

Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid
Under a star-ypointing pyramid?

Dear fon of memory, great heir of fame,

What need'st thou fuch weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment

Haft built thyself a live-long monument.

For whilft to th' fhame of flow-endevoring art
Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart
Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book
Those Delphic lines with deep impression took,
Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving,
Doft make us marble with too much conceiving;
And so fepulcher'd in such pomp doft lie,
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

XI.

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On the University Carrier, who ficken'd in the time of his vacancy, being forbid to go to London, by reafon of the plague.

ERE lies old Hobson; Death hath broke his girt,

HE

And here alas, hath laid him in the dirt,

Or elfe the ways being foul, twenty to one,
He's here stuck in a flough, and overthrown.

'Twas

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"Twas such a shifter, that if truth were known,
Death was half glad when he had got him down;
For he had any time this ten years full,

Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull.
And furely Death could never have prevail'd,
Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd;
But lately finding him so long at home,

And thinking now his journey's end was come,
And that he had ta'en up his latest inn,

In the kind office of a chamberlin

IO

Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night, Pull'd off his boots, and took away the light:

If any ask for him, it shall be faid,

Hobson has fupt and's newly gone to bed.

H

XII.

Another on the fame.

ERE lieth one, who did most truly prove

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That he could never die while he could move;

So hung his destiny, never to rot

While he might still jogg on and keep his trot,
Made of fphere-metal, never to decay
Until his revolution was at stay.

Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime
'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time:
And like an engin mov'd with wheel and weight,
His principles being ceas'd, he ended strait.

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IO

Reft

Reft that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath;
Nor were it contradiction to affirm

Too long vacation haften'd on his term.

Merely to drive the time away he ficken'd,

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Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd;
Nay, quoth he, on his fwooning bed out-ftretch'd,
If I mayn't carry, fure I'll ne'er be fetch'd,
But vow, though the cross doctors all ftood hearers,
For one carrier put down to make six bearers.
Ease was his chief disease, and to judge right,
He dy'd for heaviness that his cart went light:
His leifure told him that his time was come,
And lack of load made his life burdenfome,
That ev'n to his last breath (there be that say't)
As he were prefs'd to death, he cry'd more weight;
But had his doings lasted as they were,
He had been an immortal carrier.
Obedient to the moon he spent his date
In course reciprocal, and had his fate
Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas,
Yet (ftrange to think) his wain was his increase:
His letters are deliver'd all and gone,

Only remains this superscription.

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