Like virgin-lovers or Time's feet:
Where language smiles, and accents rise
As quick, and pleasing as your eyes:
The poem smooth, and in each line
Soft as your selfe, yet masculine;
Where no1 coorse trifles blot the page
With matter borrow'd from the age,
But thoughts as innocent, and high
As angels have, or saints that dye
These raptures when I first did see
New miracles in poetrie,
And by a hand their god2 would misse
His bayes and fountaines but to kisse;
My weaker genius-crosse to fashion-
Slept in a silent admiration:
A rescue, by whose grave disguise
Pretenders oft have past for wise;
And yet as pilgrims humbly touch
Those shrines to which they bow so much,
And clouds in courtship flock, and run
To be the mask unto the sun,
So I concluded, it was true
I might at distance worship you,
A Persian votarie, and say
1 Misprinted 'not'. but marked in errata 'no'. G. Misprinted 'good', but marked in errata 'god', viz. Apollo, G.
It was your light shew'd me the way.
So loadstones guide the duller steele,
And high perfections are the wheele
Which moves the lesse, for gifts divine
Are strung upon a vitall line,
Which touch'd by you, excites in all
Affections epidemicall.
And this made me, -a truth most fit-
Adde my weake eccho to your wit ;
Which pardon, Lady, for assayes
Obscure as these might blast your bayes;
As common hands soyle flowres, and make
That dew they weare, weepe their mistake.
But I'le wash off the staine, and vow
No lawrel growes, but for your brow.
AN EPITAPH UPON THE LADY ELIZA-
BETH, SECOND DAUGHTER TO HIS
LATE MAJESTIE.1
OUTH, beauty, vertue, innocence,
Heav'ns royall, and select expence,
With virgin-teares, and sighs divine
1 Viz. of Charles Ist. She was born 28th December, 1635, and after her father's death was confined in Carisbrook Castle, Isle of Wight, where she died 8th September, 1650. G.
See here the genii of this shrine;
Where now-thy faire soule wing'd away,-
They guard the casket where she lay.
Thou hadst, e'r thou the light couldst see,
Sorrowes layd up, and stor'd for thee;
Thou suck'dst in woes, and the brests lent
Their milke to thee, but to lament;
Thy portion here was griefe, thy years
Distill'd no other rain, but tears,
Tears without noise, but-understood-
As lowd, and shrill as any bloud;
Thou seem'st a rose-bud born in snow,
A flowre of purpose sprung to bow
To headless tempests, and the rage
Of an incensed, stormie age.
Others, e're their afflictions grow,
Are tim'd, and season'd for the blow,
But thine, as rhumes' the tend'rest part,
Fell on a young and harmless heart.
And yet as balm-trees gently spend
Their tears for those, that do them rend,
So mild and pious thou wert seen,
Though full of suffrings; free from spleen,
Thou didst not murmure, nor revile,
And drank'st thy wormwood with a smile.
As envious eyes blast, and infect
And cause misfortunes by aspect,
So thy sad stars dispens'd to thee,
No influxe, but calamitie,
They view'd thee with ecclypsed rayes,
And but the back-side' of bright dayes.
As by an unseen hand 'tis cleer,
Which now she reads, and smiling wears,
A crown with Him, who wipes off tears.
TO SIR WILLIAM D'AVENANT UPON HIS
ELL, wee are rescued! and by thy rare
Poets shall live, when princes dye like
Th'hast cleer'd the prospect to our harmless Hill,
Of late years clouded with imputed ill,
And the soft, youthfull couples there may move,
As chaste as stars converse and smile above.
Th'hast taught their language, and their love to
flow
1 See Index of Words. s. v. G.
2 Gondibert was originally published in 1650-1. G.
Calme as rose-leafes, and pure as virgin-snow,
Which doubly feasts us, being so refin'd
They both delight, and dignifie the mind;
Like to the watrie musick of some spring,
Whose pleasant flowings at once wash and sing.
And where before heroick poems were
Made up of spirits, prodigies, and fear,
And shew'd-through all the melancholy flight-
Like some dark region overcast with night,
As if the poet had been quite dismay'd,
While only giants and enchantments sway'd:
Thou like the sun, whose eye brooks no disguise
Hast chas'd them hence, and with discoveries
So rare and learnèd fill'd the place, that wee
Those fam'd grandeza's find out-done by thee,
And under-foot see all those vizards hurl'd,
Which bred the wonder of the former world.
'Twas dull to sit, as our fore fathers did,
At crums and voyders,' and because unbid,
Refrain wise appetite. This made thy fire
Break through the ashes of thy aged sire,
To lend the world such a convincing light
As shewes his fancy darker than his sight.
Nor was't alone the bars and length of dayes
-Though those gave strength and stature to his
bayes,-
1 Basket for broken meats. G.
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