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That not a line-to the most critick he

Offends with flashes, or obscuritie.

When thou the wild of humours trackst, thy pen So imitates that motley stock in men,

As if thou hadst in all their bosomes been,

And seen those leopards that lurk within:
The am'rous youth steals from thy courtly page
His row'd addresse, the souldier his brave rage;
And those soft beauteous readers whose looks can
Make some men poets, and make any man

A lover, when thy Slave but seemes to dye,
Turn all his mourners, and melt at the eye.

Thus, thou thy thoughts hast drest in such a strain

As doth not only speak, but rule and raign;
Nor are those bodyes they assum'd, dark clouds,
Or a thick bark, but clear, transparent shrouds,
Which who lookes on, the rayes so strongly beat
They'l brushe and warm him with a quickning
heat;

So soul's shine at the eyes, and pearls display
Through the loose chrystal-streams a glaunce of day:
But what's all this unto a royall test?

Thou art the man, whom great Charles so exprest! Then let the crowd refrain their needless humme, When thunder speaks, then squibs and winds are dumb.

TO THE BEST, AND MOST ACCOMPLISH'D

B

COUPLE

LESSINGS as rich and fragrant crown

your heads

As the mild Heav'n on roses sheds,

When at their cheeks-like pearls-they weare

The clouds that court them in a teare;

And may they be fed from above

By Him which first ordain'd your love!

Fresh as the houres, may all your pleasures be,
And healthfull as eternitie!

Sweet as the flowres' first breath, and close

As th' unseen spreadings of the rose,

When he unfolds his curtain'd head,

And makes his bosome the sun's bed.

Soft as your selves, run your whole lifes, and cleare

As your own glasse, or what shines there;
Smooth as heav'ns face, and bright as he

When without mask, or tiffanie ;1

In all your time not one jarre meet
But peace as silent as his feet.

1 Gauze-veil. G.

Like the daye's warmth may all your comforts be, Untoil'd for, and serene as he,

Yet free and full as is that sheafe

Of sun-beams gilding ev'ry leafe,
When now the tyrant-heat expires

And his cool'd locks breath milder fires.

And as those parcell'd glories he doth shed.
Are the faire issues of his head,

Which ne'r so distant are soon known
By th' heat and lustre for his own;
So may each branch of yours wee see
Your coppyes, and our wonders be!

And when no more on Earth you must remain
Invited hence to Heav'n again,

Then may your vertuous, virgin-flames
Shine in those heires of your fair names,
And teach the world that mysterie,
Your selves in your posteritie!

So you to both worlds shall rich presents bring, And gather'd up to heav'n, leave her a spring.

AN ELEGIE ON THE DEATH OF MR. R. HALL, SLAIN AT PONTEFRACT, 1648.1

KNEW it would be thus! and my just

fears

Of thy great spirit are improv'd to tears:
Yet flow these not from any base distrust
Of a fair name, or that thy honour must
Confin'd to those cold reliques sadly sit
In the same cell an obscure anchorite.
Such low distempers murther; they that must
Abuse thee so, weep not, but wound thy dust.
But I past such dimme mourners can descrie

Thy fame above all clouds of obloquie,
And like the sun with his victorious rayes

Charge through that darkness to the last of dayes. 'Tis true, fair manhood hath a female eye,

And tears are beauteous in a victorie,

Nor are wee so high-proofe, but griefe will find Through all our guards a way to wound the mind; But in thy fall what addes the brackish summe

1 CROMWELL left Pontefract Castle to be taken by Lambert, and to avenge the lamented Rainsborough's murder by the Royalists. See account in Clarendon's History of the Rebellion, Book xi: also our edition of the Works of Thomas Brooks (6 vols. 8vo.) where will be found his striking sermon for Rainsborough. G.

More than a blott unto thy martyrdome ?

Which scorns such wretched suffrages, and stands More by thy single worth, than our whole bands. Yet could the puling tribute rescue ought

In this sad losse, or wert thou to be brought

Back here by tears, I would in any wise

Pay down the summe, or quite consume my eyes. Thou fell'st our double ruine; and this rent Forc'd in thy life shak'd both the Church and

tent;

Learning in others steales them from the van,

And basely wise emasculates the man,

But lodged in thy brave soul the bookish feat,
Serv'd only as the light unto thy heat;
Thus when some quitted action, to their shame,
And only got a discreet coward's name,
Thou with thy bloud mad'st purchase of renown,
And diedst the glory of the sword and gown:
Thy bloud hath hallow'd Pomfret, and this blow
-Prophan'd before-hath church'd the Castle now.
Nor is't a common valour we deplore,
But such as with fifteen a hundred bore,
And lightning-like-not coopt within a wall-
In stormes of fire and steele fell on them all.
Thou wert no wool-sack souldier, nor of those
Whose courage lies in winking at their foes,
That live at loop-holes, and consume their breath

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