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Oxford University Press 

Lornlon Edinburgh Glasgow Copenhagen 

New York Toronto Melbourne Cape Town 

Bombay Calcutta Madras Shanghai 

Humphrey Milford Publisher to the University 


I AM afraid that this third and last volume of Caroline Poets 
must reverse the famous apology of the second of the monarchs 
from whom it derives its title. It has been an unconscionable 
time in being born ; though I do not, to speak in character with 
my authors, know what hostile divinity bribed Lucina. I cannot 
blame any one else : and — though for the first ten years after the 
appearance of Vol. II I was certainly very busy, professionally and 
with other literary work — I do not think I omitted any opportunity 
of getting on with the book. I think I may say that if the time 
I have actually spent thereon at spare moments could be put 
together it would represent a full year's solid labour, if not more. 
I make neither complaint nor boast of this ; for it has always 
been my opinion that a person who holds such a position as 
I then held should, if he possibly can, do something, in unre- 
munerative and unpopular ways, to make the treasure of English 
literature more easily accessible. I have thoroughly enjoyed the 
work ; and I owe the greatest thanks to the authorities of the 
Clarendon Press for making it possible. 

But no efforts of mine, unless I had been able to reside in Oxford 
or London, would have much hastened the completion of the task : 
for the materials were hard to select, and, when selected, harder to 
find in copies that could be used for printing. Some of them 
we could not get hold of in any reasonable time : and the Delegates 
of the Press were good enough to have bromide rotographs of the 
Bodleian copies made for me. I worked on these as long as I could : 
but I found at last that the white print on black ground, crammed 
and crowded together as it is in the little books of the time, was 
not merely troublesome and painful, but was getting really danger- 
ous, to my extremely weak eyesight. 

This necessitated, or almost necessitated, some alterations in the 
scheme. One concerned the modernization of spelling, which ac- 
cordingly will be found disused in a few later pieces of the volume ; 
another, and more important one, the revision of the text. This 
latter was most kindly undertaken principally by Mr. Percy Simpson, 
( iii ) 

Prefatory Note 

who has had the benefit of Mr. G. Thorn-Drury's unrivalled know- 
ledge of these minors. I could not think of cramping the hands 
of scholars so well versed as these were in seventeenth-century 
work : and they have accordingly bestowed rather more attention 
than had originally formed part of my own plan on apparatus 
criticus and comparison of MSS. The reader of course gains con- 
siderably in yet other respects. I owe these gentlemen, who may 
almost be called part-editors of this volume as far as text is con- 
cerned, very sincere thanks ; and I have endeavoured as far as 
possible to specify their contributions. 

When the war came the fortunes of the book inevitably received 
another check. The Clarendon Press conducted its operations in 
many other places besides Walton Street, and with many other 
instruments besides types and paper. Nor had its Home Department 
much time for such mere belles lettres as these. Moreover the loss of 
my own library, and the difficulties of compensating for that loss 
in towns less rich in books than Edinburgh, put further drags 
on the wheel. So I and my Carolines had to bide our time still : 
and even now it has been thought best to jettison a part of the 
promised cargo of the ship rather than keep it longer on the stocks. 

The poets whom I had intended to include, and upon whom 
I had bestowed more or less labour, but who now suffer exclusion, 
were Heath, Flecknoe, Hawkins, Beedome, Prestwich, Lawrence, 
Pick, Jenkyn, and a certain 'Philander'. Of these I chiefly 
regret Heath — the pretty title of whose Clarastella is not ill- 
supported by the text, and who would have ' taken out the taste ' 
of Whiting satisfactorily for some people — Hawkins, Lawrence, 
and Jenkyn. Henry Hawkins in Partheneia Sacra has attained 
a sort of mystical unction which puts him not so very far below 
Crashaw, and perhaps entitles him to rank with that poet, Southwell, 
and Chideock Tichborne earlier as the representative quartette of 
Knglish Roman Catholic poetry in the major Elizabethan age. 
Lawrence's Arnalte and Lucoida, not a brilliant thing in itself, has 
real literary interest of the historical-comparative kind as repre- 
senting a romance by Diego de San Pedro (best known 
as the author of the Carcel dc Amor) and its P'rench translation 
by Hcrbcray, the translator of Amadis. But such things remain 
to be taken up by some general historian of the ' Heroic ' Romance. 
As for ' Pathcrykc ' \sic\ Jenkyn he attracted me many years ago 
by the agreeable hetcrography of his name (so far preferable to more 
( iv ) 

Prefatory Note 

recent sham-Celticizings thereof) and held me by less fantastic 
merits. Flecknoe pleaded for a chance against the tyranny of 
' glorious John '. But when it was a question between keeping 
these and the others with further delay and letting them go, there 
could not be much doubt in which way England expected this 
man to do his infinitesimal duty. 

One instance, not of subtraction but of addition to the original 
contents, seems to require slight notice. The eye-weakness just 
mentioned having always prevented me from making any regular 
study of palaeography, I had originally proposed only to include work 
already printed. I was tempted to break my rule in the case 
of Godolphin : and made rather a mess of it. An errata list in the 
present volume (p. 552) will, I believe, repair the blunder. The 
single censurer of this (I further believe) single serious lapse of mine 
was, I remember, troubled about it as a discredit to the University 
of Oxford. I sincerely trust that he was mistaken. None of us 
can possibly do credit to our University ; we can only derive 
it from her. To throw any discredit on her is equally impossible : 
though of course any member may achieve such discredit for 
himself. Let me hope that the balance against me for indiscreet 
dealing with perhaps one per cent, of my fifteen hundred or two 
thousand pages is not too heavy. 

Little need be said of the actual constituents of the volume, which 
has however perhaps lost something of its intended ' composition ', in 
the artistic sense, by losing its tail. A good English edition of Cleve- 
land has long been wanted : and I think — the thought being stripped 
of presumption by the number and valiancy of my helpers — that we 
have at last given one. Stanley and King — truer poets than Cleveland, 
if less interesting to the general public — also called for fresh presenta- 
tion. If anybody demurs to Flatman and still more to Whiting he must 
be left to his own opinion. I shall only note here that on Cleveland 
I was guilty of injustice to the Library of the University of Edinburgh 
(to which I owe much) by saying that it contained no edition of this 
reviler of Caledonia. None was discoverable in my time, the process 
of overhauling and re-cataloguing being then incomplete. But my 
friend and successor, Professor Grierson, tells me that one has since 
been found. As to King, I have recently seen doubts cast on his 
authorship of ' Tell me no more '. But I have seen no valid reasons 
alleged for them, and I do not know of any one else who has the 
slightest claim to it. 


Prefato7'y Note 

Of the whole three volumes it is still less necessary to say much. 
I have owed special thanks in succession to Mr. Doble, Mr. Milford, 
and Mr. Chapman (now Secretary) of the Clarendon Press ; to 
Professors Firth and Case (indeed, but for the former's generous 
imparting of his treasures the whole thing could hardly have been 
done) for loan of books as well as answering of questions ; and 
to not a few others, among whom I may specially mention my 
friend of many years, the Rev. William Hunt, D.Litt., Honorary 
Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford. I wish the work had done 
greater credit to all this assistance and to the generous expenditure 
of the University and its Press. But such as it is I can say 
(speaking no doubt as a fool) that I should myself have been 
exceedingly grateful if somebody had done it fifty years ago : and 
that I shall be satisfied if only a few people are grateful for it between 
now and fifty or five hundred years hence. For there is stuff in it, 
though not mine, which will keep as long as the longest of these 
periods and longer.^ 


I Royal Crescent, Bath. 
Oak -Apple Day, 1921. 

' The tolerably gentle reader will easily understand that, in a book written, and 
even printed, at considerable intervals of time, Time itself will sometimes have 
affected statements. There may be a few such cases here. But it seems 
unnecessary to burden the thing with possible Corrigenda, as to the post-war price of 
the Cross-bath (p. 360), &c. 

( vi ) 




Introduction . 4 

Contents 14 

To the Discerning Reader, &c. 15 

Poems 19 


Introduction 97 

Poems not printed after 1647 loi 

Despair ............ loi 

The Picture . . . . • loi 

Opinion loi 

Poems printed in 1647 and reprinted in 1656 but not in 


The Dream 

To Chariessa, beholding herself in a Glass ..... 

The Blush 

The Cold Kiss 

The Idolater . 

The Magnet ........... 

On a Violet in her Breast 

Song : ' Foolish lover, go and seek ' . 

The Parting 


Expostulation with Love in Despair . . . . 

Song : ' Faith, 'tis not worth thy pains and care ' . . . . 

Expectation ........... 

1651 Poems 

The Dedication : To Love ..... 

The Glow-worm ....... 

The Breath ........ 

Desiring her to burn his Verses .... 

The Night 

Excuse for wishing her less Fair .... 

Chang'd, yet Constant 

The Self-deceiver {Montalvan) .... 

The Cure 

Celia Singing 

A la Mesme 

The Return ........ 

Song : * When I lie burning in thine eye ' 

The Sick Lover {Guarini) 

Song : * Celinda, by what potent art ' 

Song : ' Fool, take up thy shaft again ' . . . 


Commanded by his Mistress to woo for her {Marina) 
( vii ) 











The Repulse 

The Tomb ..... 

The Enjoyment {Sf.-Ainajit) 
To Celia Pleading Want of Merit 
The Bracelet ( Tristan) 

The Kiss 

Apollo and Daphne {Garcilasso Mariiio) 
Speaking and Kissing 

The Snow-ball 

The Deposition .... 

To his Mistress in Absence (Tasso) 

Love's Heretic ..... 

La Belle Confidente 

La Belle Ennemie .... 

The Dream (Lope de Vega\ 

To the Lady D. . " . 

Love Deposed ..... 

The Divorce 

Time Recovered (Casone) . 

The Bracelet ..... 

The Farewell 

Claim to Love {Gnarini) . 

To his Mistress, who dreamed he was woimded {Giiarijti 

The Exchange 

Unaltered by Sickness 

On his Mistress's Death {Petrarch) . 

The Exequies ..... 

The Silkworm 

A Lady Weeping {Montakum) . 


Song : 'When, dearest beauty, thou shalt pay 

The Revenge 

Song : ' I will not trust thy tempting graces' 
Song : ' No, I will sooner trust the wind' 
To a Blind Man in Love {Marino) . 


Song : ' I prithee let my heart alone ' 
The Loss ....... 

The Self-Cruel 

.Song {/>y .1/. JF. .J/. ) : ' Wert thou yet fairer than thou art ' 

Answer ...... . . 

The Relapse 

To the Countess of S. with the Holy Court 

Song (/>e I'oifure): ' 1 languish in a silent flame' 

Drawn for \'alentine by the L. D. S. 

The Modest Wish (/.'///-(.An') .... 

E C atalcctis Velerum I'oetarum 

On the Edition of Mr. P'letcher's Works . 

To Mr. W. Hammond ..... 

On Mr. Shirley's I'ocms ..... 

On Mr. .Shcrburn's Translation of Seneca's Medea, 

of the ,\uthor 

On Mr. Hall's Essays 

On .Sir John Suckling hi.s Picture and Poems . 
The Union {i'v Mr. ll'illiiun Fdirf'.ix') 

The Answer ....... 

Pythagoras his Moral Rules .... 

( viii ) 

and \ 




Poems appearing only in the Edition of 1656 . . .159 

' On this swelling bank, once proud ' 1 59 

' Dear, fold me once more in thine arms ! ' . . . . . 160 

' The lazy hours move slow ' 160 


Introduction 163 

Table of Contents 167 

The Publishers to the Author 168 

Poems, Elegies, Paradoxes, and Sonnets .... 169 


Introduction 277 

Dedication 283 

To the Reader 284 

Commendatory Poems 285 

The Contents 294 

Poems and Songs 296 


Introduction 424 

Commendatory Poems 428 

The Pleasing History of Albino and Bellama . . . 439 
To those worthy Heroes of our Age, whose noble Breasts are wet 

and water'd with the dev of Helicon 539 

II Insonio Insonnadado 540 

( ix) 



J. C. 

With Additions, ne- 
ver before Printed. 

Printed in the Yea re 



J. Cleaveland Revived : 




And other of his Genuine 

Incomparable Pieces^ never 

before publiflit. 


Some other Exquifite Remains of 

the moft eminent Wits of both the 

Univerfities that were his 


Non norunt hd^c monumenta mcri. 


Printed for Nathar?ie/ Brool^^ at the 
Angel in Corn-hill. i^y^. 

Clievelandi J^tndicice\ 



Genuine Poems^ 
OrationS;, Epiftles, <&c. 

Purged from the many 

Falfe & Spurious Ones 

which hadufurpedhis Name^and 
from innumerable Errours and 
Corruptions in the True. 

To which are added many never 
Printed before. 

Publiflied according to the Author's own Copies. 

L ND N, 

Printed for Nat i^. Brooke, at the ^ngel mCorne- 
//;// near the ^pyal Exchange ^ 1677. 

B 2 


Almost everybody — an everybody not including many bodies — who 
has dealt with Cleveland since the revival of interest in seventeenth- 
century writers has of necessity dwelt more or less on the moral that he 
points, and the tale that he illustrates, if he does not exactly adorn it. 
Moral and tale have been also generally summarized by referring to the 
undoubted fact that Cleveland had twenty editions while Milton's Minor 
Poems had two. I do not propose myself to dwell long on this part of 
the matter. The moral diatribe is not my trade : and while almost any one 
who wants such a thing can deduce it from the facts which will be given, 
those who are unable to effect the deduction may as well go without it. 
What I wish to provide is what it is not easy for any one to provide, and 
impossible for any one to provide 'out of his own head' — that is to say 
an edition, sufficient for reading and for all literary purposes, of the most 
probably authentic of the heterogeneous poems which have clustered round 
Cleveland's name. Such an edition did not exist when this collection of 
Caroline poets was planned, nor when it was announced : nor has it been 
supplied since in this country. One did appear very shortly afterwards in 
America,' and it has been of use to me : but it certainly does not make 
Cleveland's appearance here superfluous. Had not Professor Case of 
Liverpool, who had long made Cleveland a special study, insisted 
on my giving him in this collection, and most kindly provided me with 
stores of his own material, I should not have attempted the task : and 
I still hope that Mr. Case will execute a more extensive edition with the 
|)rose, with the doubtful or even certainly spurious poems duly annotated, 
and with apparatus which would be out of place here. It cannot, however, 
be out of place to include — in what is almost a corpus of ' metaphysical ' 
poetry of the less easily accessible class — one who has been regarded from 
different, but not very distant, points of view as at once the metaphysical 
' furthest' and as the metaphysical reduciio ad absurdum. 

Cleveland (the name was also very commonly spelt in his own day 
'Cleiveland" and ' Cleaveland ', as well as otherwise still) was born at 

' Potms of John Clevtland, by John M. Berdan, New York, 1903. 

* It has been said that we ouglit to adopt this spelling because of its connexion with 
a district of Yorkshire, which, before it was ransacked for iron ore, was both wild and 
beautiful. But as everybody now spells this ' Cleveland ', and as the title derived from 
It has always been so spelt, the argument seems an odd one. 



Loughborough, and christened on June 20, 16 13. His father, Thomas, 
was curate of the parish and assistant master at the Grammar School. 
Eight years later the father was made vicar of Hinckley, also provided 
with a grammar school, at which John appears to have been educated till 
in 1627 he went to Christ's College, Cambridge — where, of course, the 
everlasting comparison with his elder contemporary Milton comes in again 
for those who like it. He remained at Christ's for seven years as usual, 
performing divers college exercises on public occasions, occasionally of 
some importance ; took his bachelor's degree (also as usual) in 1631 ; and 
in 1634 was elected to a fellowship at St. John's, proceeding to his M.A. 
next year. At the end of his probationary period he did not take orders, 
but was admitted as legista — perhaps also, though the statement is un- 
corroborated ofificially, to the third learned faculty of Physic. There is 
also doubt about his incorporation at Oxford. He served as Tutor and as 
Rhetoric Praelector : nor are we destitute of Orations and Epistles of an 
official character from his pen. Like the majority of university men at the 
time — and indeed like the majority of men of letters and education — he 
was a strong Royalist : and was unlikely to stay in Cambridge when the 
Roundhead mob of the town was assisted by a Parliamentary garrison in 
rabbling the University. It was natural that he should ^ retire to Oxon.', 
and it is probable that Oxford was his head-quarters from 1642 to 1645. 
But he does not seem to have been actually deprived of his fellowship at 
St. John's till the last-named year, when the Earl of Manchester, whom 
(especially as Lord Kimbolton) Cleveland had bitterly satirized, had his 
opportunity of revenge and took it. 

For Cleveland had already been active with his pen in the Royalist cause, 
and was now appointed to a post of some importance as ' Judge Advocate ' 
of Newark. The Governor was Sir Richard Willis, for whom Cleveland 
replied to Leven's summons to surrender. They held the town for 
the King from November to May, when it was given up on Charles's own 
order. Then comes the anecdote — more than a hundred years after date — 
of Leven's dismissing him with contemptuous lenity. ' Let the poor fellow 
go about his business and sell his ballads.' This, though accepted by 
Carlyle, and a smart enough invention, has no contemporary authority, 
and is made extremely suspicious by its own addition that Cleveland was 
so vexed that he took to strong liquors which hastened his death. Now 
Newark fell in 1646 and Cleveland lived till 1658. It would make an 
interesting examination question, ' How much must a man drink in a day 
in order to hasten his death thereby twelve years afterwards ? ' And it 
must be admitted, if true, to be a strong argument on the side of the good 
fellow who pleaded that alcohol was a very slow poison. 

He escaped somehow, however : and we hear nothing of his life for 

yohn Cleveland 

another decade. Then he is again in trouble, being informed against, to the 
Council of State, by some Norwich Roundheads who have, however, 
nothing to urge against him but his antecedents, his forgathering with 
'papists and delinquents', his '^genteelgarb' with 'small and scant means', and 
(which is important) his * great abilitie whence he is able to do the greater 
disservice', this last a handsome testimonial to Cleveland, and a remarkable 
premium upon imbecility. He was imprisoned at Yarmouth and wrote a very 
creditable letter to Cromwell, maintaining his principles, but asking for 
release, which seems to have been granted. Cromwell — to do him justice 
and to alter a line of his greatest panegyrist save one in verse on another 
person — 

Never perseaited but for gain, 

and he probably did not agree with the officious persons at Norwich that 
there was much to be gained by incarcerating a poor Royalist poet. But 
Cleveland had been at least three months in prison, and it is alleged, with 
something more like vera causa in the allegation, that he there contracted 
'such a weakness and disorder as soon after brought him to the grave'. 
A seventeenth-century prison was much more likely to kill a man in two 
years than ' strong waters ' which had already been vigorously applied and 
successfully resisted for ten. He died in Gray's Inn, of an intermittent 
fever, on April 29, 1658. 

Something will be said presently of the almost hopeless tangle of the 
so-called editions of Cleveland's Poems. It seems at least probable that no 
single one of the twenty — or whatever the number is — can be justly called 
authoritative. That he was an extremely popular poet or rather journalist in 
verse as well as prose, is absolutely beyond dispute — the very tangle just 
referred to proves it — and, though it may be excessive to call him the most 
popular poet of his time, he may fairly be bracketed with Cowley as joint holder 
of that position. Nor did his popularity cease as quickly as Cowley's did — 
the Restoration indeed was likely to increase rather than diminish it ; and 
the editions went on till close upon the Revolution itself, while there were 
at least two after it, one just on the eve of the eighteenth century in 1699 
and one near its middle in 1742.' Considerably before this, however, 
the critics had turned against him. ' Grave men ', to quote Edward Phillips 
and the Theatrmn Poetarum^ 'affirmed him the best of English poets', but 
not for long. Fuller, who actually admired him, admitted that 'Cleveland- 
izing' was dangerous; and Dryden, who must have admired him at one 
time, and shows constant traces of his influence, talks in the Essay of 
Dramatic Poesy of a ' Catachresis or Clevelandism '. In the eighteenth 

• I am not certain that I have seen a copy of this, and its existence has been 
denied : but I have certainly seen it catalogued somewhere. It should perhaps be 
added that t6^^ is only i6&-] with a fresh title. 



century he passed almost out of sight till Johnson brought him up for ' awful 
exampling ' in the famous Life of Cowley : and he has had few advocates 
since. Let us, without borrowing from these advocates or attempting 
tediously to confute his enemies, deal with the facts, so far as they are 
known, of his life, and with the characteristics of the carefully sifted, but in 
no sense ' selected ', poetry which will follow. 

As for his character as a man, the evidence is entirely in his favour. He 
was an honest and consistent politician on his own side, and if some people 
think it the wrong side, others are equally positive that it was the right. 
If (rather unfairly) we dismiss the encomia on his character as partisan, 
there remains the important fact that no one on the other side says any- 
thing definite against it. If he was abusive, it certainly does not lie with 
anybody who admires Milton to reproach him with that. But the fact is, 
once more, that except in so far as there is a vague idea that a cavalier, 
and especially a cavalier poet, must have been a ' deboshed ' person, 
there is absolutely no evidence against Cleveland and much in his favour. 
Also, this is not our business, which is with him as a poet. 

As such he has been subjected to very little really critical examination.' 
The result of such as I myself have been able to give him was arrived at 
somewhat slowly : or rather it flashed upon me, after reading the poems 
several times over in different arrangements, that which gives the serious 
and satiric pieces higgledy-piggledy as in the older editions, and that which 
separates them, as in 1677 and in Mr. Berdan's American reprint. This 
result is that I entertain a very serious doubt whether Cleveland ever 
wrote ' serious ' poetry, in one sense — he was of course serious enough in 
his satires — at all. That, on the other hand, he deliberately set himself 
to burlesque the ' metaphysical ' manner I do not think : or at least (for 
rather minute definition is necessary here) I do not think that he executed 
this burlesque with any reforming intention or any particular contempt for 
the style. Like Butler, whom he in so many ways resembles — who pretty 
certainly owed him not a little, and of whom he was, as has often been pointed 
out, a sort of rough copy or spoiled draft — he was what he satirized in the 
literary way, and he caricatured himself. Of course if anybody thinks, 
as the Retrospective Reviewer thought, that ' Fuscara ' and ' To the State of 
Love'are actually and intrinsically 'beautiful specimens of poetic conception', 
he will scout my notion. But I do not think that any one who has done 
me the honour even to look into these volumes will think me an 'antimeta- 
physicar,and I must confess that I can see only occasional poetry here — only 
a caricature of such methods as may be suggested by Donne's ' Bracelet ' 

' The most important treatments besides Johnson's, treatments usefully separated in 
date, are contained in the Retrospective Review (vol. xii), Mr. Gosse's remarks in Front 
Shakespeare to Pope, and Mr. Berdan's in the edition above mentioned. 


y ohn Cleveland 

piece, and the best things in Crashaw. It is, for instance, a very tell-tale 
thing that there is not, in Cleveland's work, a single one of the lovely lyrics 
that enshrine and ennoble the conceits in almost every one else of the 
school, from Donne himself to Sherburne. An American critic, defending 
Cleveland with the delightful indiscreetness of most defenders, maintains 
that these lyrics were failures — that they were not characteristic of the time. 
Well, let us be thankful that almost everybody down to Kynaston and 
John Hall 'failed' in this way not seldom. 

But Cleveland never failed in it : and unfortunately it wants a failure or 
two at least of this kind to make a poet. To illustrate what I mean, let 
me refer readers to Benlowes — comparison of Cleveland with whom would 
not long ago have been impossible except in a large library. Benlowes is 
as extravagant as Cleveland, whom (I rather think) he sometimes copied.^ 
But he cannot help this kind of poetic ' failure ' from breaking in. Cleveland 
can, or rather I should say that he does not try — or has no need to try — to 
keep it out. In ' Fuscara ', eminently ; in ' To the State of Love ', perhaps 
most prettily; in the 'Antiplatonic ', most vigorously — in all his poems more 
or less, he sets himself to work to accumulate and elaborate conceits for 
their own sake. They are not directly suggested by the subject and still 
less by each other ; they are no spray or froth of passion ; they never 
suggest (as all the best examples and many not so good in others do) that 
indomitable reaching after the infinite which results at least in an infinite 
unexpectedness. They are merely card-castles of ' wit ' in its worst sense : 
mechanical games of extravagant idea-twisting which simply aim at ' making 
records '. It is true that people admired them for being this. It is still 
truer that similar literary exercises may be found, and found popular, at the 
present day. It is even true, as will be shown later, that it is possible 
positively to enjoy them still. But these are different questions. 

If Cleveland had little or nothing of the poetry of enthusiastic thought 
and feeling, he had not much more of the poetry of accomplished form, 
though here also he is exceptionally interesting. His ' Mark Antony ' * has 
been indicated as an early example of ' dactylic ' metre. It certainly 
connects interestingly with some songs of Dryden's, and has an historical 

' They were both St. John's men ; and Benlowes must have been a benefactor of 
the College fsee Evelyn's Diary) while Cleveland was Fellow. Also Cleveland's 
Poems had been published, and again and again republished, years before Theophila 

' The Retrospective eulogist was deeply hurt by Cleveland's parodying this, and of 
course drags in Milton once more. ' Could one fancy Milton parodying Lycidas ? ' Now 
there is considerable difference between "Mark Antony' and Lycidas: nor did 
Cleveland, so far as we know, dream of parodying his own poem on King. If Milton 
had had the humour to parody some of his own work, it would have been much the 
better for him and for us. No doubt Cleveland's actual parody is rather coarse and not 
extraordinarily witty : but there is no more objection to it in principle than to Thackeray's 
two forms of the ' Willow Song ' in Ottilia. 



position of its own, but I am by no means sure {v. inf.) that it was meant 
to be dactylic or even anapaestic. 

Cleveland, therefore, was not a great poet, nor even a failure of one : but 
he was but just a failure of a very great satirist. Even here, of course, the 
Devil's Advocate will find only too much to say against him. Every one 
of the pieces requires the editing, polishing, and criticizing which (we know 
pretty well) the author never gave to anything of his. Every one suffers from 
Cleveland's adoption of the same method which he used in his purely 
metaphysical poems, that of stringing together and heaping up images 
and observations, instead of organizing and incorporating them. Every 
one is a tangled tissue of temporary allusion, needing endless scholiastry 
to unravel and elucidate it. It has been said, and it is true, that we find 
not a few reminiscences of Cleveland in Dryden. There is even in the 
couplet of the older and smaller poet something of the weight, the impetus, 
the animosity of that of the younger and greater. But of Dryden's 
ordonnance, his generalship, his power of coupling up his couplets into 
irresistible column, Cleveland has practically nothing. He has something 
of his own ' Rupertismus ' : but nothing more. 

But, for all that, the Satires give us ample reason for understanding why 
the Roundheads persecuted Cleveland, and justify their fear of his 
' abilities '. He has, though an unequal, an occasional command of the 
' slap-in-the-face ' couplet which — as has just been said — not impossibly 
taught something to Dryden, or at least awoke something in him. ' The 
Rebel Scot', his best thing, does not come so very far short of the 
opportunity which the Scots had given : and its most famous distich 

Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom, 
Not forced him wander, but confined him home, 

was again and again revived till the unpopularity of North with South 
Britain flamed out last in Bute's time, a hundred years and more after 
Cleveland's. Of course it is only ignorance which thinks that this form 
of the couplet was invented by Cleveland, or even in his time. It may be 
found in Elizabeth's, and in Cleveland's own day was sporadic ; nor did 
he himself ever approach such continuous and triumphant use of it as 
Dryden achieved only two years after Cleveland's own death. But 
there is, so to speak, the 'atmosphere' of it, and that atmosphere 
occasionally condenses into very concrete thunderbolts. Unfortunately 
he knew no mood but abuse, and such an opportunity as that of the 
' Elegy on Laud ' is almost entirely lost. 

However, such as he is — in measure as full as can with any confidence 
be imparted ; and omitting of course prose work — he is now before the 
reader, who will thus be able at last to form his own judgement on 

y ohn Cleveland 

a writer who, perhaps of all English writers, combines the greatest 
popularity in his own time with the greatest inaccessibility in modern 

Nor should any reader be deterred from making the examination by the 
strictures which have been given above on Cleveland's purely poetical 
methods and merits. These strictures were made as cautions, and as 
a kind of antidote to the writer's own undisguised partiality for the 
'metaphysical' style. It is true that Cleveland, like Benlowes, has 
something of a helot of that style about him : and that his want of 
purely lyrical power deprives his readers of much of the solace of his (if 
not of their) sin. But those natures must be very morose, very prosaic, or 
at best steeled against everything else by abhorrence of ' False Wit ' 
who can withstand a certain tickling of amused enjoyment at the enormous 
yet sometimes pretty quaintnesses of 'Fuscara' itself; and still more at 
those of the ' To the State of Love ', which is his happiest non-satirical thing. 
From the preliminary wish to be a ' Shaker ' to the final description of 
Chanticleer as 

That Baron Tell-Clock of the night, 

the thing is a kind of a carnival of conceit, a fairy-tale of the fantastic. 
' To Julia to expedite her Promise ' is somewhat more laboured and so less 
happy : and the loss of the lyric form in ' The Hecatomb to his Mistress ' is 
considerable. The heroic couplet squares ill with this sort of thing : but 
the octasyllabic admits it fairly, and so ' The Antiplatonic ' with its greater 
part, and ' Upon Phillis walking ' with the whole in this metre, are 
preferable. Yet it must be acknowledged that one heroic couplet in the 
former — 

Like an ambassador that beds a queen 
With the nice caution of a sword between, 

is worthy of Dryden. Most of the other seria are but nugae : and the 
chief interest of the ' Edward King ' epicede, besides its contrast with Lycidas, 
is its pretty certain position as model to Dryden's 'Lord Hastings'. But 
the two ' Mark Antony ' pieces and ' Square-Cap ' demand, both from 
the point of view of tone and from that of metre, more attention than was 
given to them above. 

If any one not previously acquainted with the piece or the discussions 
about it will turn to the text of ' Mark Antony ' and read it either aloud or 
to himself, I should say that, in the common phrase, it is a toss-up what 
scansion his voice will adopt supposing that he 'commences with the 
commencement '. The first stanza can run quite agreeably to the usual 
metrical arrangements of the time, thus : 


When as | the night|ingale | chanted | her vespers 

And the | wild for]ester | couched on | the ground, 
Venus I invi|ted me | in th' eve|ning whispers 
Unto I a fra|grant field | with rosjes crowned. 
Where she | before | had sent 
My wish|es' com|pliment ; 
Unto ] my heart's | content 
Played with | me on | the green. 
Never | Mark Ant|ony 
Dallied | more wan|tonly 
With the fair | Egyptjian Queen. 

or, in technical language, a decasyllabic quatrain, like Annus Mirabilis or 
Gray's Elegy, but with hypercatalexis or redundance in the first and third 
lines and occasional trochees for iambics ; followed by a batch, rhymed 
aaabccb, of seven three-foot lines also iambic. This, which as far as the 
first quatrain is concerned is very nearly the exact metre of Emily Bronte's 
Remembrance and of Myers's St. Paul, suits the second and third stanzas as 
well as the first. 

When the reader comes to the fourth stanza, or if, like some irregular 
spirits, he takes the last first and begins with it, the most obvious scansion, 
though the lines are syllabically the same, will be different. 

Mysjtical | gramjmar of | am;orous | glan;Ces ; 
Feeling of | puljses, the | phyjsic of | love ; 
Rhetor;ical | couritings and | mujsical | danices ; 
Numibering of | kissjes ajrithimetic j prove; 
Eyes \ like ajstronomy ; 
Straight-ilimbed gejomietry ; 
In i her art's | inigeny 
Our wits ; were | sharp j and keen. 
Ne:ver Mark | Anitony 
Daljlied more | wanitonly 
With the fair : | Egyptjian | Queen, 

(Trisyllabic rhythm either dactylic ^ or anapaestic ^ as may be on general 
principles preferred.) And this may have occurred to him even with the 
first as thus : 

When \ as the | night iingale j chanjted her | ves.pers. 

Now which of these is to be preferred ? and which did the author mean ? 
(two questions which are not so identical as they may seem). My own 
answer, which I have already given elsewhere,^ is that both are uncertain, 
and that he probably had each of the rhythms in his head, but confusedly.* 

' Marked by straight bars. ^ Marked by dotted bars. 

' History of English Prosody (London, 1906-10), vol. iii, app. iii. 

* Very confusedly on the trisyllabic side or ear : for ' in th' Evening ' is a very 
awkward dactyl, and ' th' evening whisp ' not a much cleverer anapaest, while the same 
remark applies to ' fragrant field ' and ' with rOsSs ' and their anapaestic counterparts. 


y ohn Cleveland 

'Square Cap' is much less doubtful, or not doubtful at all, and it may 
be thought to prove the anapaestic-dactylic scansion, especially the ana- 
paestic of ' Mark Antony '. For it will be observed that, even from the 
first two verses, you can get no iambic run, except of the most tumbling 
character, on the line here. 

Come hithjer, Apoll|o's boun|cing girl, 
And in | a whole hipjpocrene | of sherry 

Let 's drink | a round | till our brains | do whirl, 
Tujning our pipes | to make | ourselves merry. 

A Cam\bridge /ass, Ve\nus-like born \ of the froth 

Of an old \ half filled jug \ of bar\ley broth, 

She, she | is my tnistress, her sui\tors are many. 
But she'll I have a Square\-cap if e'er \ she have any. 

The problem is scarcely one for dogmatic decision, but it is one of some 
interest, and of itself entitles Cleveland to attention of the prosodic kind. 
For these pieces are quite early — before 1645 — and a third, 'How the 
Commencement grows new ' (q. v.), is undeniably trisyllabic and meant 
for some such a tune as the ' Sellenger's Round ' which it mentions. 

With such a combination of interests, political, historical, poetical (as 
regards school and period), and prosodic, it will hardly be denied that 
Cleveland deserves his place here. But I must repeat that I am here 
endeavouring to deal with him strictly on the general principles of this 
Collection, and am in no way trying to occupy the ground so as to keep 
out a more elaborate edition. I have had help from my friends Professors 
Firth and Case in information and correction of contemporary facts ; but 
full comment on Cleveland, from the historical side, would nearly fill this 
volume : and the problems of the work attributed to him would suffice 
for a very substantial bibliographical monograph. Neither of these, nor 
any exhaustive apparatus, even of the textual kind, do I pretend to supply. 
I simply endeavour — and have spent not a little time and trouble in 
endeavouring — to provide the student and lover of English literature with 
an accessible copy, sufficient in amount and fairly trustworthy in substance, 
of a curious and memorable figure in English verse.'' 

* The extraordinary complexity of the editions of Cleveland has been glanced at above. 
The following summary will at least give the reader some idea ot the tacts, and the 
two original Prefaces will cxfra-illustrate these facts with some views of causes. It 
need only be added here that the principle of the collection now given is, of course, to 
exclude everything that is certainly ttot Cleveland's: and, in giving what certainly 
and probably is his, to arrange the items as far as possible in the order of their publica- 
tion in theautliors lifetime, though the impossibility of working with an actually complete 
collection of all the issues before one may have occasioned some error here. In the 
following abstract only the Potms arc referred to, as they alone concern us. 

The original collection is contained in The Charadtr of a London Diurnal [prose] 
with several select Poenm, London, 1647. This was reprinted in the same year and 
the next so often that some admit Ihirlffn difTcrcnt issues of course, as was usual at 
the time, sometimes only ' stop-press ' batches with slight changes made in what is 



practically the same edition), while no one I think has allowed less thanyfz;^. There 
are substantive additions in several of these, but thesingular characteristic of the whole 
and indeed of Cleveland's published Poems generally, is that part of the matter even 
in the very earliest issue, is certainly not his : and that in very early forms these pieces 
were coolly headed 'Uncertain Authors'. The extent to which this jumbling and 
misattributing went on in the seventeenth century is generally if not very precisely 
known from the famous cases of Sic Vita {v. inf., on Bishop King, &c.), and of the 
epitaph sometimes assigned to Browne, more usually to Jonson. Another almost equally 
strange, though perhaps not so commonly known, is the assignment of some of the 
poems of a writer of position like the dramatist James Shirley to Carew. But 
Cleveland must have been rather exceptionally careless of his work during his life, 
and he was treated with exceptional impudence (see Williamson's Preface) after his 
death. The process went on in 165 1, to which two issues are assigned, with three or 
four pretty certainly spurious additions, while 1653 and 1654 each saw two more, the 
last being printed again in 1656 and 1657. This last was also the last printed in 
Cleveland's lifetime. 

But he was hardly dead when in 1659 two different issues, each of them many times 
reprinted, took the most astounding liberties with his name. The first foisted in more 
than thirty pieces by Robert Fletcher, the translator of Martial. The other, calling 
itself Cleveland Revived, contains the remarkable and perfectly frank explanation, given 
below, of the principles on which the work of Mr. Williamson was conducted, and 
the critical notions which directed his ' virtuous endeavours '. 

From the disaster of this singular fashion of building a poet's monument out of the 
fragments of other people's work, Cleveland may be said to have never been entirely 
relieved. For though twenty years later, in 1677, Clievelandi Vindiciae (Preface and full 
title again subjoined) undertook the task and provided a sort of standard (which may, 
however, be over- valued\ ten years later still, in 1687, the purged collection was reissued 
with all the spurious matter from previous ones heaped again on it, and this, with 
a fresh reissue (new title-paged and with a pasted-on finis*) in 1699, appear to be the 
commonest copies that occur. 

In such a tangle it is not easy to know how to proceed, and I had made and discarded 
several plans before I fixed upon that actually adopted. I have taken the edition of 
1653, which, with its reprints almost unaltered to 1657, represents the latest text 
current during the author's life and during a full lustrum of that. The contents of this 
I have printed, putting its few spuria in italic, in the order in which they there appear. 
Next, I have given a few additions from 1677 (the only one of the later accessible 
editions which even pretends to give Cleveland, the whole Cleveland, and nothing but 
Cleveland) and other sources. As was notified above, complete apparatus criticus is 
not attempted in a text with such a history, for this would only suit a complete edi- 
tion of Cleveland's whole works: but variants of apparent importance are supplied. 
I should add that while I myself have for many years possessed the textus quasi-receptus 
of 1677, the exceeding kindness of Mr. Case left on my shelves — for a time disgfrace- 
fully long as far as I am concerned — copies of 1653 itself, 1654, 1659, 1662 (with the 
' exquisite remains ' of Dick, Tom, and Harry), 1665, 1668, 1669 (with the letters added), 
and the otnniutn gatherums of 1687 and 1699. The Bodleian copies of the Poems of 
1647, 1651, 1653, 1654, 1657, 1659, 1662, 1668, 1669, 1677, 1687 have also been used 
to check the collations ; and the stitched quartos of The King's Disguise (undated, but 
known to be 1647) and the News from Newcastle, 1651. The British Museum broad- 
side of The Scots' Apostasy has also been collated. Mr. Berdan's edition I have 
already mentioned. I have treated the text, as far as modernization of spelling goes, 
on the same principles as in preceding volumes, f 

* This is apparently peculiar to some, perhaps to one, copy. The British Museum, 
Bodleian, &c. copies have it not. 

+ Since the above Introduction was first written an additional revision of the texts 
has been made by Mr. Percy Simpson with assistance from Mr. Thorn-Drury, as 
referred to in the General Preface of this volume. There can be no doubt that their 
labours, superadded to those of Professor Case, have enabled me to put forth in this 
edition a text infinitely superior to any previous one, though my part of the credit is 
the least. Yet, after all, I dare say Cleveland remains, as he has been impartially 
described, ' a terrible tangle '. 




Preface of Cleaveland Revived . 1 5 

Preface of Clievelandi Vindiciae . 1 7 
Poems from the 1653 Edition: 

To the State of Love . . 19 

The Hecatomb to his Mistress . 21 

Upon Sir Thomas Martin . 24 

On the Memory of Mr. Edward 

King 26 

Upon an Hermaphrodite . . 28 
The Author's Hermaphrodite . 30 
* To the Hectors upon the un- 
fortunate death ofH. Compton. 3 2 
Square-Cap . . . '33 
Upon Phillis walking in a morn- 
ing before sun-rising . . 35 
Upon a Miser that made a great 
feast, and the next day died 
for grief . . . '36 
A Young Man to an Old Woman 


courting him 


To Mrs. K. T. ... 


A Fair Nymph scorning a Black 

Boy courting her 


A Dialogue between two Zealots 

upon the &c. in the Oath 


Smectymnuus, or the Club- 

Divines .... 


The Mixed Assembly 


The King's Disguise 


The Rebel Scot 


The Scots' Apostasy 


Rupertismus .... 


Epitaph on the Earl of Strafford 


An Elegy upon the Archbishop 
of Canterbury 

* On I. IV. A.B. of York 
Mark Antony .... 
The Author's Mock Song to 

Mark Antony 
How the Commencement grows 


The Hue and Cry after Sir John 

Presbyter .... 
The Antiplatonic 
Fuscara, or the Bee Errant 

* An Elegy upon Doctor Chad- 

[djerton, the first Master of 
Emanuel College in Cain- 

* Mary's Spikenard . 

To Julia to expedite her Promise 

Poems in 1677 but not in 

Upon Princess Elizabeth, born 
the night before New Year's 

The General Eclipse. 

Upon the King's Return from 
Scotland .... 

Poems certainly or prob- 
ably genuine, not in 1653 

OR 1677 '• 
An Elegy on Ben Jonson . 
News from Newcastle 
An Elegy upon King Charles 

the First .... 










As stated above, it has been thought better to follow the miscellaneous 
arrangement of i6jj than the classified but not strictly chronological one of 
1677. For those, however, who may desire it, the chronological order of the 
political poems is here added: 1637-8, Princess Elizabeth's Birth \ 1640, A 
Dialogue ; 1641 , Epitaph on Strafford, Smectymnuus, J he King's Return ; 1642, 
Rupertismus ; 1643, Upon Sir Thomas Martin, The Mixed Assembly; 1643-4, 
7"-^!? Rebel Scot, The Scots' Apostasy ; 1645, 'J he Hue and Cry, EUgy on Laud, 
The General Eclipse^ The King's Disguise ; 1 649, Elegy on Charles I. 


Preface of Cleaveland Revived 

To the Discerning Reader. 

(Prefixed to Cleaveland Revived, 1659^) 

Worthy Friend, there is a saying, 
Once well done, and ever done ; the 
wisest men have so considerately acted 
in their times, as by their learned works 
to build their own monuments, such as 
might eternize them to future ages : 
our Jonson named his, Works, when 
others were called Plays, though they 
cost him much of the lamp and oil ; 
yet he so writ, as to oblige posterity 
to admire them. Our deceased Hero, 
Mr. Cleveland, knew how to difference 
legitimate births from abortives, his 
mighty genius anvilled out what he 
sent abroad, as his informed mind 
knew how to distinguish betwixt writing 
much and well ; a few of our deceased 
poet's pages being worth cartloads of 
the scribblers of these times. It was my 
fortune to be in Newark, when it was be- 
sieged, where I saw a few [some] manu- 
scripts of Mr. Cleveland's. Amongst 
others I have heard that he writ of the 
Treaty at Uxbridge, as I have been 
informed since by a person I intrusted 
to speak with one of Mr. Cleveland's 
noble friends, who received him cour- 
teously, and satisfied his inquiries ; as 
concerning the papers that were left 
in his custody, more particularly of 
the Treaty at Uxbridge, that it was 
not finished, nor any of his other 
papers fit for the press. They were 
offered to the judicious consideration 
of one of the most accomplished per- 
sons of our age, he refusing to have 
them in any further examination, as 
he did not conceive that they could 

be published without some injury to 
Mr. Cleveland ; from which time they 
have remained sealed and locked up : 
neither can I wonder at this obstruc- 
tion, when I consider the disturbances 
our author met with in the time of the 
siege, how scarce and bad the paper 
was, the ink hardly to be discerned 
on it. The intimacy I had with Mr. 
Cleveland before and since these civil 
wars, gained most of these papers 
from him, it being not the least of his 
misfortunes, out of the love he had to 
pleasure his friends, to be unfurnished 
with his own manuscripts, as I have 
heard him say often. He was not so 
happy as to have any considerable 
collection of his own papers, they 
being dispersed amongst his friends ; 
some whereof when he writ for them, 
he had no other answer, but that they 
were lost, or through the often reading, 
transcribing, or folding of them, worn 
to pieces. So that though he knew 
where he formerly bestowed some of 
them, yet they were not to be regained. 
For which reason, the poems he had left 
in his hands being so few, [and] of so in- 
considerable [small] a volume, he could 
not(though he was often solicited) with 
honour to himself give his consent to the 
publishing of them, though indeed most 
of his former printed poems were truly 
his own, except such as have been lately 
added, to make up the volume. At the 
first some few of his verses were printed 
with the'^ character of the London 
Diurnal, a stitched pamphlet in quarto. 

1 This singular production is, in the original, punctuated after a fashion very suitable, 
in its entire irrationality, to the sentiments of its writer ; but I have taken the liberty 
(and no other) of relieving the reader of an additional burden by at least separating 
the sentences. The second edition of j66o shows some alterations which are given 
above in brackets. 

Whether Mr. Williamson was one of the most impudent persons in the world, or 
merely (which seems more probable) an abject fool, may be left to the reader to 
determine. The thing does not seem to require much, if any, annotation. The author, 
I think, is not otherwise known, and the name is common enough. The well-known 
Secretary Williamson must have been his contemporary, and may have had some con- 
nexion with our paragon besides that of Cavalier principles. But he was Joseph. 

2 ' a character' 1662 (third edition). 


yohn Cleveland 

Afterwards, as I have heard Mr. Cleve- 
land say, the copies of verses that he 
communicated to his friends, the book- 
seller by chance meeting with them, 
being added to his book, they sold him 
another impression ; in Uke manner 
such small additions (though but a 
paper or two of his incomparable verses 
or prose) posted off" other editions, 
[whereas this edition hath the happi- 
ness to flourish with the remainder 
of Mr. Cleveland's last never before 
printed pieces.] I acknowledge some 
few of these papers I received [many of 
these last new printed papers] from one 
of Mr. Cleveland's near acquaintance, 
which when I sent to his ever to be hon- 
oured friend of Grays-Inn, he had not 
at that time the leisure to peruse them ; 
but for what he had read of them, he told 
the person I intrusted, that he did believe 
them to be Mr. Cleveland's, he having 
formerly spoken of such papers of his, 
that were abroad in the hands of his 
friends, whom he could not remember. 
My intention was to reserve the col- 
lection of these manuscripts for my 
own private use ; but finding many 
of these 1 had in my hands already 
published in the former poems, not 
knowing what further proceedings 
might attend the forwardness of the 
press, I thought myself concerned, not 
out of any worldly [unworthy] ends 
of profit, but out of a true afifection to 
my deceased friend, to publish these 
his never [other] before extant pieces in 
Latin and English and to make this 

to be somewhat [like] a volume for 
the study. Some other poems are 
intermixed, such as the reader shall 
find to be of such persons as were for 
the most part Mr. Cleveland's con- 
temporaries ; some of them no less 
eminently known to the three nations. 
I hope the world cannot be so far 
mistaken in his genuine muse, as not 
to discern his pieces from any of the 
other poems ; neither can I believe 
there are any persons so unkind, as 
not candidly to entertain the heroic 
fancies of the other gentlemen that 
are worthily placed to live in this 
volume. Some of their poems, con- 
trary to my expectation — I being at 
such a distance — I have since heard' 
were before in print, but as they are 
excellently good and so few, the [but 
in this second edition I have crossed 
them out, only reserving those that 
were excellently good, and never be- 
fore extant. The] reader (I hope) will 
the more freely accept them. Thus 
having ingenuously satisfied thee in 
these particulars, I shall not need 
to insert more ; but that I have, to 
prevent surreptitious editions, pub- 
lished this collection ; that by erecting 
this Pyramid of Honour, I might oblige 
posterity to perpetuate their memories, 
which is the highest ambition of him, 
who is, 

Newark, Nov. 21, 1658. 

Yours in all virtuous endeavours, 
E. Williamson. 

The Stationer to the Reader. 

(Prefixed to Cleave land Revived, 1660) 

Courteous Reader, thy free Accept- 
ance of the former edition, encouraged 
me so far as to use my best diligence 
to gain what still remained in the 
hands of the Author's friends. I ac- 
knowledge myself to be obliged to Mr. 
Williamson, whose worthy examjile 
Mr. Cleveland's other honourcrs liave 
since pursued. I shall not trouble thee, 
Reader, with any further Apologies, 

but only subscribe Mr. W. W. his last 
Verses in his following Klegy on Mr. 

That Plagiary that can filch but one 
Conceit from Him, and keep the Theft 

At Noon from Phoebus, may by the 

same sleight, 
Steal Beams, and make 'em pass for 

his own light. 

' * I have since heard ' omitted in 166.2. 


Preface of Clievelandi Vindiciae 

(Prefixed to Clievelandi Vindiciae, \^ii'^^ 

To the Right Worshipful and Reverend 

Francis Turner, D.D., Master of St. John's College 
in Cambridge, and to the Worthy Fellows 
of the same College. 

Gentlemen, commute for all the rest. At least every 

That we interrupt your more serious Cuirassier of his hath a fulsome dra- 

studies with the offer of this piece, the gooner behind him, and Venus is again 

injury that hath been and is done to unequally yoked with a sooty anvil- 

the deceased author's ashes not only beater. Cleveland thus revived dieth 

pleadeth our excuse, but engageth you another death. 

(whose once he was, and within whose You cannot but have beheld with 

walls this standard of wit was first set like zealous indignation how enviously 

up) in the same quarrel with us. our late mushroom-wits look up at him 

Whilst Randolph and Cowley lie because he overdroppeth them, and 

embalmed in their own native wax, snarl at his brightness as dogs at the 

how is the name and memory of Cleve- Moon. 

land equally profaned by those that Some of these grand Sophys will not 
usurp, and those that blaspheme it .? — allow him the reputation of wit at all : 
by those that are ambitious to lay yet how many such authors must be 
their cuckoo's eggs in his nest, and creamed and spirited to make up his 
those that think to raise up Phoenixes Fuscara.-''^ And how many of their 
of wit by firing his spicy bed about slight productions may be gigged ^ out 
him ? of one of his pregnant words ? There 
We know you have, not without perhaps you may find some leaf-gold, 
passionate resentments, beheld the here massy wedges ; there some scat- 
prostitution of his name in some late tered rays, here a galaxy ; there some 
editions vended under it, wherein his loose fancy frisking in the air, here 
orations are murthered over and over Wit's Zodiac. 

in barbarous Latin, and a more bar- The quarrel in all this is upbraiding 

barous translation : and wherein is merit, and eminence his crime. His 

scarce one or other poem of his own to towering * fancy soareth so high a pitch 

' Here we get into terra cognifa as regards authorship. The editors had been, 
both of them, Cleveland's pupils at St. John's. 'J. L.' was John Lake (1624-1689), a 
man of great distinction — at this time Vicar of Leeds and Prebendary of York, later 
Bishop, first of Sodor and Man and then of Chichester, who while he held the last- 
named see had the double glory of withstanding James II as one of ' the Seven ', and of 
refusing the Oath to William. ' S. D.' was also a Yorkshire clergyman — Samuel 
Drake — who had not only studied under Cleveland at Cambridge, but fought under him 
at Newark. He became Vicar of Pontefract ; but (if the D.N.B. is right in assigning 
his death to the year 1673) his work on the great vindication of his tutor must have 
been done some time before publication. Francis Turner (1638- 1700), of a much 
younger generation and an Oxford man, though admitted ad eundem at Cambridge 
in 1662, had been Master of St. John's College since 1670, and was therefore properly 
selected as chief dedicatee. He was destined to be connected with Lake again in 
the great actions above noted as Bishop of Ely, and for the last ten years of his life 
was an active Jacobite agent. 

^ The description of Cleaveland Revived in the third paragraph is perfectly just, and 
'anvil-beater' is an obvious echo-gibe at Williamson's own phraseology. It is less 
certain what 'grand Sophys' are specially referred to further on — but Dryden might 
be one. 

^ A Clevelandish word ; v. infra, p. 65 {Rtipertismus, 1. 120). 

* In orig., as often, ' touring ', but to print this nowadays would invite misconception. 

( 17 ) C III 

y ohn Cleveland 

that they fly like shades below him. 
Ihe torrent thereof (which riseth far 
above their high water mark) drowneth 
their levels. Usurping upon the State 
Poetic of the time, he hath brought 
in such insolent measures of Wit and 
Language that, despairing to imitate, 
they must study to understand. That 
alone is Wit with them to which they 
are commensurate, and what exceedeth 
their scantling^ is monstrous. 

Thus they deifie^ his Wit and Fancy 
as the clown the plump oyster when 
he could not crack it. And now instead 
of that strenuous masculine style which 
breatheth in this author, we have only 
an enervous effeminate froth offered, as 
if they had taken the salivating pill 
before they set pen to paper. You 
must hold your breath in the perusal 
lest the jest vanish by blowing on. 

Another blemish in this monster of 
perfection is the exuberance of his 
fancy. His manna lielh so thick upon 
the ground they loathe it. When 
he should only fan, he with hurricanos 
of wit stormeth the sense, and doth not 
so much delight his reader, as oppress 
and overwhelm him. 

To cure this excess, their frugal wit 
hath reduced the world to a Lessian 
Diet.' If perhaps they entertain their 

reader with one good thought (as these 
new Dictators affect to speak) he may 
sit down and say Grace over it: the 
rest is words and nothing else. 

We will leave them therefore to the 
most proper vengeance, to humour 
themselves with the perusal of their 
own poems : and leave the barber to 
rub their thick skulls with bran* until 
they are fit for musk. Only we will 
leave this friendly advice with them ; 
that they have one eye upon John 
Tradescant's executor,^ lest among his 
other Minims of Art and Nature 
he expose their slight conceits : and 
another upon the Royal Society, lest 
they make their poems the counter- 
balance when they intend to weigh air. 

From these unequal censures we 
appeal to such competent judges as 
yourselves, in whose just value of him 
Cleveland shall live the wonder of his 
own, and the pattern of succeeding 
ages. And although we might (upon 
several accompts) bespeak your affec- 
tions, yet (abstracting from these) we 
submit him to your severer judgements, 
and doubt not but he will find that 
patronage from you which is desired 
and expected by 

Your humble Servants. 

J. L. S. D.« 

1 'Scantling' is used in various senses. Either that of 'rough draft' or, as in 
Taylor, 'small piece' would do ; but it is at least possible that it is not a noun at all, 
but a direct participle from the verb to 'scantle', found in Drayton, and meaning 
'to be deficient', 'come short'. Some, however, prefer the sense 'dimension' or 
♦ measurement ', which would make it a sort of vai ied repetition of ' commensurate '. 

2 ' Deifie ' is of course wrong. ' Defy' is likeliest, and in a certain sense (^frequent 
in Elizabethan writers) would do ; but ' decry ' seems wanted. 

3 A common phrase for an earlier ' Banting ' regime derived from the Hygiasticon 
CAntwerp, 1623) of Leonard Lessius (1554-1624'. I owe this information to the 
kindness of Dr. Comrie. Lecturer on the History of Medicine in the University of 
Edinburgh. The next sentence may, or rather must, be a reference to fin fact, a fling 
at) Dryden, Essay of Dramatic Poesy (vol. i, p. 52, ed. Ker, Oxford, 1900"!, who 
censures Cleveland for not giving ' a ^reat thought ' in ' words . . . commonly received'. 
I owe the reminder of this to Mr. Thorn-Drury. 

* The use of bran for shampooing is not perhaps so well known as that for poultices, 
foot-baths, &c. It is always a softener as well as a detergent. 

* Ashmole. 

* Perhaps I should add a very few words explaining why I have not made this 
' authenticated ' edition the base of mine. I have not done so because the editors, 
excellent as was evidently their intention, have after all given us no reasons for their 
exclusions and inclusions ; because, though they have corrected some obvious errors, 
their readings by no m'-ans always intrinsically commend themselves to me ; and 
especially because liie distance between 164-] and ^677 reflects itself, to no small 
degree, in a certain definite ntodertiieation of form, grammatical and prosodic. 7<5/j 
lias much more conlemporariness. 



To the State of Love. 
Or the Senses' Festival. 

I SAW a vision yesternight, 

Enough to sate a Seeker's sight ; 

I wished myself a Shaker there, 

And her quick pants my trembh'ng sphere. 

It was a she so gUttering bright, 

You'd think her soul an Adamite; 

A person of so rare a frame, 

Her body might be lined with' same. 

Beauty's chiefest maid of honour, 

You may break Lent with looking on her. lo 

Not the fair Abbess of the skies, 

With all her nunnery of eyes. 

Can show me such a glorious prize ! 

And yet, because 'tis more renown 

To make a shadow shine, she 's brown ; 

A brown for which Heaven would disband 

The galaxy, and stars be tanned ; 

Brown by reflection as her eye 

Deals out the summer's livery. 

Old dormant windows must confess 20 

Her beams ; their glimmering spectacles. 

To the State of Love, &--c. appeared first in j6ji. The stanzas are not divided in tlie 
early editions, but are so in j6j7. Carew's Rapture may have given some suggestions, 
Apuleius and Lucretius also ; but not much is required. The substance is shocking 
to pure prudery, no doubt ; but, as observed in the Introduction, there is perhaps 
more gusto in the execution than in Ftiscara. 

A copy of this poem, with man^' minor variants, is in Bodleian MS. Tanner 306, 
fol. 424 : it has one noteworthy reading, ' took sey ', i. e. ' say ' or 'assay ' — the hunt- 
ing term — in 1. 27. 

2, 3 The use of capitals in the seventeenth century is so erratic that it is dangerous 
to base much on it. But both ' Seekers ' and ' Shakers' (a variant of ' Quakers') were 
actually among the countless sects of the time, as well of course as ' Adamites '. j6jz, 
j6jj, j6j^, and i6jy have ' tempt ' for i6yy ' sate '. 

4 pants i6jy : 'pulse ' i6ji, i6jj, 16^4, i6j-j. 10 'You'd break a Lent ' j6ji, i6jj. 

11-13 Benlowes's lines {v. sup. i. 356) — 

The lady prioress of the cloistered sky, &c. — 
are more poetic than these, but may be less original. Even that, however, is uncertain. 
Both poets, though Benlowes was a good deal the elder, were of St. John's, and 
must, even in other ways, have known each other : Theophila appeared a year after 
the edition in which this poem was first included. But the indebtedness may be the 
other way, or common to an earlier original, or non-existent. 

19 Deals out] The earlier texts have 'Dazzle's', but l6^]^ seems here to have 
introduced the true reading found also in the MS. ' Deals out' is far more poetical: 
the eye clothes with its own reflection sky and stars, and earth. 

20-3 The punctuation of all editions, including Mr. Berdan's, makes these lines 
either totally unintelligible, or very confused, by putting a stop at 'spectacles' and 
none at ' beams '. That adopted in the text makes it quite clear. 

(19) C2 

yohn Cleveland 

Struck with the splendour of her face, 
Do th' ofifice of a burning-glass. 

Now where such radiant lights have shown, 

No wonder if her cheeks be grown 

Sunburned, with lustre of her own. 

My sight took pay, but (thank my charms !) 

I now impale her in mine arms ; 

(Love's compasses confining you. 

Good angels, to a circle too.) 30 

Is not the universe strait-laced 

When I can clasp it in the waist ? 

My amorous folds about thee hurled. 

With Drake I girdle in the world ; 

I hoop the firmament, and make 

This, my embrace, the zodiac. 

How would thy centre take my sense 

When admiration doth commence 

At the extreme circumference? 

Now to the melting kiss that sips 40 

The jellied philtre of her lips ; 

So sweet there is no tongue can praise 't 

Till transubstantiate with a taste. 

Inspired like Mahomet from above 

By th' billing of my heavenly dove, 

Love prints his signets in her smacks. 

Those ruddy drops of squeezing wax, 

Which, wheresoever she imparts. 

They're privy seals to take up hearts. 

Our mouths encountering at the sport, 50 

My slippery soul had quit the fort. 

But that she stopped the sally-port. 

Next to these sweets, her lips dispense 
(As twin conserves of eloquence) 
The sweet perfume her breath affords, 
Incorporating with her words. 
No rosary this vot'ress needs — 
Her very syllables are beads ; 

30 circle] 'compass' j6)I, i6jj, evidently wrong. 

33 It is not impossible that Aphra Belin had these lines unconsciously in her head 
when she wrote her own finest passage. Unconsciously, for the drift is quite 
different ; but ' hurled', ' amorous ', and ' world' come close together in both. 

34 i6ji, i6j} again 'compass' for 'girdle'. 

37 * would', the reading oi j6jz, i(>sj, infinitely better than 'could', that oi i6-jj. 

45 In this pyramidally metaphysical passage Cleveland does not quite play the game. 
Mahomet's pigeon did not kiss him. But 'privy seals to take up hearts' is very dear 
to fancy, most delicate, and of liberal conceit. So also 'jewels are in ear-rings worn ' 
below; where the game is played to its rigour, though the reader may not at first see it. 

46 his J ' her ' i6)i, if>jj ; but it clearly should be ' his ', which is in j6-j-j. 
53 i6ji, ihs) "^^^^ ' Next to those sweets licr lips dispense ', nescio an melius. 


To the State of "Love 

No sooner 'twixt those rubies born, 

But jewels are in ear-rings worn, 60 

With what delight her speech doth enter; 

It is a kiss o' th' second venter. 

And I dissolve at what I hear, 

As if another Rosamond were 

Couched in the labyrinth of my ear. 

Yet that's but a preludious bliss, 

Two souls pickeering in a kiss. 

Embraces do but draw the line, 

'Tis storming that must take her in. 

When bodies join and victory hovers 70 

'Twixt the equal fluttering lovers. 

This is the game ; make stakes, my dear ! 

Hark, how the sprightly chanticleer 

(That Baron Tell-clock of the night) 

Sounds boutesel to Cupid's knight. 

Then have at all, the pass is got, 

For coming off, oh, name it not ! 

Who would not die upon the spot? 

The Hecatomb to his Mistress. 

Be dumb, you beggars of the rhyming trade, 

Geld your loose wits and let your Muse be spayed. 

Charge not the parish with the bastard phrase 

Of balm, elixir, both the Indias, 

Of shrine, saint, sacrilege, and such as these 

Expressions common as your mistresses. 

61 her] ' our', a variant of one edition (i66j), is all wrong. 

62 Mr. Berdan has strangely misinterpreted 'venter'. The phrase is quite 
a common one = ' of the second tnarriage'. The first kiss comes of lip and lip, the 
second of lip and love. 

67 pickeering] 'marauding', 'skirmishing in front of an army'. 

70 For 'join' [jine] j6ji, i6jj and others have 'whine' — suggesting the Latin 
gannitus frequent in such contexts. But 'join' must be right. Professor Gordon 
points out that the passage is a reminiscence of Donne, in his Extasie : 
As 'twixt two equall Armies, Fate 

Suspends uncertaine victorie. 
Our soules (which to advance their state 

Were gone out,) hung 'twixt her, and mee. (13-16.) 
This is contrasted with the bodily ' entergrafting ' of 1. 9, &c. 

74 When ' prose and sense ' came in they were very contemptuous of this Baron 
Tell-clock. But the image is complete, congruous, and capable of being championed. 

75 ' Boutesel ' of course = ' boot and saddle ', albeit ' boute ' does not mean ' boot '. 
The Hecatomb to his Mistress.'] {i6;i.) This poem is perhaps the best text to 

prove (or endeavour to prove) that Cleveland's object was really burlesque, 
r you] ' ye ' i6ji, i6jj. 

2 i6ji, i6s3 read ' the ' for 'your ', and ' splaid ' : ' spade ' I6^^. ' Spay ' or ' splay ' 
= to destroy the reproductive powers of a female. 

3 the bastard] 1677 again alters ' the ' to 'your', which does not seem good. 
5 sacrilege] sacrifice J6jy. 6 your] their i6jj, &c. 


yohn Cleveland 

Hence, you fantastic postillers in song. 

My text defeats your art, ties Nature's tongue, 

Scorns all her tinselled metaphors of pelf, 

Illustrated by nothing but herself. lo 

As spiders travel by their bowels spun 

Into a thread, and, when the race is run. 

Wind up their journey in a living clew, 

So is it with my poetry and you. 

From your own essence must I first untwine. 

Then twist again each panegyric line. 

Reach then a soaring quill that I may write. 

As with a Jacob's staff, to take her height. 

Suppose an angel, darting through the air. 

Should there encounter a religious prayer 20 

Mounting to Heaven, that Intelligence 

Should for a Sunday-suit thy breath condense 

Into a body. — Let me crack a string 

In venturing higher; were the note I sing 

Above Heaven's Ela, should I then decline, 

And with a deep-mouthed gamut sound the line 

From pole to pole, I could not reach her worth, 

Nor find an epithet to set it forth. 

Metals may blazon common beauties ; siie 

Makes pearls and planets humble heraldry. 30 

As, then, a purer substance is defined 

But by a heap of negatives combined, 

Ask what a spirit is, you'll hear them cry 

It hath no matter, no mortality : 

So can I not define how sweet, how fair ; 

Only I say she's not as others are. 

For what perfections we to others grant. 

It is her sole perfection to want. 

All other forms seem in respect of thee 

The almanac's misshaped anatomy, 40 

Where Aries head and face. Bull neck and throat. 

The Scorpion gives the secrets, knees the Goat ; 

7 postillers] The word means glossers or commentators on Scripture, and has 
acquired in several languages a contemptuous meaning from the frequently common- 
place and trivial character of such things. ' ye fantastic ' 76/j. 

9 i6^t, i6jj have 'his' for 'her', and in the next line 'his self for 'herself. 
The poem is particularly badly printed in this group, and I think the i6jj editors, in 
trying to mend it, have mistaken some places. Thus in 

22 They print ' Would ' for ' Should ". This may look better at first ; but I at least 
can make no real sense of it. With ' Should ' I can make some. The poet starts an 
extravagant comparison in 19-21 ; continues it in ' [suppose] that Intelligence should', 
ikc. ; finds it will not do, and breaks it off with the parenthetical ' Let me ' &c. To 
bring this out I have inserted the — . 

24 i6tj 'And venture', with a full-stop at ' higher', not so well ; but in 

25 * Mwdecline ' 16^1, i6)j, &c. is nonsense ; while in the next line ' sound agen ' either 
points to a complete breakdown or indicates that, on the most recent Cockney 
principles, 'again ' could be pronounced ' a^/x^ ' and riiymes«/rt Mrs. Browning. The 
text is rOj-j. a8 set] shadow 1^)77. 

35 define] describe i6tj, 37 perfections 16^1, i6jj : perfection 7^77. 


The Hecatoinb to his Mistress 

A brief of limbs foul as those beasts, or are 

Their namesake signs in their strange character. 

As the philosophers to every sense 

Marry its object, yet with some dispense. 

And grant them a polygamy with all, 

And these their common sensibles they call : 

So is 't with her who, stinted unto none, 

Unites all senses in each action. 50 

The same beam heats and lights ; to see her well 

Is both to hear and feel, to taste and smell. 

For, can you want a palate in your eyes, 

When each of hers contains a double prize, 

Venus's apple ? Can your eyes want nose 

When from each cheek buds forth a fragrant rose? 

Or can your sight be deaf to such a quick 

And well-tuned face, such moving rhetoric? 

Doth not each look a flash of lightning feel 

Which spares the body's sheath, and melts the steel ? 60 

Thy soul must needs confess, or grant thy sense 

Corrupted vvith the object's excellence. 

Sweet magic, which can make five senses lie 

Conjured within the circle of an eye ! 

In whom, since all the five are intermixed. 

Oh now that Scaliger would prove his sixt ! 

Thou man of mouth, that canst not name a she 

Unless all Nature pay a subsidy. 

Whose language is a tax, whose musk-cat verse 

Voids nought but flowers, for thy Muse's hearse 70 

Fitter than Celia's looks, who in a trice 

Canst state the long disputed Paradise, 

And (what Divines hunt with so cold a scent) 

Canst in her bosom find it resident ; 

Now come aloft, come now, and breathe a vein, 

And give some vent unto thy daring strain. 

Say the astrologer who spells the stars, 

In that fair alphabet reads peace and wars, 

43 brief='list'. 44 name-sak'd /<5/7, i6;j. 45 the] yowv i6-]-]. 

5a i6-j-], not nearly so well, 'see and' for 'feel, to'. You want the list of senses 
completed and summed up by such a palate in ' see ', which, repeated, spoils all. 

54 16^1, i6jj have ' his ' for ' hers' ; but ' a double prize ' is more vivid if less strictly 
defensible than ' the beauteous ' of 7677. So in 

56 7^77 opens with ' Seeing each ' instead of ' When from ' — much feebler. But in 

57-8 The text, which is i6-/'j, is better than i6jj : 

Or can the sight be deaf if she but speak, 
A well-tuned face, such moving rhetoric? 
which indeed is, if not nonsense, most clumsily expressed, even if comma at 'face' be 

60 and melts] yet melts iSjy. 66 'sixt' i6ji, iSjj, 1677. 

70-1 The punctuation of the old texts— no comma at ' flowers' and one at 
' hearse '—makes the passage hard to understand. As I have altered this punctuation, 
it is clear. 

73 what Divines] i6ji, i6fj, &c. ' with Divines '. 

75 come now 1677 : come, come i6ji, iSjj. 


yohn Cleveland 

Mistakes his globe and in her brighter eye 

Interprets Heaven's physiognomy. 80 

Call her the Metaphysics of her sex, 

And say she tortures wits as quartans vex 

Physicians ; call her the square circle ; say 

She is the very rule of Algebra. 

What e'er thou understand'st not, say 't of her, 

For that's the way to write her character. 

Say this and more, and when thou hopest to raise 

Thy fancy so as to inclose her praise — 

Alas poor Gotham, with thy cuckoo-hedge ! 

Hyperboles are here but sacrilege. 9" 

Then roll up, Muse, what thou hast ravelled out, 

Some comments clear not, but increase the doubt. 

She that affords poor mortals not a glance 

Of knowledge, but is known by ignorance; 

She that commits a rape on every sense. 

Whose breath can countermand a pestilence; 

She that can strike the best invention dead 

Till baffled poetry hangs down the head — 

She, she it is that doth contain all bliss, 

And makes the world but her periphrasis. 100 

Upon Sir Thomas Martin, 

Who subscribed a Warrant thus: 'We the 
Knights and Gentlemen of the Committee,' &c. 
when there was no Knight but himself. 

Hang out a flag and gather pence — A piece 
Which Afric never bred nor swelling Greece 

83 square] squared i6']-]. If all this is not burlesque it is very odd. 

85 you undertake not i6p, i6jj. 

91 roll] rouse i6ji, i6^j. ravelled] revealed 16^1, i6jj. 

98 the] her 16; i, i6jj. 

100 The hundred lines making the hecatomb — and the metaphysical matter the 
subject of sacrifice. 

Upon Sir Thomas Martin.'\ (i6ji.) We here turn to the other side of Cleveland's 
work, where jest and earnest are combined in a very different fashion. Martin was a 
member of the Committee of Sequestration appointed under the Act of April r, 1643, 
which, in a more fearless and thoroughgoing fashion than that of some later legislation, 
confiscated in a lump the property of certain bishops and of political opponents 
generally. The sequestrators for Cambridge were this man and two other knights — 
Sir Dudley North and Sir John Cutis ; with two esquires — a Captain Symonds and 
Dudley Pope. 

I ' pence apiece' /^//, which makes doubtful sense. i6;j, 1^77, and all others before 
me, have 'pence a piece', which I believe to be careless printing for the text above. 
The ' piece ' is the same as the ' beast ', and the brackets wluch follow in the originals 
are a printer's error. ' Piece ', in this sense of ' rare object ', is not uncommon. 
Cf. Prospero's ' Thy mother was a piece of virtue.' ' F'ence apiece ' (about the same 
as the Scotch fishwife's 'pennies each'), if not, as Mr. Berdan says, 'proverbial', 
is certainly a perfectly common expression, still I think existing, but it is difficult to 
see how what follows can thus suit it. ' Which ' must have an antecedent. 


upon Sir Thomas Martin 

With stories' tympany, a beast so rare 

No lecturer's wrought cap, nor Bartholomew Fair 

Can match him ; nature's whimsey, that outvies 

Tradescant and his ark of novelties; 

The Gog and Magog of prodigious sights. 

With reverence to your eyes, Sir Thomas Knights. 

But is this bigamy of titles due ? 

Are you Sir Thomas and Sir Martin too? lo 

Issachar couchant 'twixt a brace of sirs, 

Thou knighthood in a pair of panniers; 

Thou, that look'st, wrapped up in thy warlike leather, 

Like Valentine and Orson bound together; 

Spurs' representative ! thou, that art able 

To be a voider to King Arthur's table; 

Who, in this sacrilegious mass of all. 

It seems has swallowed Windsor's Hospital ; 

Pair-royal-headed Cerberus's cousin. 

Hercules' labours were a baker's dozen, 20 

Had he but trumped on thee, whose forked neck 

Might well have answered at the font for Smec. 

But can a knighthood on a knighthood lie? 

Metal on metal is ill armory ; 

And yet the known Godfrey of Bouillon's coat 

Shines in exception to the herald's vote. 

Great spirits move not by pedantic laws; 

Their actions, though eccentric, state the cause, 

4 ' Bartlemew ' 7(5/7, 16; j : ' Bartholmew ' i6j4. The word was, of course, pro- 
nounced ' Bartlemy ,' and almost dissyllabically. 

5 that outvies] 16^1, i6jj ' one that outvies', perhaps rightly, 

6 Tredeskin i6ji, i6jj : Tredescant 1677. 

II The reference to the animal between two burdens to whom Issachar is biblically 
compared (Gen. xlix. 14) is perhaps meant to be additionally pointed by ' Sir Martin ', 
the latter being one of the story-names of the much-enduring beast. 

16 voider] The servant who clears the table ; also, but here less probably, the tray 
or basket used for the purpose. 

18 The ' Poor Knights of Windsor ' having fallen, like other institutions, into the maw 
of plebeian and Puritan plunder. 

19 The hyphen at 'Pair-royal', which Mr. Berdan has dropped, is important, 
the term being technical in certain card-games and meaning three cards of the same 
value — kings, &c. 

21 trumped on thee = turned thee up like a trump. 

22 ' Smec ' — of course — ' tymnuus', and used both for the sake of contempt and as 
denoting a plurality of person. 

24 The principle of this line is of course part of the A B C of the more modern and 
dogmatic heraldry : the application will lie either on sword or spur, the two 
characteristic insignia of knighthood and both metallic. i6jj changed 'ill armory' to 
' false heraldry ', and Scott was probably thinking of this line when he made Prince 
John and Wamba between them use the phrase in Ivanhoe. 

25 Godfrey's arms as King of Jerusalem — five golden crosses on a silver shield — 
were commonly quoted, as Cleveland quotes them, in special exception to the rule. 
But my friend Mr. F. P. Barnard, Professor of Mediaeval Archaeology in the University 
of Liverpool, to whom I owe the materials of this note, tells me that he has collected 
many other cases, English and foreign. The objection, however, was originally a 
practical one, metal on metal and colour on colour being] difficult to distinguish in the 
field. It passed into a technical rule later. 


yohii Cleveland 

And Priscian bleeds with honour. Caesar thus 

Subscribed two consuls with one Julius. 30 

Tom, never oaded squire, scarce yeoman-high, 

Is Tom twice dipped, knight of a double dye ! 

Fond man, whose fate is in his name betrayed ! 

It is the setting sun doubles his shade. 

But it 's no matter, for amphibious he 

May have a knight hanged, yet Sir Tom go free ! 

On the memory of Mr. Edward King, 
drowned in the Irish Seas. 

I LIKE not tears in tune, nor do I prize 

His artificial grief who scans his eyes. 

Mine weep down pious beads, but why should I 

Confine them to the Muse's rosary ? 

I am no poet here ; my pen 's the spout 

Where the rain-water of mine eyes run out 

In pity of that name, whose fate we see 

Thus copied out in grief's hydrography. 

The Muses are not mermaids, though upon 

His death the ocean might turn Helicon. ic 

29 Priscian's head may not have bled here before it was broken by Butler ; but the 
dates of the writing of Hiidibras are quite uncertain. 

31 oaded] This singular word is in all the editions I have seen. 166^ makes it 
' loaded ', with no sense that I can see in this passage. Can it be ' oathed ' — be sworn 
either to the commission of the peace or something else that gave the title 'Esquire'? 
' Oad ', however, = woad ; cf. Minsheu, Guide into Tongues, 1617 ' Dade, an hearbe. Vide 
lVoade\ This would certainly suit the next line. 

On the Memory of Mr. Edward King.~\ First printed in the memorial volume of 
Cambridge verse to King, i6;S ; included in the Poems o( i6;i. It is of course easy 
(and it may be feared that it has too often been done) to contrast this disadvantageously 
with Lycidas. A specific or generic comparison, bringing out the difference of 
ephemeral and eternal style in verse, will not be found unprofitable and is almost 
as easy to make. No reader of Milton — and any one who has not read Milton is very 
unlikely to read this — can need information on King or on the circumstances of his 
death. i6;i and i6jj add a spurious duplicate, the last fourteen lines of W. More's 
elegy which followed Cleveland's in the Cambridge volume. 

* On the Same. 

Tell me no more of Stoics: canst thou Canst thou give credit to his zeal and love 

tell That went to Heaven, and to those flames 

Who 'twas, that when the waves began above, 

to swell, Wrapt in a fiery chariot? Since I heard 

The ship to sink, sad passengers to call Who 'twas, that on his knees the vessel 

' Master, we perish ' — slept secure of all ? steered 

Remember this, and him that waking With hands bolt up to Heaven, since I see 

kept As yet no signs of his mortality, — 

A mind as constant as he did that Pardon me, Reader, if I say he's gone 

slept. Tlie self-same journey in a wat'ry one. 

I do] will i6j8. a who] that i6jS. 

6 i6;i ' runs ' : all other editions (including i6j8) ' run '. The attraction to ' eyes ' is 
one of the commonest of things. 

lo The everlasting confusion of ' mount ' and ' fount ' occurs in ' Helicon '. 


On the Memory of Dvlr, Edward King 

The sea's too rough for verse; who rhymes upon't 

With Xerxes strives to fetter th' Hellespont, 

My tears will keep no channel, know no laws 

To guide their streams, but (like the waves, their cause) 

Run with disturbance, till they swallow me 

As a description of his misery. 

But can his spacious virtue find a grave 

Within th' imposthumed bubble of a wave? 

Whose learning if we sound, we must confess 

The sea but shallow, and him bottomless. 20 

Could not the winds to countermand thy death 

With their whole card of lungs redeem thy breath ? 

Or some new island in thy rescue peep 

To heave thy resurrection from the deep. 

That so the world might see thy safety wrought 

With no less wonder than thyself was thought? 

The famous Stagirite (who in his life 

Had Nature as familiar as his wife) 

Bequeathed his widow to survive with thee, 

Queen Dowager of all philosophy. 30 

An ominous legacy, that did portend 

Thy fate and predecessor's second end. 

Some have affirmed that what on earth we find, 

The sea can parallel in shape and kind. 

Books, arts, and tongues were wanting, but in thee 

Neptune hath got an university. 

We'll dive no more for pearls ; the hope to see 
Thy sacred reliques of mortality 
Shall welcome storms, and make the seamen prize 
His shipwreck now more than his merchandise. 40 

He shall embrace the waves, and to thy tomb 
As to a Royaller Exchange shall come. 
What can we now expect? Water and fire. 
Both elements our ruin do conspire. 
And that dissolves us which doth us compound : 
One Vatican was burnt, another drowned. 
We of the gown our libraries must toss 
To understand the greatness of our loss ; 
Be pupils to our grief, and so much grow 

In learning, as our sorrows overflow. 50 

When we have filled the rundlets of our eyes 
We'll issue 't forth and vent such elegies 
As that our tears shall seem the Irish Seas, 
We floating islands, living Hebrides. 

26 wonder] miracle i6jS. , 

34 i6]8, j6-]-], and later editions read, harmlessly but needlessly, '/or shape . 

46 ' Vatican' used (as Mr. Berdan justly notes) as = ' library'. r ■ ■ y < 

Cleveland's warmest defenders must admit that this epicede is a triumph of 'frigidity . 

And the personal note which Lycidas itself has been unfairly accused of wanting is here 

non-existent to my eyes, though some have discovered it. 


yohn Cleveland 

Upon an Hermaphrodite. 

Sir, or Madam, choose you whether ! 

Nature twists you both together 

And makes thy soul two garbs confess, 

Both petticoat and breeches dress. 

Thus we chastise the God of Wine 

With water that is feminine, 

Until the cooler nymph abate 

His wrath, and so concorporate. 

Adam, till his rib was lost. 

Had both sexes thus engrossed. Jo 

When Providence our Sire did cleave, 

And out of Adam carved Eve, 
Then did man 'bout wedlock treat, 

To make his body up complete. 

Thus matrimony speaks but thee 

In a grave solemnity. 

For man and wife make but one right 

Canonical hermaphrodite. 

Ravel thy body, and I find 

In every limb a double kind. 20 

Who would not think that head a pair 

That breeds such factions in the hair ? 

One half so churlish in the touch 

That, rather than endure so much 

I would my tender limbs apparel 

In Regulus's nailed barrel : 

But the other half so small. 

And so amorous withal, 

That Cupid thinks each hair doth grow 

A string for his invis'ble bow. 30 

When I look babies in thine eyes 

Here Venus, there Adonis, lies. 

Upon an Hermaphrodite.'] {1647.) This poem appeared in the 1640 and all subsequent 
editions of Randolph's poems and in the 1653 edition of Beaumont's. Beaumont had 
preceded Cleveland as a ' dumping-ground ' for odds and ends of all kinds. But see the 
following poem. 

1 164J and i6ji 'Madame', which is not English, and which spoils the run of the 

2 twists] 1647, 16^1, i6;i, and others ' twisfd ', which is very like the time. 
10 both sexes] 7(577 and later ' //le sexes'. 

13 I do not know whether it is worth while to point out that catalectic or seven- 
syllabled lines with trochaic effect (cf. 9. this, 16, and others), as well as complete 
trochaic dimeters (i, 2, &c.), occur more frequently here than in The Senses' Festival, 
Fuscara, &c. This, though of course Milton has it, was rather more frequent in 
Randolph's generation than in Cleveland's. 

22 1647, i6;i, 1677, and later ' faction ', but 'factions' i6j). 

25 j6;i, i6jj, &c. ' // would ', which can hardly be right. On the other hand, /<577 
and its follower have ' IVith Regulus his' (1. 26). 

31 It can hardly be necessary to interpret this famous and charming phrase. 


upon an Hermaphrodite 

And though thy beauty be high noon 

Thy orb contains both sun and moon. 

How many melting kisses skip 

'Twixt thy male and female lip — 

Twixt thy upper brush of hair 

And thy nether beard's despair ? 

When thou speak'st (I would not wrong 

Thy sweetness with a double tongue) 40 

But in every single sound 

A perfect dialogue is found. 

Thy breasts distinguish one another, 

This the sister, that the brother. 

When thou join'st hands my ear still fancies 

The nuptial sound, ' I, John, take Frances.' 

Feel but the difference soft and rough ; 

This is a gauntlet, that a muff. 

Had sly Ulysses, at the sack 

Of Troy, brought thee his pedlar's pack, 50 

And weapons too, to know Achilles 

From King Lycomedes' Phillis, 

His plot had failed ; this hand would feel 

The needle, that the warlike steel. 

When music doth thy pace advance. 

Thy right leg takes the left to dance. 

Nor is 't a galliard danced by one, 

But a mixed dance, though alone. 

Thus every heteroclite part 

Changes gender but thy heart. 60 

Nay those, which modesty can mean 

But dare not speak, are epicene. 

That gamester needs must overcome 

That can play both Tib and Tom. 

Thus did Nature's mintage vary. 

Coining thee a Philip and Mary. 

48 Line shortened to the trochaic run in 16']'], &c. by dropping 'is'. 

52 ' Lycomedes ' puzzled the earlier printers, who in 16^'] and 7<5// make it 'Nico- 
medes' (corrupted by i6}j to ' Nichomedes') — a curiously awkward blunder, as it 
happens. 56 the left 164'], i6jj : thy left i6ji. 

58 The late edition of 1687, when ' regularity' was becoming a fetish, inserted 'all ' 
before ' alone ', though iSyj — its standard for the genuine poems — has not got it. and 
it is not wanted. 

59 heteroclite part] idyj and its followers, puzzled by this, the original, reading, 
read ' apart ' (apostrophating ' Het'roclite'), the sense of which is not clear ; while Mr. 
Berdan would emend to ' heteroclitic', which is unnecessary. Cleveland may well 
have scanned 'heteroclite', which is by no means an extravagant licence, and has 
been paralleled by Longfellow in ' EurOclydon'. Indeed, since I wrote this note 
Mr. Simpson has furnished me with a parallel of ' heterochte ' itself from Harl. MS. 
4126, f. 102. 

60 but thy heart iS^p : not the heart iSji, i6jj. 
62 ' But' 2(577 '■ 'And' in earlier texts. 


yohn Cleveland 

The Author's Hermaphrodite. 
(Made after Mr. Randolph's death, yet inserted into his Poems.) 

Problem of sexes ! Must thou Hkewise be 

As disputable in thy pedigree? 

Thou twins in one, in whom Dame Nature tries 

To throw less than aums ace upon two dice. 

Wert thou served up two in one dish, the rather 

To split thy sire into a double father? 

True, the world's scales are even ; what the main 

In one place gets, another quits again. 

Nature lost one by thee, and therefore must 

Slice one in two to keep her number just. lo 

Plurality of livings is thy state, 

And therefore mine must be impropriate. 

For, since the child is mine and yet the claim 

Is intercepted by another's name. 

Never did steeple carry double truer ; 

His is the donative and mine the cure. 

Then say, my Muse (and without more dispute), 

Who 'tis that fame doth superinstitute. 

The Theban wittol, when he once descries 

Jove is his rival, falls to sacrifice. 20 

That name hath tipped his horns ; see, on his knees ! 

A health to Hans-in-kelder Hercules ! 

Nay, sublunary cuckolds are content 

To entertain their fate with compliment ; 

And shall not he be proud whom Randolph deigns 

To quarter with his Muse both arms and brains? 

Gramercy Gossip, I rejoice to see 

She'th got a leap of such a barbary. 

Talk not of horns, horns are the poet's crest ; 

For, since the Muses left their former nest 30 

To found a nunnery in Randolph's quill, 

Cuckold Parnassus is a forked hill. 

But stay, I've waked his dust, his marble stirs 
And brings the worms for his compurgators. 

The Anthot^s Hermaphrodite.'] {164'].^ The note, which appears in all editions, seems 
evidently conclusive as to this poem. Moreover the quibbles are right Clevelandish. 

7 ' main ' is a little ambiguous, or may appear so from the recent mention of dice. 
But that sense will hardly come in, and Cleveland was probably thinking of the famous 
passage in Spenser (Artegall's dispute with the giant, F. Q. v. ii) as to the washing 
away and washing up of the sea. Yet ' main ' might mean ' stock '. The reading 
of 'gets place ' in one edition {1662), rather notable for blunders, cannot be listened to. 

15 steeple] By synecdoche for ' church ' or ' parish '. 

J 6 donative] A play on words, as also in ' cure'. 

19 Theban wittol] Amphitryon. 22 Hans-in-kelder] = ' unborn '. 

28 She'th] jOyj changes to 'Tii'hast'. barbary] ' Barbs' or Spanish horses were 

imported for the stud as early as Anglo Saxon times; but before Cleveland's day 
actual Arabs had been tried. 

34 compurgators] persons who swear in a court of law to the innocence or the 
veracity of some other person. 


The Author s Hermaphrodite 

Can ghost have natural sons? Say, Og, is't meet 

Penance bear date after the winding sheet? 

Were it a Phoenix (as the double kind 

May seem to prove, being there's two combined) 

I would disclaim my right, and that it were 

The lawful issue of his ashes swear. 40 

But was he dead? Did not his soul translate 

Herself into a shop of lesser rate ; 

Or break up house, like an expensive lord 

That gives his purse a sob and lives at board? 

Let old Pythagoras but play the pimp 

And still there's hopes 't may prove his bastard imp. 

But I'm profane; for, grant the world had one 

With whom he might contract an union, 

35 I was unable to say why the King of Bashan comes in here, except that the com- 
parison of the Dialogue on the ifc, ' Og the great commissary', and the put case 
about ' penance ', suggest some church lawyer of portly presence. But Mr. Simpson 
and Mr. Thorn-Drury have traced the thing from this point as follows : 

Cf. A Dialogue upon the &c., 1. 47 ' Og the great commissary', where the copy in 
Rawlinson MS. Poet. 26, fol. 94 6, has a marginal note 'Roan'. This was Dr. William 
Roan, of whom an account is given in the Catalogue of Prints and Drawings in the 
British Museum, Division i, 'Political and Personal Satires', p. 156: 'Dr. Roane 
was one of the most eminent doctors who acted in Laud's Ecclesiastical Courts ; he fled 
from the indignation of the House of Commons, and is frequently alluded to in pamphlets 
and broadsides of the time (see Times Alteration, Jan. 8, 1641, . . . Old News newly 
Revived, Dec. 21, 1640, . . . and The Spirituall Courts Epitomized, June 26, 1641).' The 
pamphlet illustrated in this note is A Letter from Rhoan in France Written by Doctor 
Roane one of the Doctors of the late Sicke Commons, to his Fellow Doctor of the Civill 
Law. Dated 28, of lune last past. With an Ellegy written by his oune hand upon the 
death and buriall of the said Doctors Contmons. Printed in this happy yeare, 1641. 
(Thomason's copy dated June 28.) 

Mr. Thorn-Drury supplies the following references bearing directly on the nickname, 
and not noticed in the B.M. Catalogue: Foure fugitives meeting Or, The Discourse 
atnongst my Lord Finch, Sir Frances Windebank, Sir John Sucklin, and Doctor Roane, 
as they accidentally met in France, ivith a detection of their severall pranks in England. 
Printed In the Yeare, 1641. 4°. 

Suckling says to Roane, ' Hold there good Doctor Roane, and take me with you, 
you are to be blamed too, for not bidding fai-ewell to Sir Paul Pinder, (at whose 
beauteous house, j'ou have devoured the carkasse of many a cram'd Capon) before you 
fled, but I wonder more, whj' you came hither so unprovided ; methinks some English 
dyet would have bin good for a weake stomack : the Church-Wardens of North- 
hamptonshire promised to give you a good fee, if you will goe to 'em, and resolve 'em 
whether they may lawfully take the oath &c. or no. 

' Wind. That may very well be, for they have given him a great Addition, they stile 
him, Og the great Commissary, they say he was as briske in discharging the new 
Canons, as he that made them.' 

Suckling addresses Roane as ' Immense Doctor Roane ' : so it is possible that it was 
his personal appearance which suggested the name of Og. 
Cf. also Canidia. The Third Pat t, p. 150 (1683) : 
Are you a Smock-Sinner, or so, 
Commute soundly, and you shall be let go. 
Fee Ogg the great Commissary before and behind, 
Then sin on, you know my mind. 
39 1647, i6;i, i6fj, &c. '// would', which can hardly be right. 

44 ' sob ' 1647, i6si : i6s} clearly '/ob ' : ' Sob ' 1677. Cf. Comedy of Errors (iv. in. 
22) 'gives a sob'. 'Sob' is literally 'an act on the part of a horse of recovering Us 
wind after exertion' — hence 'respite' {N.E.D.). 


yohn Cleveland 

They two were one, yet like an eagle spread, 

r th' body joined, but parted in the head. 50 

For you, my brat, that pose the Porph'ry Chair, 

Pope John, or Joan, or whatsoe'er you are, 

You are a nephew ; grieve not at your state, 

For all the world is illegitimate. 

Man cannot get a man, unless the sun 

Club to the act of generation. 

The sun and man get man, thus Tom and I 

Are the joint fathers of my poetry. 

For since, blest shade, thy verse is male, but mine 

O' th' weaker sex, a fancy feminine, 60 

We'll part the child, and yet commit no slaughter ; 

So shall it be thy son, and yet my daughter. 

*To the Hectors, npo7i the unfortunate death of H. Compton. 

You Hectors ! tame professors of the sword, 

Who in the chair state duels, whose black word 

Bewitches courage, and like Devils too. 

Leaves the bewitch'd when 't comes to fight and do. 

Who on your errand our best spirits send. 

Not to kill swine or cows, but man and friend ; 

Who are a whole court-martial in your drink, 

And dispute honour, when you cannot think. 

Not orderly, but prate out valour as 

You grow inspired by th' oracle of the glass ; lo 

Then, like our zeal-drunk presbyters, cry down 

All law of Kings and God, but what's their own. 

Then y' have the gift of fighting, can discern 

Spirits, who 's fit to act, and who to learn, 

Who shall be baffled next, who must be beat, 

Who killed — that you may drink, and swear, and eat. 

Whilst you applaud those murders which you teach 

And live upon the wounds your riots preach, 

51 Porph'ry Chair] The Pope's throne, the myths of which, as well as of Pope Joan 
herself, are vulgate. ' Nephew ' carries out the allusion : Popes' sons being called so 

Better to preserve the peace. 

59 thy] this i6ji^ i^Si- 

62 The merit of the style for burlesque use could hardly be better brought out. 

To the Hectors {i()jj is struck out in 7677 and ^^- Berdan does not give it. I asterisk 
it in text ; but as it might be Cleveland's (though I do not think it is) I do not exclude it. 
The Comptons were a good Royalist family in those daj's. This Henry (not the 
Bishop) was killed in 1652 in a duel by George Brydges, Lord Chandos, who died three 
years later (see Professor Firth's House of Lords during the Civil IVar, p. 223). 
The fame of the Hectors as predecessors of the Mohocks and possible objects of 
Milton's objurgation 'flown with insolence and wine', &c., is sufficient. But they 
seem to have been more methodical maniacs and ruffians than their successors, and 
even to have had something of the superior quality of Sir Lucius O'Trigger and 
Captain M'^Turk about them, as professors and painful preachers of the necessity and 
etiquette of the duel. 

2 state duels] Arrange them like the said Captain M'^Turk in St. Ronan^s IVell"^ 
word] i6jj (wrongly for rhyme, though not necessarily for concord) ' words '. 


To the Hectors 

Mere booty-souls ! Who bid us fight a prize 
To feast the laughter of our enemies, ao 

Who shout and clap at wounds, count it pure gain, 
Mere Providence to hear a Compton's slain, 
A name they dearly hate, and justly; should 
They love 't 'twere worse, their love would taint the blood. 
Blood always true, true as their swords and cause, 
And never vainly lost, till your wild laws 
Scandalled their actions in this person, who 
Truly durst more than you dare think to do. 
A man made up of graces — every move 

Had entertainment in it, and drew love 30 

From all but him who killed him, who seeks a grave 
And fears a death more shameful than he gave. 

Now you dread Hectors ! you whom tyrant drink 
Drags thrice about the town, what do you think? 
(If you be sober) Is it valour, say. 
To overcome, and then to run away ? 

Fie ! Fie ! your lusts and duels both are one ; 

Both are repented of as soon as done. 


Come hither, Apollo's bouncing girl, 

And in a whole Hippocrene of sherry 
Let's drink a round till our brains do whirl, 

Tuning our pipes to make ourselves merry. 
A Cambridge lass, Venus-like, born of the froth 
Of an old half-filled jug of barley-broth, 

She, she is my mistress, her suitors are many. 

But she'll have a Square-cap if e'er she have any. 

And first, for the plush-sake, the Monmouth-cap comes. 

Shaking his head like an empty bottle ; 10 

With his new-fangled oath by Jupiter's thumbs, 
That to her health he'll begin a pottle. 

19 booty-souls] Apparently 'souls interested in nothing but booty'. The piece 
would seem to have been addressed to Hectors in the actual Cavalier camp, or at least 
party. The 'enemies' are of course the Roundheads, and it will soon be noticed that 
there is no apodosis or consequence to all these ' who's ', &c. It is literally an 
'Address' and no more. 

25 their] = ' the Comptons ' — nothing to do with * their ' and ' they ' in the preceding 

31 Does not run very smoothly : the second ' him' may be a foist. 

Square-Cap {1647) is one of the pleasantest of all Cleveland's poems. Its prosodic puzzle 
and profit have been indicated in the Introduction, and it might sometimes run more 
easily. But the thorough good-fellowship and esprit de corps carry it off more than 
suJficiently. It would be pleasant to think that Mr. Samuel Pepys sang it on the 
famous occasion when he was 'scandalously over-served with drink' as an under- 
graduate. It had been printed only three years when he went up, though no doubt 
written earlier. 

2 Cleveland has got the fount right here. 

7 she is] she 's i6jj. 9 Monmouth-cap] A soldier. 

( 33 ) D III 

y ohn Cleveland 

He tells her that, after the death of his grannam, 
He shall have God knows what per annum. 

But still she replied, ' Good Sir, la-bee ; 

If ever I have a man, Square-cap for me ! ' 

Then Calot Leather-cap strongly pleads. 

And fain would derive the pedigree of fashion. 
The antipodes wear their shoes on their heads, 

And why may not we in their imitation ? 20 

Oh, how this football noddle would please, 
If it were but well tossed on S. Thomas his leas ! 

But still she replied, 'Good sir, la-bee; 

If ever I have a man. Square-cap for me ! ' 

Next comes the Puritan in a wrought-cap. 

With a long-waisted conscience towards a sister. 
And, making a chapel of ease of her lap. 

First he said grace and then he kissed her. 
* Beloved,' quoth he, ' thou art my text. ' 
Then falls he to use and application next ; 30 

But then she replied, 'Your text, sir, I'll be; 

For then I'm sure you'll ne'er handle me.' 

But see where Satin-cap scouts about. 

And fain would this wench in his fellowship marry. 
He told her how such a man was not put out 

Because his wedding he closely did carry. 
He'll purchase induction by simony. 
And offers her money her incumbent to be ; 

But still she replied, ' Good sir, la-bee ; 

If ever I have a man, Square-cap for me ! ' 4° 

The lawyer's a sophister by his round-cap, 

Nor in their fallacies are they divided. 
The one milks the pocket, the other the tap ; 

And yet this wench he fain would have brided. 

13, 14 A most singular blunder in idjj (and the editions that follow it) shows that 
Cleveland's 'Vindicators' were by no means always attentive to his sense. It reads 
' her grannam ' and ' She shall have ' — the exact effect of which, as an inducement to 
marry him, one would like to hear. 

15 la-bee] = ' let-a-be ', ' let me alone '. 

17 One or two editions i^but not very good ones) * Thin Calot'. Calot of course 
= ' calotte ', the lawyer's cap or coif. 

18 This is a signal instance of the way in which these early anapaestic lines break 
down into heroics. i6jy and others read ^ his pedigree ' — not so well. 

22 S. Thomas his leas] A decree of Oct. 29, 1632, ordains that scholars and 
students of Corpus and Pembroke shall play football only ' upon St. Thomas Laj'es ', 
the site of Downing College later. This decree and the ' S.' of i6ji, i6;j, would 
seem to show that jf>-jy is wrong in expanding to ' Sir', though two Cambridge editors 
ought to have known the right name. It was also called ' Swinecroft'. (^Information 
obtained from the late Mr. J. W. Clark's Memories and Customs, Cambridge, 1909, 
through the kindness of Mr. A. J. Bartholomew.) 

33 Satin-cap] Clerical : cf. Strode's poem on The Caps (fFonts, ed. Dobell, p. 106) : 

The Sattin and the Velvet hive 
Unto a Bishopric doth drive. 

36 closely . . . carry] = ' disguise', 'conceal '. 


Square- Cap 

'Come, leave these thread-bare scholars,' quoth he, 
'And give me livery and seisin of thee.' 

'But peace, John-a-Nokes, and leave your oration, 

For I never will be your impropriation ; 

I pray you therefore, good sir, la-bee; 

For if ever I have a man, Square-cap for me ! ' 50 

Upon PhilHs walking in a morning 
before sun-rising. 

The sluggish morn as yet undressed, 

My Phillis brake from out her East, 

As if she'd made a match to run 

With Venus, usher to the sun. 

The trees, like yeomen of her guard. 

Serving more for pomp than ward. 

Ranked on each side, with loyal duty 

Weave branches to enclose her beauty. 

The plants, whose luxury was lopped. 

Or age with crutches underpropped, 10 

Whose wooden carcasses are grown 

To be but coffins of their own, 

Revive, and at her general dole 

Each receives his ancient soul. 

The winged choristers began 

To chirp their mattins, and the fan 

Of whistling winds like organs played, 

Until their voluntaries made 

The wakened Earth in odours rise 

To be her morning sacrifice. ao 

The flowers, called out of their beds, 

Start and raise up their drowsy heads; 

And he that for their colour seeks 

May find it vaulting in her cheeks, 

Where roses mix — no civil war 

Between her York and Lancaster. 

Upon Phillis, &c. {1647. ") This is perhaps the prettiest, as The Senses' Festival is the 
most vigorous and Fuscara the most laboured, of Cleveland's Clevelandisms. 

6 i6'/-/ &c. insert 'her 'between 'serving' and 'more' — doubtless on the principle, 
noticed before, of patching lines to supposed ' regularitj' '. 

7 ' Ranked ' 164-/, i6jj : ' Banked ' iSji, i6jj. As it happens either will do ; and at 
the same time either, if original, is likely to have been mistaken for the other. 

8 'Weave' 164-]: 'Wave' i6ji, i6jj : 'Weav'd' idyj \the printer unconsciously 
assimilating it to the ' Ranked ' of 1. 8^. The same remark appUes as to the preceding 

II are] were i6-jj, i68-j. 18 i6j4 '\2nto\ 

19 j(577 &c. 'weaken'd ' : putide. 20 A meeting-point of many pious poems. 

24 i6-/-/ 'vaulting /o' — hardly an improvement. 

26 Dryden may have had Cleveland in mind (as he pretty often, and most naturally 
had, seeing that the poems must have 'spent their youth with him') when he wrote 

( 35 ) D 2 

yohn Cleveland 

The marigold (whose courtier's face 

Echoes the sun and doth unlace 

Her at his rise — at his full stop 

Packs and shuts up her gaudy shop) 3° 

Mistakes her cue and doth display : 

Thus PhiUis antedates the day. 

These miracles had cramped the sun, 
Who, thinking that his kingdom 's won, 
Powders with light his frizzled locks 
To see what saint his lustre mocks. 
The trembling leaves through which he played, 
Dappling the walk with light and shade 
Like lattice-windows, give the spy 

Room but to peep with half an eye ; 40 

Lest her full orb his sight should dim 
And bid us all good-night in him. 
Till she should spend a gentle ray 
To force us a new-fashioned day. 
But what religious palsy 's this 
Which makes the boughs divest their bliss, 
And, that they might her footsteps straw. 
Drop their leaves with shivering awe? 
Phillis perceived and (lest her stay 

Should wed October unto May, 50 

And, as her beauty caused a Spring, 
Devotion might an Autumn bring) 
Withdrew her beams, yet made no night. 
But left the sun her curate-light. 

Upon a Miser that made a great feast, 
and the next day died for grief 

Nor 'scapes he so ; our dinner was so good 
My liquorish Muse cannot but chew the cud, 

some of the latest and most beautiful of his own lines to the Duchess of Ormond (Lady 
Mary Somerset) : 

O daughter of the Rose whose cheeks unite 
The differing titles of the Red and White. 

/<577 ' Divides her York and Lancaster ' — pretty palpable emendation to supply the 
apparent lack of a verb. 

27-30 It has been suggested to me that the sense wants mechanical aid to clear it up ; 
and I have therefore made a visible parenthesis of ' whose . . . shop', following i6jj. 

34 thinking] fearing i6-j-j. 

36 i6jj &c. ' saints' — a misprint, as 1647, i6ji have the singular. 

38 Here, for once, Cleveland achieves the really poetical conceit. 

4a 164J, i6ji, i6jj, &c. 'bids' — again a mere misprint. 

43 1647, ^^J^i i^SJ ' would'. 47 straw] For 'strew', as in the A. V. 

49 /(5^9, i6ji, i6jj, ' perceives' (an unconscious echo of 'leaves' in 1. 48). 

U/)on a Miser, &c. {1647.) This juxtaposition of the serious-scntimental-fanciful with 
the burlesque-satiric may not please some readers. But the older editions which give 
it seem to me better to represent the ideas of the time than the later siftings and 
reclassifications of the age of prose and sense. And this is one reason why I follow 
the order of i6;j rather than that of 7677. 

a ' Cud ' is spelt in 1647 here and elsewhere in Cleveland ' cood ', , 


upon a Miser that made a great feast 

And what delight she took in th' invitation 
Strives to taste o'er again in this relation. 

After a tedious grace in Hopkins' rhyme, 
Not for devotion but to take up time, 
Marched the trained-band of dishes, ushered there 
To show their postures and then as they were. 
For he invites no teeth ; perchance the eye 
He will afford the lover's gluttony. lo 

Thus is our feast a muster, not a fight, 
Our weapons not for service, but for sight. 

But are we tantalized? Is all this meat 
Cooked by a limner for to view, not eat? 
Th' astrologers keep such houses when they sup 
On joints of Taurus or their heavenly Tup. 
Whatever feasts be made are summed up here, 
His table vies not standing with his cheer. 
His churchings, christenings, in this meal are all, 
And not transcribed but in th' original. 20 

Christmas is no feast movable; for lo, 
The self-same dinner was ten years ago ! 
'Twill be immortal if it longer stay, 
The gods will eat it for ambrosia. 

But stay a while ; unless my whinyard fail 
Or is enchanted, I'll cut off th' entail. 
Saint George for England then ! have at the mutton 
When the first cut calls me bloodthirsty glutton. 
Stout Ajax, with his anger-coddled brain, 

Killing a sheep thought Agamemnon slain ; 30 

The fiction 's now proved true ; wounding his roast 
I lamentably butcher up mine host. 
Such sympathy is with his meat, my weapon 
Makes him an eunuch when it carves his capon. 
Cut a goose leg and the poor soul for moan 
Turns cripple too, and after stands on one. 

Have you not heard the abominable sport 
A Lancaster grand-jury will report ? 

3 In some copies ' iw/tation', of course wrongly. 

4 taste] cast 16;^. 

5 Cleveland gibed at Sternhold and Hopkins in prose (The Character of a London 
Diurnall) as well as verse. 164J, i6ji misprint ' rhythm '. 

II The text, from iSjj, is a clear improvement at first sight on the earlier ' This is 
a feast ' : though I would not be too sure that Cleveland did not write it thus. 

16 7(577 ' f^^ heavenly '. 17 i6yj ' he made '. 

18 Meaning, apparently, that, as was the custom, the table between these sham 
feast-days was moved off its trestles and cleared away; but the feast was a 'standing' 
one, kept to reappear. 

20 in th'] i' th' 1647, j6ji. 26 is] it 16^7, i6ji. 28 7<577 ' Where \ 

29 Stout] What j6ji, i6j}. 3^ ^^77 'the roast'. 

34 carves] One edition, of no value {i66j), ' serves '. 

35 soul] fool 1677. . 

38 Lancaster, because of the Lancashire witches. See Hey wood, Lancashire li'ttchcs, 
Act V. 


yohn Cleveland 

The soldier with his Morglay watched the mill ; 

The cats they came to feast, when lusty Will 40 

Whips off great puss's leg which (by some charm) 

Proves the next day such an old woman's arm. 

'Tis so with him whose carcass never 'scapes, 

But still we slash him in a thousand shapes. 

Our serving-men (like spaniels) range to spring 

The fowl which he had clucked under his wing. 

Should he on widgeon or on woodcock feed 

It were, Thyestes like, on his own breed. 

To pork he pleads a superstition due, 

But we subscribe neither to Scot nor Jew. 50 

[No liquor stirs ; call for a cup of wine. 

'Tis blood we drink ; we pledge thee, Catiline.] 

Sauces we should have none, had he his wish. 

The oranges i' th' margent of the dish 

He with such huckster's care tells o'er and o'er, 

The Hesperian dragon never watched them more. 

But being eaten now into despair 
(Having nought else to do) he falls to prayer. 
'As thou didst once put on the form of bull 
And turned thine lo to a lovely mull, 60 

Defend my rump, great Jove, grant this poor beef 
May live to comfort me in all this grief.' 
But no Amen was said : see, see it comes ! 
Draw, boys, let trumpets sound, and strike up drums. 
See how his blood doth with the gravy swim. 
And every trencher hath a limb of him. 
The venison's now in view, our hounds spend deeper. 
Strange deer, which in the pasty hath a keeper 
Stricter than in the park, making his guest, 
(As he had stoln 't alive) to steal it drest ! 70 

The scent was hot, and we, pursuing faster 
Than Ovid's pack of dogs e'er chased their master, 

39 Morglay] The sword of Bevis. 

43 Tis] It's i6-]-]. 44 ' him ' I64^ : ' them ' /rf/i, 16;}. 

46 These Hnes appear with some variants and are not clear in any text : 'which he 
had cluck'd under his wing ' /<577, for the earlier' when he hath clock't under her wing ' 
/6^7, i6ji, 16$). Professor Case suggests' cloakt ' (i.e. ' hidden') for 'clock't'. 

50 Mr. Berdan says, ' Englishmen supposed that the Scotch did not eat pork'. But, 
until quite recently, it was a fact ; and even now there is much less eaten north than 
south of the Tweed. As for Cleveland's day, James the First's aversion to it was well 
known and had been celebrated by Ben Jonson. In iS^-j, i6ji, i6jj ' But not a mouth 
is muzzled by the Jew'. 

51-2 Not in earlier editions. Added in 2^77. 54 /(577 ' marg/« of /«s dish '. 

55 1647, i6)i, j6}j, 8cc. omit ' care ' and read ' tells them '. 

59 7677 'Thou that didst'. 

60 ' turned thine ' 1677, i6Sj : ' turn'st thy' 1647, i6ji, i6jj, &c. mull] Dialectic 
for 'cow', especially as a call-name. It seems to be connected with the sense of 
the word for 'lips', especially large loose ones. 

61 1677 allay my grief, 

O spare me this, this monumental beef. 
66 ' hath ' /^77, 1687 : ' has ' i6ji, i6jj and its group. 


upon a Miser that 7nade a great feast 

A double prey at once may seize upon, 

Acteon, and his case of venison. 

Thus was he torn alive ; to vex him worse 

Death serves him up now as a second course. 

Should we, like Thracians, our dead bodies eat, 

He would have lived only to save his meat. 

[Lastly ; we did devour that corpse of his 

Throughout all Ovid's Metamorphoses.] 80 

A Young Man to an Old Woman 
courting him. 

Peace, Beldam Eve, surcease thy suit ; 

There 's no temptation in such fruit ; 

No rotten medlars, whilst there be 

Whole orchards in virginity. 

Thy stock is too much out of date 

For tender plants t' inoculate. 

A match with thee thy bridegroom fears 

Would be thought interest in his years, 

Which, when compared to thine, become 

Odd money to thy grandam sum. 10 

Can wedlock know so great a curse 

As putting husbands out to nurse ? 

How Pond and Rivers would mistake 

And cry new almanacs for our sake. 

Time sure hath wheeled about his year, 

December meeting Janiveer. 

The Egyptian serpent figures Time, 

And stripped, returns unto his prime. 

If my affection thou wouldst win. 

First cast thy hieroglyphic skin. 20 

My modem lips know not, alack ! 

The old religion of thy smack. 

I count that primitive embrace 

As out of fashion as thy face. 

And yet, so long 'tis since thy fall. 

Thy fornication 's classical. 

Our sports will differ ; thou mayst play 

Lero, and I Alphonso way. 

73 ' may ' i6ji, i6jj, &c. : ' we ' 1677. 

79, 80 Added in i6yy &c., with very doubtful advantage. 

A Young Man, &c. [iS^y.) 

8 i6yy, &c.have 'incest', which is rather tempting, but considering the 'odd money' 
which follows, not, I think, absolutely certain. 

13 Edward Pond died in 1629; but the almanac, published by him first in 1601, 
lasted till 1709. Rivers was probably Peregrine Rivers, 'Student in Mathematics', 
writer of one of the numerous almanacs of the period. There are in the Bodleian 
copies of his almanacs for 1629, 1630, 1638, all printed at Cambridge. (Information 
supplied to me from Oxford.) 15 Some copies ' this '. 

22 Rather a good line. 27 j6ji, i6jj, &c. ' mayst ' ; ^647, idyj, &c. ' must '. 


yohn Cleveland 

I'm no translator, have no vein 

To turn a woman young again, 3o 

Unless you'll grant the tailor's due, 

To see the fore-bodies be new. 

I love to wear clothes that are flush, 

Not prefacing old rags with plush. 

Like aldermen, or under-shrieves 

With canvass backs and velvet sleeves : 

And just such discord there would be 

Betwixt thy skeleton and me. 

Go study salve and treacle, ply 
Your tenant's leg or his sore eye. 4° 

Thus matrons purchase credit, thank 
Six pennyworth of mountebank ; 
Or chew thy cud on some delight 
That thou didst taste in 'eighty-eight ; 
Or be but bed-rid once, and then 
Thou'lt dream thy youthful sins again. 
But if thou needs wilt be my spouse, 
First hearken and attend my vows. 

When Aetna's fires shall undergo 

The penance of the Alps in snow ; 50 

When Sol at one blast of his horn 
Posts from the Crab to Capricorn ; 

When tK heavens shuffle all in one 

The Torrid with the Frozen Zone ; 

When all these contradictions 7neet, 

Then, Sibyl, thou and I will greet. 

Vox all these similes do hold 

In my young heat and thy dull cold. 

Then, if a fever be so good 

A pimp as to inflame thy blood, 60 

Hymen shall twist thee and thy page, 

The distinct tropics of man's age. 
Well, Madam Time, be ever bald. 

I'll not thy periwig be called. 

I'll never be 'stead of a lover, 

An aged chronicle's new cover. 

35 '^47 ' Monster Shrieves', i6jj ' Monster-Sheriffs ', which can hardly be right. 

44 'eighty-eight] The Armada year, often taken as a standard of remoteness not too 
remote. This, which is the later reading, of idjj sqq., seems better than ' Tlioit 
Inkesi in thy Eighty Eight' {if>^7, i6s'< '^Sh &c.). 

49-62 The italics of j6;j, though discarded in 16^^, seem worth keeping, because 
of the solemn call of attention to the particulars of the 'Vow' ; they extend in i\\e i6jj 
text to I. 60. Hut i^f7 and i6;i, prefix inverted commas to 11. 49-56, which seems 
a more effective ending to the ' Vow'. 

53 Some inferior editions put in ' shall '. i^^fj, i6ji, i6jj, and i6yy exclude it. 

bi twist] In the sense of ' twine ',' unite '. ' page ' = ' boy '. 

62 i6^y, i6ji ' Tropicks ' : j6(j ' Tropick ' ; but both Cancer and Capricorn are wanted. 


Stay^ should I answer^ Lady^ then 

To Mrs. K. T. 
(Who asked him why he was dumb.) 

Stay, should I answer, Lady, then 

In vain would be your question : 

Should I be dumb, why then again 

Your asking me would be in vain. 

Silence nor speech, on neither hand, 

Can satisfy this strange demand. 

Yet, since your will throws me upon 

This wished contradiction, 

I'll tell you how I did become 

So strangely, as you hear me, dumb. ' lo 

Ask but the chap-fallen Puritan ; 
'Tis zeal that tongue-ties that good man. 
(For heat of conscience all men hold 
Is th' only way to catch their cold.) 
How should Love's zealot then forbear 
To be your silenced minister ? 
Nay, your Religion which doth grant 
A worship due to you, my Saint, 
Yet counts it that devotion wrong 

That does it in the Vulgar Tongue. 20 

My ruder words would give offence 
To such an hallowed excellence. 
As th' English dialect would vary 
The goodness of an Ave Mary. 

How can I speak that twice am checked 
By this and that religious sect ? 
Still dumb, and in your face I spy 
Still cause and still divinity. 
As soon as blest with your salute, 

My manners taught me to be mute. 30 

For, lest they cancel all the bliss 
You signed with so divine a kiss. 
The lips you seal must needs consent 
Unto the tongue's imprisonment. 
My tongue in hold, my voice doth rise 
With a strange E-la to my eyes. 
Where it gets bail, and in that sense 
Begins a new-found eloquence. 

To Mrs. K. T., &c. (164 f. To this title iS-jj and its followers add 'Written calenie 
rnlmno '. The variant on currente is of some interest, and the statement may have been 
made to excuse the bad opening rhyme. 

5 neither] either i6jj. 

14 ' their cold ' j6ji, i6jj : ' that cold ' iS^y, rSyy. 

16 silenced] As some Puritans were before Cleveland wrote, and all, or almost all, 
Churchmen afterwards. 

31 i6yy ' Lest I should cancel all the bliss '. 

37 bail] i6jj &c. ' hail ', which is doubtless a misprint. 


y ohn Cleveland 

Oh listen with attentive sight 
To what my pratling eyes indite ! 4c 

Or, lady, since 'tis in your choice 
To give or to suspend my voice. 
With the same key set ope the door 
Wherewith you locked it fast before. 
Kiss once again, and when you thus 
Have doubly been miraculous, 
My Muse shall write with handmaid's duty 
The Golden Legend of your beauty. 

He whom his dumbness now confines 

But means to speak the rest by signs. 5° 

J. • o • 

A Fair Nymph scorning a Black Boy 
courting her. 

Nymph. Stand off, and let me take the air ; 

Why should the smoke pursue the fair? 
Boy. My face is smoke, thence may be guessed 

What flames within have scorched my breast. 
Nymph. The flame of love I cannot view 

For the dark lantern of thy hue. 
Boy. And yet this lantern keeps Love's taper 

Surer than yours, that 's of white paper. 

Whatever midnight hath been here. 

The moonshine of your light can clear. lo 

Nymph. My moon of an eclipse is 'fraid. 

If thou shouldst interpose thy shade. 
Boy. Yet one thing, Sweetheart, I will ask ; 

Take me for a new-fashioned mask. 
Nymph. Yes, but my bargain shall be this, 

I'll throw my mask off when I kiss. 
Boy. Our curled embraces shall delight 

To checker limbs with black and white. 
Nymph. Thy ink, my paper, make me guess 

Our nuptial bed will prove a press, 20 

And in our sports, if any came. 

They'll read a wanton epigram. 

40 * prating ' /<577. 47 ' handmaid ' 7677. 

50 /^)77 '■ Intend -i to speak' — an obvious correction of the 'red-hot pen'. But 
whether Cleveland's or his vindicators' who shall say? 

51 So 1^47, i6;t, i6jj. The couplet is meaningless without them, 
yf Fatr Nymph, (r'c. (if>4T.) 

a An odd fancy included by Browne among the Vulgar Errors. 

S ' Thy flaming love ' /<577 &c. 10 ' face will clear ' /<577 &c. 

14 /(J77 'Take me for a new-fashioned mask': 164J, i6ji ' Buy me for a new false 
mask ', varied in /6jj ' Buy for me ' — apparently a misprint, as the boy does not seem 
to wish to disguise himself. 15 Yes] Done i6yy. 

ao tS^j, i6ji, i6j) ^ make a press', ill repeated from above. 


A Fair Nymph scorning a Black Boy 

Boy. Why should my black thy love impair ? 

Let the dark shop commend the ware ; 

Or, if thy love from black forbears, 

I'll strive to wash it off with tears. 
Nymph. Spare fruitless tears, since thou must needs 

Still wear about thee mourning weeds. 

Tears can no more affection win 

Than wash thy Ethiopian skin. 30 

A Dialogue between two Zealots 
upon the &c. in the Oath. 

Sir Roger, from a zealous piece of frieze 

Raised to a vicar of the children's threes ; 

Whose yearly audit may by strict account 

To twenty nobles and his vails amount ; 

Fed on the common of the female charity 

Until the Scots can bring about their parity; 

So shotten that his soul, like to himself. 

Walks but in cuerpo ; this same clergy-elf. 

Encountering with a brother of the cloth. 

Fell presently to cudgels with the Oath. 10 

The quarrel was a strange misshapen monster, 

&c., (God bless us) which they conster 

24 ' the ware ' i6t] : /<5^7, i6si, i6jj, not so well, ' thy ware ', 

28 7<577 changed 'thee' to ' thy'. 

30 Some inferior copies ' the Ethiopian \ 

A Dialogue, ^c. {1647.) This occurs also in the Rump (1662, reprinted London, 
N. D.). A MS. copy is found in Rawlinson MS. Poet. 26 of the Bodleian, at fol. 94, 
with the title ' A Dialogue betiveen 2. Zelots concerning ifc. in the new Oath. ' The 
Oath ' is the famous one formulated in 1640 by Convocation. Fuller, who was proctor 
for the diocese of Bristol (and who would have been fined heavily for his part, 
' moderate ' as he was, if the Puritan Ultras of the Commons could have had their way), 
has left much about it. This oath, to be taken by all the clergy, imported approval of 
the doctrine, discipline, and government of the Church, and disclaimed, twice 
over, ' Popish ' doctrine and the usurpations of the see of Rome. Unluckily the 
government of the Church was defined as ' by archbishops, bishops, deans, and 
archdeacons, &c.', which last was, in the absence of any other handle, seized by 
the Puritan party as possibly implying all sorts of horrors. Cleveland banters them 
well enough, but hardly with the force and directness which he was to show later. 
The Royalists were then under the fatal error of underrating the strength of their 
opponents, and the gullibility of the people of England. 

2 'vicar', 1647, i6ji, i6;j, MS.: 'vicarage' iSjj. 'children' i6ji, i6^j : I have 
been waiting a long time to know what 'children's threes' means. It occurs else- 
where, but to my thinking as an obvious reminiscence of Cleveland. 

7 shotten] 'like a herring that has spawned', 'thin'. 

8 in cuerpo] 'in body-clothes', 'cloakless'. 1647, i6ji, i6jj 'Querpo': MS. 
' Quirpo ', with ' cuerpo ' written above it. 

12 id']'] extends ' &c.' to 'et caetera'. This is a mistake, as the actual ampersand 
occurred in the oath and gave some slight assistance to the cavillers. Cleveland's 
expressions— 'tail tied on a knot' (1. 14), 'curled lock' i^l. 26), 'numerous folds' 
(1. 32)— lose their point without the ampersand. i6]-] also has ' tnay conster ', which 
though possible enough, seems to me neither necessary nor even much of an improve- 


yohfi Cleveland 

The brand upon the buttock of the Beast, 
The Dragon's tail tied on a knot, a nest 
Of young Apocryphas, the fashion 
Of a new mental Reservation. 

While Roger thus divides the text, the other 
Winks and expounds, saying, 'My pious brother, 
Hearken with reverence, for the point is nice. 
I never read on 't, but I fasted twice, ao 

And so by revelation know it better 
Than all the learn'd idolaters o'th' letter.' 
With that he swelled, and fell upon the theme 
Like great Goliah with his weaver's beam. 
' I say to thee, &c., thou li'st ! 
Thou art the curled lock of Antichrist ; 
Rubbish of Babel; for who will not say 
Tongues were confounded in &c. ? 
Who swears &c., swears more oaths at once 
Than Cerberus out of his triple sconce. 3© 

Who views it well, with the same eye beholds 
The old half Serpent in his numerous folds. 
Accurst &c. thou, for now I scent 
What lately the prodigious oysters meant ! 
Oh Booker ! Booker ! How camest thou to lack 
This sign in thy prophetic almanac? 
It 's the dark vault wherein th' infernal plot 
Of powder 'gainst the State was first begot. 
Peruse the Oath and you shall soon descry it 
By all the Father Garnets that stand by it; 4° 

'7 ^^'lli l<^ss euphoniously, ' Whils/'. 

22 A reading of the /?«w/> version, 'Than all the Idolaters of the letter', though 
almost certainly a mere mistaken correction, has some interest. 

23 fell] sett MS. 24 Goliah] This form occurs in all the texts. 
35 In this and other lines that follow much of the quaintness is lost by 'extending' 

the ' &c.' of the older editions. 
28 were] are Jdjj, MS. 

32 All editions, I think, before i6tj (which substitutes ' false') have ' half. ' False ' 
is very feeble ; 'half refers picturesquely to the delineation of the Serpent tempting 
Eve with a human head, being coiled below like the curves of the &c. ' False ' MS. 

33 '^lli ^^-S- ' Accurst Et Caetera ! now, now I scent'. 

34 I do not know whether these very Livyish oysters have been traced. i6t] 
and MS. omit ' lately ' and read ' prodigious bloody oj'Sters'. 

35 John Booker (1603-1677", Manchester man, haberdasher, writing-master, and 
astrologer, pained a great deal of credit by interpreting an eclipse after the usual 
tashion as portending disaster to kings and princes, the great Gustavus Adolphus and 
the unfortunate Frederick, ' Winter '-King of Bohemia, being complaisant enough to 
die in accordance. 

36 This sign] 7677, MS. ' This_^<-«rf '— more energetically. 

37 ' ■ 1 is the dark vault where the ' MS. 

40 The sting of ' the Father Garnets tiiat stand by it' lies in the words immediately 
preceding the obnoxious '&c.' — 'archbishops, bishops, &c.'— whom the Puritan divine 
stigmatizes as Jesuits and traitors to Church and State. As has been stated, the oath 
distinctly, in set terms and twice over, abjured Rome and all things Roman ; but 
the PuriUns of those days, like their descendants, paid no attention to trifles of 
this kind. For ' stand ' MS. reads ' stood '. 


A Dialogue between two Zealots 

'Gainst whom the Church, (whereof I am a member,) 

Shall keep another Fifth Day of November. 

Yet here 's not all ; I cannot half untruss 

&c. — it 's so abhominous ! 

The Trojan nag was not so fully lined ; 

Unrip &c., and you shall find 

Og the great commissary, and (which is worse) 

The apparitor upon his skew-bald horse. 

Then finally, my babe of grace, forbear, 

&c. will be too far to swear, 50 

For 'tis (to speak in a familiar style) 

A Yorkshire wee bit longer than a mile.' 

Here Roger was inspired, and by God's diggers 
He'll swear in words at large but not in figures. 
Now by this drink, which he takes off, as loath 
To leave &c. in his liquid oath. 
His brother pledged him, and that bloody wine 
He swears shall seal the Synod's Catiline. 
So they drunk on, not offering to part 

'Till they had quite sworn out th' eleventh quart, 60 

While all that saw and heard them jointly pray 
They and their tribe were all &c. 

Smectymnuus, or the Club-Divines. 

Smectymnuus ! The gobhn makes me start ! 
I' th' name of Rabbi Abraham, what art? 

43 Yet] Nay MS. 

44 164'], i6ji 'abominous' ; i6jj 'abhominous' The 'h' must be kept in 'abdomi- 
nous', though not unusual for 'abow/-', because it helps to explain, and perhaps to 
justify, i6j7 and MS. in reading ' abt/ominous '. This, though something suggestive 
of a famous Oxford story, derives some colour from ' untruss ' and may be right, 
especially as I do not know another example of ' abominous ' for ' abominable '. 

47 Og] V. sup., p. 31. MS. has marginal note 'Roan'. 

48 ' Skew-bald ' is not= ' piebald ', though most horses commonly called piebald are 
skewbalds. ' Pie[magpie]bald ' is black and white ; skewbald brown (or some other 
colour not black) and white. The Church-courts were much more unpopular, in these as 
in mediaeval times, than the Church, and High Commissioners and commissaries 
and apparitors were alleged to lurk under the guileful and dreadful ' &c.' 

49 ' babes ' i6yj. 

52 Blount's Glossographia (1656), a useful book, shows the ignorance of Northern 
English then prevailing by supposing ' wert-bit ' (the form found in Cleveland originally) 
to be ' way-bit '. It is, of course, ' little bit ', the Scotch ' mile and a bittock'. 

53 Here] Then 1647, i6ji, i6jj. God's diggers] = nails or fingers. Commoner in 
the corruption ' Ods niggers '. 

54 'in words at large' 1647 ('at length', one issue oi 1647}: 'at words in large' 
i6;i, i6jj : ' in words at length, and not in figures ' MS. 

58 Edd. ' Cat«line ', as usual, but 1677 ' Catiline '. ' He swears he'll be the Synod's ' 
MS. 59 ' Thus they drink on, not offering to depart ' MS. 

60 1677 omits ' quite '—no doubt for the old syllabic reason. MS. substitutes ' fully '. 

62 Perhaps nowliere is the comic surprise of the symbol more wanted than here, 
and more of a loss when that symbol is extended. 

Siuectymmtus, &c. (1647.) Whether this lively skit on the five ' reverend men whose 
friend ' Milton was (as far as he could be proud of being anything but himself) proud of 


yohn Cleveland 

Syriac? or Arabic? or Welsh? what skill't? 

Ap all the bricklayers that Babel built, 

Some conjurer translate and let me know it; 

Till then 'tis fit for a West Saxon poet. 

But do the brotherhood then play their prizes 

Like mummers in religion with disguises, 

Out-brave us with a name in rank and file? 

A name, which, if 'twere trained, would spread a mile ! lo 

The saints' monopoly, the zealous cluster 

Which like a porcupine presents a muster 

And shoots his quills at bishops and their sees, 

A devout litter of young Maccabees ! 

Thus Jack-of-all-trades hath devoutly shown 

The Twelve Apostles on a cherry-stone ; 

Thus faction 's a la mode in treason's fashion, 

Now we have heresy by complication. 

Like to Don Quixote's rosary of slaves 

Strung on a chain; a murnival of knaves 20 

Packed in a trick, like gipsies when they ride, 

Or like colleagues which sit all of a side. 

So the vain satyrists stand all a row 

As hollow teeth upon a lute-string show. 

Th' Italian monster pregnant with his brother, 

Nature's diaeresis, half one another. 

He, with his little sides-man Lazarus, 

Must both give way unto Smectymnuus. 

Next Sturbridge Fair is Smec's ; for, lo ! his side 

Into a five-fold lazar's multiplied. 3° 

being was in Milton's own mind when he wrote his Apology for the acrostically named 
treatise, one cannot say. It is a lively 'mime' enough, and he seems to throw 
back that word with some special meaning. Cleveland's poem may have appeared 
in the summer of 164 1. Naturally, it is in the Rump poems. 

3 All editions ' skilt '. It apparently must be as in text : ' skill 't ' for ' skill'st ' = ' dost 
thou [or ' does it '] signify ? ' 

4 7677, &c. 'Ape', but 'Ap' in the Welsh sense (Welsh having just been 
mentioned) does well enough. It would go, not too roughly for Cleveland's syntax, 
with ' conjurer '. Let some wizard, descended from all these, and therefore knowing 
all tongues, translate. 

6 This is rather interesting. Does it refer to Wessex or Devonshire dialect of 
the day, or to old West Saxon? Junius did not edit Caedmon till fourteen years later, 
but there was study of Anglo-Saxon from Parker's time at Cambridge. 

7 the brotherhood] 'Brother' and 'sister' being constant sneers at the Puritan, 
play their prizes] = ' fight '. 

10 Perhaps another sneer at the ' train-bands ' of the City. 

15 ' distinctly ' i6-j-j. 16 ' in a' ibll- 

18 I suppose a la mode, which is in iS-j"], is right ; but the ' a//-a-mode ' of /($^7, 
/(5//, i6i} is tempting. 

30 ' murnival ' or ' mournival '. Four aces, kings, &c., especially at gleek. 

aa it>j-j, Sic. ' Or like t/ie Collegr\ 24 ' hrtllow ' J6j}. 

35 I knew not this monster, and suspected that he would not be a delicate monster 
to know. But Mr. Thorn-Drury has found him in the Gentleman^s Magazine, 1777, 
p. 48a. Lazarus Collondo, a Genoese, had a small brother growing out of his side, 
with one leg, two arms, &c., &c. 

ag 'Smec' will now be an even greater attraction at the Sturbridge fair at 
Cambridge. All fairs rejoiced in monsters. 


Smectymnuus^ or the Club-Divines 

Under each arm there's tucked a double gizzard; 

Five faces lurk under one single vizard. 

The Whore of Babylon left these brats behind, 

Heirs of confusion by gavelkind. 

I think Pythagoras' soul is rambled hither 

With all the change of raiment on together. 

Smec is her general wardrobe ; she'll not dare 

To think of him as of a thoroughfare. 

He stops the gossiping dame; alone he is 

The purlieu of a metempsychosis ; 40 

Like a Scotch mark, where the more modest sense 

Checks the loud phrase, and shrinks to thirteen pence : 

Like to an ignis fatuus whose flame, 

Though sometimes tripartite, joins in the same; 

Like to nine tailors, who, if rightly spelled, 

Into one man are monosyllabled. 

Short-handed zeal in one hath cramped many 

Like to the Decalogue in a single penny. 

See, see how close the curs hunt under sheet 
As if they spent in quire and scanned their feet. 50 

One cure and five incumbents leap a truss; 
The title sure must be litigious. 
The Sadducees would raise a question 
Who must be Smec at th' Resurrection. 
Who cooped them up together were to blame. 
Had they but wire-drawn and spun out their name, 
'Twould make another Prentices' Petition 
Against the bishops and their superstition. 

Robson and French (that count from five to five. 
As far as nature fingers did contrive — 60 

36 ' The change', as in 164"], i6ji, i6jj and its group, including the Rump version, 
is not so good as ' her', which i6jj reads. 
38 i. e. ' to go on to any other body '. 

40 ' Purlieu ' seems to be used in the sense of 'precinct ' or ' province'. 
41-2 These lines are in all the seventeenth-century editions I have seen, but not in 
Mr. Berdan's. The Scots pound was of course only twenty English pence, and so the 
mark (two-thirds) 'shrank' accordingly. 

49 164J, i6ji, i6yy insert 'a' before 'sheet'. The metaphor is probably as old as 
hunting. ' Spend ', as Professor Case reminds me, has had already in The Miser, 1. 67, 
the sense of ' give tongue '. ' Scanned their feet ' for ' kept pace ' is good enough ; 
but why the five should leap a truss, and why this should be litigious, I again frankly 
confess myself to have been ignorant. Mr. Simpson, however, quotes R. Fletcher in 
Ex Otio NegoHum, 1656, p. 202, ' The model of the new Religion ' : 
How many Queere-religions ? clear your throat, 
May a man have a peny worth ? four a groat ? 
Or do the luncto leap at truss a fayle ? 
Three tenents clap while five hang on the tayle? 
Cleveland seems to have tried in this piece to equal the mystery of the title of ' Smec ' 
by his own matter, and to have succeeded very fairly. 

54 i6-]j, &c. ' shall be '. ' at th' ' 164"], idjy : ' at the ' i6ji, i6jj. 

55 cooped] cooked 1647, i6ji. 56 iS-jj, &c. '■the name'. 

57 An absurd, but doubtless in the circumstances dangerous, document of the kind 
was actually disseminated, in which the prentices bold engaged ' to defend his Sacred 
Majesty against Popish innovations such as archbishops and bishops appear to be'. 


yohn Cleveland 

She saw they would be 'sessors, that's the cause 
She cleft their hoof into so many claws) 
May tire their carrot-bunch, yet ne'er agree 
To rate Smectymnuus for poll-money. 

Caligula — whose pride was mankind's bail, 
As who disdained to murder by retail, 
Wishing the world had but one general neck, — 
His glutton blade might have found game in Smec 
No echo can improve the author more 

Whose lungs pay use on use to half a score. 7° 

No felon is more lettered, though the brand 
Both superscribes his shoulder and his hand. 
Some Welshman was his godfather, for he 
Wears in his name his genealogy. 

The banns are asked, would but the times give way. 
Betwixt Smectymnuus and Et Caetera. 
The guests, invited by a friendly summons, 
Should be the Convocation and the Commons. 
The priest to tie the foxes' tails together 
Mosely, or Sancta Clara, choose you whether. So 

See what an offspring every one expects. 
What strange pluralities of men and sects ! 
One says he'll get a vestry, but another 
Is for a synod ; Bet upon the mother. 
Faith, cry St. George ! Let them go to 't and stickle 
Whether a conclave or a conventicle. 
Thus might religions caterwaul, and spite 
Which uses to divorce, might once unite. 
But their cross fortunes interdict their trade ; 
The groom is rampant but the bride displayed. 90 

My task is done, all my he goats are milked. 
So many cards i' th' stock, and yet be bilked ? 
I could by letters now untwist the rabble. 
Whip Smec from constable to constable; 
But there I leave you to another dressing ; 
Only kneel down and take your father's blessing. 

May the Queen Mother justify your fears 

And stretch her patent to your leather ears ! 

63 carrot-bunch] Cant for ' fingers '. 

70 ' pay ' 16)), i6j-j : ' pays ' iS^y, i6ji. i6jj * and use '. 

75 ' Banns ' i6tj : ' Banes ' in earlier texts. i6;j ' time '. 

78 The Convocation which had been guilty of ' &c.', and the Commons who mostly 
sympathized with ' Smec '. 

79 foxes' tails] As at Samson's marriage (Judges xv. 4-7.) 

80 Moscl[c]y, Milton's printer ; and Sancta Clara, the Jesuit ? 

8a 7677 ' plurality '. 83 ' Vestry, but ' /<577 : ' Vestery ' i6^y, i6ji, i6jj. 

84 /A 77 ' Bets '. 

90 The heraldic terms are pretty plain, but i6yy reads ' is spade ' i. e. ' spayed ', as 
in T/ie Hecatomb to his Mistress, 1. 2. 

94 Rhyme here really badly managed. 95 j($77 ' another's'. 

97 The fear and dislike of Henrietta Maria (whom Mr. Berdan supposes to be meant) 
among the disaffected is only too certain : and the fate of Prynne's ears for his scandal 


Flea-bitten Synod^ an Asse7nbly brewed 

The Mixed Assembly. 

Flea-bitten synod, an assembly brewed 

Of clerks and elders atia, like the rude 

Chaos of Presbyt'ry, where laymen guide 

With the tame woolpack clergy by their side. 

Who asked the banns 'twixt these discoloured mates ? 

A strange grotesco this; the Church and states, 

Most divine tick-tack, in a piebald crew, 

To serve as table-men of divers hue ! 

She, that conceived an Ethiopian heir 

By picture, when the parents both were fair, lo 

At sight of you had born a dappled son. 

You checkering her imagination. 

Had Jacob's flock but seen you sit, the dams 

Had brought forth speckled and ring-streaked lambs. 

Like an impropriator's motley kind 

Whose scarlet coat is with a cassock lined ; 

Like the lay-thief in a canonic weed, 

Sure of his clergy ere he did the deed ; 

Like Royston crows, who are (as I may say) 

Friars of both the Orders, Black and Gray ; 20 

So mixed they are, one knows not whether 's thicker, 

A layer of burgess, or a layer of vicar. 

Have they usurped what Royal Judah had, 
And now must Levi too part stakes with Gad? 
The sceptre and the crosier are the crutches, 
Which if not trusted in their pious clutches. 
Will fail the cripple State. And were 't not pity 
But both should serve the yardwand of the City? 

of her is notorious. But why at this time she should be called a Queen Mother (it 
was her proper title afterwards, and she was one of the very few to whom it was 
actually given), and what the last line means, I know not. Nor does Professor Firth, 
unless Marie de Medicis (who was Queen Mother in France and had visited England) 
had, as he suggests, a share in some leather patent, and is meant here. Smec's ears 
are ' vellum' in Rupertismus, 169 {v. inf., p. 67). 

The Mixed Assembly {164^.) This was the famous 'Westminster' Assembly which 
met in July, 1643 — a hodge-podge of half a score peers, a score of commoners, and 
about four times as many divines as laymen. Tanner MS. 465, of the Bodleian, has 
a poor copy of this poem ; but some transpositions and omissions suggest that it 
preserves an earlier draft. Lines 63-6 follow 52 ; 71-8, 81-2, are omitted. 

1 Flea-bitten] As of a horse — the laymen appearing like specks on the body of clergy. 

2 ana'] Usually interpreted in the apothecary's sense, 'in equal quantities', written 
so in prescriptions and said to be from the Greek — ava being thus used. 

6, 7 ' Church and State's, Most divine ' MS. 

19 In a fable a Royston crow (the town being on the way to Cambridge had pro- 
bably a bad reputation for fleecing the guileless undergraduate) advised an innocent of 
his kind to drop a shellfish from a height on rocks where the Royston bird was waiting 
and secured the meat. 

28 j6tj changes ' But ' to • That '. 

( 49 ) E III 

yohn Cleveland 

That Isaac might stroke his beard and sit 

Judge of £ts "k&ov and elegerifi 30 

bh that they were in chalk and charcoal drawn ! 

The miscellany-satyr and the faun 

And all th' adulteries of twisted nature 

But faintly represent this riddling feature; 

Whose members being not tallies, they'll not own 

Their fellows at the Resurrection. 

Strange scarlet doctors these! They'll pass in story 

For sinners half refined in Purgatory, 

Or parboiled lobsters, where there jointly rules 

The fading sables and the coming gules. 40 

The flea that Falstaff damned thus lewdly shows 

Tormented in the flames of Bardolph's nose. 

Like him that wore the dialogue of cloaks 

This shoulder John-a-Stiles, that John-a-Nokes ; 

Like Jews and Christians in a ship together 

With an old neck-verse to distinguish either ; 

Like their intended discipline to boot. 

Or whatsoe'er hath neither head nor foot; 

Such may their stript-stuff-hangings seem to be, 

Sacrilege matched with codpiece simony. so 

Be sick and dream a little, you may then 

Fancy these linsey-woolsey vestry-men. 

Forbear, good Pembroke, be not over-daring. 
Such company may chance to spoil thy swearing. 
And thy drum-major oaths, of bulk unruly, 
May dwindle to a feeble ' By my truly ' ! 
He that the noble Percy's blood inherits, 
Will he strike up a Hotspur of the spirits? 
He'll fright the Obadiahs out of tune 
With his uncircumcisM Algernoon ; 60 

29 /«577 inserts 'go' before 'stroke'. But Cleveland probably scanned 'I-sa-ac'. 
The reference is to Isaac Pennington : cf. The Rebel Scot, 1. 79. 

30 The phrase is of course Homeric {sc. bofiovs) and with its companion combines 
the idea of an ecclesiastical condemnation (' delivering over to Satan ') and a civil 
execution, a writ of elegit. 

32 faun] All old editions, I think, and Mr. Berdan, ' fawn '. But the annual 
'always now indicated by that spelling) is not of a ' twisted nature ', the half-god is. 

40 One of those that taught Dryden something. 

41 Cleveland, like most Royalists and their master, was evidently sound on 
Shakespeare. A copy of i6yy in my possession has a manuscript list of references on 
the fly-leaf. 

46 ' neck-verse '] = for benefit of clergy. 

49 ' Stript ', i6^j, i6ji, i6;j, is evidently • striped ', and is printed ' strip'd ' in i6yy. 
53 Philip Herbert, fourth Earl of Pembroke, though a patron of literature and the 
arts, was a man of bad character and a virulent Roundhead. 
55 ' thy ' j6jj : ' these ' 164J, i6ji, i6jj. 
of bulk unruly] if Vulcan rule you MS. 

59 iS^y, i6ji ' Obadiahs ' : j6jf and its group ' Obadiah ' : i6yy ' Obadiah's '. 

60 Algernon Percy, tenth Earl of Northumberland — who repented too late of his 
rebellion and tried to prevent the consequences —seems to have joined the Roundheads 
out of pique (his pride was notorious^ at neglect of his suggestions and interference 


The Mixed Assembly 

A name so stubborn, 'tis not to be scanned 
By him in Gath with the six-fingered hand. 

See, they obey the magic of my words ! 
Presto ! they're gone, and now the House of Lords 
Looks like the withered face of an old hag, 
But with three teeth like to a triple gag. 

A jig ! a jig ! and in this antic dance 
Fielding and Doxie Marshall first advance. 
Twisse blows the Scotch-pipes, and the loving brace 
Puts on the traces and treads cinque-a-pace. 70 

Then Saye and Sele must his old hamstrings supple, 
And he and rumpled Palmer make a couple. 
Palmer's a fruitful girl if he'll unfold her; 
The midwife may find work about her shoulder. 
Kimbolton, that rebellious Boanerges, 
Must be content to saddle Dr. Burges. 
If Burges get a clap, 'tis ne'er the worse. 
But the fifth time of his compurgators. 
Noll Bowles is coy; good sadness, cannot dance 
But in obedience to the ordinance. 80 

with his powers as Lord High Admiral. By putting the fleet into the hands of the 
Parh'ament he did the King perhaps more hurt than any other single person at the 
beginning of the war. * Algernoon ' /d^7, i6^i: later texts spoil the point of the next 
line by using the conventional form. 

68 Fielding] Basil, the degenerate son of the first Earl of Denbigh. He actually 
served in the Parliamentary Army, but like Northumberland, who did not go that 
length, repented too late. 

Doxie Marshall] The Stephen Marshall of Stnectymnuus and the ' Geneva Bull ' of 
The Rebel Scot, 1. 21 ; exactly why ' Doxie' I do not know. Possibly ' prostitute ' from 
his eager Presbyterianism. It is odd that Anne and Rebecca Marshall, two famous 
actresses of the Restoration to whom the term might be applied with some direct 
justification, used to be counted his daughters, though this is now denied. 

69 Twisse] William (1578-1646), the Prolocutor of the Assembly. 

71 Saye and Sele] William Fiennes, first Viscount (1582-1663). Of very bad reputa- 
tion as a slippery customer. 

72 rumpled] Mr. Berdan ' rumbled', on what authority and with what meaning I do not 
know. ' Rumpled ', which is in 164 j, i6ji, i6jj, and 16-]^, no doubt refers to the untidy 
bands, &c. of a slovenly priest. Herbert Palmer (1604-1647) was a man of good 
family but a bitter Puritan. He was first Fellow and then President of Queens' College, 
Cambridge, where Cleveland doubtless knew him. The odd description reads like 
that of a sort of deformed dwarf. 

75 Kimbolton] Edward, Lord (1602-1671), just about to become the well-known 
Earl of Manchester of the Rebellion. Like Northumberland and Denbigh, he repented, 
but only after he had been not too politely shelved for Fairfax and Cromwell. 

76 Cleveland would have been delighted had he known the fate of Cornelius Burges 
(i589?-i665\ of whom he evidently had a pretty bad idea. Burges, a Wadham and 
Lincoln man, was one of the leaders of the Puritans among the London clergy, and 
a great favourite with the House of Commons in thie Long Parliament. He wanted to 
suppress cathedrals ; and, being a practical man and preacher at Wells during the 
Commonwealth, did his best by buying the deanery and part of the estates. Where- 
fore he was promptly and properly ruined by the Restoration, and died in well- 
deserved poverty. He was vice-president of the Westminster Assembly. 

79 Oliver Bowles, a Puritan divine. i6^j omits the comma after ' sadness ' found in 
i6ji, — a neat punctuation, meaning ' in good sadness, he cannot dance'. Phrases like 
'in good truth', 'in good sadnesse' were the utmost licence of speech which the 
Puritans permitted themselves. 

( 51 ) E 2 

yohn Cleveland 

Here WTiarton wheels about till mumping Lidy, 

Like the full moon, hath made his lordship giddy. 

Pym and the members must their giblets levy 

T' encounter Madam Smec, that single bevy. 

If they two truck together, 'twill not be 

A child-birth, but a gaol-delivery. 

Thus ever}' Ghibelline hath got his Guelph 

But Selden, — he's a galliard by himself; 

And well may be ; there 's more divines in him 

Than in all this, their Jewish Sanhedrim : 90 

Whose canons in the forge shall then bear date 

When mules their cousin-germans generate. 

Thus Moses' law is violated now; 

The ox and ass go yoked in the same plough. 

Resign thy coach- box, Twisse ; Brooke's preacher he 

AVould sort the beasts with more conformity. 

Water and earth make but one globe; a Roundhead 

Is clergy-lay, part)'-per-pale compounded. 

The Kind's Diso-uise. 

o o 

And why a tenant to this vile disguise 

Which who but sees, blasphemes thee with his eyes? 

My twins of light within their penthouse shrink, 

And hold it their allegiance now to wink. 

O, for a state-distinction to arraign 

Charles of high treason 'gainst my Sovereign ! 

81 Philip, fourth Lord Wharton (1613-1696 , took the anti-Royalist side very early, 
but cut a very poor figure at Edgehill and abandoned active service. He did not 
figure under the Commonwealth, but was a zealous Whig after the Restoration, and 
a prominent Williamite in the last years of his long life. Who 'Lidy' {i6;j) or 
• Lidie ' (iSyj) was seems unknown. Professor Firth suggests a misprint for '5idie,' 
i.e. Sidrach Simpson ' i6oo?-i655\a busy London Puritan and member of the Assembly. 
Another ingenious suggestion made to me is that ' mumping LidLd]y ' maj- be one of the 
queer dance-names of the period, or actually a woman, Wharton being no enemy to 
the sex. But I do not know that there was such a dance, and as all the other pairs are 
males, being members of the Assembly, it would be odd if there were an exception 
here. For • Here ' 164J, i6ji read ' Her'. 

88 The exceptional position of Selden is well hit off here. His character and his 
earning were just able to neutralize, though not to overcome, the curse of Laodicea. 

95 ' Brooke' is Robert Brooke, second Lord Brooke, cousin and successor of Fulke 
Greviile — the ' fanatic Brooke ' who had his ' guerdon meet ' by being shot in his 
attack on Lichfield Cathedral. Afemirius Anti-Britaytnicus, 1645, p. 23, has : 

Like my Lord Brooke's Coachman 
Preaching out of a tub. 
(I owe this citation to Mr. Simpson.) 

The King's Disguise.' That assumed on the fatal journey from Oxford to the camp 
of the Scots. ( First printed as a quarto pamphlet of four leaves ; Thomason bought his 
copy on 21 January, 1647 ; reprinted in the 1647 Poems. Vaughan wrote a poem 
on the same subject about the same time.) 

1 a tenant to^ so coffin'd in i6-j-j. a Which] That 7^77. 

4 7677 omits 'now', rather to one's surprise, as the value ' allegi-ance ' is of the 
first rather than of the second half of the century. It is therefore probably right 

( 5^ ) 

The Kings Disguise 

What an usurper to his prince is wont, 

Cloister and shave him, he himself hath don' \, 

His muffled feature speaks him a recluse — 

His ruins prove him a religious house ! lo 

The sun hath mewed his beams from off his lamp 

And majesty- defaced the royal stamp. 

Is 't not enough thy dignity's in thrall. 

But thou'lt transmute it in thy shape and all. 

As if thy blacks were of too faint a dye 

Without the tincture of tautology? 

Flay an Egyptian for his cassock skin, 

Spun of his countr\-'s darkness, line 't within 

^^"ith Presbyterian budge, that drowsy trance, 

The Sj-nod's sable, foggy Ignorance ; 20 

Nor bodily nor ghostly negro could 

Roughcast thy figure in a sadder mould. 

This pri\y-chambcr of thy shape would be 

But the close mourner of thy Royalty. 

Then, break the circle of thy tailor's spell, 

A pearl within a rugged oysters shell. 

Heaven, which the minster of thy person owns, 

^^"ill fine thee for dilapidations. 

Like to a martyred abbey's coarser doom. 

Devoutly altered to a pigeon-room; 30 

Or like a college by the changeling rabble, 

Manchester's elves, transformed into a stable ; 

Or if there be a profanation higher; 

Such is the sacrilege of thine attire. 

By which thou'rt half deposed. — Thou look'st like one 

^^"hose looks are under sequestration ; 

"Whose renegado form at the first glance 

Shows like the Self-denying Ordinance; 

14 transmute^ transcribe i6-~. The two readings obviously pertain to two different 
senses of ' blacks ' — • clothes ' and ' ink '. 

17 for] from 164- pamphlet). 

18 line *t] lin'de 164-] pamphlet"^. 

19 The I6•/^ ' Vindicators ' had forgotten ' budge ' in the sense of ' fur ' (perhaps they 
were too lo3-al to read Milton^ and made it ' badge ". 

20 i6ji, i6jj ' Synod '. with no hyphen but perhaps meant for a compound. The geni- 
tive is perhaps better. The comma at • sable ', which Mr. Berdan omits, is important. 

21-2 The error of those who saj- that such a rhyme points to the pronunciation of 
the / in words like ' could ' is sufiSciently shown by the fact that ' coud " is frequent. 
It is, of course, a mere eye-rhyme, like many of Spenser's earlier. ' No bodily ' 164J 
(pamphlet^ . 

23 shape"' garb i6j-. 24 ofj to i6jj. 

25 • 'Twill break ' 164J. xSjj. tailor's] jailors 164J. i6ji, i6jj. 

29 i6jj, but obviously by a mere misprint, ' cowrser '. 

31 i6^7, i6ji, i6j} 'the college". It is said that the definite article usually at this 
time designates ' the College of Physicians \ But, as Mr. Berdan well observes, ' the 
case was unfortunately too common to admit of identification ". Cleveland's restless 
wit was not idle in calling • Manchester's elves' — the Parliamentarj' troops — ' change- 
lings '. The soldier ought to be a King's man : and indeed pretended to be. 

32 164J pamphlet) • reformed'. 


yohfi Cleveland 

Angel of light, and darkness too, (I doubt) 

Inspired within and yet possessed without; 4° 

Majestic twilight in the state of grace, 

Yet with an excommunicated face. 

Charles and his mask are of a different mint; 

A psalm of mercy in a miscreant print. 

The sun wears midnight, day is beetle-browed. 

And lightning is in kelder of a cloud. 

O the accursed stenography of fate ! 

The princely eagle shrunk into a bat ! 

What charm, what magic vapour can it be 

That checks his rays to this apostasy? go 

It is no subtile film of tiffany air. 

No cobweb vizard such as ladies wear. 

When they are veiled on purpose to be seen, 

Doubling their lustre by their vanquished screen. 

No, the false scabbard of a prince is tough 

And three-piled darkness, like the smoky slough 

Of an imprisoned flame ; 'tis Faux in grain ; 

Dark lantern to our bright meridian. 

Hell belched the damp; the Warwick Castle vote 

Rang Britain's curfew, so our light went out. 60 

[A black offender, should he wear his sin 

For penance, could not have a darker skin.] 

His visage is not legible ; the letters 

Like a lord's name writ in fantastic fetters ; 

Clothes where a Switzer might be buried quick ; 

Sure they would fit the body politic ; 

40 This and 1. 47 are examples of the Drydenian line before Dryden, so frequent in 

46 = ' The unborn child of a cloud '. 

47 Alliteration, and some plausibility of verse, seduced 7^77 into 'of State', but 
I ihink ' fate ' is better. 

50 checks] shrinks 164'], 16^1, i6j}. 
55-6 i64T, j6ji, i6jj read 

Nor the false scabbard of a Prince's tough 
Metal and three-piled darkness like the slough. 
Some fight might be made for ' Metal ', but ' Nor ' is indefensible. I am half inclined 
to transfer it above to 1. 52 and take ' No ' thence. The text, which is iSjy, is I suppose 
a correction. Both 164'; texts mark ' slough' with an asterisk, and have a marginal 
note 'A damp in coal-pits usual'. 

57 I cannot understand what Mr. Berdan — who prints ' Fawkes ' — means by saying 
it is not authorized by any etJition, whereas his own apparatus gives * Faux ' in every 
oric. It is a mere question of spelling. ' Three-piled darkness ' equally surrounds to me 
his further remark that he 'adopted it as the only reading approximating sense; 
Irrason m grain '. The metaphor of the dark lantern cloaked is surely clear enough ; 
and this 'in grain' is one of the innumerable passages showing the rashness of 
invariably interpreting 'in grain' as = 'with tlie grain of the cochineal insect'. 
Beyond ail doubt it has the simple sense o{ pcnitiis, 'inward'. 

58 bright^ liigh 164^, i6j}. 

59 the Warwick Castle vote] The Resolution of the Commons on May 6, 1646, 
that the King, after the Scots sold him, should be lodged in Warwick Castle. 

6i-a Not in 164J, t6;t, i6;j and its group, but added in 1677. 
63 1647, i6ji, i6fj ' Thy visage '. 


The Kings Disguise 

False beard enough to fit a stage's plot 

(For that 's the ambush of their wit, God wot), 

Nay, all his properties so strange appear, 

Y' are not i' th' presence though the King be there. 70 

A libel is his dress, a garb uncouth. 

Such as the Hue and Cry once purged at mouth. 

Scribbling assassinate ! Thy lines attest 
An earmark due. Cub of the Blatant Beast ; 
Whose breath, before 'tis syllabled for worse, 
Is blasphemy unfledged, a callow curse. 
The Laplanders, when they would sell a wind 
Wafting to hell, bag up thy phrase and bind 
It to the bark, which at the voyage end 

Shifts poop and breeds the colic in the Fiend. 80 

But I'll not dub thee with a glorious scar 
Nor sink thy sculler with a man-of-war. 
The black-mouthed Si quis and this slandering suit 
Both do alike in picture execute. 
But since w' are all called Papists, why not date 
Devotion to the rags thus consecrate ? 
As temples use to have their porches wrought 
With sphinxes, creatures of an antic draught. 
And puzzling portraitures to show that there 
Riddles inhabited ; the like is here. 90 

But pardon. Sir, since I presume to be 
Clerk of this closet to your Majesty. 
Methinks in this your dark mysterious dress 
I see the Gospel couched in parables. 
At my next view my purblind fancy ripes 
And shows Religion in its dusky types ; 
Such a text royal, so obscure a shade 
Was Solomon in Proverbs all arrayed. 

Come, all the brats of this expounding age 
To whom the spirit is in pupilage, 100 

You that damn more than ever Samson slew, 
And with his engine, the same jaw-bone too ! 

67 /^77 has the very considerable and not at once acceptable alteration of ' thatch a 
poet's plot'. But it may have been Cleveland. 

72 164'], i6ji, again give an asterisked note, ' Britanicus', showing the definite, not 
general, reference of ' Hue and Cry '. It seems that Mercurius Brifannicus did issue a 
' Hue and Cry ' after the King, for which the editor, Captain Audley, was put in the 
Gate-house till he apologized. 

75 i6;i ' wrreath ', corrupted into ' wrath ' in i6jj. 

76 Blount stupidly thought ' callow ' to mean ' lewd or wicked ', as if ' unfledged ' did 
not ratify the usual sense. 

80 breeds] brings iS^j, j6ji. 

83 Si qttis] The first words of a formal inquiry as to disqualifications in a candidate 
for orders, &c. It would apply to the Hue and Cry itself. 

85 It being a favourite Puritan trick to identify 'Royalist' with 'Papist'. 'Date' 
apparently in the sense of ' begin ', which it usually has only as neuter. 

89 puzzling] i6yy and its followers ' purling ', with no sense. 

95 ^^77 ' The second view ' and ' wipes '. 


yohn Cleveland 

How is 't he 'scapes your inquisition free 

Since bound up in the Bible's Hvery? 

Hence, Cabinet-intruders ! Pick-locks, hence ! 

You, that dim jewels with your Bristol sense : 

And characters, like witches, so torment 

Till they confess a guilt though innocent ! 

Keys for this coffer you can never get ; 

None but St. Peter's opes this cabinet, no 

This cabinet, whose aspect would benight 

Critic spectators with redundant light. 

A Prince most seen is least. What Scriptures call 

The Revelation^ is most mystical. 

Mount then, thou Shadow Royal, and with haste 
Advance thy morning-star, Charles, overcast. 
May thy strange journey contradictions twist 
And force fair weather from a Scottish mist. 
Heaven's confessors are posed, those star-eyed sages, 
T' interpret an eclipse thus riding stages. lao 

Thus Israel-like he travels with a cloud. 
Both as a conduct to him and a shroud. 
But oh, he goes to Gibeon and renews 
A league with mouldy bread and clouted shoes ! 

The Rebel Scot. 

How, Providence ? and yet a Scottish crew ? 

Then Madam Nature wears black patches too ! 

What? shall our nation be in bondage thus 

Unto a land that truckles under us? 

Ring the bells backward ! I am all on fire. 

Not all the buckets in a country quire 

Shall quench my rage. A poet should be feared, 

When angry, like a comet's flaming beard. 

And Where's the stoic can his wrath appease, 

To see his country sick of Pym's disease? lo 

io6 Bristol] as of diamonds. 109 coffer] cipher 7(^77, &c. 

no opes] ope i6']-j. 

116 ' Charles' 71577 '■ 164'j, 16^1, i6sj, by a clear error * Charles's'. 

120 'T' interpret an' 164^ (pamphlet") : 'To interpret an ' 7(5^7 (Poems}, i6;j, i^ll- 
i6ji omits ' To ' and reads the ' an ' which seems bad in metre and meaning alike. 

The Rebel Scot.'\ This famous piece is said to be the only one of Cleveland's poems 
which is in every edition. In idyj it is accompanied by a Latin version (of very little 
merit, and probably if not certainly by * another hand ') which I do not give. A poor 
copy is in Tanner MS. 465 of the Bodleian, at fol. 92, with the title 'A curse on the 
Scots'. The piece is hot enough, and no wonder; but it would no doubt have been 
hotter if it had been written later, when Cleveland was actually gagged by Leven's 
dismissal of him. It is not unnoteworthy that the library of the University of Edinburgh 
contains not a single one of the numerous seventeenth-century editions of Cleveland. 
Years afterwards, when a Douglas had chequered the disgrace of ' the Dutch in the 
Medway' by a brave death, Marvell, who probably knew our poet, composed for 
' Cleveland's Ghost' a half palinode, half continuation, entitled ' The Loyal Scot '. 

10 It would seem that Pym had not yet gone to his account, as he died on December 


The Rebel Scot 

By Scotch invasion to be made a prey 

To such pigwiggin myrmidons as they? 

But that there 's charm in verse, I would not quote 

The name of Scot without an antidote ; 

Unless my head were red, that I might brew 

Invention there that might be poison too. 

Were I a drowsy judge whose dismal note 

Disgorgeth halters as a juggler's throat 

Doth ribbons ; could I in Sir Emp'ric's tone 

Speak pills in phrase and quack destruction ; so 

Or roar like Marshall, that Geneva bull, 

Hell and damnation a pulpit full ; 

Yet to express a Scot, to play that prize. 

Not all those mouth-grenadoes can suffice. 

Before a Scot can properly be curst, 

I must like Hocus swallow daggers first. 

Come, keen iambics, with your badger's feet 
And badger-like bite till your teeth do meet. 
Help, ye tart satirists, to imp my rage 

With all the scorpions that should whip this age. 30 

Scots are like witches; do but whet your pen, 
Scratch till the blood come, they'll not hurt you then. 
Now, as the martyrs were enforced to take 
The shapes of beasts, like hypocrites, at stake, 
I'll bait my Scot so, yet not cheat your eyes ; 
A Scot within a beast is no disguise. 

No more let Ireland brag her harmless nation 
Fosters no venom since the Scot's plantation : 
Nor can ours feigned antiquity maintain ; 

Since they came in, England hath wolves again. 4° 

The Scot that kept the Tower might have shown, 
Within the grate of his own breast alone, 

6, 1643, after getting Parliament to accept the Covenant and the Scots to invade 

12 The early texts have Drayton's name correctly : i6']'j makes it ' Pigwidgin '. 

15 It seems hardly necessary to remind the reader of the well-known habit of 
painting Judas's hair red. 

19 could . . tone] or in the Empiric's misty tone MS. 

21 Stephen Marshall, the 'Smec' man and a mighty cushion-thumper (who denounced 
the ' Curse of Meroz' on all who came not to destroy those in any degree opposed to 
the Parliament), actually preached Pym's funeral sermon. 

22 ' Damnati-on '. But MS. reads ' a whole pulpit full '. 

28 /(5;jhas the obvious blunder of 'feet' repeated for 'teeth'. The first 'feet' 
is itself less obvious, but I suppose the strong claw and grip of the badgers are meant. 
Some, however, refer it to the supposed lop-sidedness or inequality of badgers' feet, 
answering to the ^— of the iamb. I never knew but one badger, who lived in 
St. Clement's, Oxford, and belonged (surreptitiously) to Merton College. I did not 
notice his feet. 

32 The more usual reproach vi^as the other way— that ' the Scot would not fight till 
he saw his own blood '. 

38 J($77, less well, ' t/tai Scot\ 

39 ' ours . . . maintain ' 16^7, i6;r, i6jj : ' our . . . obtain ' 1677. 

41 The Scot] Sir William Balfour, a favoured servant of the King, who deserted to 
the other side. 


yohn Cleveland 

The leopard and the panther, and engrossed 

What all those wild collegiates had cost 

The honest high-shoes in their ternily fees ; 

P'irst to the salvage lawyer, next to these. 

Nature herself doth Scotchmen beasts confess, 

Making their country such a wilderness : 

A land that brings in question and suspense 

God's omnipresence, but that Charles came thence, 50 

But that Montrose and Crawford's loyal band 

Atoned their sins and christ'ned half the land. 

Nor is it all the nation hath these spots ; 

There is a Church as well as Kirk of Scots. 

As in a picture where the squinting paint 

Shows fiend on this side, and on that side saint. 

He, that saw Hell in 's melancholy dream 

And in the twilight of his fancy's theme, 

Scared from his sins, repented in a fright, 

Had he viewed Scotland, had turned proselyte. 60 

A land where one may pray with cursed intent, 

'Oh may they never suffer banishment!' 

Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom ; 

Not forced him wander but confined him home ! 

Like Jews they spread and as infection fly. 

As if the Devil had ubiquity. 

Hence 'tis they live at rovers and defy 

This or that place, rags of geography. 

They're citizens o' th' world ; they're all in all ; 

Scotland 's a nation epidemical. 70 

And yet they ramble not to learn the mode, 

How to be dressed, or how to lisp abroad ; 

To return knowing in the Spanish shrug. 

Or which of the Dutch States a double jug 

Resembles most in belly or in beard, 

(The card by which the mariners are steered). 

No, the Scots-errant fight and fight to eat. 

Their Ostrich stomachs make their swords their meat. 

44 A difficulty has been made about 'collegiate', but there is surely none. The 
word (or ' coUegiViw ') is old slang, and hardly slang for 'jail-bird '. The double use of 
the Tower as a prison and a menagerie should of course be remembered. 

45 high-shoes] Country folk in boots, 
termly] = ' when they came up to business '. 

51 Crawford] Ludovic, sixteenth Earl, who fought bravely all through the Rebellion, 
served after the downfall in France and Spain, and died, it is not accurately known 
when or where, but about 1652. 

5a A fine line. i6']-] does not improve it by reading •'//!«> land '. 

63-4 The central and most often quoted couplet. 

65-6 follow 70 in the MS. 

67 at rovers^ Common for shooting not at a definite mark, but at large. 

70 epidemical] In the proper sense of 'travelling from country to country', not 
doubtless without the transferred one of a ' travelling /)/«;o-i/^'. 

74 States] not the Provinces; but the representative Hogan Mogans themselves. 

78 ' Ostrich ' in id-]"] : i6^j, i6ji, and i6jj the older ' estrich ', 


The Rebel Scot 

Nature with Scots as tooth-drawers hath dealt 

Who use to hang their teeth upon their belt. 80 

Yet wonder not at this their happy choice, 

The serpent 's fatal still to Paradise. 

Sure, England hath the hemorrhoids, and these 

On the north postern of the patient seize 

Like leeches ; thus they physically thirst 

After our blood, but in the cure shall burst ! 

Let them not think to make us run o' th' score 

To purchase villenage, as once before 

When an act passed to stroke them on the head. 

Call them good subjects, buy them gingerbread. 50 

Not gold, nor acts of grace, 'tis steel must tame 

The stubborn Scot ; a Prince that would reclaim 

Rebels by yielding, doth like him, or worse, 

Who saddled his own back to shame his horse. 

Was it for this you left your leaner soil. 
Thus to lard Israel with Egypt's spoil? 
They are the Gospel's life-guard ; but for them, 
The garrison of New Jerusalem, 

What would the brethren do ? The Cause ! The Cause ! 
Sack-possets and the fundamental laws ! 100 

Lord ! what a godly thing is want of shirts ! 
How a Scotch stomach and no meat converts ! 
They wanted food and raiment, so they took 
Religion for their seamstress and their cook. 
Unmask them well ; their honours and estate. 
As well as conscience, are sophisticate. 
Shrive but their titles and their money poise, 
A laird and twenty pence pronounced with noise, 
When construed, but for a plain yeoman go. 
And a good sober two-pence; and well so. no 

Hence then, you proud impostors; get you gone. 
You Picts in gentry and devotion ; 
You scandal to the stock of verse, a race 
Able to bring the gibbet in disgrace. 
Hyperbolus by suffering did traduce 
The ostracism and shamed it out of use. 

80 hang] string iSjj. 

81 ' But why should we be made your frantic choice ? ' MS. 

82 ' England too hath emerods' MS. 

83 i6si, 16; J have a middle form between ' emerod ' and ' hemorrhoid '— ' Hemeroids . 
i64-j ' Hemerods '. 

84 16-fj, i6)i, i6jj and its group, oddly, 'posture', 

89 The Parliamentary bribe or Danegelt of 164 1. „ . • ., 

95 « left ' i6jj, Sec, 1677 : ' gave ' 1647, i6jt. The MS reads ' But they may justly 
quit their leaner soil. 'Tis to lard . . .' 

101 i6ji, i6jj ' goodly ', but here, I think, the old is not the better. 

107 'money' /<5./7, /(Sj-J, /<5;i : 'moneys' i-(577. „ ,,^„^^ 

108 1647, i6sj, &c. ' pound ', wrongly. Twenty Scots pence = not quite two-pence 
English. Therefore ' well so '. 


Jolm Cleveland 

The Indian, that Heaven did forswear 

llecause he heard some Spaniards were there, 

Had he but known what Scots in Hell had been, 

Mr would ICrasnuis-like have hung between. 120 

My Muse hath done. A voider for the nonce! 

1 wrong the Devil should I pick their bones ; 

That dish is his; for, when the Scots decease, 

Hell, like their natii)n, feeds on barnacles. 

A Scot, when from the gallow-tree got loose, 

Drops into Styx and turns a Solan goose. 

The Scots' Apostasy. 

Is 't come to this? What? shall the cheeks of Fame, 

Siretelied with the breath of learned Loudoun's name, 

V>Q ilagged again ? And that great piece of sense. 

As rich in loyalty as eloquence, 

l>rought to the test, be found a trick of state? 

Like chemists' tinctures, proved adulterate? 

The Devil sure such language did achieve 

To cheat our unforewarned Grandani Eve, 

As this impostor found out to besot 

Th' experienced luiglish to believe a Scot! 10 

Who reconciled the Covenant's doubtful sense, 

The Commons' argument, or the City's pence? 

Ox did you doubt persistence in one good 

^\'ould spoil the fabric of your brotherhood, 

rrojeeted fust in such a forge of sin, 

Was fit for the grand Devil's hammering? 

Ox was 't ambition that this damned fact 

Should tell the world you know the sins you act? 

The infamy this super-treason brings 

Blasts more than murders of your sixty kings ; ao 

118 if>4i, 16(1, and ifia 'the Spaniards', but 'some' {i6~j) is more pointed. 

I JO Krasutus] Roj;aidod as luithor Papist nor Protestant ? 

Clcvfhind nt-vor wrote anything else of tliis foive and fire : and it, or parts of it. 
wiTc i-onslantly iwivi-d wluMi the occasion presented itselt". 

Th0 Siols' ^//>(>.s/(«AV was first jMinted as a broadside in 1646, and assigned at the 
lime to ricvclnnd by Thonuis Old. It was inchided in j6ji, but not admitted by the 
' Vindiialors in ' it>77. Hut it is in all ihe central group of editions except Chavtland 
l\fvit'<tt, where nbsciuT in usunlly a strong proof of genuineness ; and it is extremely 
like him. Mr. Hrrdan hir; iidniiUfd it, and so do I. Professor Case has noted 
It cntalomie entry of I'h* Sii>/*s ( uti.'.tdnrv, an «»«<«'<■»" k> J. C's. laL Or an A^s^ver to 
t'levelund'HJ .SVo/.s' Af'o^Uuv y(\. K. liHslick) [«/. Robin Bostock], London April 1647. 
The 'j. t'(«' in of covirHO priliimiit, 

u John ('Hmpl>rll ( i yjlt if>;i;i\ from 16130 nnron I.oudoun in his wife's right, was. 
alter takiuK n violrnl pml on Ihr ( ovrnnnl Ride in the earlier Scotch-English war, 
in-ilrnmental in eninliuliiiK peiicoj nnd was made in 1641 Chancellor of Scotland 
and Kail ot I (itidoiin. 

4 As\ 'and' H'ii. (J ' inipesture' /ft;j, i6jj. 

i»o The celebrated and jfilnly eullrelion uf Scottish monarchs in Holyrood was 
not yet in existence; for iln iiiuij;iiu»tivr creator only iniinted it in 16S4. and there are 


The Scots Apostasy 

A crime so black, as being advis'dly done, 

Those hold with this no competition. 

Kings only suffered then ; in this doth lie 

Th' assassination of Monarchy. 

Beyond this sin no one step can be trod, 

If not t' attempt deposing of your God. 

Oh, were you so engaged that we might see 

Heaven's angry lightning 'bout your ears to flee 

Till you were shrivelled to dust, and your cold Land 

Parched to a drought beyond the Lybian sand ! 30 

But 'tis reserved ! Till Heaven plague you worse, 

Be objects of an epidemic curse. 

First, may your brethren, to whose viler ends 

Your power hath bawded, cease to count you friends. 

And, prompted by the dictate of their reason. 

Reproach the traitors though they hug the treason: 

And may their jealousies increase and breed 

Till they confine your steps beyond the Tweed : 

In foreign nations may your loath'd name be 

A stigmatizing brand of infamy, 40 

Till forced by general hate you cease to roam 

The world, and for a plague go live at home ; 

Till you resume your poverty and be 

Reduced to beg where none can be so free 

To grant : and may your scabby Land be all 

Translated to a general hospital : 

Let not the sun afford one gentle ray 

To give you comfort of a summer's day ; 

But, as a guerdon for your traitorous war. 

Live cherished only by the Northern Star : 50 

No stranger deign to visit your rude coast. 

And be to all but banished men as lost : 

And such, in heightening of the infliction due, 

Let provoked princes send them all to you : 

Your State a chaos be where not the Law, 

But power, your lives and liberties may awe: 

No subject 'mongst you keep a quiet breast, 

But each man strive through blood to be the best; 

Till, for those miseries on us you've brought, 

By your own sword our just revenge be wrought. 60 

To sum up all— let your religion be, 

As your allegiance, masked hypocrisy, 

Until, when Charles shall be composed in dust, 

Perfumed with epithets of good and just, 

106, not sixty. But the remoteness of Scottish pedigrees was popularly known : and if 
it be not true that all Scottish kings were murdered, not a few had been. 

24 ' Assassination' is valued at six syllables. 

28 ' to ' i6si, &c. : ' into ' 1646. 31 Till] and tell 1646, i6ji. 

34 ' count you' 1646, i6ji, idjj, &c. : 'be your' 1687. This prayer, at any rate, 
was heard pretty soon. . , . 

38 ' steps ' 16s I, &c. : ' ships ' 1646. 42 * go', misprinted to m i6sh Sec. 


yohn Cleveland 

HE saved, incensed Heaven may have forgot 

T' afford one act of mercy to a Scot, 
Unless that Scot deny himself and do 
(What's easier far) renounce his Nation too. 


THAT I could but vote myself a poet, 
Or had the legislative knack to do it ! 
Or, like the doctors militant, could get 
Dubbed at adventure Verser Banneret ! 

Or had I Cacus' trick to make my rhymes 

Their own antipodes, and track the times ! 

•Faces about,' says the remonstrant spirit, 

'Allegiance is malignant, treason merit.' 

Huntingdon colt, that posed the sage recorder, 

Might be a sturgeon now and pass by order. lo 

Had I but Elsing's gift (that splay-mouthed brother 

That declares one way and yet means another), 

Could I thus write asquint, then, Sir, long since 

You had been sung a great and glorious Prince ! 

1 had observed the language of these days, 
lilasphemed you, and then periwigged the phrase 
With humble service and such other fustian, 

Bells which ring backward in this great combustion. 

I had reviled you, and without offence ; 

The literal and equitable sense 20 

67-8 Not in 16^6. 

Riipertismus] ' To P. Ruperf in the 164'j texts (Bodley and Case copies). The odd 
title Ruperiisnnts was first given in i6p. This poem expresses the earlier and more 
sanguine Cavaher temper, when things on the whole went well. Rupert's admirable 
quality as an officer naturally made him a sort of Cavalier cynosure and (with his being 
half a foreigner) a bugbear to the Roundheads ; while neither party had yet found out 
his fatal defects as a general. Hence ' Rupertismus ' not ill described the humour of both 
sides. The dog who figures so largely was a real dog (said of course to be a familiar 
spirit , and Professor Firth tells me that he has a pamphlet (1642) entitled Observations 
upon P. R.''s luhiie dog called Boy, carefully taken by T. B., with a picture of the animal. 
It was replied to by The Pat-lianient's Unspotted Bitch next year. 

I, 2 The ' legislative knack ' to vote oneself everything good and perfect has always 
been a gift of Houses of Commons. It was rather shrewd of Cleveland to formulate it 
so early and so well. 

4 Bannerets being properly dubbed on the field of battle. 'Adventure' i6yj : 
' Adventures ' i6./y, /6;i, i6Sy : ' adventurers' i6j; and its group. 

5 Cacus' trick j of dragging his cattle by the tails. 

7 spirit] A word their abuse of which was constantly thrown in the face of the 
Puritans (ill Swift's thrice rectified vitriol almost destroyed the abuse itself. 

8 malignant] in the technical Roundhead sense. 

9 The gibe at Huntingdon, clear enough from the passage, is one of many old local 
insults. I can remember when it was a little unsafe, in one of the Channel islands, to 
speak of a donkey. This particular jest recurs in Pepys (May 22, 1677), who was in a 
way a Huntingdon man. 11 Rising] Clerk to the House of Commons. 

13 • thus ' /^>77 : • but ' i6./y and the earlier texts. write] i6jj, ' right '—evidently 
one of the numerous mistakes due to dictating copy. 

14 ' The Prince ' was a title which Rupert monopolized early and kept till his death. 

15 ' these ' 1677 : ' the ' 1647, i6ji, i6jj, 16S7. 20 1677 'th' equitable '. 

( ^'-' ) 


Would make it good. When all fails, that will do 't ; 

Sure that distinction cleft the Devil's foot ! 

This were my dialect, would your Highness please 

To read me but with Hebrew spectacles ; 

Interpret counter what is cross rehearsed; 

Libels are commendations when reversed. 

Just as an optic glass contracts the sight 

At one end, but when turned doth multiply 't. 

But you're enchanted, Sir, you're doubly free 

From the great guns and squibbing poetry, 30 

Whom neither bilbo nor invention pierces, 

Proof even 'gainst th' artillery of verses. 

Strange that the Muses cannot wound your mail ! 

If not their art, yet let their sex prevail. 

At that known leaguer, where the bonny Besses 

Supplied the bow-strings with their twisted tresses. 

Your spells could ne'er have fenced you, every arrow 

Had lanced your noble breast and drunk the marrow. 

For beauty, like white powder, makes no noise 

And yet the silent hypocrite destroys. 40 

Then use the Nuns of Helicon with pity 

Lest Wharton tell his gossips of the City 

That you kill women too, nay maids, and such 

Their general wants militia to touch. 

Impotent Essex ! Is it not a shame 

Our Commonwealth, like to a Turkish dame. 

Should have an eunuch guardian ? May she be 

Ravished by Charles, rather than saved by thee ! 

But why, my Muse, like a green-sickness girl, 

Feed'st thou on coals and dirt? A gelding earl fo 

Gives no more relish to thy female palate 

Than to that ass did once the thistle sallet. 

Then quit the barren theme and all at once. 

Thou and thy sisters like bright Amazons, 

Give Rupert an alarum. Rupert ! one 

Whose name is wit's superfetation. 

Makes fancy, like eternity's round womb. 

Unite all valour, present, past, to come ! 

He who the old philosophy controls 

That voted down plurality of souls ! ^>3 

He breathes a Grand Committee ; all that were 

The wonders of their age constellate here. 

And as the elder sisters. Growth and Sense, 

Souls paramount themselves, in man commence 

24 The rhyme of ' -cles ' to an ee syllable occurs in Dryden. 
31 ' Who ' i6jj and its group. 

35 Carthage. Rupert's devotion to ladies was lifelong. 
39 ' White' or noiseless powder was a constant object of research. ^ 
45 Essex was twice divorced on the ground mentioned, and his efficiency in the field 
was not to be much greater than that in the chamber. 
53 ^^77- ^^-i ' ^''^ barren theme'. 


yohn Cleveland 

But faculties of reasons queen ; no more 

Are they to him (who was complete before), 

Ingredients of his virtue. Thread the beads 

Of Caesar's acts, great Pompey's and the Swede's, 

And 'tis a bracelet fit for Rupert's hand. 

By which that vast triumvirate is spanned. 7° 

Here, here is palmistry; here you may read 

How long the world shall live and when 't shall bleed. 

What every man winds up, that Rupert hath. 

For Nature raised him of the Public Faith ; 

Pandora's brother, to make up whose store 

The gods were fain to run upon the score. 

Such was the painter's brief for Venus' face; 

Item, an eye from Jane ; a lip from Grace. 

Let Isaac and his cits flay off the plate 

That tips their antlers, for the calf of state ; So 

Let the zeal-twanging nose, that wants a ridge, 

Snuffling devoutly, drop his silver bridge ; 

Yes, and the gossip spoon augment the sum 

Although poor Caleb lose his Christendom ; 

Rupert outweighs that in his sterUng self 

Which their self-want pays in commuting pelf. 

Pardon, great Sir, for that ignoble crew 

Gains when made bankrupt in the scales with you. 

As he, who in his character of Light 

Styled it God's shadow, made it far more bright yo 

By an eclipse so glorious (light is dim 

And a black nothing when compared to Him), 

So 'tis illustrious to be Rupert's foil 

And a just trophy to be made his spoil. 

I'll pin my faith on the Diurnal's sleeve 

Hereafter, and the Guildhall creed believe ; 

65 i6s4 ' faculty '. I6']^ ' Reason Queen '. I am not sure which is right. 
66-7 So punctuated in i6']-]. Earlier texts and i6&-] ' who were to him complete 
before. Ingredients of his virtue thread ' . . . i6-]'] reads ' virtues '. 
68 '■the Swede' : of course Gustavus Adolphus. 

73 "^^41) J^Si< i^JJ ' Whatever '. 

74 i^-jj, apparently alone, ' on the '. 

78 /6/j, evidently by slip, 'ybrjane'. 

79 164J, 16^1, i6j^ ' Cit'z ' (not'quite bad for * citizens) and ' flea of the place '. ' Flea ' 
for ' flay' is not uncommon : the rest is absurd. ' Isaac' was Isaac Pennington, father 
of that Judith whose obliging disposition Mr. Pepys has commemorated. 

80 'Antlp/s', which occurs in ail, is not impossible for 'antlers' (the everlastingly 
ridiculed citizen 'horns'). Rut 16 fj, i6ji, i6jj forgot the Golden Calf altogether in 
their endeavour to provide a rhyme for their own misprint (1. 79) by reading ♦ Stace '. 

83 ' Gossip's ' (/(5/7, 7(577) 'S not wanted and hisses unnecessarily. 

86 'self-wants' 164^, i6;i, i6^j, i68j. i6yj, most improbably, 'committee'. The 
whole passage refers to the subscriptions of plate and money in lieu of personal service 
which Pennington, as Lord Mayor, promised 'on the Public Faith'. Rupert's self out- 
weighs all this vicarious performance. 

89 ' whom ' i6j}, i6j4. 

92 to] with 7677. 

95 Diurnal] Which Cleveland satirized in his first published (prose) work. 


The conquests which the Common Council hears 

With their wide listening mouth from the great Peers 

That ran away in triumph. Such a foe 

Can make them victors in their overthrow; loo 

Where providence and valour meet in one, 

Courage so poised with circumspection 

That he revives the quarrel once again 

Of the soul's throne ; whether in heart, or brain, 

And leaves it a drawn match ; whose fervour can 

Hatch him whom Nature poached but half a man ; 

His trumpet, like the angel's at the last. 

Makes the soul rise by a miraculous blast. 

Was the Mount Athos carved in shape of man 

As 'twas designed by th' Macedonian no 

(Whose right hand should a populous land contain, 

The left should be a channel to the main), 

His spirit would inform th' amphibious figure 

And, strait-laced, sweat for a dominion bigger. 

The terror of whose name can out of seven, 

Like Falstaff's buckram men, make fly eleven. 

Thus some grow rich by breaking. Vipers thus, 

By being slain, are made more numerous. 

No wonder they'll confess no loss of men, 

For Rupert knocks 'em till they gig again. 120 

They fear the giblets of his train, they fear 

Even his dog, that four-legged cavalier ; 

He that devours the scraps that Lunsford makes; 

Whose picture feeds upon a child in steaks; 

Who, name but Charles, he comes aloft for him, 

But holds up his malignant leg at Pym. 

'Gainst whom they have these articles in souse : 

P'irst, that he barks against the sense o' th' House ; 

98 As Wharton at Edgehill. ' Mouths ' 1647, i68j. 

TOO them] men 1677. 

log Was the] 'Tvvas the 1647, i6p^ i6jj : Was that 1677. 'Was'= 'if it were'. 

no designed] 1647, i6ji, i6;j 'defin'd ', with a clear y^ not long s. 

1 13 would] 1647, i6;i, i6s3 might. 

114 The text is 1677, which, however, reads (with the usual want of strait-lacedness) 
' straight '. /<5/7, 16^}^ have ' Yet ' for ' And ', which is corrected in some of their own 
group, and ' sweats '. 

117 some] Like Mr. Badman a little later. 

120 gig] = ' spin like a top '. Dryden uses the word in the same sense and almost in 
the same phrase in the Prologue to Amphitryon, 1. 21 : v. sup., p. 17. 

121 giblets] Apparently in the sense of 'offal', ' refuse'. 

123 Lunsford] Sir Thomas, i6io?-i653. The absurd legends about this Cavalier's 
'child-eating' are referred to in, originall}?, Hudibras and in Lacy's Old Troop, and at 
second-hand (probably from the text also, though it is not quoted) in the notes to 
Scott's Woodstock. j6ji and i6jj have ' which ' for second ' that '. 

124 steaks] All old editions 'stakes' — a very common spelling, which Mr. Berdan 
keeps. As he modernizes the rest, his readers may be under the impression that the 
ogre impaled the infants before devouring them, which was not, I think, alleged bj' the 
most savoury professor on the Roundhead side. 

127 souse] = ' pickle '. ' they have these ' 1677 : ' they've feveral ' 1647, idji : ' they 
have several ' i6jj. 

(6.0 F I" 

John Cleveland 

Resolved delinquent, to the Tower straight, 

Either to th' Lions' or the Bishop's Grate : n^ 

Next, for his ceremonious wag o' th' tail. 

(But there the sisterhood will be his bail, 

At least the Countess will, Lust's Amsterdam, 

That lets in all religions of the game.) 

Thirdly, he smells intelligence; that's better 

And cheaper too than Pym's from his own letter, 

Who 's doubly paid (Fortune or we the blinder!) 

For making plots and then for fox the finder : 

Lastly, he is a devil without doubt. 

For, when he would lie down, he wheels about, 140 

Makes circles, and is couchant in a ring; 

And therefore score up one for conjuring. 

•What canst thou say, thou wretch!' 'O quarter, quarter! 

I'm but an instrument, a mere Sir Arthur. 

If I must hang, O let not our fates vary. 

Whose office 'tis alike to fetch and carry!' 

No hopes of a reprieve ; the mutinous stir 

That strung the Jesuit will dispatch a cur. 

'Were I a devil as the rabble fears, 

I see the House would try me by my peers!' 150 

There, Jowler, there! Ah, Jowler ! 'st, 'tis nought! 

Whate'er the accusers cry, they're at a fault: 

And Glyn and Maynard have no more to say 

Than when the glorious Strafford stood at bay. 

Thus libels but annexed to him, we see, 
Enjoy a copyhold of victory. 
Saint Peter's shadow healed; Rupert's is such 
'Twould find Saint Peter's work and wound as much. 
He gags their guns, defeats their dire intent; 
The cannons do but lisp and compliment. 160 

Sure, Jove descended in a leaden shower 
To get this Perseus ; hence the fatal power 

130 Bishop's] i6t], i68j editions have the apostrophe. Laud is probably referred 
to in ' Bishop's '. The force of all this, and its application to other times, are admirable. 

133 The Countess — pretty clearly Lucy Hay, Countess of Carlisle (1599-1660') — 
beauty, wit, harlot, and traitress (though, too late, she repented). Amsterdam] The 
religious indifference of the Dutch being a common reproach. 7677 and its followers 
read 'with' for 'will', which would alter the sense completely. 

134 164J, i6ji, i6jj have 'religious' in the well-known noun sense, and it is 
possibly better. 

144 Sir Arthur Haselrig (died 1661) — a very busy person throughout the troubles, 
but not considered as exactly a prime mover. 148 idyj '■the cur'. 

149 'rabble' is 7677 and seems good, though the earlier 'rebel' might do. 

152 a fault] 7(577 default — not so technical. 

153 Serjeants John Glyn^ne] (1607-66) and John Maynard (1602-90) were well- 
known legal bandogs on the Roundhead side in the earlier stages ; but both trimmed 
cleverly during the later, and sold themselves promptly to the Crown at the Restoration. 
Glynne died soon. Maynard lived to prosecute the victims of the Popish Plot, and 
to turn his coat once more, at nearly ninetj', for William of Orange. 

155 i()4'], J^Vi i^SJ 'labels': 7^77 'Thus libels but amount to him we seeT'enjoy'. 
158 7677 'St. Peter', wliich looks plausible, though I am not sure that it is better than 
the genitive. i6^-j, i6ji, i6jj have ' yet ' for ' and ' as in other cases. 



Of shot is strangled. Bullets thus allied 

Fear to commit an act of parricide. 

Go on, brave Prince, and make the world confess 

Thou art the greater world and that the less. 

Scatter th' accumulative king ; untruss 

That five-fold fiend, the State's Smectymnuus, 

Who place religion in their vellum ears 

As in their phylacters the Jews did theirs. 170 

England's a paradise (and a modest word) 

Since guarded by a cherub's flaming sword. 

Your name can scare an atheist to his prayers, 

And cure the chincough better than the bears. 

Old Sibyl charms the toothache with you ; Nurse 

Makes you still children ; and the ponderous curse 

The clowns salute with is derived from you, 

* Now, Rupert take thee, rogue, how dost thou do ? ' 

In fine the name of Rupert thunders so, 

Kimbolton's but a rumbling wheelbarrow. 180 

Epitaph on the Earl of 

Here lies wise and valiant dust 
Huddled up 'twixt fit and just ; 
Strafford, who was hurried hence 
'Twixt treason and convenience. 
He spent his time here in a mist; 
A Papist, yet a Calvinist; 
His Prince's nearest joy and grief 
He had, yet wanted all reUef; 

167 the accumulative king1 Pj'm? who was nicknamed 'king' Pyni, and if not 
exactly 'accumulative' (for his debts were paid by Parliament) must have been ex- 
pensive and was probably rapacious. Others think it means 'the Committee', 
'accumulative' being = 'cumulative' (or rather 'plural'). They quote, not without 
force, our poet's prose Character of a Country Committee man, ' a Committee man 
is a name of multitude', the phrase 'accumulative treason ' occurring in the context. 

175 7677 transfers ' the' to before ' Nurse'— a great loss, the unarticled and familiar 
' Nurse' being far better — and reads ' Sibils charm '. 

176 ' and ' i6)j, 1677 : ' nay and ' 1647, i6ji, 1687, 
IT] 16']'] 'Clown salutes'. 

Epitaph, &c. In the Bodleian copy of 1647 and in Professor Case's (3rd issue) 
and in all others except Cleaveland Revived (i6sg^ and 7677; but in some of the 
earliest classed with the work of ' Uncertain Authors'. Winstanley (no very strong 
authority, it is true") calls it Cleveland's and ' excellent '. It is perhaps too much to say 
with Mr. Berdan, that it is 'unlike his manner'. There is certainly in it a manner 
which he does not often display, but the pity and the terror of that great tragedy 
might account for part of this, and the difficulty (for any Royalist) of speaking freely of 
it for more. It is rather fine, I think. 

4 The pitiful truth could hardly be better put. 

6 Obscure, but not un-Clevelandish. 

7-8 Punctuation altered to get what seems the necessary sense. A comma which 
i6si has at 'grief (not to mention a full stop in the 164"] texts) obscures this, and a 
comma at 'wanted', which Mr. Berdan puts, does so even more. The phrase is once 

( 67 ) F 2 

yohn Cleveland 

The prop and ruin of the State ; 

The People's violent love and hate ; i° 

One in extremes loved and abhorred. 

Riddles lie here, or in a word, 

Here lies blood ; and let it lie 

Speechless still and never cry. 

An Elegy upon the Ai'chbishop of 

I NEED no Muse to give my passion vent, 

He brews his tears that studies to lament. 

Verse chemically weeps ; that pious rain 

Distilled with art is but the sweat o' th' brain. 

Whoever sobbed in numbers ? Can a groan 

Be quavered out by soft division ? 

'Tis true for common formal elegies 

Not Bushel's Wells can match a poet's eyes 

In wanton water-works ; he'll tune his tears 

From a Geneva jig up fo the spheres. lo 

But then he mourns at distance, weeps aloof. 

Now that the conduit head is our own roof, 

Now that the fate is public, we may call 

It Britain's vespers, England's funeral. 

Who hath a pencil to express the Saint 

But he hath eyes too, washing off the paint ? 

There is no learning but what tears surround. 

Like to Seth's pillars in the Deluge drowned. 

more fatally just and true. He enjoyed all his master's affection and received all Ms 
grief, but ' wanted ' his support and relief. Professor Case, however, would cling to 
the stop, at least the comma, at ' grief. 

12 or] Other editions 'and'. For ' Riddles' cf. The Kind's Disguise, 11. 89-90. 

13-14 For the third time 'he says it', and there is no more to say. — In i6yj there 
follows a Latin Epitaph on Strafford which has nothing to do with this. It is in some 
phrases enigmatic enough to be Cleveland's, bat it is not certainly his, and as it is 
neither English nor verse we need hardly give it. 

AnElegy,&c. {1647.) If the Strafford epitaph seemed too serious, as wrell as too con- 
rentrated and passionate, for Cleveland, this on Strafford's fellow worker and fellow 
victim may seem almost a caricature of our author's more wayward and more fantastic 
manner. Yet there are fine lines in it, and perhaps nowhere else do we see the 
Dryden fashion of verse (thousrh not of thought) more clearly foreshadowed. It 
appears to come under 'Uncertain Authors' in some 1647 texts, but 7677 gives it. 
Title in 16^7, i6jr, i6jj ' On the Archbishop of Canterbury ' only. 

4 /*577 ' by art '. 6 7677 ' in soft '. 

8 Thomas Bushel[l] or Bushncll (1594-167 ») was a page of Bacon's and afterwards 
a great 'projector' in mining and mechanical matters generally. He dabbled largely 
in fancy fountains and waterworks— a qu cr taste of the seventeenth century in which 
even the sober Evelyn records his own pirticipation. 

9-10 Cf. the opening of the elegy on King, ' I like not tears in tune '. 

n 16/J, i6;i, i6;j. Sec. ' tvhtn he mourns", which is hardly so good. 

18 Seth's pillars] A tradition, preserve J in Joscphus. that the race of .Seth engraved 
antediluvian wisdom on two pillars, one of brick, the other of stone, the latter of which 
outlasted the Deluge. 


An Elegy upofi the Archbishop of Cantei^biiry 

There is no Church ; Religion is grown 

So much of late that she 's increased to none, ao 

Like an hydropic body, full of rheums, 

First swells into a bubble, then consumes. 

The Law is dead or cast into a trance, — 

And by a law dough-baked, an Ordinance ! 

The Liturgy, whose doom was voted next, 

Died as a comment upon him the text. 

There 's nothing lives ; life is, since he is gone, 

But a nocturnal lucubration. 

Thus you have seen death's inventory read 

In the sum total, — Canterbury 's dead ; 30 

A sight would make a Pagan to baptize 

Himself a convert in his bleeding eyes ; 

Would thaw the rabble, that fierce beast of ours, 

(That which hyena-like weeps and devours) 

Tears that flow brackish from their souls within, 

Not to repent, but pickle up their sin. 

Meantime no squalid grief his look defiles. 

He gilds his sadder fate with nobler smiles. 

Thus the world's eye, with reconciled streams,. 

Shines in his showers as if he wept his beams. 40 

How could success such villanies applaud? 

The State in Strafford fell, the Church in Laud ; 

The twins of public rage, adjudged to die 

For treasons they should act, by prophecy ; 

The facts were done before the laws were made ; 

The trump turned up after the game was playeB. 

Be dull, great spirits, and forbear to climb. 

For worth is sin and eminence a crime. 

No churchman can be innocent and high. 

'Tis height makes Grantham steeple stand awTy. 50 

* On I. W. A. B. of York. 

Say, my young sophister, what think'st of this? 
Chimera 's real, Ergo falleris. 

20 164-], i6ji, i6jj, See. 'From much'. 34 /d^7, i6ji misprint ' Agena-Vike. 

35 ^^SJ misprints ' blacliish '. 38 iS^y, i6ji, j6jj ' nohle'. 

44 7677, omitting the comma at 'act', makes something like nonsense ; 'by prophecy' 
goes, I think, with ' adjudged to die '. 

50 One would expect ' Chesterfield ', for Grantham nowadays does not look very 
crocked — at least from the railway. But Fuller in the JVort/iies quotes this as a 
proverb. Some take it as referring to the height and slenderness of the steeple and 
an optical illusion. They might quote ' The high masis /lickcred as they lay afloat'. 
But fevv travellers had the excuse of Iphigenia. 

Oil I. W. A. B. of York. {164J.) This vigorous onslaught on the trimmer John Williams, 
Archbishop of York, who began public life as a tool of Buckingham's and ended it as 
a kind of tolerated half-deserter to the Parliament, was turned out by the ' Vindicators ' 
in 7677. There may, however, have been reasons for this, other than certain spurious- 
ness. Williams, though driven to doubtful conduct by his enmity with Laud, never 

2 falleris] In advancing the general observation that ' twy-natured is no nature '. 


yohn Cleveland 

The lamb and tiger, fox and goose agree 
And here concorp'rate in one prodigy. 
Call an Haruspex quickly : let him get 
Sulphur and torches, and a laurel wet, 
To purify the place : for sure the harms 
This monster will produce transcend his charms. — 
'Tis Nature's masterpiece of Error, this, 

And redeems whatever she did amiss lo 

Before, from wonder and reproach, this last 
Legitimateth all her by-blows past. 
Lo \ here a general Metropolitan, 
And arch-prelatic Presbyterian ! 
Behold his pious garbs, canonic face, 
A zealous Episcopo-mastix Grace — 
A fair blue-apron'd priest, a Lawn-sleeved brother. 
One leg a pulpit holds, a tub the other. 
Let 's give him a fit name now if we can. 
And make th' Apostate once more Christian. 20 

* Proteus ' we cannot call him : he put on 
His change of shapes by a succession, 
Nor ' the Welsh weather-cock ', for that we find 
At once doth only wait upon the wind. 
These speak him not : but if you'll name him right, 
Call him Religion's Hermaphrodite. 
His head i' the sanctified mould is cast, 
Yet sticks th' abominable mitre fast. 
He still retains the ' Lordship' and the 'Grace', 
And yet hath got a reverend elders place. 30 

Such acts must needs be his, who did devise 
By crying altars down to sacrifice 
To private malice ; where you might have seen 
His conscience holocausted to his spleen. 
Unhappy Church ! the viper that did share 
Thy greatest honours, helps to make thee bare, 
And void of all thy dignities and store. 
AJas ! thine own son proves the forest boar. 
And, like the dam-destroying cuckoo, he, 
When the thick shell of his Welsh pedigree 40 

called himself anything but a Royalist, was imprisoned as such, and is said to have 
died of grief (perhaps of compunction) at the King's execution. Also both Lake and 
Drake were Yorkshire men. The piece is vigorous, if not quite Clevelandish in the 
presence of some enjambmcnt, and the absence of extravagant conceit. 

ro whatever] Perhaps we should read ' whatsoe'er'. 15 'garb ' 16^}. 

16 A parody of course on Pr^'nne's Histrio-mastix. 

21 ' he ' = Proteus. Williams went right over. 

23 Williams was very popular with his fellow provincials. He took refuge in Wales 
when the war broke out, and was made a sort of mediator by the Welsh after Naseby. 

26 ' Religion's' /rf/7: ' Religious' i6;i, 16$}. 

27 /6//, i6j) ' r th": but here, as often, the apostrophation ruins the verse. 
30 'hath' i6^i: 'has' 164-], i6;i. 

32 Williams had been chairman of the Committee 'to consider innovations' in 1641. 
His private malice was to Laud. 


On L W, A, B. of York 

By thy warm fostering bounty did divide 

And open — straight thence sprung forth parricide : 

As if 'twas just revenge should be dispatched 

In thee, by th' monster which thyself hadst hatched. 

Despair not though, in Wales there may be got, 

As well as Lincolnshire, an antidote 

'Gainst the foul'st venom he can spit, though 's head 

Were changed from subtle grey to pois'nous red. 

Heaven with propitious eyes will look upon 

Our party, now the cursed thing is gone ; 50 

And chastise Rebels who nought else did miss 

To fill the measure of their sins, but his — 

Whose foul imparalleled apostasy, 

Like to his sacred character, shall be 

Indelible. When ages, then of late 

More happy grown, with most impartial fate 

A period to his days and time shall give. 

He by such Epitaphs as this shall live. 

Here York's great Metropolitan is laid, 

Who God's Anointed, and His Church, betrayed. 60 

Mark Antony. 

When as the nightingale chanted her vespers, 

And the wild forester couched on the ground, 
Venus invited me in th' evening whispers 
Unto a fragrant field with roses crowned, 
Where she before had sent 
My wishes' compliment ; 
Unto my heart's content 
Played with me on the green. 
Never Mark Antony 

Dallied more wantonly 10 

With the fair Egyptian Queen. 

First on her cherry cheeks I mine eyes feasted, 

Thence fear of surfeiting made me retire: 
Next on her warmer lips, which, when I tasted, 
My duller spirits made active as fire. 
Then we began to dart, 
Each at another's heart. 
Arrows that knew no smart. 
Sweet lips and smiles between. 

Never Mark, &c. ^ 20 

46 I am not certain of the meaning. But Lincolnshire (at least Lindsey) was 
strongly Royalist early in the war till Cromwell's successes at Grantham, Lea Moor, 
and Winceby in 1643. 53 164^, i6ji 'unparalleled'. 

Mark Antony. The unusual prosodic interest of this piece, and its companion, has 
been explained in the Introduction. The pair appeared first in 1647 (3rd), where they 
follow The Character of a London Diurnal and precede the Poems. 

14 'warmer' some copies of j6jj : iS^y, i6ji 'warm'. Cf. 'bluer' in the 'Mock 
Song', 1. 14 (below). 15 i6j-j, &c. 'made w« active ' — a bad blunder. 


yohfi Cleveland 

Wanting a glass to plait her amber tresses 

Which like a bracelet rich decked mine arm, 
Gaudier than Juno wears when as she graces 
Jove with embraces more stately than warm, 
Then did she peep in mine 
Eyes' humour crystalline ; 
I in her eyes was seen 
As if we one had been. 
Never Mark, &c. 

■Mystical grammar of amorous glances ; 30 

Feeling of pulses, the physic of love ; 
Rhetorical courtings and musical dances ; 
Numbering of kisses arithmetic prove ; 
Eyes like astronomy ; 
Straight-limbed geometry ; 
In her art's ingeny 
Our wits were sharp and keen. 
Never Mark Antony 
Dallied more wantonly 
With the fair Egyptian Queen. 

The Author's Mock Song to 
Mark Antony. 

When as the night-raven sung Pluto's matins 
And Cerberus cried three amens at a howl, 
When night-wandering witches put on their pattens, 
Midnight as dark as their faces are foul ; 
Then did the furies doom 
That the nightmare was come. 
Such a misshapen groom 
Puts down Su. Pomfret clean. 
Never did incubus 

Touch such a filthy sus 10 

As this foul gypsy quean. 

First on her gooseberry cheeks I mine eyes blasted, 

Thence fear of vomiting made me retire 
Unto her bluer lips, which when I tasted, 

My spirits were duller than Dun in the mire. 

35 ' Straight limb' if>47. 

36 'art's' is 7677 for 'heart's' in 16 fj, rSji, 165J. I rather prefer it, but with 
some doubts. 

37 /<577, &c. emends by substituting ' were ' for 1647, i6;t, j6jj ' are '. 

The Author s Mock Song. In 16 fj this runs on as a continuation of ' Mark Antony '. 

1 j6tj pittidissime ' nighting ilc ', as in the preceding poem. 'Night-raven ' J64J, 
if>;i, i6;j is certainly right. Mr. Berdan's copy seems to have ^ But as', which I 
rather like ; but mine has ' When '. 

2 howl] hole 164J. 

The Aiuhors Mock Song to Mark Anto?ty 

But then her breath took place 
Which went an usher's pace 
And made way for her face ! 
You may guess what I mean. 

Never did, &c. 20 

Like snakes engendering were platted her tresses, 

Or like the slimy streaks of ropy ale ; 
Uglier than Envy wears, when she confesses 
Her head is periwigged with adder's tail. 
But as soon as she spake 
I heard a harsh mandrake. 
Laugh not at my mistake, 
Her head is epicene. 
Never did, &c. 

Mystical magic of conjuring wrinkles ; 30 

Feeling of pulses, the palmistry of hags ; 
Scolding out belches for rhetoric twinkles ; 

With three teeth in her head like to three gags : 
Rainbows about her eyes 
And her nose, weather-wise ; 
From them the almanac lies, 
Frost, Pond, and Rivers clean. 
Never did incubus 
Touch such a filthy sus 
As this foul gypsy quean. 40 

How the Commencement grows new. 

It is no coranto-news I undertake ; 

New teacher of the town I mean not to make ; 

16 16-]^ ' when ', not impossibly. 

21 platted] placed iS^y. 

22 /<5./7, i6ji ' the ' : omitted in i6jj : ' to ' inserted in 1677. 
37 Cf. A Young Man, &c., 1. 13. 

How the Commencement, dfc, belongs to the same group as the Mark Antony 
poems and Square-Cap, and there is the same ambiguity between four anapaests and 
five iambs. You would certainly take line i as it stands in id-j"] with ' 'Tis ' for ' It is ', 
and probably as it stands here, for a heroic if line 2 did not come to undeceive j'ou. 
And this line 2 is bad as either. 

First printed in i6jj. MS. copies are found in Rawlinson MS. Poet. 147, pp. 48-9, 
and Tanner MS. 465, fol. 83, of the Bodleian. Neither copy is good, but each helps 
to restore the text (see 11. 18 and 38). The Tanner MS. also has on fol. 44 an indig- 
nant poem ' Upon Mr. CI. who made a Song against the DD" ', beginning 
Leave off, vain Satirist, and do not think, 
To stain our reverend purple with thy ink. 
It adds the interesting evidence that the poem became a popular song at Cambridge : 
Must gitterns now and fiddles be made fit, 
Be tuned and keyed to sweake [? squeak] a Johnian wit? 
Must now thy poems be made fidlers' notes, 
Puffed with Tobacco through their sooty throats? 


yohn Cleveland 

No New England voyage my Muse does intend ; 
No new fleet, no bold fleet, nor bonny fleet send. 
But, if you'll be pleased to hear out this ditty, 
I'll tell you some news as true and as witty. 
And how the Commencement grows new. 

See how the simony doctors abound, 
All crowding to throw away forty pound. 

They'll now in their wives' stammel petticoats vapour lo 

Without any need of an argument draper. 
Beholding to none, he neither beseeches 
This friend for venison nor t'other for speeches, 
And so the Commencement groivs netv. 

Every twice a day teaching gaffer 
Brings up his Easter-book to chaffer ; 
Nay, some take degrees who never had steeple, — 
Whose means, like degrees, comes from placets of people. 
They come to the fair and, at the first pluck. 
The toll-man Barnaby strikes 'um good luck, 20 

And so the Commencement groivs new. 

The country parsons come not up 
On Tuesday night in their old College to sup ; 
Their bellies and table-books equally full, 
The next lecture-dinner their notes forth to pull ; 
How bravely the Margaret Professor disi)Uted, 
The homilies urged, and the school-men confuted ; 
And so tlie Commencement grows new. 

Are thy strong lines and mighty cart-rope things 
Now spun so small, they'll twist on fiddle strings ? 
Canst thou prove Ballad-poet of the times ? 
Can thy proud fancy stoop to penny rimes? 
(This latter information, as to MSS., is Mr. Simpson's.) 
5 out] but /<5/i. 

9 forty pound] Still the regular doctorate fee, though relatively three or four limes 
heavier then than now. 

JO stammel] Properly a s'.uff ; but, as generally or often red in colour, the colour 

1 1 I am not certain of the meaning of this line though I could conjecture. 
13 nor t'other for speeches] MS. ' that for his breeches '. 

15 I()^]^ inserts ' the ' before ' teaching ', but the absence of the article is much more 

18 The 'Vindicators', in the new bondage of grammar, 'come'. 

Placets] both MSS. : places i6ij: placers i6jj. 'Placets', evidently right, would 
baflic a non-university printer; probably the editors of /<577 attempted to correct it, 
but were again baffled by the printer. 

22 i6yj ' they do not come up' — a natural but unnecessary patching of the line. 

23 old] /<577 own — less well, I think. 
Both MSS. read in II. 22-3 : 

The country parson cometh not up, 
Till Tuesday night in his old College to sup. 
26 ' Margaret ' i6jj : ' Marg'rct ' i6yj. 


How the Commence^nent grows 7tew 

The inceptor brings not his father the clown 
To look with his mouth at his grogoram gown ; 30 

With like admiration to eat roasted beef, 
Which invention posed his beyond-Trent belief; 
Who should he but hear our organs once sound, 
Could scarce keep his hoof from Sellenger's round, 
And so the Commencement grows new. 

The gentleman comes not to show us his satin, 
To look with some judgment at him that speaks Latin, 
To be angry with him that marks not his clothes. 
To answer ' O Lord, Sir ' and talk play-book oaths, 
And at the next bear-baiting (full of his sack) 40 

To tell his comrades our discipline 's slack ; 
And so the Commencement grows new. 

We have no prevaricator's wit. 
Ay, marry sir, when have you had any yet ? 
Besides no serious Oxford man comes 
To cry down the use of jesting and hums. 
Our ballad (believe 't) is no stranger than true ; 
Mum Salter is sober, and Jack Martin too, 
And so the Commencement grows neiv. 

The Hue and Cry after 
Sir John Presbyter. 

With hair in characters and lugs in text ; 
With a splay mouth and a nose circumflexed ; 
With a set ruff of musket-bore that wears 
Like cartridges or linen bandoleers 

29 inceptor] = ' M.A. to be '. 

30 ' o ' of ' grog[o]ram ' usually omitted, but both i6j} and /<?77 have it here. 
32 The North usually salting and boiling its beef? 

38 Tanner MS. has the metrical punctuation 'To be'angry ' found occasionally in 
texts of the time : ' marks ' Tanner MS., all the texts have ' makes '. 
40 at the next bear-baiting] in his next company MSS. 

44 16^} 'we' for ' you ', less pointedly, I think. 

45 Cleveland lived to think better of Oxford — at least to take refuge and be warmly 
welcomed there. There has probably been no time at which either University was 
not convinced that the other, whatever its merits, could not see a joke. 

48 166; (not a very good edition) and the MSS. read ' Mum', which was of course 
the usual short for Edmund. But ' Mum ' in the context is appropriate enough and 
generally read. 

The intense Cambridge flavour of this seems to require special comment by 
a Cambridge man. For the duties of the ' Prevaricator ' refer to Peacock's Observations 
on the Statutes of the University of Cambridge, 1841 (information kindly furnished by 
Mr. A. J. Bartholomew). 

The Hue and Cry. {idjj.) i * in characters '= in shorthand : zdjj has * character', 
wrongly. ' lugs ' = ears. * in text ' = in capitals. 

Cf. Clicvelandi Vindiciae, 1677, P- 122 (Cleveland's letter on a Puritan who had deserted 
' to the Royalists. His officer complained that he had absconded with official money^. : 
' I doubt not, but you will pardon your Man. He hath but transcribed Rebellion, and 
copied out that Disloyalty in Shorthand, which you have committed in Text.' 


jfohn Cleveland 

Exhausted of their sulphurous contents 

In pulpit fireworks, which that bomball vents ; 

The Negative and Covenanting Oath, 

Like two mustachoes issuing from his mouth ; 

The bush upon his chin like a carved story, 

In a box-knot cut by the Directory : lo 

Madam's confession hanging at his ear. 

Wire-drawn through all the questions, how and where; 

Each circumstance so in the hearing felt 

That when his ears are cropped he'll count them gelt ; 

The weeping cassock scared into a jump, 

A sign the presbyter's worn to the stump, — 

The presbyter, though charmed against mischance 

With the divine right of an Ordinance ! 

Jf you meet any that do thus attire 'em. 

Stop them, they are the tribe of Adoniratn. 20 

What zealous frenzy did the Senate seize, 
That tare the Rochet to such rags as these? 
Episcopacy minced, reforming Tweed 
Hath sent us runts even of her Church's breed. 
Lay-interlining clergy, a device 
That 's nickname to the stuff called lops and lice. 
The beast at wrong end branded, you may trace 
The Devil's footsteps in his cloven face; 
A face of several parishes and sorts. 

Like to a sergeant shaved at Inns of Courts. 30 

What mean the elders else, those Kirk dragoons. 
Made up of ears and ruffs like ducatoons ; 
That hierarchy of handicrafts begun ; 
Those New Exchange men of religion ? 
Sure, they're the antick heads, which placed without 
The church, do gape and disembogue a spout. 
Like them above the Commons' House, have been 
So long without ; now both are gotten in. 

Then what imperious in the bishop sounds. 
The same the Scotch executor rebounds ; 40 

This stating prelacy the classic rout 
That spake it often, ere it spake it out. 

(So by an abbey's skeleton of late 

I heard an echo supererogate 

6 'bomball] A compound of ' bomb ' and ' ball '. 

20 Adoniram] Bj-fiekl, a clerk of the Westminster Assembly whose minutes have 
been published in modern limes. A great ejector of the clergy, who unfortunately did 
not live long enough to be ejected himself. 

26 This stuff docs not by any ineans sound nice. 

32 ducatoons] One would fake it that tin- ducatoon had a back view ot" some one's 
head ; but a passage nf Hitdilnas, and Grey's note on it, have complicated the matter 
with a story about the Archduke Albert of Austria, whicii seems to have little if any 
relevance //<rf. 35 antick heads] = ' gargoyles". 

41 classic] As in Milton. Nor is this the only point in which the two old Christ's 
men, now on such opposite sides, agree in the ' New Forcers of Conscience' and this 

The Hue and Cry after Sir jfohn Presbyter 

Through imperfection, and the voice restore, 

As if she had the hiccough o'er and o'er.) 
'Since they our mixed diocesans combine 
Thus to ride double in their disciphne, 
That Paul's shall to the Consistory call 

A Dean and Chapter out of Weavers' Hall, 5° 

Each at the ordinance for to assist 
With the five thumbs of his groat-changing fist. 

Down, Dagon-synod, with thy motley ware. 
Whilst we do swagger for the Common Prayer 
(That dove-like embassy that wings our sense 
To Heaven's gate in shape of innocence) 
Pray for the mitred authors, and defy 
These demicastors of divinity ! 

For, when Sir John with Jack-of-all-trades joins, 
His finger's thicker than the prelates' loins.' 60 

The Antiplatonlc. 

For shame, thou everlasting wooer. 

Still saying grace and never falling to her ! 

Love that 's in contemplation placed 

Is Venus drawn but to the waist. 

Unless your flame confess its gender. 

And your parley cause surrender, 

Y' are salamanders of a cold desire 

That live untouched amidst the hottest fire. 

What though she be a dame of stone. 

The widow of Pygmalion, 10 

As hard and unrelenting she 

As the new-crusted Niobe, 

Or (what doth more of statue carry) 

A nun of the Platonic quarry? 

Love melts the rigour which the rocks have bred — 

A flint will break upon a feather-bed. 

5a 7(5)7 givat-changing — a mere misprint. 

54 do swagger for] iS"]"] most suspiciously improves to '■are choimpions for '. 

irom 1. 43 onwards i6jj has the whole in italics, and it is pretty clear that after the 
first four lines the Echo speaks to the end. The 'Vindicators' do not seem to have 
seen this, though the absence of the quotes above would not prove it. Professor Case, 
however, thinks that ' So ' refers to what precedes, and that in 1. 47 and onwards the 
author and Echo speaks. It is possible. 

The Antiplatonic. {i6sj.) This is a sort of half-way house between Cleveland's 
burlesques and his serious or semi-serious poems like Fuscara. It is also nearer to 
Suckling and the graceful-graceless school than most of his things. It is good. 

2 The alteration of 7677 'and ne'er fall to her ' may be only an example of the 
tendency to ' regularize ' (in this case by the omission of an extra foot). But I confess 
it seems to me better : for the slight irregularity of the construction replaces that of the 
line to advantage. 

ID I don't know whether the conceit of ' P^'gmalion's ividow ' returning to marble 
(or ivory) when her husband-lover's embraces ceased is original with Cleveland. If 
it is, I make him my compliment. There is at any rate no hint of it in Ovid. 


yohn Cleveland 

For shame, you pretty female elves, 

Cease for to candy up your selves ; 

No more, you sectaries of the game, 

No more of your calcining flame ! 2c. 

Women commence by Cupid's dart 

As a king hunting dubs a hart. 

Love's votaries enthral each other's soul, 

Till both of them live but upon parole. 

Virtue's no more in womankind 

But the green-sickness of the mind; 

Philosophy (their new delight) 

A kind of charcoal appetite. 

There 's no sophistry prevails 

Where all-convincing love assails, io 

But the disputing petticoat will warp. 

As skilful gamesters are to seek at sharp. 

The soldier, that man of iron. 

Whom ribs of horror all environ, 

That 's strung with wire instead of veins, 

In whose embraces you're in chains, 

Let a magnetic girl appear, 

Straight he turns Cupid's cuirassier. 

Love storms his lips, and takes the fortress in. 

For all the bristled turnpikes of his chin. 40 

Since love's artillery then checks 

The breastworks of the firmest sex. 

Come, let us in affections riot ; 

Th' are sickly pleasures keep a diet. 

Give me a lover bold and free. 

Not eunuched with formality, 

Like an ambassador that beds a queen 

With the nice caution of a sword between. 

18 /<577 changed the good old '/b»-' to ' thus'. 

19 sectaries ofl = ' heretics in '. 

ao This is good : ' calcining flame ' is good. 

aa ' dubs ' is said to mean ' stabs ', as it certainly means ' strikes ' ; but this seems to 
have little or no appropriateness here and to ignore the quaint conceit of commence ' 
in its academic meaning. ' Women take their degrees by Cupid's dart : as the fact of 
being hunted by a king ennobles a hart.' Cupid = the King of Love. 

34 ' parole ' too has a very delectable double meaning. This poem is really full of 
most cxcrjicnt ditTcrcnres. 

35-9 Tlic lesson of the unrcgeneratc Donne and the never-regenerate Carew. 

3a gamesters] =' fencers '. to seek at sharp] = ' not good at sword-play '. 

33 'The sol di-er'. By the way, did Butler borrow this 'iron' and 'environ 
rhyme from Cleveland ? 

43 Tlic aposlrophaiing mania made /<5y contract to * let's' and spoil the verse. 

44 Th'J here of course «= ' they '. 


Nature s Confectioner^ the Bee 

Fuscara, or the Bee Errant. 

Nature's confectioner, the bee 

(Whose suckets are moist alchemy, 

The still of his refining mould 

Minting the garden into gold). 

Having rifled all the fields 

Of what dainties Flora yields, 

Ambitious now to take excise 

Of a more fragrant paradise, 

At my Fuscara's sleeve arrived 

Where all delicious sweets are hived. lo 

The airy freebooter distrains 

First on the violets of her veins, 

Whose tincture, could it be more pure, 

His ravenous kiss had made it bluer. 

Here did he sit and essence quaff 

Till her coy pulse had beat him off; 

That pulse which he that feels may know 

Whether the world's long-lived or no. 

The next he preys on is her palm, 

That alm'ner of transpiring balm ; ao 

So soft, 'tis air but once removed ; 

Tender as 'twere a jelly gloved. 

Here, while his canting drone-pipe scanned 

The mystic figures of her hand, 

He tipples palmistry and dines 

On all her fortune-telling lines. 

He bathes in bliss and finds no odds 

Betwixt her nectar and the gods', 

Fuscara. {i6ji.') Cleveland's most famous poem of the amatorj'-, as The Rebel Scot is 
of the poUtical, kind. In i6jy and since it has been set in the forefront of his Poems, 
and Johnson draws specially on it for his famous diatribe against the metaphysicals in 
the ' Life of Cowley '. It seems to me inferior both to The Mnses^ Festival and to The 
Antiplatonic, and, as was said in the Introduction, it betrays, to me, something of an 
intention to fool the lovers of a fashionable style to the top of their bent. But it has 
extremely pretty things in it ; and Mr. Addison, who denounced and scorned ' false 
wit', never ' fair-sexed it' in half so poetical a manner. 

2 'Suckets' or ' succades ' should need interpretation to no reader of Robinsoti 
Crusoe : and no one who has not read Robinson Crusoe deserves to be taken into 

13 tincture] Said to be used here in an alchemical sense for ' gold '. But the plain 
meaning is much better. 

18 Although the sense is not quite the same as, it is much akin to, that of Browning's 
question — 

'Who knows but the world may end to night?' 

20 Cleveland of course uses the correct and not the modern and blundering sense of 
' transpire'. 

22 This 'jelly gloved ' is not like 'mobled queen ' or ' calcining flame'. 

25-6 i6jj and its group have a queer misprint (carried out so as toriiyme, but hardly 
possible as a true reading) of ' dives ' and 'lives'. If the3f had had ' In' instead of 
' On ' it would have been on the (metaphysical) cards, especially with 'bathes ' following. 

28 i6jj, less well, ' the nectar '. 


jfohn Cleveland 

He perches now upon her wrist, 

A proper hawk for such a fist, 30 

Making tliat flesh his bill of fare 

Which hungry cannibals would spare; 

Where lilies in a lovely brown 

Inoculate carnation. 

He argent skin with or so streamed 

As if the milky way were creamed. 

From hence he to the woodbine bends 

That quivers at her fingers' ends, 

That runs division on the tree 

Like a thick-branching pedigree. 40 

So 'tis not her the bee devours. 

It is a pretty maze of flowers ; 

It is the rose that bleeds, when he 

Nibbles his nice phlebotomy. 

About her finger he doth cling 

I' th' fashion of a wedding-ring, 

And bids his comrades of the swarm 

Crawl as a bracelet 'bout her arm. 

Thus when the hovering publican 

Had sucked the toll of all her span, 50 

Tuning his draughts with drowsy hums 

As Danes carouse by kettle-drums, 

It was decreed, that posie gleaned, 

'J'he small familiar should be weaned. 

At this the errant's courage quails ; 

Vet aided by his native sails 

The bold Columbus still designs 

To find her undiscovered mines. 

To th' Indies of her arm he flies, 

Fraught both with east and western prize; 60 

Which when he had in vain essayed, 

Armed like a dapper lancepresade 

With Spanish pike, he broached a pore 

And so both made and healed the sore : 

For as in gummy trees there's found 

A salve to issue at the wound. 

Of this her breach the like was true: 

Hence trickled out a balsam, too. 

Hut oh, what wasp was 't that could prove to my (Jueen of Love! 

30 Ncal, i' faith ! 

33 ' a lovely browH ' as bcinj; Fuscara. 
Her' *,*;^'^/''''^''=''""^ '^^'" '"» • i" «™0">-y again ' ; v. sup., p. 25. ' He ' i6ji, i6jj : 

1.^ , -y, Mike'. Some (baddish") editions ' o;/ a brncclet ' 

^ "«"'^<^" ""Other of Cleveland's Shakespearian 

*" cicr (orm is ' lanccprtadc '. 

7*> '^' /A,/ : ' Ratlins' lOj J : corrected in i6-:7. 



Fuscara^ or the Bee Erra?jf 

The King of Bees now 's jealous grown 

Lest her beams should melt his throne, 

And finding that his tribute slacks, 

His burgesses and state of wax 

Turned to a hospital, the combs 

Built rank-and-file like beadsmen's rooms, 

And what they bleed but tart and sour 

Matched with my Danae's golden shower, 

Live-honey all, — the envious elf 

Stung her, 'cause sweeter than himself. 80 

Sweetness and she are so allied 
The bee committed parricide. 

An Elegy upon Doctor Chad[d]erton, the first Master 
of Emanuel College in Cambridge, being above 
an hundred years old when he died. 
(Occasioned by his long-deferred funeral) 

Pardon, dear Saint, that we so late 

With lazy sighs bemoan thy fate. 

And with an after-shower of verse 

And tears, we thus bedew thy hearse. 

Till now, alas ! we did not weep. 

Because we thought thou didst but sleep. 

Thou liv'dst so long we did not know 

Whether thou couldst now die or no. 

We looked still when thou shouldst arise 

And ope the casements of thine eyes. lo 

Thy feet, which have been used so long 

To walk, we thought, must still go on. 

Thine ears, after a hundred year, 

Might now plead custom for to hear. 

Upon thy head that reverend snow 
Did dwell some fifty years ago : 
And then thy cheeks did seem to have 
The sad resemblance of a grave. 

Wert thou e'er young? For truth I hold 
And do believe thou wert born old. ao 

There's none alive, I'm sure, can say 
They knew thee young, but always grey. 

7/ 16"]^, dropping the verb from ' now's ', improves the sense very much. 

An Elegy, &c. This and the following piece are among the disputed poems, but as 
they occur in i6jj I give them, with warning and asterisked. The D. N. B. allows 
(with a ?) 104 years (r536?-i64o) to Chadderton. As the first Master of the House 
of pure Emmanuel he might be supposed unlikely to extract a tear from Cleveland. 
But he had resigned his Mastership nearly twenty years before his death, and that 
death occurred before the troubles became insanabile vultius. There is nothing to 
require special annotation in it, or indeed in either, though in Doctor Chadderiov^ 1. 23, 
one may safely guess that either 'thou ' or 'now' is an intrusion ; in 1. 25 of the same 
that 'son ' should be 'sir', 'sire', 'saint', &c. ; and in I. 29 that ' th' Epitaph' is likelier, 

( 81 ) G lU 

yohn Cleveland 

And dost thou now, venerable oak, 

Decline at Death's unhappy stroke ? 

'Icll me, dear son, why didst thou die 

And leave 's to write an elegy ? 

We're young, alas ! and know thee not. 

Send up old Abrani and grave Lot. 

Let them write thy Epitaph and tell 

The world thy worth ; they kenned thee well. 3° 

When they were boys, they heard thee preach 

And thought an angel did them teach. 

Awake them then : and let them come 
And score thy virtues on thy tomb, 
That we at those may wonder more 
'I'han at thy many years before. 

* Mary's Spikenard. 

Shall I presume, 

Without perfume, 

My Christ to meet 

That is all sweet ? 
No ! I'll make most pleasant posies. 
Catch the breath of new-blown roses, 
Top the pretty merry flowers, 
AN'hich laugh in the fairest bowers. 
Whose sweetness Heaven likes so well, 
It stoops each morn to take a smell. lo 

Then I'll fetch from the Phoenix' nest 
The richest spices and the best. 
Precious ointments I will make ; 
Holy Myrrh and aloes take, 
Vea, costly Spikenard in whose smell 
The sweetness of all odours dwell. 
Ill get a box to keep it in, 
I'ure as his alabaster skin : 
And then to him III nimbly fly 

Before one sickly minute die. jo 

This box I'll break, and on his head 
This precious ointment will I spread, 
Till ev'ry lock and ev'ry hair 
For sweetness with his breath compare : 
Kut sure the odour of his skin 
Smells sweeter than the spice I bring. 


Mary's Spikenard 

Then with bended knee I'll greet 
His holy and beloved feet ; 
I'll wash them with a weeping eye, 

And then my lips shall kiss them dry; 30 

Or for a towel he shall have 
My hair — such flax as nature gave. 

But if my wanton locks be bold, 
And on Thy sacred feet take hold, 
And curl themselves about, as though 
They were loath to let thee go, 

O chide them not, and bid away. 

For then for grief they will grow grey. 

To Julia to expedite her Promise. 

Since 'tis my doom, Love's undershrieve, 

Why this reprieve? 
Why doth my she-advowson fly 

Incumbency ? 
Panting expectance makes us prove 
The antics of benighted love, 
And withered mates when Avedlock joins. 
They're Hymen's monkeys, which he ties by th' loins 
To play, alas ! but at rebated foins. 

To sell thyself dost thou intend 10 

By candle end, 
And hold the contract thus in doubt. 

Life's taper out? 
Think but how soon the market fails ; 
Your sex lives faster than the males ; 
As if, to measure age's span, 
The sober Julian were th' account of man, 
Whilst you live by the fleet Gregorian. 

Now since you bear a date so short, 

Live double for 't. 20 

How can thy fortress ever stand 

If 't be not manned ? 

To Julia, &c. Johnson singled out the opening verse of this as a special example of 
' bringing remote ideas together '. 

I ' Shrieve ' of course = ' Sheriff'. 

3-4 ' advowson' (again of course, but these things get curiously mistaken nowadays) 
= ' right of presenting to or enjoying a benefice '. ' Incumbency ' = ' the actual occupa- 
tion or enjoyment '. Cf. Square-Cap, 11. 37-8. 

9 rebated] The opposite of ' Mwbated' in Hamlet — with the button on. 

II Mr. Pepys on November 6, 1660, watched this process (which was specially 
used in ship-selling) for the first time and with interest. ' candle' i6jj : ' candle's' 

17-18 Not a very happy ' conceiting ' of the fact that in a millennium and a half the 
Julian reckoning had got ten days behindhand. 

( 83 ) G 2 

yohn Cleveland 

The siege so gains upon the place 
Thou'lt find the trenches in thy face. 
Pity thyself then if not me, 
And hold not out, lest like Ostend thou be 
Nothing but rubbish at delivery. 

The candidates of Peter's chair 

Must plead grey hair, 
And use the simony of a cough 3° 

To help them off. 
But when I woo, thus old and spent, 
I'll wed by will and testament. 
No, let us love while crisped and curled ; 
The greatest honours, on the ag^d hurled, 
Are but gay furloughs for another world. 

To-morrow what thou tenderest me 

Is legacy. 
Not one of all those ravenous hours 

But thee devours. 4© 

And though thou still recruited be. 
Like Pelops, with soft ivory. 
Though thou consume but to renew. 
Yet Love as lord doth claim a heriot due ; 
That 's the best quick thing I can find of you. 

I feel thou art consenting ripe 

By that soft gripe, 
And those regealing crystal spheres. 

I hold thy tears 
Pledges of more distilling sweets, 50 

The bath that ushers in the sheets. 
Else pious Julia, angel- wise, 
Moves the Bethesda of her trickling eyes 
To cure the spital world of maladies. 

37 The siege of Ostend '1601-4) lasted three j-ears and seventy-seven days. 
34 Dill a far greater Cambridge poet think of this in writing 
' When the locks are crisp and curl'd?' 

(The Vision of Sin.) 
48 regealing] Cleveland seems to use this unusual word in the sense of ' «»- 

51 t(^^J spoils sense and verse alike by beginning the line with 'Than'. The 
' tears ' art the ' bath '. 


upon Princess Fjlizabeth 
Poems in 1677 but not in 1655, 

Upon Princess Elizabeth, born the night 
before New Year's Day. 

Astrologers say Venus, the self-same star, 
Is both our Hesperus and Lucifer ; 
The antitype, this Venus, makes it true ; 
She shuts the old year and begins the new. 
Her brother with a star at noon was born ; 
She, like a star both of the eve and morn. 
Count o'er the stars, fair Queen, in babes, and vie 
With every year a new Epiphany. 

The General Eclipse. 

Ladies that gild the glittering noon, 
And by reflection mend his ray. 
Whose beauty makes the sprightly sun 
To dance as upon Easter-day, 
What are you now the Queen's away? 

Courageous Eagles, who have whet 
Your eyes upon majestic light, 
And thence derived such martial heat 
That still your looks maintain the fight, 

What are you since the King's good-night ? lo 

Cavalier-buds, whom Nature teems 
As a reserve for England's throne, 
Spirits whose double edge redeems 
The last Age and adorns your own, 
What are you now the Prince is gone ? 

As an obstructed fountain's head 
Cuts the entail off from the streams, 
And brooks are disinherited. 
Honour and Beauty are mere dreams 

Since Charles and Mary lost their beams ! ao 

Upon Princess Elizabeth. Not before iS-j-j. This slight thing is inaccurately entitled, 
for the Princess was born on December 26, 1638. 

I The rhyme of ' star' and ' Lucifer', which occurs (with ' traveller') in Dryden, is — 
like all Cleveland's rhymes, I think without exception — perfectly sound on the general 
principle then observed, and observed partly at all times, that a vowel may, for rhyming 
purposes, take the sound that it has in a similar connexion but in another ivord. 

5 brother] Charles II. 

The General Eclipse. The poem is of course a sort of variation or scherzo on ' You 
meaner beauties of the night '. 

20 We are so accustomed to the double name ' Henrietta Maria ' that the simple 
' Queen Mary ' may seem strange. But it was the Cavalier word at Naseby. 


yohn Cleveland 

Criminal Valours, who commit 
Your gallantry, whose paean brings 
A psalm of mercy after it, 
In this sad solstice of the King's, 
Your victory hath mewed her wings ! 

See, how your soldier wears his cage 

Of iron like the captive Turk, 

And as the guerdon of his rage ! 

See, how your glimmering Peers do lurk, 

Or at the best, work journey-work ! 30 

Thus 'tis a general eclipse, 
And the whole world is al-a-mort ; 
Only the House of Commons trips 
The stage in a triumphant sort. 

Now e'en John Lilburn take 'em for 't ! 

Upon the King's Return from Scotland. 

Returned, I'll ne'er believe 't ; first prove him hence ; 

Kings travel by their beams and influence. 

Who says the soul gives out her gests, or goes 

A flitting progress 'twixt the head and toes? 

She rules by omnipresence, and shall we 

Deny a prince the same ubiquity ? 

Or grant he went, and, 'cause the knot was slack. 

Girt both the nations with his zodiac, 

Yet as the tree at once both upward shoots. 

And just as much grows downward to the roots, 10 

So at the same time that he posted thither 

By counter-stages he rebounded hither. 

Hither and hence at once ; thus every sphere 

Doth by a double motion interfere; 

And when his native form inclines him east. 

By the first mover he is ravished west. 

Have you not seen how the divided dam 

Runs to the summons of her hungry lamb ; 

But when the twin cries halves, she quits the first ? 

Nature's commendam must be likewise nursed. 20 

So were his journeys like the spider spun 

Out of his bowels of compassion. 

3a al-a-mort] Formerly quite naturalized, especially in the form all-amort. See 
A'. E. D., s. V. ' Alimort'. 

Upon the King's Relurn. f<^f. In 1641 — an ill-omened and unsuccessful journey, whicli 
lasted from Anpust to November. The piece is one of the very few of those in 
CUavelan/i Revived acknowledged and admitted by Clievelnndi Vindiciae. 

3 '^'ff) ' ghcsts ' ; T663, 166S ' pucsts ' ; i6jj ' gests '. See A^. E. D., s. v. ' gest ' sb.*. 
which defines it as ' the various stages of a journey, especially of a royal progress ; the 
route followed or planned '. 

ao commendnm] (misprinted ' -dum ' from /6j/) to i6jj), A benefice held with 
another; something additional. 

a I 'spider' i6jj ; 'spider's' i^jp, 1662, 166S. 


upon the King's Return from Scotlaitd 

Two realms, like Cacus, so his steps transpose, 

His feet still contradict him as he goes. 

England 's returned that was a banished soil. 

The bullet flying makes the gun recoil. 

Death 's but a separation, though endorsed 

With spade and javelin ; we were thus divorced. 

Our soul hath taken wing while we express 

The corpse, returning to our principles. 30 

But the Crab-tropic must not now prevail ; 

Islands go back but when you're under sail. 

So his retreat hath rectified that wrong ; 

Backward is forward in the Hebrew tongue. 

Now the Church Militant in plenty rests, 

Nor fears, like th' Amazon, to lose her breasts. 

Her means are safe; not squeezed until the blood 

Mix with the milk and choke the tender brood. 

She, that hath been the floating ark, is that 

She that's now seated on Mount Ararat. 40 

Quits Charles ; our souls did guard him northward thus 

Now he the counterpart comes south to us. 

Poems certainly or almost certainly Cleveland's 
but not included in 1653 or 1677. 

An Elegy on Ben Jonson. 

Who first reformed our stage with justest laws. 
And was the first best judge in his own cause ; 
Who, when his actors trembled for applause, 

25 ' banished ' /«577 : ' barren ' i6;g, 1662, 1668. 

30 In this very obscure and ultra-Clevelandian line 7^77 reads 'their'. I think 'our' 
— the reading of Cleaveland Revived, followed by 1662 and 1668 — is better. But tlie 
whole poem f one of Cleveland's earliest political attempts) is weak and pithless. 

33 ' that ' 168-] : ' the ' i6jp, 1662, 1668. 

42 ' counterpart ' 7(577 : ' counterpane^ i6jp, 1662, 1668. 

Poems, &c. I have been exceedinglycharyofadmissionunderthishead.forthere seems 
to me to be no reasonable via media between such severity and the complete reprinting 
of i68j — with perhaps the known larcenies in that and its originals left out. Thus, 
of eleven poems given — but as 'not in 7(577' — bj' Mr. Berdan I have kept but three, 
besides one or two which, though not in iS-jy, are in 7(5/j, and so appear above. Of 
these the Jonson Elegy from Jonsonus Virbius is signed, and as well authenticated as 
anything can be ; News from Newcastle is quoted by Johnson and therefore of importance 
to students of the Lives. The Elegy upon Charles I is in 16^4 among the poems 
which that collection adds to 7(5//, is very like him, and relieves Cleveland partly, if not 
wholly, from the charge of being wanting to the greatest occasion of his life and calling. 

An Elegy, &c. Although this appears neither in 7(5/^ nor in 7677, it is included, 
with some corruptions not worth noting, in some editions both before and after the 

2 Orig., by a slip, 'your own cause'. Cleveland may have meant to address the 
poet throughout, or till the last verse ; but, if so, he evidently changed his mind. 


yohft CIevela?id 

Could (with a noble confidence) prefer 
His own, by right, to a whole theatre; 
From principles which he knew could not err: 

Who to his fable did his persons fit, 
With all the properties of art and wit, 
And above all that could be acted, writ: 

Who public follies did to covert drive, lo 

Which he again could cunningly retrive, 
Leaving them no ground to rest on and thrive : 

Here JONSON lies, whom, had I named before, 
In that one word alone I had paid more 
Than can be now, when plenty makes me poor. 

J. Cl. 

News from Newcastle : 
Upon the Coal-pits about Newcastle-upon-Tyne. 

England's a perfect world, has Indies too; 

Correct your maps, Newcastle is Peru ! 

Let th' haughty Spaniard triumph till 'tis told 

Our sooty min'rals purify his gold. 

This will subUme and hatch the abortive ore, 

When the sun tires and stars can do no more. 

No ! mines are current, unrefined, and gross ; 

Coals make the sterling. Nature but the dross. 

For metals, Bacchus-like, two births approve; 

Heaven's heat's the Semele, and ours the Jove. lo 

Thus Art doth polish Nature ; 'tis her trade : 

So every madam has her chambermaid. 

Who'd dote on gold ? A thing so strange and odd, 
'Tis most contemptible when made a god ! 

latter. Gifford ascribed to Cleveland another unsigned Elegy in Jonsonus Virbius and 
one of the Odes to Ben Jonson on his own Ode to himself, 'Come, quit the loathed 
stage'. There is no authority for the ascription in either case, and the styles of both 
pieces are as unlike as possible to Cleveland's. 

News from Newcastle, if not Cleveland's, is infinitely more of a Clevelandism than 
anv other attributed piece, either in the untrustworthy (or rather upside-down- 
trustworthyl Cleavdand Revived or elsewhere. It first appeared as a quarto pamphlet, 
'London. Printed in the year 1651. By William Ellis', and with a headline to the 
poem 'Upon the Coalpits about Newcastle-upon-Tyne'. This quarto furnishes the 
only sound text. It was reprinted very corruptly in Cleavelattd Revived, j66o, and thence 
in the editions of 1662, 1668, i6Sj, and later. A collation of 1660 is given. Title in 
7 ($60 ' News from Newcastle, Or, Newcastle Coal-pits'. MS. Rawlinson Poet. 65 of 
the Bodleian has a version agreeing in the main with 1660. 

I has] hath 1660, MS. 5 * obortive ' 1668. 

7 j6j/, later texts, and MS. * No mines', which has no meaning without a stop or 
interjection. 8 ' nature's' MS. 

10 ' Heaven heats ' 1660. The mine is the womb of Semele warmed by the sun : the 
furnace the thigh of Jove heated by coaL 

II her] the j66o : its ^5. 12 has] hath 1660, MS. 


News from Newcastle 

All sins and mischiefs thence have rise and swell; 

One Indies more would make another Hell. 

Our mines are innocent, nor will the North 

Tempt poor mortality with too much worth. 

Th' are not so precious ; rich enough to fire 

A lover, yet make none idolater. 20 

The moderate value of our guiltless ore 

Makes no man atheist, nor no woman whore. 

Yet why should hallowed Vesta's glowing shrine 

Deserve more honour than a flaming mine ? 

These pregnant wombs of heat would fitter be, 

Than a few embers, for a deity. 

Had he our pits, the Persian would admire 

No sun, but warm 's devotion at our fire. 

He'd leave the trotting Whipster, and prefer 

This profound Vulcan 'bove that Wagoner. 30 

For wants he heat, or light ? would he have store 

Of both? 'Tis here. And what can suns give more? 

Nay, what 's that sun but, in a different name, 

A coal-pit rampant, or a mine on flame? 

Then let this truth reciprocally run, 

The sun 's Heaven's coalery, and coals our sun ; 

A sun that scorches not, locked up i' th' deep; 

The bandog 's chained, the lion is asleep. 

That tyrant fire, which uncontrolled doth rage. 

Here 's calm and hushed, like Bajazet i' th' cage. 40 

For in each coal-pit there doth couchant dwell 

A muzzled Etna, or an innocent Hell. 

Kindle the cloud, you'll lightning then descry; 

Then will a day break from the gloomy sky ; 

Then you'll unbutton though December blow, 

And sweat i' th' midst of icicles and snow ; 

The dog-days then at Christmas. Thus is all 

The year made June and equinoctial. 

If heat offend, our pits afford us shade. 

Thus summer's winter, winter 's summer made. 50 

What need we baths, what need we bower or grove? 

A coal-pit 's both a ventiduct and stove. 

15 * sin and mischief hence ' 1660 : * sin and mischief thence ' MS. 

16 Indies] India 1660. 17 mines] times MS. 

19 1660 ' so ' : 16^1 * too ', unconsciously repeating the ' too much ' of 1. 18. 

20 none] no MS. 

22 Simply an adaptation of the earlier conclusion — 

' Should make men atheists and not women whores '. 

23 Vesta's glowing] Vestals' sacred 1660. shrine] shine MS. 

29 trotting Whipster] Phoebus, of course. 30 This] Our 1660, MS. 

31 light? would he] light, or would 1660. store] Misprinted 'more' in i6ji. 

32 suns] Sun MS. 33 that] the 1660. 34 on flame] or flame j66o. 

36 coalery] Original and pleasing. * Collier' is used below. 

37 scorches] scorcheth 1660, MS. 38 bandog's] lion's 1660. lion] bandog j66tj. 
42 or] and MS. 43 the] this MS. 45 ' Unhoitom,' by evident error, in 166S. 
47 Thus] Then MS. 49 ' offends ' 1660. 'affords ' 1660, 


yohn Cleveland 

Such pits and caves were palaces of old; 

Poor inns, God wot, yet in an age of gold ; 

And what would now be thought a strange design, 

To build a house was then to undermine. 

People lived under ground, and happy dwellers 

Whose jovial habitations were all cellars ! 

These primitive times were innocent, for then 

Man, who turned after fox, hut made his den. 60 

But see a fleet of rivals trim and fine, 
To court the rich infanta of our mine; 
Hundreds of grim Leanders dare confront, 
For this loved Hero, the loud Hellespont. 
'Tis an armado royal doth engage 
For some new Helen with this equipage ; 
Prepared too, should we their addresses bar. 
To force their mistress with a ten years' war, 
But that our mine 's a common good, a joy 
Made not to ruin but enrich our Troy. 7^ 

Thus went those gallant heroes of old Greece, 
The Argonauts, in quest o' th' Golden Fleece. 
But oh ! these bring it with 'em and conspire 
To pawn that idol for our smoke and fire. 
Silver 's but ballast ; this they bring ashore 
That they may treasure up our better ore. 
For this they venter rocks and storms, defy 
All the extremities of sea and sky. 
For the glad purchase of this precious mould. 
Cowards dare pirates, misers part with gold. 80 

Hence 'tis that when the doubtful ship sets forth 
The knowing needle still directs it north. 
And Nature's secret wonder, to attest 
Our Indies' worth, discards both east and west. 

For 'tis not only fire commends this spring, 
A coal-pit is a mine of everything. 
We sink a jack-of-all-trades shop, and sound 
An inversed Burse, an Exchange under ground. 
This Proteus earth converts to what you'd ha' 't ; 
Now you may weave 't to silk, then coin 't to plate, 90 

60 l>ut m.Tlcj made but 1660, MS. 61 rivals] vitals 1660. 

63 H.irr] <la ift6o. 68 their] this 1660, MS. 

71-a Omittrd in tf>f»^ and nil later tcxt=!. if>;t misprints ' Argeiiaiits '. 

•]-\ 'cm] them jMo. MS. 75 ashore] on shore 1660, MS. 

76 better] richer MS. 78 extremities] extremity 1660. 

8i 'li"! that") is it r6fio, MS. 82 knowing] naving 1660 : knavish MS. 

8i wonder] wonders r66o. 84 both] with MS. 

fis For 'tis not] For Tyne. Not 1660 (without the period at 1. 84^, MS. 

86 ofi for rfiAo. 

87 i^iff mispunctuatcs with a comma at 'sink'; 7<$(5o adds comma at 'jack-of-all- 
trades' and '"(ound' : MS. punctuates correctly. 

88 inversed] inverse t66o. 89 you'd] you'l 1660. 
90 weave 't] wear't r66o. then] now 1660. coin 't] com't 1660. 


News from Newcastle 

And, what 's a metamorphosis more dear, 

Dissolve it and 'twill melt to London beer. 

For whatsoe'er that gaudy city boasts, 

Each month derives to these attractive coasts. 

We shall exhaust their chamber and devour 

Their treasures of Guildhall, the Mint, the Tower. 

Our staiths their mortgaged streets will soon divide, 

Blathon owe Cornhill, Stella share Cheapside. 

Thus will our coal-pits' charity and pity 

At distance undermine and fire the City. loa 

Should we exact, they'd pawn their wives and treat 

To swap those coolers for our sovereign heat. 

'Bove kisses and embraces fire controls ; 

No Venus heightens like a peck of coals. 

Medea was the drudge of some old sire 

And Aeson's bath a lusty sea-coal fire. 

Chimneys are old men's mistresses, their inns, 

A modern dalliance with their measled shins. 

To all defects the coal-heap brings a cure. 

Gives life to age and raiment to the poor, iro 

Pride first wore clothes ; Nature disdains attire ; 

She made us naked 'cause she gave us fire. 

Full wharfs are wardrobes, and the tailor's charm 

Belongs to th' collier; he must keep us warm. 

The quilted alderman with all 's array 

Finds but cold comfort on a frosty day ; 

Girt, wrapped, and muffled, yet with all that stir 

Scarce warm when smoth'red in his drowsy fur ; 

Not proof against keen Winter's batteries 

Should he himself wear all 's own liveries, i:o 

But chilblains under silver spurs bewails 

And in embroid'red buckskins blows his nails. 

Rich meadows and full crops are elsewhere found : 
We can reap harvest from our barren ground. 
The bald parched hills that circumscribe our Tyne 
Are no less fruitful in their hungry mine. 

gr And] Or MS. 92 melt] turn 'i66o, MS. 93 boasts] boast 1660. 

94 derives] doth drive 1660, MS. these] our 1660, MS. coasts] coast 1660. 

96 treasures] treasure 1660, MS. the Mint, the] and mint o' th' 1660, MS. 

97 staiths] Wooden erections projecting into the river, wliich were used to store 
the coal and fitted with spouts for shooting it into the ships. divide] deride 1660. 

98 'Blathon their Cornhill, Stella' MS: 'Blazon their Cornhill-stella,' 1660. 
Blathon, now Blaydon, the mining district. 'owe' = own. 'Stella ' Hall, near Blai'don, 
was a nunnery before the Dissolution, when it passed into the hands of the Tempests. 
(Mr. Nichol Smith kindly supplied this information.) 

102 swap] swop 1660. 105 drudge] drugge 1660, MS. 

109 the] a i6^(p. brings] gives 1660, MS. no life] youth 1660. 

113 tailor's] sailor's MS. 115 with] in 1660. 116 on] in 1660, MS. 

117 that] this 1660. 

119 Not] Nor'st MS. ' proof enough' 76//: 'enough' is omitted in 1660, nnd 
deleted by a seventeenth-century corrector in the Bodleian copy of 16^1. 

121 chilblains] chilblain 1660. 126 fruitful] pregnant 1660. 


yohn Cleveland 

Their unfledged tops so well content our palates, 

We envy none their nosegays and their sallets. 

A gay rank soil like a young gallant grows 

And spends itself that it may wear fine clothes, 130 

Whilst all its worth is to its back confined. 

Our wear 's plain outside, but is richly Uned ; 

Winter's above, 'tis summer underneath, 

A trusty morglay in a rusty sheath. 

As precious sables sometimes interlace 

A wretched serge or grogram cassock case. 

Rocks own no spring, are pregnant with no showers. 

Crystals and gems grow there instead of flowers ; 

Instead of roses, beds of rubies sweat 

And emeralds recompense the violet. 140 

Dame Nature not, like other madams, wears. 

Where she is bare, pearls on her breasts or ears. 

What though our fields present a naked sight? 

A paradise should be an adamite. 

The northern lad his bonny lass throws down 

And gives her a black bag for a green gown. 

An Elegy upon King Charles the 

First, murdered publicly by 

his Subjects. 

Were not my faith buoyed up by sacred blood. 

It might be drowned in this prodigious flood ; 

Which reason's highest ground doth so exceed, 

It leaves my soul no anch'rage but my creed; 

Where my faith, resting on th' original. 

Supports itself in this, the copy's fall. 

So while my faith floats on that bloody wood, 

My reason 's cast away in this red flood 

Which near o'erflows us all. Those showers past 

Made but land-floods, which did some valleys waste. 10 

128 and] or MS. 

134 Cleveland has used ' morglay', Bevis's sword, as a common noun elsewhere ; but 
of course an imitalor might seize on this. 

138 grow] are 1660. 

139 sweat] sweet 1668^ t68-j, MS. 

142 on] in 1660, or] and 1660. ' breasts, not ears ' MS. 

145-6 Or as a modern Newcastle song, more decently but less picturesquely, puts 
it in the lass's own mouth — 

' He sits in his hole, 
As black as a coal, 
And brings the white money to me — O!' 
Alt Elegy, {^c. See above. First printed in Monumentum Regale, 164^, p. 49 ; tlien 
in the /6/y edition of Cleveland. 

3 i(>;4, i6;j, i66() 'doth'. Other (it is true inferior) texts, such as /<5/p, 7<56j, and 
the successors of i6-]-], ' do ' : which any one who has ever read his Pepys must know 
to be possible in the singular. 


An Elegy upon King Charles the First 

This stroke hath cut the only neck of land 

Which between us and this red sea did stand, 

That covers now our world which cursed lies 

At once with two of Egypt's prodigies 

(O'ercast with darkness and with blood o'errun), 

And justly since our hearts have theirs outdone. 

Th' enchanter led them to a less known ill 

To act his sin, than 'twas their king to kill; 

Which crime hath widowed our whole nation, 

Voided all forms, left but privation 20 

In Church and State; inverting every right; 

Brought in Hell's state of fire without light. 

No wonder then if all good eyes look red. 

Washing their loyal hearts from blood so shed ; 

The which deserves each pore should turn an eye 

To weep out even a bloody agony. 

Let nought then pass for music but sad cries. 

For beauty bloodless cheeks and blood-shot eyes. 

All colours soil but black ; all odours have 

111 scent but myrrh, incens'd upon this grave. 30 

It notes a Jew not to believe us much 

The cleaner made by a religious touch 

Of this dead body, whom to judge to die 

Seems the Judaical impiety. 

To kill the King, the Spirit Legion paints 

His rage with law, the Temple and the saints. 

But the truth is, he feared and did repine 

To be cast out and back into the swine. 

And the case holds, in that the Spirit bends 

His malice in this act against his ends; 40 

For it is like the sooner he'll be sent 

Out of that body he would still torment. 

Let Christians then use otherwise this blood ; 

Detest the act, yet turn it to their good; 

Thinking how like a King of Death he dies 

We easily may the world and death despise. 

Death had no sting for him and its sharp arm, 

Only of all the troop, meant him no harm. 

And so he looked upon the axe as one 

Weapon yet left to guard him to his throne. 50 

In his great name then may his subjects cry, 

'Death, thou art swallowed up in victory.' 

If this, our loss, a comfort can admit, 

'Tis that his narrowed crown is grown unfit 

For his enlarged head, since his distress 

Had greatened this, as it made that the less. 

His crown was fallen unto too low a thing 

For him who was become so great a king. 

33 ' this ' 164^ : ' their ' 16$) and later editions. 
35 paints =' tries to disguise'. 


yohn Cleveland 

So the same hands enthroned him in that crown 

They had exalted from him, not pulled down. 60 

And thus God's truth by them hath rendered more 

Than e'er man's falsehood promised to restore; 

Which, since by death alone he could attain, 

Was yet exempt from weakness and from pain. 

Death was enjoined by God to touch a part, 

Might make his passage quick, ne'er move his heart. 

Which even expiring was so far from death 

It seemed but to command away his breath. 

And thus his soul, of this her triumph proud. 

Broke like a flash of lightning through the cloud 70 

Of flesh and blood ; and from the highest line 

Of human virtue, passed to be divine. 

Nor is 't much less his virtues to relate 

Than the high glories of his present state. 

Since both, then, pass all acts but of belief, 

Silence may praise the one, the other grief. 

And since upon the diamond no less 

Than diamonds will serve us to impress, 

I'll only wish that for his elegy 

This our Josias had a Jeremy. 80 


Since these sheets were last revised, and when they were ready for press, Mr. 
Simpson discovered and communicated to me some variants (from Bodley MSS.) of 
Cleveland's pieces on Chadderton {v. sup. p. 81) and Williams (p. 69). His note is as 
follows : 

"There is a version of the Elegy upon Doctor Chadderton (page 81) in Ashmole MS. 
36-7, fol. 263. After I. 14 four lines are inserted : 

We thought, for so we would it have, 
Thou hadst outlived death and the grave, 
Hadst been past dying, and by thine own 
Brave virtue been immortal grown. 
Not very brilliant, but no one would have any motive for interpolating such lines. 
Further, 11. 17-18 are omitted. 

25 ' dear S°'.' i.e. as conjectured in the note, ' Saint.' 

30 ' Kend ' written in a larger hand, with a view to emphasis. Query, a favourite 
word of Chadderton ? 

In the same MS. is a version of the poem on Archbishop Williams (p. 69). Most 
readings are bad, but the following are noteworthy : 

4 concorporate one. 11 And vindicate whate'er. 

55 when happier ages (which of late 

The viper cherish'd) with unpartial fate." 





R Y 


E S 03^ IRE. 

§lucc mea culpa tamen^ i^^lftfi ^^f{/f^ vocari 
Culpa poteji : n/Ji culpa poteB <^ amafle^ vocari? 

Tout vient a poind: qui peut attendre. 

Printed for the Author^ 

and his Friends^ 1(547. 


B Y 



^iC mea culpa tamen:, nifi filufijfe vocari 
Culpa potejl: nifi culpa potejl ^ amajfe, vocari? 

Printed in the Year, 


Thomas Stanley, poet, scholar, translator, and historian of philosophy, 
occupies a position in literary history, and in the general knowledge cf 
fairly instructed people, which is less unenviable than that of Cleveland, almost 
equally curious, but more distinctly accidental. In a way — in more ways 
than one — he cannot be said to be exactly unknown. Everybody who has. 
received the once usual ' liberal education', if not directly acquainted with his 
work on classical literature, has seen his History of Philosophy referred to in 
later histories ; and his notes on Aeschylus quoted, and sometimes fought 
over, in later editions. His translations have attained a place in that private- 
adventure Valhalla of English translations — Bohn's Library. A few at least 
of his poems are in all or most of the anthologies. Not many writers have 
such an anchor with four flukes, lodged in the general memory, as this. 
And yet there are probably few people who have any very distinct knowledge 
or idea of his work as a whole ; his Poems (until a time subsequent to the 
original promise of them in this Collection) had never been issued since his 
own day save in one of the few-copied reprints of the indefatigable Sir 
Egerton Brydges ; and he makes small figure in most literary histories. 

The reasons of this, however, are not very far to seek. For a very 
considerable time during the later seventeenth and the whole of the eigh- 
teenth century, if not later, Stanley was a recognized authority on history and 
scholarship : but during this time a philosopher and a scholar would have 
been usually thought to derogate, strangely and not quite pardonably, by 
writing and translating love poetry in a style of * false wit ' the most contrary 
to the precepts of Mr. Addison. We cannot even be sure that Stanley himself 
would not have been short-sighted enough to feel a certain shame at his 
\\zxxi\\z%?. fredaines in verse, for he certainly never published or fully collected 
them at all after he was six and twenty, though he lived to double that 
age. He seems, moreover, though most forward to help other men of 
letters, to have been in all other ways a decidedly retiring person — a man of 
books rather than of affairs. Though an unquestioned Royalist, and not 
accused of any dishonourable compliance, he seems to have been quite undis- 
turbed during the Civil War, no doubt because of his observation of the 
precept \a.Q^ /^iwo-a?. In short, he took no trouble to keep himself before 
any public except the public of letters, and the public of letters chose to 
keep him only in his capacity as scholar. 

If, however, he put himself not forward it was not for want of means and 
(97) H HI 

Thomas Stanley 

opportunity to do so. After some mistakes about his genealogy, it has been 
made certain that he was descended, though with the bend sinister, from 
the great house that bears the same name, and through a branch which 
enriched itself by commerce and settled in Hertfordshire and Essex. His 
mother was a Hammond of the family which has been referred to in dealing 
with his uncle the poet (vol. ii), and he was also connected with Sandys, 
Ix)velace, and Sherburne, all of whom were his intimate friends, as were 
John Hall and Shirley the dramatist. He seems always to have been 
a man of means : and used them liberally, though less thoughtlessly than 
Benlowes, in assisting brother men of letters. He is not said to have been 
at any of the great schools, but his private tutor William Fairfax (son of 
Edward of Tasso fame) appears to have grounded him thoroughly in scholar- 
ship. At thirteen he went to Pembroke College (then Hall), Cambridge, 
entering in June 1639 and matriculating in December, He is said to have 
entered at Oxford next year. He was co-opted at Cambridge in 1642 as 
(apparently) a gentleman pensioner or commoner. He married early, his 
wife's name being Dorothy Enyon, and they had several children, of whom 
four survived him when he died, in 1678, at Suffolk Street, St. Martin's-in- 

There is a tendency — which is perhaps rather slightly unfair than 
positively unjust — to suspect a poet who is specially given to translation ; 
and not exactly to discard the suspicion in the ratio of his excellence as 
a translator. The reason behind this is sufficient, as has been said, to free 
it from the charge of positive injustice as a general rule, for it may be 
plausibly contended that a true poet, with nature and his own soul to draw 
upon, will not experience any great necessity to go to some one else for 
matter. But these general rules are always dangerous in particular 
application, and therefore it has been said that the notion is not quite fair. 
In fact, if it is examined as it does apply to individuals, it becomes clear 
that it will not do as a general rule at all — that like some other general 
rules it is practically useless. That Chaucer was grant translateur may 
be said to be neither here nor there in the circumstances. But Spenser 
did not disdain translation ; Dryden evidently did it for love as well as 
for money, though the latter may have been its chief attraction for Pope ; 
and a poet such as Shelley, who was very nearly the poet, by no means 
despised it. 

When, however, we come to examine Stanley's work we may perhaps 
discover something in the very excellence of his translations which connects 
itself usefully with his original poems. These translations are excellent 
because he has almost unerringly selected writers who are suitable to the 
poetical style of his own day, and has transposed them into English verse 
of that style. But in his original poems there is perhaps a little too much 



suggestion of something not wholly dissimilar. They are (pretty as they 
almost always are, and beautiful as they sometimes are) a little devoid 
of the spontaneity and e'lati which distinguish the best things of the time 
from Carew and Crashaw down to Kynaston and John Hall. There is 
a very little of the exercise about them. Moreover, not quite as a necessary 
consequence of this, there is a want of decided character. Stanley is 
much more a typical minor Caroline poet than he is Stanley, and so much 
must needs be said critically in these volumes on the type that it seems 
unnecessary to repeat it on an individual who gives that type with 
little idiosyncrasy, even while giving it in some abundance and with real 
charm. Only let it be added that we could not have a better foil to 
Cleveland, who, though unpolished, is always ' Manly, Sir, manly ! ' than 
this scholarly and graceful but somewhat epicene poet. 

There are, however, some peculiarities about his work which made me slow 
to make up my mind about the fashion of presenting it. His translations 
are numerous : but this collection was not originally intended to include 
translations unless they were inextricably connected with issues of original 
work, or where, as in Godolphin's case, there was a special reason. 
Further, the translations, which are from a large number of authors, ancient 
and modern, sometimes include prose as well as verse. Thirdly, even 
the original poems were cross-issued in widely different arrangements. In 
short, the thing was rather a muddle, and though no one has occupied me 
in my various visits to the British Museum and the Bodleian during the 
past ten or twelve years oftener than Stanley, I postponed him from 
volume to volume. At last, and very recendy a feasible plan suggested 
itself— to give the edition of 165 1 as Brydges had done, this being after all 
the only one which at once represents revision and definite literary 
purpose, and to let the translations in this represent — as the poet seems 
himself to have selected them to do — his translating habits and studies. 
Before these I have printed the original poems of the first or 1647 edition, 
and after them the few which he seems to have allowed to be added to the 
set versions in Gamble's Airs and Dialogues ten years later. I think this 
will put Stanley on a fair level with the rest of our flock. Those who 
want his classical translations from Anacreon, Ausonius, the Idylls, and 
the Pervigilium, as well as from Johannes Secundus, will not have much 
difficulty in finding them ; and I did not see my way to load this volume 
with Preti's Oronta, Montalvan's Aurora, &c. The bibliography of these 
things is rather complicated, and I do not pretend to have followed it out 
exhaustively. In fact this is certainly the case as far as my own collations of 
1647, made at the British Museum, and those furnished me from the Bod- 
leian copy are concerned.^ But the differences are rarely of importance. 

1 I am informed by three subsequent collators more experienced in such work than 
( 99 ) « 2 

Thomas Stanley 

1647,3 private issue, was reprinted in 1650 and 1651: while Gamble's 
Airs and Dialogues appeared in 1656 and was reissued with a fresh title- 
page in 1657. In the latter year Stanley furnished another composer — 
John Wilson, Professor of Music at Oxford — with the letterpress of 
Psalterijan Carolinum, the King's devotions from the Eikon versified. 
His History of Philosophy appeared in 1655 : his Aeschylus in 1663. 

Some years ago (London, 1893) a beautiful illustrated edition of his 
Anacreon appeared, and more recently — but, as I have noted, after the 
announcement of this collection — a carefully arranged and collated edition 
of the original Lyrics with a few selected translations (Tutin, Hull, 1907), 
edited by Miss L. Imogen Guiney. I have not found Miss Guiney's work 
useless, and if I have occasionally had to question her emendations that is 
only a matter of course. 

myself — Mr. Percy Simpson, Mr. Thorn-Drury, and a Clarendon Press reader — that 
they have not found some differences which my own comparison-notes of some years 
ago seemed to show between the British Museum and the Bodleian copies of 1647. 
No doubt they are right. Some of the dates given above have also been corrected by 

( 'oo ) 



No, no, poor blasted Hope ! 
Since I (with thee) have lost the scope 
Of all my joys, I will no more 

Vainly implore 
The unrelenting Destinies : 
He that can equally sustain 
The strong assaults of joy or pain, 
May safely laugh at their decrees. 

Despair, to thee I bow, 
Whose constancy disdains t' allow lo 

Those childish passions that destroy 

Our fickle joy; 
How cruel Fates so e'er appear, 
Their harmless anger I despise, 
And fix'd, can neither fall nor rise. 
Thrown below hope, but rais'd 'bove fear. 

The Picture, 

Thou that both feel'st and dost admire 
The flames shot from a painted fire, 
Know Celia's image thou dost see : 
Not to herself more like is she. 
He that should both together view 
AVould judge both pictures, or both true. 
But thus they differ : the best part 
Of Nature this is ; that of Art. 


Whence took the diamond worth? the borrow'd rays 
That crystal wears, whence had they first their praise? 
W^hy should rude feet contemn the snow's chaste white. 
Which from the sun receives a sparkling light. 
Brighter than diamonds far, and by its birth 
Decks the green garment of the richer earth? 
Rivers than crystal clearer, when to ice 
Congeal'd, why do weak judgements so despise? 

Despair.'] Note here the skill and success of the use of the short— almost ' bob ' 
-lines, and the In Memoriam arrangement of rhj'me in the last half of each stanza. 
The Picture,'] The conceit wraps up the point of the epigram. 
Opinion. ] As in The Dream, distinctly nervous stopped couplet. 



Tho7nas Stanley 

Which, melting, show that to impartial sight 

Weeping than smiling crystal is more bright. lo 

But Fancy those first priz'd, and these did scorn, 
Taking their praise the other to adorn. 
Thus blind is human sight : opinion gave 
To their esteem a birth, to theirs a grave ; 
Nor can our judgements with these clouds dispense, 
Since reason sees but with the eyes of sense. 


The Dream. 

That I might ever dream thus ! that some power 
To my eternal sleep would join this hour ! 
So, willingly deceiv'd, I might possess 
In seeming joys a real happiness. 
Haste not away : oh do not dissipate 
A pleasure thou so lately didst create ! 
Stay, welcome Sleep; be ever here confin'd; 
Or if thou wilt away, leave her behind. 

To Chariessa, beholding herself in a Glass. 

Cast, Chariessa, cast that glass away, 
Nor in its crystal face thine own survey. 
What can be free from Love's imperious laws 
When painted shadows real flames can cause? 
The fires may burn thee from this mirror rise 
By the reflected beams of thine own eyes ; 

The Dream.~\ Closed couplets, already of considerable accomplishment. 

Reprinted in i6j6 in an enlarged form ; after 11. 1-4 the poem continued :- 
Death, I would gladly bow beneath thy charms, 
If thou couldst bring my Doris to my arms, 
That thus at last made happy I might prove 
In life the hell, in death the heaven of love. 
Haste not away so soon, mock not my joy. 
With the delusive sight or empty noise 
Of happiness ; oh do not dissipate 
A pleasure thou so lately didst create! 
Shadows of life or death do such bliss give, 
That 'tis an equal curse to wake or live. 
Stay then, kind Sleep; be ever here confin'd; 
Or if thou wilt away, leave her behind. 

( 102 ) 

To Chariessa^ beholding herself in a Glass 

And thus at last, fallen with thyself in love, 

Thou wilt my rival, thine own martyr prove. 

But if thou dost desire thy form to view, 

Look in my heart where Love thy picture drew ; to 

And then, if pleased with thine own shape thou be, 

Learn how to love thyself in loving me. 

The Blush. 

So fair Aurora doth herself discover 
(Asham'd o' th' aged bed of her cold lover) 
In modest blushes, whilst the treacherous light 
Betrays her early shame to the world's sight. 
Such a bright colour doth the morning rose 
' Diffuse, when she her soft self doth disclose 
Half drown'd in dew, whilst on each leaf a tear 
Of night doth like a dissolv'd pearl appear; 
Yet 'twere in vain a colour out to seek 

To parallel my Chariessa's cheek ; lo 

Less are conferr'd with greater, and these seem 
To blush like her, not she to blush like them. 

But whence, fair soul, this passion ? what pretence 
Had guilt to stain thy spotless innocence? 
Those only this feel who have guilty been, 
Not any blushes know, but who know sin. 
Then blush no more; but let thy chaster flame. 
That knows no cause, know no effects of shame. 

The Cold Kiss. 

Such icy kisses, anchorites that live 
Secluded from the world, to dead skulls give ; 
And those cold maids on whom Love never spent 
His flame, nor know what by desire is meant, 
To their expiring fathers such bequeath. 
Snatching their fleeting spirits in that breath : 
The timorous priest doth with such fear and nice 
Devotion touch the Holy Sacrifice. 

Fie, Chariessa ! whence so chang'd of late, 

As to become in love a reprobate? lo 

Quit, quit this dullness. Fairest, and make known 

A flame unto me equal with mine own. 

To Chariessa, LfcJ] 12 i6j6 ' by loving '. 

The Blush.'] Interesting to compare prosodically with The Dream and Opittion. A 
much older fashion of couplet, here and there overlapped and breathless, but pointing 
towards the newer. In 1. 11 Miss Guiney has unfortunately altered 'conferr'd' 
{confero = ^ to set side by side ') to 'compar'd '. In 1. 15, 164^ has the common ' bin ' 
and 1. 16 ' knows ' for the second ' know '. 

The Cold Kiss.'] There are some very trifling alterations, all for the worse, in i6j6 

( 103) 

Thojnas Stanley 

Shake off this frost, for shame, that dwells upon 
Thy lips; or if it will not so be gone, 
Let's once more join our lips, and thou shalt see 
That by the flame of mine 'twill melted be. 

The Idolater. 

Think not, pale lover, he who dies, 
Burnt in the flames of Celia's eyes, 
Is unto Love a sacrifice ; 

Or, by the merit of this pain, 

Thou shalt the crown of martyrs gain ! 

Those hopes are, as thy passion, vain. 

For when, by death, from these flames free, 
To greater thou condemn'd shalt be, 
And punish'd for idolatry, 

^ , Since thou (Love's votary before lo 

Whilst He was kind) dost him no more. 
But, in his shrine, Disdain adore. 

Nor will this fire (the gods prepare 

To punish scorn) that cruel Fair, 

(Though now from flames exempted) spare; 

But as together both shall die. 
Both burnt alike in flames shall lie, 
She in thy breast, thou in her eye. 

The Magnet. 

Ask the empress of the night 

How the Hand which guides her sphere, 
Constant in unconstant light. 

Taught the waves her yoke to bear, 
And did thus by loving force 
Curb or tame the rude sea's course. 

Ask the female palm how she 

First did woo her husband's love ; 
And the magnet, ask how he 

Doth th' obsequious iron move; lo 

Waters, plants, and stones know this : 
That they love ; not what Love is. 

The Idolater.^ ii 'He' altered in j6;6 to 'she', which Miss Guiney adopts. But of 
course ' He ' is Love. 

i8 breast i6^y : later, much worse, 'heart '. 

The Magnet.] 9 ' he ' i6^y, altered to ' she ' in i6j6. One would expect ' he' to avoid 
identical rhyme, but Stanley was a scholar and the Greek is f/ MayvfJTti \i9os, and the 
other things to be 'asked' are feminine. In 1. 13 ' then ' became ' thou', neither for 
better nor for worse. 

( ^04 ) 

The Magnet 

Be not then less kind than these, 
Or from Love exempt alone ! 

Let us twine like amorous trees, 
And like rivers melt in one. 

Or, if thou more cruel prove, 

Learn of steel and stones to love. 

On a Violet in her Breast. 

See how this violet, which before 

Hung sullenly her drooping head. 
As angry at the ground that bore 

The purple treasure which she spread, 
Doth smilingly erected grow. 
Transplanted to those hills of snow. 

And whilst the pillows of thy breast 

Do her reclining head sustain, 
She swells with pride to be so blest. 

And doth all other flowers disdain ; - lo 

Yet weeps that dew which kissed her last, 
To see her odours so surpass'd. 

Poor flower ! how far deceiv'd thou wert, 

To think the riches of the morn, 
Or all the sweets she can impart, 

Could these or sweeten or adorn, 
Since thou from them dost borrow scent, 
And they to thee lend ornament ! 


Foolish Lover, go and seek 

For the damask of the rose. 

And the lilies white dispose 
To adorn thy mistress' cheek ; 

Steal some star out of the sky, 

Rob the phoenix, and the east 

Of her wealthy sweets divest. 
To enrich her breath or eye ! 

On a Violet in her Breast.'] 6 ' hills of snow ' is probably as old as the Garden of Eden 
(if there was snow there). But Stanley must have known the exquisite second verse of 
' Take, oh take those lips away ' in The Bloody Brother. I would ask any one who 
despises this as a mere commonplace love-poem to note — if he can — the splendid swell 
of the verse to the fourth line, and then the ' turn ' of the final couplet. With Stanley 
and his generation that swell and turn passed — never to reappear till William Blake 
revived it nearly a century and a half afterwards. 

Song.'] A Donne-inspired one, doubtless, but not ill justified. * Distinguish ' in the 
last line is one of the numerous misprints oi j6;6. 

( 106 ) 

Thomas Stanley 

We thy borrow'd pride despise : 

For this wine, to which we are lo 

Votaries, is richer far 
Than her cheek, or breath, or eyes. 

And should that coy fair one view 

These diviner beauties, she 

In this flame would rival thee, 
And be taught to love thee too. 

Come, then, break thy wanton chain. 
That when this brisk wine hath spread 
On thy paler cheek a red. 

Thou, like us, mayst Love disdain. 20 

Love, thy power must yield to wine ! 

And whilst thus ourselves we arm, 

Boldly we defy thy charm : 
For these flames extinguish thine. 

The Parting, 

I GO, dear Saint, away, 

Snatch'd from thy arms 

By far less pleasing charms. 

Than those I did obey ; 
But when hereafter thou shalt know 

That grief hath slain me, come, 
And on my tomb 

Drop, drop a tear or two ; 
Break with thy sighs the silence of my sleep, 
And I shall smile in death to see thee weep. 10 

Thy tears may have the power 
To reinspire 

My ashes with new fire. 

Or change me to some flower, 
Which, planted 'twixt thy breasts, shall grow : 

Veil'd in this shape, I will 
Dwell with thee still. 

Court, kiss, enjoy thee too : 
Securely we'll contemn all envious force, 
And thus united be by death's divorce. 20 


When deceitful lovers lay 

At thy feet their suppliant hearts, 
And their snares spread to betray 

Thy best treasure with their arts. 
Credit not their flatt'ring vows : 
Love such perjury allows. 

The Parting.'] 19 contemn 164'] : contain i6;6. 
( 'o5 ) 


When they with the choicest wealth 
Nature boasts of, have possess'd thee; 

When with flowers (their verses' stealth), 

Stars, or jewels they invest thee, lo 

Trust not to their borrow'd store : 

'Tis but lent to make thee poor. 

When with poems they invade thee. 

Sing thy praises or disdain ; 
When they weep, and would persuade thee 

That their flames beget that rain ; 
Let thy breast no baits let in : 
Mercy 's only here a sin ! 

Let no tears or offerings move thee, 

All those cunning charms avoid ; ao 

For that wealth for which they love thee, 

They would slight if once enjoy'd. 
Who would keep another's heart 
With her o^vn must never part. 

Expostulation ivitk Love in Despair. 

Love, with what strange tyrannic laws must they 

Comply, which are subjected to thy sway ! 

How far all justice thy commands decHne, 

Which though they hope forbid, yet love enjoin ! 

Must all are to thy hell condemn'd sustain 

A double torture of despair and pain? 

Is 't not enough vainly to hope and woo. 

That thou shouldst thus deny that vain hope too? 

It were some joy, Ixion-like, to fold 

The empty air, or feed on hopes as cold ; lo 

But if thou to my passion this deny, 

Thou mayst be starv'd to death as well as I ; 

For how can thy pale sickly flame burn clear 

When death and cold despair inhabit near? 

CounselJ] 7 ' the' altered in /<Jj<5 to ' their', which is clearly wrong. But theuntrust- 
worthiness of Gamble's text is still better illustrated by 1. 10, which he twists into — 

Stars to jewels they ^«'vest thee. 
The copy was probably dictated to a very careless, ignorant, or stupid workman. 
23-4. This pointed if cynical conclusion was changed in 16^"] to the much feebler 

Guard thy unrelenting mind ; 
None are cruel but the kind. 
Expostulation, &c.'] The texts of 164^ and i6j6 differ considerably here, and Miss 
Guiney has attempted a ' composite text' — a thing for which I have small fancy. That 
given above is from 164^ : i6j6 runs as follows in the first quatrain : 
Love, what tyrannic laws must they obey 
Who bow beneath thy uncontrolled sway ; 
Or how unjust will that harsh empire prove 
Forbids to hope, and yet commands to love, 
and reads in 1. 9 'hope' for 'joy'; 1. 10 'thought that's cold'; 1. 14 'old 'and 'here 
for ♦ cold ' and ' near ' ; 1. 15 (entirely different) 

Then let thy dim heat warm, or else expire. 

( 107) 

Thomas Sta7iley 

Rule in my breast alone, or thence retire ; 
Dissolve this frost, or let that quench thy fire. 

Or let me not desire, or else possess ! 

Neither, or both, are equal happiness. 


Faith, 'tis not worth thy pains and care 

To seek t' ensnare 
A heart so poor as mine : 

Some fools there be 

Hate liberty. 
Whom with more ease thou mayst confine. 

Alas ! when with much charge thou hast 

Brought it at last 
Beneath thy power to bow, 

It will adore ic 

Some twenty more, 
And that, perhaps, you'll not allow. 

No, Chloris, I no more will prove 

The curse of love, - 

And now can boast a heart 

Hath learn'd of thee 

And cozen'd women of their art. 


Chide, chide no more away 
The fleeting daughters of the day, 
Nor with impatient thoughts outrun 

The lazy sun, 
Or think the hours do move too slow; 
Delay is kind, 
And we too soon shall find 
That which we seek, yet fear to know. 

1. i6 ' the ' for ' thy ' ; and in the closing distich ' Thus let me not ' and 'Either or both '. 
The interest of this piece is almost wholly centred on the penultimate line, which, being 
an evident and intended contradiction to 

Amare liceat si potiri non licet, 
gives us at once the connexion, in Stanley's mind, with that strange, Mrs. Grundy- 
shocking, but ' insolent and passionate ' piece which is attributed, credibly enough, to 
Apuleius, but rather less credibly as a latinizing of Menander's 'Av«x''Mf ■'os- The contrast 
of the sensuous fire of this with Stanley's rather vapid and languid metaphysicalities is 
a notable one. 

Song?^ 2, 3. The quality and value of 16^6 are again well illustrated by its readings of 
' inspire ' for ' ensnare ' and ' pure ' for ' poor '. 

Expectation.'] There is a suggestion here of John Hall's beautiful Call (' Romira, stay '), 
and the two pieces appeared so close together that it is difficult to say which may have 
been the first. Perhaps the resemblance was what made Stanley omit it in i6p. In 
1. 5 i6j6 reads * Nqt '. 

( 108 ) 


The mystic dark decrees 
Unfold not of the Destinies, ,o 

Nor boldly seek to antedate 
The laws of Fate ; 
Thy anxious search awhile forbear, 
Suppress thy haste, 
And know that Time at last 
Will crown thy hope or fix thy fear. 

165 1 POEMS 


To Love, 

Thou, whose sole name all passions doth comprise, 

Youngest and oldest of the Deities ; 

Born without parents, whose unbounded reign 

Moves the firm earth, fixeth the floating main, 

Inverts the course of heaven ; and from the deep 

Awakes those souls that in dark Lethe sleep, 

By thy mysterious chains seeking t' unite. 

Once more, the long-since torn Hermaphrodite. 

He, who thy willing pris'ner long was vow'd, 

And uncompell'd beneath thy sceptre bow'd, 10 

Returns at last in thy soft fetters bound. 

With victory, though not with freedom crown'd : 

And, of his dangers pass'd a grateful sign. 

Suspends this tablet at thy numerous shrine. 

The Dedication. In 1647 printed at p. 49 with the title 'Conclusion, to Love', and 
obviously intended to end that collection, but a number of unpaged leaves were subse- 
quently added containing the complimentary verses addressed to Fletcher and others. 
The following variants occur: 11 'by thy kind power unbound'. 12 'At least with 
freedom, though not conquest crown'd '. 14 ' Suspends these papers '. Stanley also 
appended a list of Greek quotations justifying the cento. There is an intrinsic interest 
attaching to them in that they may have suggested a similar process to Gray. A further 
comparison-contrast may also interest some as to the lines themselves — that of the 
famous and magnificent opening of Mr. Swinburne's Tristram of Lyonesse. 

The notes annotate the following phrases : — i ' {a) all passions ', 2 ' (6) Youngest 
and (c) oldest', 3 ' {d) Born', 4 ' (^) Moves', 7 '(/) By thy mysterious . . .' The 
Greek has been slightly corrected in spelling and accents. 

(«) Alexis apud Athenaeum : 


TiavTaxuOiv ev ivl tottoj ttoAX' e'Sr] (pepuv, 

'H ToKixa fiiV yap dvbpus, fj b't 5«i\ia 

TvvaiKos, &c. 
Sophocles : 

KuTTpiy ov Kvirpis fiovov, 

'AA.A.' ((TTt TrdvTOJV ovofiaruv tirdjvvfioi. 

( 109) 

Thomas Stanley 


The Glow-worm. 

Stay, fairest Chariessa, stay and mark 
This animated gem, whose fainter spark 
Of fading light its birth had from the dark. 

A Star thought by the erring passenger, 
Which falling from its native orb dropt here. 
And makes the earth (its centre) now its sphere. 

Should many of these sparks together be, 
He that the unknown light far off should see, 
Would think it a terrestrial Galaxy. 

Take 't up, fair Saint ; see how it mocks thy fright ! lo 

The paler flame doth not yield heat, though light. 
Which thus deceives thy reason, through thy sight. 

But see how quickly it (ta'en up) doth- fade, 

To shine in darkness only being made. 

By th' brightness of thy light turn'd to a shade; 

And burnt to ashes by thy flaming eyes, 
On the chaste altar of thy hand it dies, 
As to thy greater light a sacrifice. 

(A) Plato, Sympos. : *?;/« Viwrarov avrov dvai Otarv, koL del vtov. 

{c, d) Plato : To fap kv roh vpeafivrarois (Ivai twv OtHv rifj-iov. TtKfXTjpiov 8t tovtov' 
"Yovfis yap tpoJTos ovr' tlaiv, ovt€ Xiyovrai t/v' ovSevos ovt( iStwrov ovt( ttoitjtov, 
{e) Oppian. Cyneg. 2 : 

Yaia. ire'Xfi cTTaOfpij, ^iXifaai h\ aoiai tovtirai' 
"Avraroi eirXero vovTOi, ardp av yi Koi t6v im]^as' 
"HAi/^fs (Is alOfip', olbtv 5e af ij,aKp6s''0\vfj.nos, 
Aeif^aivfi Se ae iravra, koX oiipavos tipvs v-n(p6f 
Tai-qs oaaa r' tvfpBi kcu IQvea Xvypa Ka^ovTcuv 
Ot Aij^T^s fifv atpvffaav i/nd ffrofia vrjiradh vSup, 
(_/) Plato : IlpwTov fiev yap rp'ia t\v to. yivrj ra rwv dfOpwirajv (sc. appev, GrjXv, aai 
dvipoywov). Mox addit, ''Ecttj 5^ ovv (k tocov 6 (pws (fjupvros aWrjKaiv rots avQpwnois koI 
T^y dpx<iicis (pvoeais avvayaiytvs ical iTn-^dpwv irotfjaai tv Ik ^volv, ^«a') iaaaaOai ttjv <pvaiv 
TfjV dvOpanrii'Tjv. Phil. Jud. vfpl t^j Koaixonoiias. 'Kvfl 5« iirkdaO-q f] yvvi) Otaad^ivos 
dl(X(p6y (TSo'! Kal avyytvi] fiop(prjv ■qcr/j.fvicre ttj Ota epws Si imyivo^itvos KaOdnep tvos ^wov 
diTTa TfiTi^iara SifcrTr^Kora avvaywyocv tU Taiirov dpfioTTtTai. 

The Gloiv-wor>M.'] Sir Egerton Brydges thought that 'A stile of poetry so full of quaint 
and far-fetched conceits cannot be commended as the most chaste and classical ' ; but 
that, ' among trifles of this kind, The Glow-womt is singularly elegant and happy '. 
Perhaps a later judgement, while waiving the indispensableness, or even pre-eminence, 
of chastity and classicality in verse, may doubt whether The Gloiv-worni itself is not 
rather too ' elegant ' to be as ' happy ' as some other things even of its author's. The last 
verse redeems it, though, to some extent. 

2 i64-j 'This living star of earth '. I suppose Stanley did not like the recurrence of 
'star', or he may have thought that the same sound '^-ar) recurred still more excessively 
ii) the rhi-mes. In itself the earlier reading is certainly the better. 

4 erring] deceiv'd /d^7. 12 ' Which doth deceive ' 164J. 

15 thy] the 76^7. 


Favonius the milder breath o" th' Spring 

The Breath. 

Favonius the milder breath o' th' Spring, 

When proudly bearing on his softer wing 

Rich odours, which from the Panchean groves 

He steals, as by the Phoenix' pyre he moves, 

Profusely doth his sweeter theft dispense 

To the next rose's blushing innocence, 

But from the grateful flower, a richer scent 

He back receives than he unto it lent. 

Then laden with his odours' richest store, 

He to thy breath hastes ; to which these are poor ! lo 

Which whilst the amorous wind to steal essays. 

He Hke a wanton Lover 'bout thee plays, 

And sometimes cooling thy soft cheek doth lie, 

And sometimes burning at thy flaming eye : 

Drawn in at last by that breath we implore, 

He now returns far sweeter than before. 

And rich by being robb'd, in thee he finds 

The burning sweets of Pyres, the cool of Winds. 

Desiring her to burn his Verses. 

These papers, Chariessa, let thy breath 
Condemn ; thy hand unto the flames bequeath ; 
'Tis fit, who gave them life, should give them death. 

And whilst in curled flames to Heaven they rise, 
Each trembling sheet shall as it upwards flies, 
Present itself to thee a sacrifice. 

Then when about its native orb it came, 

And reach'd the lesser lights o' th' sky, this flame 

Contracted to a star should wear thy name. 

Or falling down on earth from its bright sphere, lo 

Shall in a diamond's shape its lustre bear, 
And trouble (as it did before) thine ear. 

But thou wilt cruel even in mercy be. 
Unequal in thy justice, who dost free 
Things without sense from flames, and yet not Me. 

is appears in all three editions, i6j6 following 164-] in the following 
ioth receive ' ; 1. 1 1 ' while he sportively ' ; 1. 16 ' back ' for ' now '. 

The Breath.''^ This 
variants : 1. 8 ' He dc 

Desirittg her to burn his Verses!'] Title. 164-] ' To Chariessa, desiring'. &c. 

4 whilst] as /<5^ 7. 7 about"! above j^6^ 7. 14 who] that id^ 7- 


Thomas Stanley 

The Night. 



What if Night 
Should betray us, and reveal 

To the Hght 
All the pleasures that we steal? 


Fairest, we 
Safely may this fear despise; 

How can She 
See our actions who wants eyes? 


Each dim star 
And the clearer lights, we know, lo 

Night's eyes are ; 
They were blind that thought her so ! 


Those pale fires 
Only burn to yield a light 

T' our desires, 
And though blind, to give us sight. 


By this shade 
That surrounds us might our flame 

Be betray'd. 
And the day disclose its name. 20 


Dearest Fair, 
These dark witnesses we find 

Silent are ; 
Night is dumb as well as blind. 

Then whilst these black shades conceal us, 
We will scorn 
Th' envious Morn, 
And the Sun that would reveal us. 
Our flames shall thus their mutual light betray, 
And night, with these joys crown'd, outshine the day. 30 

The Night.'] Entitled in 1647 ' Amori Notturni. A Dialogue between Philocharis and 
Chariessa '. 

a and] or if>4T. 8 who] that 164J. 18 surrounds] conceals 164-;. 

The metrical arrangement here is very delightful, and the Chorus-adjustment parti- 
cularly happy. 

Why thy Passion should it move 

Excuse for wishing her less Fair. 

Why thy passion should it move 

That I wish'd thy beauty less ? 
Fools desire what is above 

Power of nature to express; 
And to wish it had been more, 
Had been to outwish her store ! 

If the flames within thine eye 

Did not too great heat inspire, 
Men might languish yet not die, 

At thy less ungentle fire ; lo 

And might on thy weaker light 
Gaze, and yet not lose their sight. 

Nor wouldst thou less fair appear, 

For detraction adds to thee ; 
If some parts less beauteous were, 

Others would much fairer be : 
Nor can any part we know 
Best be styl'd, when all are so. 

Thus this great excess of light, 

Which now dazzles our weak eyes, 20 

Would, eclips'd, appear more bright ; 

And the only way to rise. 
Or to be more fair, for thee, 
Celia, is less fair to be. 

Chang d, yet Constant. 

Wrong me no more 
In thy complaint, 
Blam'd for inconstancy ; 
I vow'd t' adore 
The fairest Saint, 
Nor chang'd whilst thou wert she: 
But if another thee outshine, 
Th' inconstancy is only thine. 

Excuse for wishing her less Fair.'\ 164"] prefixes ' To Celia '. 

7 the] thy /6^7. 9 yet] and /<5^7. 

10 less ungentle] then less scorching 164-]. 

23 for] i6'i6 ' than', which, like much else In this edition, is pure nonsense. 

Brydges thought that ' one cannot avoid admiring the ingenuity exercised in this con- 
tinual play upon words'. But surely 

In things like this the play of words became 

A play of thought, and therefore shames all shame. 

Chang'd, yet Constant.'] Here, perhaps for the first time, we get ihejire of the period 
communicating to the verse its own glow and flicker. It is a pity he allowed himself 
double rhymes in stanza 3, which break the note (those at the end of st. 4 do not). 
There are no variants ; the poem is not in i64y. But Miss Guiney has proposed 
to substitute ' hearts ' for ' they ' in the last line. 

(113) I HI 

Thomas Stanley 

To be by such 

Blind fools admir'd, lo 

Gives thee but small esteem. 
By whom as much 
Thou'dst be desir'd, 
Didst thou less beauteous seem : 
Sure why they love they know not well, 
Who why they should not cannot tell. 

Women are by 

Themselves betray'd, 
And to their short joys cruel, 

Who foolishly 20 

Themselves persuade 
Flames can outlast their fuel ; 
None (though Platonic their pretence) 
With reason love unless by sense. 

And He, by whose 
Command to thee 
I did my heart resign, 
Now bids me choose 
A Deity 
Diviner far than thine ; 30 

No power can Love from Beauty sever ; 
I'm still Love's subject, thine was never. 

The fairest She 

Whom none surpass 
To love hath only right, 
And such to me 
Thy beauty was 
Till one I found more bright ; 
But 'twere as impious to adore 
Thee now, as not t' have done 't before. 40 

Nor is it just 
By rules of Love 
Thou shouldst deny to quit 
A heart that must 
Another's prove, 
Ev'n in thy right to it; 
Must not thy subjects captives be 
To her who triumphs over Thee ? 

Cease then in vain 

To blot my name 50 

With forg'd Apostasy, 
Thine is that stain 
Who dar'st to claim 
What others ask of Thee. 
Of Lovers they are only true 
Who pay their hearts where they are due. 


Deceivd a7id undeceivci to he 

The Self 'deceiver. 


Deceiv'd and undeceiv'd to be 

At once I seek with equal care, 
Wretched in the discovery, 

Happy if cozen'd still I were : 
Yet certain ill of ill hath less 
Than the mistrust of happiness. 

But if when I have reach'd my aim 

(That which I seek less worthy prove), 
Yet still my love remains the same. 

The subject not deserving love; lo 

I can no longer be excus'd, 
Now more in fault as less abus'd. 

Then let me flatter my desires, 

And doubt what I might know too sure, 
He that to cheat himself conspires, 

From falsehood doth his faith secure; 
In love uncertain to believe 
I am deceiv'd, doth undeceive. 

For if my life on doubt depend, 

And in distrust inconstant steer, ao 

If I essay the strife to end 

(When Ignorance were Wisdom here), 
All thy attempts how can I blame 
To work my death ? I seek the same. 

The Cure. 


What busy cares too timely born 

(Young Swain !) disturb thy sleep 1 
Thy early sighs awake the Mom, 

Thy tears teach her to weep. 


Sorrows, fair Nymph, are full alone; 
Nor counsel can endure. 

Tht Sdf-tkceiver.'] (On Stanley's translations see Introduction.) Juan Perez de 
Montalvan (1602-1638" belonged to the best age of Spanish literature, and was. in pro- 
portion, almost as prolific in plays and autos as his master Lope. He was accused of 
' Gongorism ', and this piece is one somewhat of 'conviction '. 

The Cure. As this appears only in i6)i there are no variants. The ' common 
measure ' has little of the magic common at the time, and is sometimes banal to 
eighteenth-century level. But we rise in the next. 

("5) 12 

Thomas Stanley 

Yet thine disclose, for until known . 
Sickness admits no cure. 


My griefs are such as but to hear 

Would poison all thy joys, lo 

The pity which thou seem'st to bear 

My health, thine Own destroys. 


How can diseased minds infect ? 
Say what thy grief doth move ! 


Call up thy virtue to protect 

Thy heart, and know 'twas love. ' 

Fond Swain I 


By which I have been long 
Destin'd to meet with hate. 

Nymph. . 
Fy, Shepherd, fy : thou dost love wrong. 

To call thy crime thy fate. 20 

Shepherd. \ 

Alas what cunning could decline 
What force can love repel? 


Yet, there 's a way to unconfine 
Thy heart. 


For pity tell. 


Choose one whose love may be allur'd 

By thine : who ever knew 
Inveterate diseases cur'd 

But by receiving new ? 

All will like her my soul perplex. 

Yet try. 


Oh could there be, 30 

But any softness in that sex, 
I'd wish it were in thee. 


The Cure 


Thy prayer is heard : learn now t' esteem 
The kindness she hath shown, 

Who thy lost freedom to redeem 
Hath forfeited her own. 

Celia Singing. 

Roses in breathing forth their scent, 

Or stars their borrowed ornament ; 

Nymphs in the wat'ry sphere that move, 

Or Angels in their orbs above ; 

The winged chariot of the light, 

Or the slow silent wheels of night; 

The shade, which from the swifter sun 

Doth in a circular motion run; 
Or souls that their eternal rest do keep. 
Make far more noise than Celia's breath in sleep. lo 

But if the Angel, which inspires 

This subtile flame with active fires, 

Should mould this breath to words, and those 

Into a harmony dispose. 

The music of this heavenly sphere 

Would steal each soul out at the ear, 

And into plants and stones infuse 

A life that Cherubins would choose; 
And with new powers invert the laws of Fate, 
Kill those that live, and dead things animate. ao 

A la Mesme. 

Belle voix, dont les charmes desrobent mon ame, 

Et au lieu d'un esprit m'animent d'une flamme, 

Dont je sens la subtile et la douce chaleur 

Entrer par mon oreille et glisser dans mon coeur; 

Me faisant esprever par cette aimable vie, 

Nos ames ne consistent que d'une harmonie ; 

Que la vie m'est douce, la mort m'est sans peine, 

Puisqu'on les trouve toutes deux dans ton haleine : 

Ne m'espargne done pas ; satisfais tes rigueurs ; 

Car si tu me souffres de vivre, je me meurs. lo 

Celia Singing.'] 164"] ' Celia sleeping or singing ', and printed without stanza-break. 
10 more] Some imp of the press altered ' more ' to ' less ' in the later ' edition ' 
164^ has 'more', which has been restored in text. 

12 164-] ' frame ' — tempting, but perhaps not certain, 

13 164J 'his' — again ncscio an rectc. 19 164'] 'power'. 

A la Mesme] 164-] ' A une Dame qui chantoit '. Stanley does not, like some more 
modern English writers of French verse, neglect his final f's, but he takes remarkable 
liberties with the caesura. ' Esprever ' (1. 5) is not wrong necessarily. 


Tho7nas Stanley 

The Rettim. 

Beauty, whose soft magnetic chains 
JBeauty, iky harsh imperious chains 

Nor time nor absence can mitie, 

As a scorned weight I here untie, 
Thy power the narrow bounds disdains 
Since thy proud empire those disdains 

Of Nature or philosophy, 

Of reason or philosophy, 
That canst by unconfin^d laws 
That 2Vouldst ivithiti tyrannic laws 
A motion, though at distance, cause. 
Confine the power of each free cause. 

Drawn by the sacred influence 
Forced by the potent influence 

Of thy bright eyes, I back return ; 

Of thy disdain I back return, 
And since I nowhere can dispense 
Thus with those flames I do dispense, 
With flames that do in absence burn, lo 

Which, though they would not light, did burn ; 
I rather choose 'midst them t' expire 
And rather will through cold expire 
Than languish by a hidden fire. 
Than latiguish at a frozen fire. 

But if thou the insulting pride 
But whilst I the insulting pride 
Of vulgar Beauties dost despise, 
Of thy vaift beauty do despise. 
Who by vain triumphs deified. 
Who gladly wouldsi be deified. 
Their votaries do sacrifice. 
By making me thy sacrifice ; 
Then let those flames, whose magic charm 
May love thy heart, which to his charm 
At distance scorch'd, approach'd but warm. 
Approached seemed cold, at dista7ice ivarm. 

The Return — {Palinode.')] The iS^-j edition contains two poems, The Return and Pali- 
tiode, which stand to each other in a curious relation. In i6fi Palinode has disappeared. 
I have thought it best to print them together. The lines in roman type are those of The 
Return^ those in italic belong to Palinode. The latter reappeared in 7<5/7, with slight 
alterations as below. In Pal. 5 Miss Guiney reads 'would' for 'wouldst', evidently 
not quite understanding the sense or the grammar of the time. The second person 
connects itself with the vocative in ' Beauty ' and the ' thou ' twice implied in ' thy '. 

In Palinode, 1. 7, i6jy reads ' powerful ' for ' potent ' ; 1. 12 ' in ' for 'at '. 

In The Return, 1. 2, i6ji 'unite' — an obvious misprint ; 1. 3, 164J 'bound' ; 1. 5, 
x64-j 'That', i6ji 'Thou'; 1. 10, 16^7 'which' for 'that'; 1. 11, ''twixt' — not so 
well ; I. 13, ' the ' is dropped by mere accident in i6ji — ' the ', not ' th',' is required. 


When I lie burning in thine Eye 


When I lie burning in thine eye, 

Or freezing in thy breast, 
What Martyrs, in wish'd flames that die, 

Are half so pleas'd or blest? 

When thy soft accents through mine ear 

Into my soul do fly, 
What Angel would not quit his sphere, 

To hear such harmony ? 

Or when the kiss thou gav'st me last 

My soul stole in its breath, lo 

What life would sooner be embrac'd 

Than so desir'd a death? 

[When I commanded am by thee, 

Or by thine eye or hand. 
What monarch would not prouder be 

To serve than to command?] 

Then think no freedom I desire, 

Or would my fetters leave. 
Since Phoenix-like I from this fire 

Both life and youth receive. 20 

l^ke Sick Lover, 


Mv sickly breath 
Wastes in a double flame ; 
Whilst Love and Death 
To my poor life lay claim ; 
The fever, in whose heat I melt, 
By her that causeth it not felt. 

Thou who alone 
Canst, yet wilt grant no ease, 

Why slight'st thou one 
To feed a new disease? 10 

Unequal fair ! the heart is thine ; 
Ah, why then should the pain be mine? 

Song.'] Sir Egerton thought this (which, by the way, Lovelace may have seen, 
or vice versa) ' a very elegant little song, with all the harmony of modern rhythm '. One 
might perhaps substitute ' with more of the harmony of contemporary rhythm than 
Stanley always attains '. It is certainly much better than The Cure. The bracketed stanza 
was dropped in ibji, but it seemed better to restore it thus in text than to degrade it 
hither. One or two extremely unimportant misprints occur in one or other version, 
but are not worth noting. 

The Sick Lover.'] Not a great thing. In 1. 6, Miss Guiney thinks ' it ', which is in all 
texts, should be 'is '. But ' it ' is wanted and ' is ' is not. * The fever not \being\ felt' 
is no excessively ' absolute ' construction. 


Thomas Stanley 


Celinda, by what potent art 

Or unresisted charm, 
Dost thou thine ear and frozen heart 

Against my passion arm ? 

Or by what hidden influence 

Of powers in one combin'd, 
Dost thou rob Love of either sense, 

Made deaf as well as blind? 

Sure thou, as friends, united hast 

Two distant Deities ; lo 

And scorn within thy heart hast plac'd, 

And love within thine eyes. 

Or those soft fetters of thy hair, 

A bondage that disdains 
All liberty, do guard thine ear 

Free from all other chains. 

Then my complaint how canst thou hear. 

Or I this passion fly, 
Since thou imprison'd hast thine ear, 

And not confin'd thine eye? 20 


Fool, take up thy shaft again ; 

If thy store 
Thou profusely spend in vain, 

Who can furnish thee with more? 
Throw not then away thy darts 
On impenetrable hearts. 

Think not thy pale flame can warm 

Into tears, 
Or dissolve the snowy charm 

Which her frozen bosom wears, to 

That expos'd, unmelted lies 
To the bright suns of her eyes. 

But since thou thy power hast lost. 

Nor canst fire 
Kindle in that breast, whose frost 

Doth these flames in mine inspire, 
Not to thee but her I'll sue, 
That disdains both me and you. 

Song — Celinda, ^c.l Again, mere commonplace common measure. 'T/tose soh fetters 
of thy hair' (1. 13) is at least as good as 'mobled queen', but otherwise the phrase 
rather sinks to the measure. * friends ' (1. 9) is misprinted ' friend' in 164J, and Sir 
Egerton has mispunctuated ' friends united '. 

Song — Fool, trc] An extremely pretty measure, not ill-parted with phrase and 
imagery. The ' Take, oh ! take ' motive reappears. 


Delay ! Alas^ there cannot be 


Delay! Alas, there cannot be 

To Love a greater tyranny : 

Those cruel beauties that have slain 

Their votaries by their disdain, 

Or studied torments, sharp and witty, 

Will be recorded for their pity, 

And after-ages be misled 

To think them kind, when this is spread. 

Of deaths the speediest is despair, 
Delays the slowest tortures are; lo 

Thy cruelty at once destroys. 
But Expectation starves my joys. 
Time and Delay may bring me past 
The power of Love to cure, at last; 
And shouldst thou wish to ease my pain, 
Thy pity might be lent in vain ; 
Or if thou hast decreed, that I 
Must fall beneath thy cruelty, 

kill me soon ! Thou wilt express 

More mercy, ev'n in showing less. ao 

Commanded by his Mistress to woo for her. 


Strange kind of love ! that knows no president, 
A faith so firm as passeth Faith's extent. 
By a tyrannic beauty long subdu'd, 

1 now must sue for her to whom I su'd, 
Unhappy Orator ! who, though I move 
For pity, pity cannot hope to prove : 
Employing thus against myself my breath, 
And in another's life begging my death. 

But if such moving powers my accents have, 

Why first my own redress do I not crave? Jo 

What hopes that I to pity should incline 

Another's breast, who can move none in thine? 

Or how can the griev'd patient look for ease, 

When the physician suffers the disease? 

If thy sharp wounds from me expect their cure, 

'Tis fit those first be heal'd that I endure. 

Commanded by his Mistress, ^c.'] Marino[i]'s name is so frequent in books on litera- 
ture, and his woric so little known to the ordinary reader, that this example may be 
welcome. The rather snip-snap antithesis, and the somewhat obvious conceit, show the 
famous Italian really at his worst. 'President' (1. i), though not impossible, is 
probably for ' precedent '. The whole piece has a special interest as showing how this 
'conceit' and 'false wit' actually encouraged the growth of the stopped antithetic 
couplet which was to be turned against both. 


Thomas Stanley 

Ungentle fair one! why dost thou dispense 

Unequally thy sacred influence? 

Why pining me, offer'st the precious food 

To one by whom nor priz'd, nor understood ; ao 

So some clear brook to the full main, to pay 

Her needless crystal tribute hastes away, 

Profusely foolish ; whilst her niggard tide 

Starves the poor flowers that grow along her side. 

Thou who my glories art design'd to own, 

Come then, and reap the joys that I have sown : 

Yet in thy pride acknowledge, though thou bear 

The happy prize away, the palm I wear. 

Nor the obedience of my flame accuse, 

That what I sought, myself conspir'd to lose : 30 

The hapless state where I am fix'd is such, 

To love I seem not, 'cause I love too much. 

The Repulse. 

Not that by this disdain 
I am releas'd. 
And freed from thy tyrannic chain. 
Do I myself think bless'd ; 

Nor that thy flame shall burn 
No more; for know 
That I shall into ashes turn, 

Before this fire doth so. 

Nor yet that unconfin'd 

I now may rove, 10 

And with new beauties please my mind, 
But that thou ne'er didst love : 

For since thou hast no part 
Felt of this flame, 
I only from thy tyrant heart 

Repuls'd, not banish'd am. 

To lose what once was mine 

Would grieve me more 
Than those inconstant sweets of thine 

Had pleas'd my soul before. 30 

Now I have not lost the bliss 
I ne'er possest ; 
And spite of fate am blest in this. 
That I was never blest. 

The Repulse.'] In the third line of this rather fine poem 16^6 reads 'romantic' for 
* tyrannic', and Miss Guiney adopts it. To me it seems quite inappropriate, and one 
of the errors of dictation so common in that ' edition '. 

21 1641 reads ' that bhss ', 

( "2 ) 

When^ Cruel Fair One^ I am slain 

The Tomb. 

When, cruel fair one, I am slain 
By thy disdain, 
And, as a trophy of thy scorn, 

To some old tomb am borne. 
Thy fetters must their power bequeath 
To those of Death ; 
Nor can thy flame immortal burn. 
Like monumental fires within an urn ; 
Thus freed from thy proud empire, I shall prove 
There is more liberty in Death than Love. lo 

And when forsaken Lovers come. 

To see my tomb. 
Take heed thou mix not with the crowd 

And (as a Victor) proud 
To view the spoils thy beauty made 

Press near my shade, 
Lest thy too cruel breath or name 
Should fan my ashes back into a flame. 
And thou, devour'd by this revengeful fire, 
His sacrifice, who died as thine, expire. 20 

[Or should my dust thy pity move 

That could not love, 
Thy sighs might wake me, and thy tears 

Renew my life and years. 
Or should thy proud insulting scorn 
Laugh at my urn, 
Kindly deceived by thy disdain, 
I might be smil'd into new life again. 
Then come not near, since both thy love and hate 
Have equal power to love or animate.] 30 

But if cold earth, or marble, must 
Conceal my dust, 
Whilst hid in some dark ruins, I 
Dumb and forgotten lie, 

The Totub.'] Brydges, though thinking the end of this poem ' a feeble conceit ', admits 
that ' there are passages in it that are more than pretty '. It is certainly one of 
Stanley's best, and he seems to have taken some trouble with it. In i6ji he dropped 
the bracketed stanza 3 and substituted the text for the last couplet of stanza a, which 
reads in i6^y : 

And (thou in this fire sacrificed to me) 
We might each other's mutual martyr be. 
In the last line of the omitted stanza ' love ' is certainly wrong, and Miss Guiney's sug- 
gestion of ' kill ' is almost certissima. But she seems to have had a different copy of 
7(5^7 before her from that which I collated, for she does not notice a variant, or set of 
variants, in 11. 37-9 : 

And they that should this triumph knoiv 
Will or forget or not believe it so, 
Then to increase thy glories, &c. 
In 1. 5 7(5^7 reads ' thy power'. 

Thomas Stanley 

The pride of all thy victory 

Will sleep with me ; 

And they who should attest thy glory, 
Will, or forget, or not believe this story. 
Then to increase thy triumph, let me rest, 
Since by thine eye slain, buried in thy breast. ifo 

The Enjoyment. 


Far from the court's ambitious noise 

Retir'd, to those more harmless joys 

Which the sweet country, pleasant fields, 

And my own court, a cottage, yields; 

I liv'd from all disturbance free, 

Though prisoner (Sylvia) unto thee; 

Secur'd from fears, which others prove, 

Of the inconstancy of Love ; 

A life, in my esteem, more blest, 

Than e'er yet stoop'd to Death's arrest. lo 

My senses and desires agreed. 

With joint delight each other feed : 

A bliss, I reach'd, as far above 

Words, as her beauty, or my love; 

Such as compar'd with which, the joys 

Of the most happy seem but toys : 

Affection I receive and pay, 

My pleasures knew not Grief's allay: 

The more I tasted I desir'd, 

The more I quench'd my thirst was fir'd. 30 

Now, in some place where Nature shows 

Her naked beauty, we repose; 

Where she allures the wand'ring eye 

With colours, which faint art outvie ; 

Pearls scatter'd by the weeping morn, 

Each where the glitt'ring flowers adorn; 

The mistress of the youthful year 

(To whom kind Zephyrus doth bear 

His amorous vows and frequent prayer) 

Decks with these gems her neck and hair. 30 

Hither, to quicken Time with sport, 
The little sprightly Loves resort, 
And dancing o'er the enamel'd mead, 
Their mistresses the Graces lead; 

The Enjoyment.'] La Jouissance, one of Saint-Amant's early lyric pieces, which is here 
translated, was not so famous as his Solitude, which will be found (Englished by the 
matchless Orinda a little after Stanley's time) in vol. i, p. 601, of this collection ; but it 
was popular and much imitated. Stanley has cut it down considerably, for the original 
has nineteen stanzas — some of them, I suppose, too ' warm ' for the translator's modest 

The Enjoymeni 

Then to refresh themselves, repair 

To the soft bosom of my fair; 

Where from the kisses they bestow 

Upon each other, such sweets flow 

As carry in their mix^d breath 

A mutual power of life and death. 40 

Next in an elm's dilated shade 

We see a rugged Satyr laid, 

Teaching his reed, in a soft strain, 

Of his sweet anguish to complain ; 

Then to a lonely grove retreat, 

Where day can no admittance get, 

To visit peaceful solitude; 

Whom seeing by repose pursu'd, 

All busy cares, for fear to spoil 

Their calmer courtship, we exile. 50 

There underneath a myrtle, thought 

By Fairies sacred, where was wrought 

By Venus' hand Love's mysteries, 

And all the trophies of her eyes. 

Our solemn prayers to Heaven we send. 

That our firm love might know no end ; 

Nor time its vigour e'er impair : 

Then to the winged God we sware, 

And grav'd the oath in its smooth rind, 

Which in our hearts we deeper find. 60 

Then to my dear (as if afraid 

To try her doubted faith) I said, 

' Would in thy soul my form as clear, 

As in thy eyes I see it, were.' 

She kindly angry saith, 'Thou art 

Drawn more at large within my heart; 

These figures in my eye appear 

But small, because they are not near, 

Thou through these glasses seest thy face, 

As pictures through their crystal case.' 70 

Now with delight transported, I 

My wreathed arms about her tie; 

The flattering Ivy never holds 

Her husband Elm in stricter folds : 

To cool my fervent thirst, I sip 

Delicious nectar from her lip. 

She pledges, and so often past 

This amorous health, till Love at last 

Our souls did with these pleasures sate. 

And equally inebriate. 80 

• 59 Brydges misprints 'iind' . 
( "5 ) 

Thomas Stanley 

Awhile, our senses stol'n away, 

Lost in this ecstasy we lay, 

Till both together rais'd to life, 

We re-engage in this kind strife. 

Cythaera with her Syrian boy 

Could never reach our meanest joy. 

The childish God of Love ne'er tried 

So much of love with his cold bride. 

As we in one embrace include, 

Contesting each to be subdu'd. 90 

To Celia Pleading Want of Merit. 

Dear, urge no more that killing cause 

Of our divorce ; 
Love is not fetter'd by such laws. 

Nor bows to any force : 
Though thou deniest I should be thine. 
Yet say not thou deserv'st not to be mine. 

Oh rather frown away my breath 

With thy disdain, 
Or flatter me with smiles to death ; 

By joy or sorrow slain, 10 

'Tis less crime to be kill'd by thee, 
Than I thus cause of mine own death should be. 

Thyself of beauty to divest, 

And me of love, 
Or from the worth of thine own breast 

Thus to detract, would prove 
In us a blindness, and in thee 
At best a sacrilegious modesty. 
But, Celia, if thou wilt despise 

What all admire, ao 

Nor rate thyself at the just price 

Of beauty or desire. 
Yet meet my flames, and thou shalt see 
That equal love knows no disparity. 

Loves Innocence. 

See how this Ivy strives to twine 
Her wanton arms about the Vine, 
And her coy lover thus restrains, 
Entangled in her amorous chains ; 

To Celi'i Pleading, Ct'c] 1647 has in title 'To One that Pleaded her own'', and 
* Dearest ' for ' Celia ' in 1. 19. 

Love's Innocence.'] In /(5^7 the following differences occur : Title, ' The Innocence of 
Love ' ; 1. I, ' (Dear) doth twine ' for ' strives to twine ' ; I- 7, ' To one another whispering 
there' ; 11. 9-10, 'Then blush not, Fair, that flame to show, IVhich like thyself no crime 
can know ' ; 11. 1 1-12, ' Thus led by those chastr guides, we may Embrace and kiss as/rce 
as they ' ; 1. 20, ' As are ourjlames ' ; I, 21, ' Thus, Doris, we ', 


Loves Innocence 

See how these neighb'ring Palms do bend 

Their heads, and mutual murmurs send, 

As whispering with a jealous fear 

Their loves, into each other's ear. 

Then blush not such a flame to own, 

As like thyself no crime hath known ; lo 

Led by these harmless guides, we may 

Embrace and kiss as well as they. 

And like those blessed souls above, 
Whose life is harmony and love. 
Let us our mutual thoughts betray, 
And in our wills our minds display ; 
This silent speech is swifter far 
Than the ears' lazy species are; 
And the expression it affords. 
As our desires, 'bove reach of words. 20 

Thus we, my dear, of these may learn 
A passion others not discern ; 
Nor can it shame or blushes move. 
Like plants to live, like Angels love : 

Since all excuse with equal innocence. 

What above reason is, or beneath sense. 

The Bracelet. 


Now Love be prais'd ! that cruel fair, 
Who my poor heart restrains 
Under so many chains, 
Hath weav'd a new one for it of her hair. 

These threads of amber us'd to play 
With every courtly wind ; 
And never were confin'd ; 
But in a thousand curls allow'd to stray. 

Cruel each part of her is grown ; 

Nor less unkind than she 10 

These fetters are to me. 
Which to restrain my freedom, lose their own. 

niche in Crepet'sFofto/^ra«frt/s (Paris, 1861), ii. 539-52, but did not include the original 
of this piece. The In Memoriam rhyme-order, though the line lengths are different, is 
interesting. Stanley had perhaps borrowed, before translating it, the ' soft fetters of her 
hair ', noted above, though the fancy is of course primaeval and perennial. 


Thomas Stanley 

The Kiss. 

When on thy lip my soul I breathe, 
Which there meets thine, 
Freed from their fetters by this death 

Our subtle forms combine ; 
Thus without bonds of sense they move, 
And like two Cherubins converse by love. 
Spirits, to chains of earth confin'd, 

Discourse by sense ; 
But ours, that are by flames refin'd, 

With those weak ties dispense. lo 

Let such in words their minds display; 
We in a kiss our mutual thoughts convey. 
But since my soul from me doth fly, 

To thee retir'd, 
Thou canst not both retain : for I 

Must be with one inspir'd. 
Then, dearest, either justly mine 
Restore, or in exchange let me have thine. 

Yet, if thou dost return mine own, 

Oh tak't again ! " «o 

For 'tis this pleasing death alone 

Gives ease unto my pain. 
Kill me once more, or I shall find 
Thy pity, than thy cruelty, less kind. 

Apollo and Daphne. 


When Phoebus saw a rugged bark beguile 

His love, and his embraces intercept, 
The leaves, instructed by his grief to smile, 

Taking fresh growth and verdure as he wept : 
' How can ', saith he, ' my woes expect release, 
AVhen tears the subject of my tears increase ! ' 

The Kt'ss.'] Title in 1647 ' The killing Kiss ', and several other variants. An answer 
to this poem appears in Jordan's Claraphi and Clarinda. 

4 164^ ' They both unite and join '. But Miss Guiney's suspicion that ' forms ' may 
be a misprint obviously shows forgetfulness of the philosophical sense of the word 
= ' ideas ', ' immortal parts '. Cf. Spenser, ' For soul is form '. 

6 by] 164J 'and' — perhaps better. 

12 164 J ' Our lips, not tongues, each other's thoughts betray'. (Miss Guiney's copy 
seems to have ' our tongues ', which cannot be right.) 15 for I] and I 1647. 

17 dearest] 1647 ' Doris'. This is the second time (v. sup., p. 126) that poor Doris 
has been disestablished. 

Apollo and Daphne.'] Why Garcilasso I do not know. Marini's name was Giam- 

6 The first 'tears' certainly looks odd, and Miss Guiney conjectures 'leaves'. But 
the ways of Marinism are not thus. Apollo's tears watered the laurel and so made it 
grow. His tears increased their subject, the vapid vegetable substitute for Daphne's 
flesh and blood. 


Apollo and Daphne 

His chang'd, yet scorn-retaining Fair he kiss'd, 
From the lov'd trunk plucking a Httle bough; 

And though the conquest which he sought he miss'd, 

With that triumphant spoil adorns his brow. lo 

Thus this disdainful maid his aim deceives : 

Where he expected fruit he gathers leaves. 

Speaking and Kissing. 

The air, which thy smooth voice doth break, 

Into my soul like lightning flies ; 
My life retires whilst thou dost speak, 

And thy soft breath its room supplies. 
Lost in this pleasing ecstasy, 

I join my trembling lips to thine ; 
And back receive that life from thee. 

Which I so gladly did resign. 

Forbear, Platonic fools, t' inquire 

What numbers do the soul compose ! 
No harmony can life inspire, 

But that which from these accents flows. 

The Snow-ball. 

Doris, I that could repel 

All those darts about thee dwell. 

And had wisely learn'd to fear, 

'Cause I saw a foe so near ; 

I that my deaf ear did arm 

'Gainst thy voice's powerful charm, 

And the lightning of thine eye 

Durst (by closing mine) defy, 

Cannot this cold snow withstand 

From the whiter of thy hand. lo 

Thy deceit hath thus done more 

Than thy open force before : 

For who could suspect or fear 

Treason in a face so clear ; 

Or the hidden fires descry 

Wrapt in this cold outside lie? 

Flames might thus involv'd in ice 

The deceiv'd world sacrifice; 

Nature, ignorant of this 

Strange antiperistasis, 20 

Would her falling frame admire. 

That by snow were set on fire. 

Speaking and Kissing.'] This is smarter than Stanley's usual style. 

The Snow-ball.'] Doris maintains here the place she lost above. The tripping seven- 
teenth-century 'sevens' are well spent on her. In 1. 10 Miss Guiney thinks that 
' whiter', the sole reading, must be ' winter'. rtKiara : that Stanley meant ' the whiter 
snow'' is, to me, certain. 

20 ' Antiperistasis ' = 'reaction ' or ' topsyturvyfication ' (Thackeray). 

(129) K I" 

Thomas Stanley 

The Deposition. 

Though when I lov'd thee thou wert fair, 

Thou art no longer so ; 
Those glories all the pride they wear 

Unto opinion owe; 
Beauties, like stars, in borrow'd lustre shine ; 
And 'twas my love that gave thee thine. 

The flames that dwelt within thine eye 

Do now, with mine, expire; 
Thy brightest graces fade and die 

At once with my desire; lo 

Love's fires thus mutual influence return ; 
Thine cease to shine, when mine to burn. 

Then, proud Celinda, hope no more 

To be implor'd or woo'd, 
Since by thy scorn thou dost restore 

The wealth my love bestow'd ; 
And thy despis'd disdain too late shall find 
1 hat none are fair but who are kind. 

To his Mistiness in Absence. 


Far from thy dearest self, the scope 
Of all my aims, 
I waste in secret flames ; 
And only live because I hope. 

Oh, when will Fate restore 
The joys, in whose bright fire 
My expectation shall expire, 
That I may live because I hope no more ! 

Loves Heretic, 

He whose active thoughts disdain 

To be captive to one foe, 
And would break his single chain,. 

Or else more would undergo; 
Let him learn the art of me, 
By new bondage to be free ! 

The Deposition.'] In 164-] ' A Deposition />ow Beauty \ Also 1. 3, ' do ' for ' all ' ;1. 9, 
' glories ' for ' graces ' ; 1. 16, ' That ' for ' The ' and ' which ' for ' my '. 

Love's Heretic] This, for Stanley, longish piece has few vv. II. But 164J reads in 1. 34 
' that' instead of 'to ', and the singular ' pleasure' in 1. 38. The piece is rather in the 
Suckling vein ; but Stanley did not play the light-o'-love quite successfully. 


Loves Heretic 

What tyrannic mistress dare 

To one beauty love confine, 
Who, unbounded as the air, 

All may court but none decline? <© 

Why should we the heart deny 
As many objects as the eye? 

Wheresoe'er I turn or move, 

A new passion doth detain me : 
Those kind beauties that do love, 

Or those proud ones that disdain me; 
This frown melts, and that smile burns me; 
This to tears, that ashes turns me. 

Soft fresh Virgins, not full blown. 

With their youthful sweetness take me; 20 

Sober Matrons, that have known 

Long since what these prove, awake me ; 
Here staid coldness I admire; 
There the lively active fire. 

She that doth by skill dispense 

Every favour she bestows, 
Or the harmless innocence, 

Which nor court nor city knows, 
Both alike my soul enflame. 
That wild Beauty, and this tame, 30 

She that wisely can adorn 

Nature with the wealth of Art, 
Or whose rural sweets do scorn 

Borrow'd helps to take a heart, 
The vain care of that's my pleasure, 
Poverty of this my treasure. 

Both the wanton and the coy. 

Me with equal pleasures move; 
She whom I by force enjoy. 

Or who forceth me to love: 4° 

This, because she'll not confess. 
That not hide, her happiness. 

She whose loosely flowing hair, 

Scatter'd like the beams o'th'morn, 
Playing with the sportive air. 

Hides the sweets it doth adorn. 
Captive in that net restrains me. 
In those golden fetters chains me. 

Nor doth she with power less bright 

My divided heart invade, 50 

Whose soft tresses spread like night 

O'er her shoulders a black shade ; 
For the starlight of her eyes 
Brighter shines through those dark skies. 

( 131 ) K 2 

Thomas Stanley 

Black, or fair, or tall, or low, 

I alike with all can sport ; 
The bold sprightly Thais woo, 

Or the frozen Vestal court ; 
Every Beauty takes my mind. 
Tied to all, to none confin'd. 60 

La Belle Confidente, 

You earthly souls that court a wanton flame, 

Whose pale weak influence 
Can rise no higher than the humble name, 
And narrow laws of sense, 
Learn by our friendship to create 

An immaterial fire, 
Whose brightness Angels may admire, 
But cannot emulate. 

Sickness may fright the roses from her cheek, 

Or make the lilies fade ; lo 

But all the subtile ways that Death doth seek, 
Cannot my love invade. 
Flames that are kindled by the eye, 

Through time and age expire ; 
But ours, that boast a reach far higher, 
Can nor decay nor die. 

For when we must resign our vital breath, 

Our loves by Fate benighted, 
We by this friendship shall survive in death, 

Even in divorce united. 30 

Weak Love, through fortune or distrust, 

In time forgets to burn, 
But this pursues us to the urn, 
And marries either's dust. 

La Belle Enneniie. 

I YIELD, dear enemy, nor know 
How to resist so fair a foe ! 
Who would not thy soft yoke sustain. 
And bow beneath thy easy chain, 
That with a bondage bless'd might be. 
Which far transcends all liberty ? 

La Bellt Confidente.'] On this Sir Egerton : ' However far-fetched these ideas may be, 
there is uncommon elegance and ingenuity in the expression, and polish in the versifica- 
tion.' There is also something more than polish— a concerted effect which 'elegance 
and ingenuity ' do not often reach. In 1. 16, ' Cannot ' appears in /(5./7 for ' Can nor ' ; 
•And' for ' For' in 1. 17 ; and 11. 18, 20 are changed over and run : 

Even in divorce delighted, 

Still in the grave united. 
( 132 ) 


La Belle Knuemie 

But since I freely have resign'd 
At first assault my willing mind, 
Insult not o'er my captiv'd heart 
With too much tyranny and art, 
Lest by thy scorn thou lose the prize 
Gain'd by the power of thy bright eyes, 
And thou this conquest thus shalt prove, 
Though got by Beauty, kept by Love! 

The Dream. 


To set my jealous soul at strife. 

All things maliciously agree. 

Though sleep of Death the image be, 
Dreams are the portraiture of life. 
I saw, when last I clos'd my eyes, 

Celinda stoop t' another's will ; 

If specious Apprehension kill. 
What would the truth without disguise ? 
The joys which I should call mine own, 

Methought this rival did possess : lo 

Like dreams is all my happiness ; 
Yet dreams themselves allow me none. 

To the Lady D. 


The blushes I betray, 
When at your feet I humbly lay 
These papers, beg you would excuse 
Th' obedience of a bashful Muse, 
Who, bowing to your strict command, 
Trusts her own errors to your hand. 
Hasty abortives, which, laid by, 
She meant, ere they were born should die : 
But since the soft power of your breath 

Hath call'd them back again from Death, lo 

To your sharp judgement now made known, 
She dares for hers no longer own ; 
The worst she must not, these resign'd 
She hath to th' fire, and where you find 
Those your kind Charity admir'd, 
She writ but what your eyes inspir'd. 

The Dream.'\ The actual and full In Mentoriant arrangement is the point of interest 
here. Stanley, however, is even less successful than the few other se%'enteenth-century 
practitioners in getting the full rhythmical sweep of the form into operation. He breaks 
the circle and so loses the charm. 

To the Lady D.'] This in i64-j is the Dedication *To my most honour'd Aunt the 
Lady Dormer '. She was a daughter of Sir William Hammond and wife of Sir Robert 
Dormer, Knight, of Chearsley, Bucks. In 164J Stanley added to the poem ^ Madam, 
Your Ladyships Greatest admirer and most humble Servant, Tho. Stanley '. 

( ^11 ) 

Thomas Stanley 

Love Deposed. 

You that unto your mistress' eyes 
Your hearts do sacrifice, 
And offer sighs or tears at Love's rich shrine, 
Renounce with me 
Th' idolatry, 
Nor this infernal Power esteem divine. 

The brand, the quiver, and the bow, 
Which we did first bestow, 
And he as tribute wears from every lover, 

I back again lo 

From him have ta'en, 
And the impostor, now unveil'd, discover. 

I can the feeble child disarm, 
Untie his mystic charm, 
Divest him of his wings, and break his arrow; 
We will obey 
No more his sway. 
Nor live confin'd to laws or bounds so narrow. 

And you, bright Beauties, that inspire 

The Boy's pale torch with fire, 20 

We safely now your subtle power despise, 
And unscorch'd may 
Like atoms play. 
And wanton in the sunshine of your eyes. 

Nor think hereafter by new arts 
You can bewitch our hearts. 
Or raise this devil by your pleasing charm ; 
We will no more 
His power implore. 
Unless, like Indians, that he do no harm. 30 

The Divorce. 

Deak, back my wounded heart restore, 

And turn away thy powerful eyes ; 
Flatter my willing soul no more ! 

Love must not hope what Fate denies. 

Take, take away thy smiles and kisses ! 

Thy love wounds deeper than disdain ; 
For he that sees the heaven he misses. 

Sustains two hells, of loss and pain. 

Shouldst thou some other's suit prefer, 

I might return thy scorn to thee, to 

And learn apostasy of her. 

Who taught me first idolatry. 

The Divoree.'] A rise from one or two preceding pieces. 12 Who] That lO^-j. 

( '.^4 ) 

The Divorce 

Or in thy unrelenting breast 

Should I disdain or coyness move, 
He by thy hate might be releas'd, 

Who now is prisoner to thy love. 

Since then unkind Fate will divorce 

Those whom Affection long united, 
Be thou as cruel as this force, 

And I in death shall be delighted. 20 

Thus while so many suppliants woo. 

And beg they may thy pity prove, 
I only for thy scorn do sue : 

'Tis charity here not to love. 

Tinie Recovered. 


Come, my dear, whilst youth conspires 

With the warmth of our desires ; 

Envious Time about thee watches, 

And some grace each minute snatches ; 

Now a spirit, now a ray. 

From thy eye he steals away ; 

Now he blasts some blooming rose. 

Which upon thy fresh cheek grows ; 

Gold now plunders in a hair; 

Now the rubies doth impair 10 

Of thy lips ; and with sure haste 

All thy wealth will take at last ; 

Only that of which thou mak'st 

Use in time, from time thou tak'st. 

The Bracelet. 

Rebellious fools that scorn to bow 

Beneath Love's easy sway, 
WTiose stubborn wills no laws allow, 
Disdaining to obey, 
Mark but this wreath of hair, and you shall see, 
None that might wear such fetters would be free ! 

14 I] cold 164-]. 15 He] I 1641. 16 is] am 164-;. 

a I while] whilst /(5^ 7. woo] 601647. 

22 ' Implore thy pity they maj- prove ' 164J. 

Tiyne Recovered.!, This ' very light and good ' version is from Guide Casoni y^so more 
usually^, a poet of the Trevisan March (1587-1640^ and founder of the Academy of the 
Incogm'tf 2it Venice, to the Transactions of ^vhich he contributed most of his work. 

Tfie Bracelet.'] Almost certainly suggested by Donne. If so the suggestion was very 
rashly taken, but the result might have been worse. 


Thomas Stanley 

I once could boast a soul like you, 

As unconfin'd as air ; 
But mine, which force could not subdue, 

Was caught within this snare ; lo 

And, by myself betray'd, I, for this gold, 
A heart that many storms withstood, have sold. 

No longer now wise Art inquire. 

With this vain search delighted, 
How souls, that human breasts inspire. 
Are to their frames united ; 
Material chains such spirits well may bind, 
When this soft braid can tie both arm and mind 

Now, Beauties, I defy your charm, 

Rul'd by more powerful art : 20 

This mystic wreath which crowns my arm, 
Defends my vanquish'd heart ; 
And I, subdu'd by one more fair, shall be 
Secur'd from Conquest by Captivity. 

The Farewell. 

Since Fate commands me hence, and I 
Must leave my soul with thee, and die, 
Dear, spare one sigh, or else let fall 
A tear to crown my funeral, 
That I may tell my grieved heart. 
Thou art unwilling we should part. 
And Martyrs, that embrace the fire. 
Shall with less joy than I expire. 

With this last kiss I will bequeath 

My soul transfus'd into thy breath, jo 

Whose active heat shall gently slide 

Into thy breast, and there reside, 

And be in spite of Fate, thus bless'd 

By this sad death, of Heaven possess'd. 

Then prove but kind, and thou shalt see 

Love hath more power than Destiny. 

7 soul] heart 164"]. 

1. 13 is an alteration -as Miss Guiney very rightly says to its detriment — of 164"], 
which reads — 

Have to mine enemy my freedom sold. 

15 164'] ' that do our life inspire '. 

aa 164'] ' Guards and defends my heart'. 

Tht Farewell.] In lines 13 and 14 of this all editions vary slightly. 164-; lias ' may' 
for ' be ', which latter word opens the next line, turning out ' sad '. The text is /5;/. 
j6j6, keeping 1. 13 of 1647, has for 1. 14 the text of i6;i. 


Alas ! alas ! thou tiirnst in vaiit 

Claim to Love, 


Alas ! alas ! thou turn'st in vain 

Thy beauteous face away, 
Which, like young sorcerers, rais'd a pain 

Above its power to lay. 

Love moves not, as thou turn'st thy look, 

But here doth firmly rest ; 
He long ago thy eyes forsook. 

To revel in my breast. 

Thy power on him why hop'st thou more 

Than his on me should be ? lo 

The claim thou lay'st to him is poor. 

To that he owns from me. 

His substance in my heart excels 

His shadow in thy sight; 
Fire, where it burns, more truly dwells, 

Than where it scatters light. 

To his Mistress, who dreatned he was wounded. 


Thine eyes, bright Saint, disclose, 

And thou shalt find 
Dreams have not with illusive shows 

Deceiv'd thy mind : 
What sleep presented to thy view, 
Awake, and thou shalt find is true. 

Those mortal wounds I bear, 

From thee begin, 
Which though they outward not appear, 

Yet bleed within. Jo 

Love's flame like active lightning flies, 
Wounding the heart, but not the eyes. 

But now I yield to die 

Thy sacrifice. 
Nor more in vain will hope to fly 

From thy bright eyes : 
Their killing power cannot be shunn'd. 
Open or closed alike they wound. 

To his Mistress, &<:.] 1647 ' To Doris dreaming he was wounded '. Guarini is not 
there mentioned. 


Thomas Stanley 

The Exchange. 



That kiss, which last thou gav'st me, stole 

My fainting life away, 
Yet, though to thy breast fled, my soul 

Still in mine own doth stay ; 


And with the same warm breath did mine 

Into thy bosom slide ; 
There dwell contracted unto thine, 

Yet still with me reside. 


Both souls thus in desire are one, 

And each is two in skill ; lo 

Doubled in intellect alone, 

United in the will. 
Weak Nature no such power doth know : 
Love only can these wonders show. 

Unaltered by Sickness. 

Sickness, in vain thou dost invade 

A Beauty that can never fade ! 

Could all thy malice but impair 

One of the sweets which crown this fair, 

Or steal the spirits from her eye. 

Or kiss into a paler dye 

The blushing roses of her cheek. 

Our drooping hopes might justly seek 

Redress from thee, and thou might'st save 

Thousands of lovers from the grave : lo 

But such assaults are vain, for she 

Is too divine to stoop to thee; 

The Exchange.'] 16^7 ' Exchange of Souls'. In editions other than i6j[ there is 
a refrain after each stanza-speech : 

Weak Nature no such power doth know, 
Love only can these wonders show. 

Unaltered by Sickness.] Lines i and a are expanded in i6j6 to : 

Pale, envious Sickness, hence ! no more 

Possess our breast, too cold before. 

In vain, alas ! thou dost invade 

Those beauties which can never fade. 
4 'On those sweets which crown the fair' j6;6. 
7 blushing] blooming i6j-j. 8 drooping] dropping : suffering 16^6. 


Unaltered by Sickjtess 

Blest with a form as much too high 
For any change, as Destiny, 
Which no attempt can violate; 
For what's her Beauty, is our Fate. 

On his Mistress s Death. 


Love the ripe harvest of my toils 

Began to cherish with his smiles, 

Preparing me to be indued 

With all the joys I long pursued, 

When my fresh hopes, fair and full blown, 

Death blasts, ere I could call my own. 

Malicious Death ! why with rude force 

Dost thou my Fair from me divorce? 

False Life ! why in this loathed chain 

Me from my Fair dost thou detain? lo 

In whom assistance shall I find ? 

Alike are Life and Death unkind. 

Pardon me, Love ; thy power outshines, 

And laughs at their infirm designs. 

She is not wedded to a tomb, 

Nor I to sorrow in her room. 

They, what thou join'st, can ne'er divide 

She lives in me, in her I died. 

The Exequies. 

Draw near, 
You Lovers that complain 
Of Fortune or Disdain, 
And to my ashes lend a tear; 
Melt the hard marble with your groans, 
And soften the relentless stones. 
Whose cold embraces the sad subject hide. 
Of all Love's cruelties, and Beauty's pride ! 

No verse. 
No epicedium bring, "^ 

Nor peaceful requiem sing, 
To charm the terrors of my hearse; 
No profane numbers must flow near 
The sacred silence that dwells here. 
Vast griefs are dumb ; softly, oh ! softly mourn, 
Lest you disturb the peace attends my urn. 

14 For any] 7<5; (5 5»</ any— nonsensically'. . • ui i 

The Exequies.'] A very good stanza, the rhythm rising and swelling admirably, in 
the final couplet of the first, 1647 reads — 

do a victim hide, 
That, paid to Beauty, on Love's altar died. 

( 139 ) 

Thomas Stanley 

Yet strew 
Upon my dismal grave 
Such offerings as you have, 
Forsaken cypress and sad yew ; ao 

For kinder flowers can take no birth, 
Or growth, from such unhappy earth. 
Weep only o'er my dust, and say. Here lies 
To Love and Fate an equal sacrifice. 

The Silkiuorm. 

This silkworm, to long sleep retird. 

The early year hath re-inspir'd. 

Who now to pay to thee prepares 

The tribute of her pleasing cares ; 

And hastens with industrious toil 

To make thy ornament, her spoil : 

See with what pains she spins for thee 

The thread of her own destiny ; 

Then growing proud in Death, to know 

That all her curious labours thou lo 

Wilt, as in triumph, deign to wear, 

Retires to her soft sepulchre. 

Such, dearest, is that hapless state, 
To which I am design'd by Fate, 
Who by thee, willingly, o'ercome. 
Work mine own fetters and my tomb. 

A Lady Weeping. 


As when some brook flies from itself away, 
The murmuring crystal loosely runs astray ; 
And as about the verdant plain it winds, 
The meadows with a silver riband binds. 
Printing a kiss on every flower she meets, 
Losing herself to fill them with new sweets, 
To scatter frost upon the lily's head, 
And scarlet on the gilliflower to spread ; 

The Silkwornt.'] i This] The i6^y. 

6 Miss Guiney insists, in the teeth of all texts, upon changing over ' thy ' and * her ', 
saying that ' facts and the context force ' the reversal. I am afraid that the genius of 
seventeenth-century poetry did not care much for facts or context at any time. But 
here no violence is done to either. Nine men out of ten wishing to say 'to make out 
of the spoil of herself an ornament for thee' would have probably put it in the same 
way, especially if they wanted the rhyme ' spoil '. 

lo ' That /ler rich work and labours ' 164"]. 

14 ' I destined am ' 164"]. 

A Lady IVceping.'] Few people, I think, will accept Miss Guiney's suggestion of 'tears' 
for "Stars' in 1. 10, especially after 'humid'. The shooting star, which dissolved on 
reaching earth into dew or 'jelly ', is very common with Carolines. 

( 140) 

A Lady IVeeping 

So melting sorrow, in the fair disguise 

Of humid stars, flow'd from bright Cloris' eyes, lo 

Which wat'ring every flower her cheek discloses, 

Melt into jasmines here, there into roses. 


I MUST no longer now admire 
The coldness which possess'd 
Thy snowy breast. 
That can by other flames be set on fire. 
Poor Love, to harsh Disdain betray'd, 
Is by Ambition thus out-weigh'd. 

Hadst thou but known the vast extent 
Of constant faith, how far 
'Bove all that are 
Bom slaves to Wealth, or Honour's vain ascent ; lo 

No richer treasure couldst thou find 
Than hearts with mutual chains combin'd. 

But Love is too despis'd a name, 
And must not hope to rise 
Above these ties ; 
Honour and Wealth outshine his paler flame ; 
These unite souls, whilst true desire 
Unpitied dies in its own fire. 

Yet, cruel fair one, I did aim 

With no less justice too, 30 

Than those that sue 
For other hopes, and thy proud fortunes claim. 
Wealth honours, honours wealth approve, 
But Beauty's only meant for Love. 


When, dearest beauty, thou shall pay 
Thy faith and my vain hope away 
To some dull soul that cannot know 
The worth of that thou dost bestow ; 
Lest with my sighs and tears I might 
Disturb thy unconfin'd delight. 
To some dark shade I will retire, 
And there, forgot by all, expire. 

Ambition.'] 16 Miss Guiney thinks that the singular 'Honour', though in all texts, 
is obviously wrong. I should say that the plural would be more obviously wronger. 
The mistake, of course, comes from importing a modern distinction. 

Song.] Not one of Stanley's worst. 


Thomas Stanley 

Thus, whilst the difference thou shalt prove 

Betwixt a feign'd and real love, lo 

Whilst he, more happy, but less true, 

Shall reap those joys I did pursue. 

And with those pleasures crowned be 

By Fate, which Love design'd for me, 

Then thou, perhaps, thyself wilt find 

Cruel too long, or too soon kind. 

The Revenge. 


Fair Rebel to thyself and Time, 

Who laugh'st at all my tears, 
When thou hast lost thy youthful prime. 

And Age his trophy rears, 

Weighing thy inconsiderate pride 

Thou shalt in vain accuse it. 
Why beauty am I now denied, 

Or knew not then to use it ? 

Then shall I wish, ungentle fair. 

Thou in like flames mayst burn; lo 

Venus, if just, will hear my prayer. 

And I shall laugh my turn. 


I WILL not trust thy tempting graces. 

Or thy deceitful charms ; 
Nor pris'ner be to thy embraces. 

Or fetter'd in thy arms ; 
No, Celia, no, not all thy art 
Can wound or captivate my heart. 

I will not gaze upon thy eyes, 

Or wanton with thy hair, 
Lest those should burn me by surprise. 

Or these my soul ensnare ; lo 

Nor with those smiling dangers play. 
Or fool my liberty away. 

The Revenge.'] Not one of his best, even as a translation. The suspicion oi flatness 
which occurs too often in him could not be more fatal than in connexion with Ronsard's 
famous and beautiful sonnet. But Stanley has handicapped himself almost incon- 
ceivably. He has thrown away the half-sad, half-scornful burst of the opening * Quand 
vous serez bien vieille ' — the vivid picture of the crone half boasting, half regretting her 
love and her disdain, by the flicker of fire and candle, to the listening handmaiden, and 
the final touch as to the use of life. In fact I have sometimes wondered whether he 
really meant this masterpiece. 

Song.] Another capital stanza-mould, especially in r. The next is even better. 

This Song is also in Select Airs and Dialogues, set by Mr. Jeremy Savill, i6jp 


Since then my wary heart is free, 

And unconfin'd as thine, 
If thou wouldst mine should captiv'd be, 

Thou must thine own resign. 
And gratitude may thus move more 
Than Love or Beauty could before. 


No, I will sooner trust the wind. 
When falsely kind 
It courts the pregnant sails into a storm, 
And when the smiling waves persuade, 

Be willingly betray'd. 
Than thy deceitful vows or form. 

Go, and beguile some easy heart 
With thy vain art ; 
Thy smiles and kisses on those fools bestow, 

Who only see the calms that sleep lo 

On this smooth flatt'ring deep. 
But not the hidden dangers know. 

They that like me thy falsehood prove. 
Will scorn thy love. 
Some may, deceiv'd at first, adore thy shrine ; 
But he that, as thy sacrifice. 

Doth willingly fall twice, 
Dies his own martyr, and not thine. 

To a Blind Man in Love, 


Lover, than Love more blind, whose bold thoughts dare 

Fix on a woman is both young and fair ! 

If Argus, with a hundred eyes, not one 

Could guard, hop'st thou to keep thine, who hast none? 


I'm blind, 'tis true, but, in Love's rules, defect 
Of sense is aided by the intellect ; 
And senses by each other are supplied : 
The touch enjoys what 's to the sight denied. 

SoMgP\ 12 the] thy 164'j. 

To a Blind Man in Love !\ 2 The ellipsis of 'who' before * is ' is one of the few 
grammatical Hcences which are really awkward in poetry. In Oronta 164J, where 
this poem also appeared with two other translations from Marino, the reading is ' woman 
that is young' ; and in 7 ' Senses too '. 

( H3 ) 

Thomas Stanley 


I PRITHEE let my heart alone, 

Since now 'tis rais'd above thee, 
Not all the beauty thou dost own. 

Again can make me love thee : 

He that was shipwreck'd once before 

By such a Syren's call, 
And yet neglects to shun that shore, 

Deserves his second fall. 

Each flatt'ring kiss, each tempting smile, 

Thou dost in vain bestow, lo 

Some other lovers might beguile. 

Who not thy falsehood know. 

But I am proof against all art, 

No vows shall e'er persuade me 
Twice to present a wounded heart 

To her that hath betray'd me. 

Could I again be brought to love 

Thy form, though more divine, 
I might thy scorn as justly move, 

As now thou sufferest mine. ao 

The Loss, 

Yet ere I go, 
Disdainful Beauty, thou shalt be 

So wretched, as to know 
What joys thou fling'st away with me. 

A faith so bright. 
As Time or Fortune could not rust ; 

So firm, that lovers might 
Have read thy story in my dust, 

And crown'd thy name 
With laurel verdant as thy youth, lo 

Whilst the shrill voice of Fame 
Spread wide thy beauty and my truth. 

SongP\ Pretty, and the double rhymes in stanzas i and 4 well brought oft". 

7 16^6 ' the shore '. 

The Loss.^ Still good. But I have once more to demur to Miss Guiney's opinion that 
'Thy' in 1. 20, though found in all texts, should 'almost certainly' be 'Their'. In 
the first place, conjectural emendations in the teeth of text-agreement are never to be 
made without absolute necessity. In the second, the hackneyed observation about the 
less obvious reading is never so true as of the Caroline poets. In the third, this parti- 
cular correction, if obvious in one sense, is but specious in another, and ' 77;rtV faith ' 
will be found on examination to make less, not more, sense than ' Thy'. The meaning 
is, 'Such faith as thou mightest repose in them after being false to nie ', i.e. ' Thej' 
would leave thee for other light-o'-loves'. 

( '44 ) 

The Loss 

This thou hast lost ; 
For all true lovers, when they find 

That my just aims were crost, 
Will speak thee lighter than the wind. 

And none will lay 
Any oblation on thy shrine, 
But such as would betray 
Thy faith, to faiths as false as thine. jo 

Yet, if thou choose 
On such thy freedom to bestow, 

Affection may excuse. 
For love from sympathy doth flow. 

The Self -Cruel. 

Cast off, for shame, ungentle Maid, 

That misbecoming joy thou wear'st ; 
For in my death, though long delay'd, 

Unwisely cruel thou appear'st. 
Insult o'er captives with disdain, 
Thou canst not triumph o'er the slain. 

No, I am now no longer thine, 

Nor canst thou take delight to see 
Him whom thy love did once confine, 

Set, though by Death, at liberty ; lo 

For if my fall a smile beget, 
Thou gloriest in thy own defeat. 

Behold how thy unthrifty pride 

Hath murder'd him that did maintain it ! 
And wary souls, who never tried 

Thy tyrant beauty, will disdain it : 
But I am softer, and that me 
Thou wouldst not pity, pity thee. 


BY M. W. M. 

Wert thou yet fairer than thou art, 
Which lies not in the power of Art ; 
Or hadst thou in thine eyes more darts 
Than ever Cupid shot at hearts ; 
Yet if they were not thrown at me, 
I would not cast a thought on thee. 

The Self-Cruel.'] Merely ' Song ' in 164^. 

The observations in the preceding note apply to Miss Guiney's supposition that 'that' 
in the penultimate line is a misprint for ' though '. ' I pity thee in [or ' for '] that thou 
wouldst not pity me.' 

Song.] In 164J the song itself is not given, and the title of Stanley's piece is '/« 

( 145 ) L m 

Thomas Stafiley 

I'd rather marry a disease, 

Than court the thing I cannot please : 

She that will cherish my desires, 

Must meet my flames with equal fires. lo 

What pleasure is there in a kiss 

To him that doubts the heart's not his? 

I love thee not because th' art fair, 

Softer than down, smoother than air ; 

Nor for the Cupids that do lie 

In either corner of thine eye : 

AV'OuIdst thou then know what it might be? 

'Tis I love you, 'cause you love me. 


Wert thou by all affections sought, 

And fairer than thou wouldst be thought ; 

Or had thine eyes as many darts 

As thou believ'st they shoot at hearts; 

Yet if thy love were paid to me, 

I would not offer mine to thee. 

I'd sooner court a fever's heat. 

Than her that owns a flame as great ; 

She that my love will entertain, 

Must meet it with no less disdain; lo 

For mutual fires themselves destroy, 

And willing kisses yield no joy. 

I love thee not because alone 

Thou canst all beauty call thine own 

Nor doth my passion fuel seek 

In thy bright eye or softer cheek : 

Then, fairest, if thou wouldst know why 

I love thee, 'cause thou canst deny. 

The Relapse. 

Oh, turn away those cruel eyes, 

The stars of my undoing ! 
Or Death, in such a bright disguise, 

May tempt a second wooing. 

Answer to n Song, Wert thou much fairer than thou art, &c.' I do not know who 
Master W. M. was — possibly Walter Montagu, Abbe de Saint-Martin, whom we have 
met once or twice in commendatory poems, and who was of the Cavalier literary set. 

The Relapse.'] One of the author's best. Double rhymes often brought him luck. It 
was reprinted in Lawes's Airs and Dialogues, the Second Book, 1655, p .7, with the 
heading ' He would not be tempted '. In 164^ called ' Song ' only. This edition also 
reads in 1. 5 'blind and impious', and in I. 7 'thy name' for 'my fall'. This last, 
which doubtless is a slip, seems to occur in some copies of lOji, but Brydges prints it 

1 he Relapse 

Punish their blindly impious pride, 

Who dare contemn thy glory ; 
It was my fall that deified 

Thy name, and seal'd thy story. 

Yet no new sufferings can prepare 

A higher praise to crown thee ; lo 

Though my first Death proclaim thee fair, 

My second will unthrone thee. 

Lovers will doubt thou canst entice 

No other for thy fuel, 
And if thou bum one victim twice. 

Both think thee poor and cruel. 

To the Countess of S. with the Holy Court. 


Since every place you bless, the name 

This book assumes may justlier claim, 

(What more a court than where you shine? 

And where your soul, what more divine?) 

You may, perhaps, doubt at first sight, 

That it usurps upon your right ; 

And praising virtues, that belong 

To you, in others, doth yours wTong ; 

No; 'tis yourself you read, in all 

Perfections earlier ages call lo 

Their own ; all glories they e'er knew 

Were but faint prophecies of you. 

You then have here sole interest whom 'tis meant 

As well to entertain, as represent. 



I LANGUISH in a silent flame ; 

For she, to whom my vows incline, 
Doth own perfections so divine. 
That but to speak were to disclose her name 
If I should say that she the store 
Of Nature's graces doth comprise, 
The love and wonder of all eyes, 
Who will not guess the beauty I adore? 

To the Countess o/S.'] This lady has been supposed, probably enough, to be Dorothy 
Sidney or Spencer, Countess of Sunderland, and Waller's ' Sacharissa '. The Holy 
Court was a manual of devotion by the Jesuit Caussin, translated into English as early 
as 1626. 

SoYig.'] Stanley was less ivnpar congressus with Voiture than with Ronsard, and this 
is well done. The stanza is well framed and is different from the French ,' Je me tais 
et me sens bruler ', Chanson LIV, (Euvres de Voiture, ed. Ubicini, Paris, 1855. ii. 336). 

( 147 ) L 2 

Thomas Stanley 

Or though I warily conceal 

The charms her looks and soul possess ; lo 

Should I her cruelty express, 
And say she smiles at all the pains we feel ; 

Among such suppliants as implore 
Pity, distributing her hate. 
Inexorable as their fate, 
Who will not guess the beauty I adore? 

Drawfi for Valentine by the L. D. S. 

Though 'gainst me Love and Destiny conspire. 

Though I must waste in an unpitied fire, 

By the same Deity, severe as fair, 

Commanded adoration and despair ; 

Though I am mark'd for sacrifice, to tell 

The growing age what dangerous glories dwell 

In this bright dawn, who, when she spreads her rays. 

Will challenge every heart, and every praise ; 

Yet she who to all hope forbids my claim. 

By Fortune 's taught indulgence to my flame. lo 

Great Queen of Chance ! unjustly we exclude 
Thy power an interest in beatitude. 
Who, with mysterious judgement, dost dispense 
The bounties of unerring Providence, 
Whilst Ave, to whom the causes are unknown, 
Would style that blindness thine, which is our own ; 
As kind in justice to thyself as me, 
Thou hast redeem'd thy name and votary ; 
Nor will I prize this less for being thine. 
Nor longer at my destiny repine : 30 

Counsel and choice are things below thy state ; 
Fortune relieves the cruelties of Fate. 

The Modest Wish. 


Reach incense, boy! thou pious Flamen, pray! 
To genial Deities these rites we pay. 
Fly far from hence, such as are only taught 
To fear the Gods by guilt of crime or thought ! 
This is my suit ; grant it. Celestial Powers, 
If what my will affects, oppose not yours. 

First, pure before your altars may I stand, 
And practise studiously what you command ; 
My parents' faith devoutly let mc prize, 

Nor what my ancestors esteem'd, despise ; 10 


The Modest Wish 

Let me not vex'd inquire (when thriving ill 

Depresseth good) why thunder is so still ? 

No such ambitious knowledge trouble me ; 

Those curious thoughts advance not Piety : 

Peaceful my house, in wife and children bless'd, 

Nor these beyond my fortunes be increas'd : 

None cozen me with Friendship's specious gloss ; 

None dearly buy my friendship with their loss : 

To suits nor wars my quiet be betray'd ; 

My quiet, to the Muses justly paid : so 

Want never force me court the rich with lies, 

And intermix my suit with flatteries : 

Let my sure friends deceive the tedious light, 

And my sound sleeps, with debts not broke, the night : 

Cheerful my board, my smiles shar'd by my wife, 

O Gods ! yet mindful still of human life. 

To die nor let me wish nor fear • among 

My joys mix griefs, griefs that not last too long : 

My age be happy ; and when Fate shall claim 

My thread of life, let me survive in fame. 30 

Enough : the gods are pleas'd ; the flames aspire, 

And crackling laurel triumphs in the fire. 

E Catalectis Vet\eriLiii\ Poet\artiin\ 

A SMALL well-gotten stock and country seat 
T have, yet my content makes both seem great. 
My quiet soul to fears is not inur'd. 
And from the sins of Idleness secur'd. 
Others may seek the camp, others the town, 
And fool themselves with pleasure or renown ; 
Let me, unminded in the common crowd, 
Live master of the time that Fm allow'd. 

On the Edition of Mr. Fletcher s Works. 

Fletcher (whose fame no age can ever waste; 

Envy of ours, and glory of the last) 

Is now alive again ; and with his name 

His sacred ashes wak'd into a flame ; 

Such as before did by a secret charm 

The wildest heart subdue, the coldest warm, 

And lend the ladies' eyes a power more bright, 

Dispensing thus to either, heat and light. 

On [the Edition of Mr.'] Fletcher's Works.'] The bracketed words omitted in 1647, when, 
as the book itself (the first folio of Beaumont and Fletcher) had just appeared, they 
were unnecessary. The variants are slight : 'could ' and ' did' in lines 5 and 11 are 
changed over ; in 1. 19 'doth' (again reflecting the immediate presentation). In 1. 29 
'rise' : the form ' ris' ' is recognized by Ben Jonson. In 1. 30 Miss Guiney thinks * not' 
' clearly a misprint ' for ' with '. But this is clearly a misunderstanding of ' expir'd ', 
which is used with its proper transitive force as in Latin. ' Had not the dying stage 

( 149 ) 

Thomas Stanley 

He to a sympathy those souls betray'd, 
Whom Love or Beauty never could persuade; lo 

And in each mov'd spectator could beget 
A real passion by a counterfeit : 
When first Bellario bled, what lady there 
Did not for every drop let fall a tear? 
And when Aspasia wept, not any eye 
But seem'd to wear the same sad livery. 
By him inspir'd, the feign'd Lucina drew 
More streams of melting sorrow than the true; 
But then the Scornful Lady did beguile 
Their easy griefs, and teach them all to smile. ao 

Thus he afifections could or raise or lay ; 
Love, Grief, and Mirth thus did his charms obey : 
He Nature taught her passions to outdo, 
How to refine the old, and create new ; 
Which such a happy likeness seem'd to bear, 
As if that Nature Art, Art Nature were. 

Yet all had nothing been, obscurely kept 
In the same urn wherein his dust hath slept, 
Nor had he ris' the Delphic wreath to claim, 
Had not the dying scene expir'd his name. 30 

Oh the indulgent justice of this age. 
To grant the Press, what it denies the Stage ! 
Despair our joy hath doubled ; he is come 
Twice welcome by this post-limmium ; 
His loss preserv'd him ; they that silenc'd wit 
Are now the authors to eternize it : 

Thus poets are in spite of Fate reviv'd. 

And plays, by intermission, longer liv'd. 

To Mr. W. Hammond. 

Thou best of friendship, knowledge, and of art ! 
The charm of whose lov'd name preserves my heart 
From female vanities (thy name, which there. 
Till Time dissolves the fabric, I must wear). 
Forgive a crime which long my soul opprest, 
And crept by chance in my unwary breast, 
So great, as for thy pardon were unfit, 
And to forgive were worse than to commit, 

[tlie suppressed and decadent theatre of 1647] expired [uttered with its passing 
breath] his name, the book would not have been published [and so made him rise and 
claim the crown].' II. 31, 32 were omitted in the Heaumont and Fletcher Folio, 1647. 

It can hardly be necessary to annotate the well-known characters of ' the twins ' that 
Stanley introduces. Brydges, by printing 'Scornful Lady' without capitals, unneces- 
sarily obscured one of them. 

To Mr. W. Hamt>tond.'\ In if>4'], as usually, initials only. His relation 'see Introduc- 
tion) and the author of the poems in vol. ii. As in some other cases, this poem shows 
the nisus of the more or less stopped couplet — the way in which it was communicating 
energy to writers of the lime even when they mainly belong to the older division. 

To M7\ JV, Hammond 

But that the fault and pain were so much one, 

The very act did expiate what was done. lo 

I, who so often sported with the flame, 
Play'd with the Boy, and laugh'd at both as tame, 
Betray'd by Idleness and Beauty, fell 
At last in love, love, both the sin and hell : 
No punishment great as my fault esteem'd, 
But to be that which I so long had seem'd. 
Behold me such, a face, a voice, a lute, 
The sentence in a minute execute ! 
I yield ; recant ; the faith which I before 
Denied, profess ; the power I scorn'd, implore. ao 

Alas, in vain ! no prayers, no vows can bow 
Her stubborn heart, who neither will allow. 
But see how strangely what was meant no less 
Than torment, prov'd my greatest happiness : 
Delay, that should have sharpened, starv'd Desire, 
And Cruelty not fann'd, but quench'd my fire ; 
Love bound me : now by kind Disdain set free, 
I can despise that Love as well as she. 
That sin to friendship I away have thrown : 
My heart thou mayst without a rival own, 30 

While such as willingly themselves beguile, 
And sell away their freedoms for a smile, 
Blush to confess our joys as far above 
Their hopes, as Friendship's longer liv'd than Love. 

On Mr. Shirley s Poems. 

When, dearest friend, thy verse doth re-inspire 
Love's pale decaying torch with brighter fire. 
Whilst everywhere thou dost dilate thy flame, 
And to the world spread thy Odelia's name. 
The justice of all ages must remit 
To her the prize of Beauty, thee of Wit. 

30 164J ' Nor any flame, but what is thine, will own '. 

On Mr. ShirUys Poems.'] 164J initials (I. S.), as usual. The same remark applies 
here as to the last piece. Shirley's Poems (which include a reciprocal compliment to 
our author's) appear at the end of the sixth volume of Dyce's standard edition of his 
plays, and therefore are not included in this collection. They are, however, interest- 
ing, though there is nothing in them so good as the famous 'Glories of our blood and 
state '. ' Odelia ' (a curious and rather suspicious name) appears pretty frequently in 
them. Shirley was a friend not merely of Stanley, but of Hammond and Prestwich 
{v. inf.) and others of the set. Some of the poems usually attributed to Carew appear 
to be really his. His Poems were published in 1646, a year before Stanley's. — There 
are some quite unimportant variants between 164J and i6ji : ' that ' and 'who ' in 1. 7 ; 
' a ' and ' some ' in 1. 8 ; ' words ' and ' speech ' in 1. 19 ; and 1. 30 has the absurd read- 
ing ' A patron, yet & friend to poesy'. 164J omits lines 31 and 32, and reads 

Thou hast so far all future times surpassed 

in 1. 33. Miss Guiney suggests 'voice' for 'veil' in 1. 21. But 'veil' is far more 
poetical as = The body of her disguise and humiliation after her aerial enfranchisement. 


Thomas Stanley 

Then, like some skilful artist, that to wonder 
Framing a piece, displeas'd, takes it asunder, 
Thou Beauty dost depose, her charms deny, 
And all the mystic chains of Love untie : lo 

Thus thy diviner Muse a power 'bove Fate 
May boast, that can both make and uncreate. 

Next thou call'st back to life that love-sick boy. 
To the kind-hearted nymphs less fair than coy, 
Who, by reflex beams burnt with vain desire, 
Did, Phoenix-like, in his own flames expire : 
But should he view his shadow drawn by thee. 
He with himself once more in love would be. 

Echo (who though she words pursue, her haste 
Can only overtake and stop the last) 20 

Shall her first speech and human veil obtain 
To sing thy softer numbers o'er again. 
Thus, into dying poetry, thy Muse 
Doth full perfection and new life infuse ; 
Each line deserves a laurel, and thy praise 
Asks not a garland, but a grove of bays ; 
Nor can ours raise thy lasting trophies higher, 
^^'ho only reach at merit to admire. 

But I must chide thee, friend : how canst thou be 
A patron, yet a foe to poetry? 30 

For while thou dost this age to verse restore, 
Thou dost deprive the next of owning more ; 
And hast so far e'en future aims surpast, 
That none dare write : thus being first and last, 
All, their abortive Muses will suppress, 
And poetry by this increase grow less. 

On Mr. Sherburns Translation of Seneca s Medea, 
and Vindication of the AtUkor. 

That wise philosopher, who had design'd 

To life the various passions of the mind, 

Did wrong'd Medea's jealousy prefer 

To entertain the Roman theatre ; 

Both to instruct the soul, and please the sight. 

At once begetting horror and delight. 

This cruelty thou dost once more express, 
Though in a strange, no less becoming dress ; 
And her revenge hast robb'd of half its pride, 
To see itself thus by itself outvied, 10 

On Mr. Sherbunt^s Translation, &'c.'] Title in 164J rather longer, but with initials, 
'To Mr. E. S. on his Translation of Medea, with the other Tragedies of Seneca the 
Philosopher and vindicating of their Author'. Sherburn (afterwards Sir Edward) had 
the rather capriciously adjudged honour of appearing in Chalmers's Poets, which 
accounts for his absence here. 

( '5^ 

On Mr. Sherhurri s Translation^ &fc, 

That boldest ages past may say, our times 
Can speak, as well as act their highest crimes. 
Nor was 't enough to do his scene this right, 
But what thou gav'st to us, with equal light 
Thou wouldst bestow on him, nor wert more just 
Unto the author's work, than to his dust ; 
Thou dost make good his title, aid his claim, 
Both vindicate his poem and his name. 
So shar'st a double wreath ; for all that we 
Unto the poet owe, he owes to thee. so 

Though change of tongues stol'n praise to some afford, 
Thy version hath not borrow'd, but restor'd. 

On Mr. Hairs Essays. 

Wits that matur'd by time have courted praise. 

Shall see their works outdone in these Essays; 

And blush to know, thy earlier years display 

A dawning, clearer than their brightest day. 

Yet I'll not praise thee, for thou hast outgrown 

The reach of all men's praises, but thine own. 

Encomiums to their objects are exact ; 

To praise, and not at full, is to detract. 

And with most justice are the best forgot. 

For praise is bounded when the theme is not: lo 

Since mine is thus confin'd, and far below 

Thy merit, I forbear it, nor will show 

How poor the autumnal pride of some appears, 

To the ripe fruit thy vernal season bears. 

Yet though I mean no praise, I come t' invite 

Thy forward aims still to advance their flight ; 

Rise higher yet, what though thy spreading wreath 

Lessen to their dull sight who stay beneath ? 

To thy full learning how can all allow 

Just praise, unless that all were learn'd as thou? 20 

Go on in spite of such low souls, and may 

Thy growing worth know age, though not decay, 

Till thou pay back thy theft; and live to climb 

As many years as thou hast snatch'd from Time. 

20 164^ reads ' author' for ' poet', an obvious overlooking of the occurrence of the 
word just before. 

On Mr. Hair s Essays.'] 164 j 'To Mr. I. H. on his Essays'. These were the much- 
praised Horae Vacivae (see Introduction to Hall, vol. ii). Besides the slight difference 
in general title the 164'] version divides itself. The first division consists of the first 
four lines only. A second, to Mr. I. H., appears elsewhere, beginning : 

ninot commend thee, for thou hast outgrown — 

and going on as above, except that ' full' is foisted up from 1.8 to 1. 7 ('full objects'), 
to the destruction of sense and metre. 
3 earlier] early 164-]. 13 ' The pride of others ' autumns poor appears ' i64j. 


Thomas Stanley 

On S\ir\ J\ohii\ S\uckling\, his Picture and Poems. 

Suckling, whose numbers could invite 
Alike to wonder and delight, 
And with new spirit did inspire 
The Thespian scene and Delphic lyre, 
Is thus express'd in either part, 
Above the humble reach of Art. 
Drawn by the pencil, here you find 
His form, by his own pen, his mind. 

The Union. 

Mta ^vyr\ 8uo <T(o/x.aTa. 

As in the crystal centre of the sight. 

Two subtle beams make but one cone of light, 

Or when one flame twin'd with another is. 

They both ascend in one bright pyramis ; 

Our spirits thus into each other flow, 

One in our being, one in what we know, 

In what we will, desire, dislike, approve. 

In what we love, and one is that pure love, 

As in a burning glass th' aerial flame, 

With the producing ray, is still the same : lo 

We to Love's purest quintessence refin'd. 

Do both become one undefiled mind. 

This sacred fire into itself converts 

Our yielding spirits, and our melting hearts, 

Till both our souls into one spirit run. 

So several lines are in their centre one. 

And when thy fair idea is imprest 

In the soft tablet of my easier breast, 

The sweet reflection brings such sympathy, 

That I my better self behold in thee ; 20 

And all perfections that in thee combine, 

By this resultance are entirely mine ; 

Thy rays disperse my shades, who only live 

Bright in the lustre thou art pleas'd to give. 


If we are one, dear friend ! why shouldst thou be 
At once unequal to thyself and me ? 

On Sir John Suckling, his Picture and Poems.] Initials only in original titles. These 
poems were the Fraginenta A urea of 1646. 

The Union] 12 undefiled] undivided 1647. 18 tablet] table 1647. 

( 154 ) 


By thy release thou swell'st my debt the more, 

And dost but rob thyself to make me poor. 

What part can I have in thy luminous cone? 

What flame, since my love's thine, can call my own? 

The palest star is less the son of night, 

Who, but thy borrow'd, know no native light : 

Was 't not enough thou freely didst bestow 

The Muse, but thou wouldst give the laurel too? lo 

And twice my aims by thy assistance raise. 

Conferring first the merit, then the praise? 

But I should do thee greater injury, 

Did I believe this praise were meant to me, 

Or thought, though thou hast worth enough to spare, 

T' enrich another soul, that mine should share. 

Thy Muse, seeming to lend, calls home her fame, 

And her due wreath doth in renouncing claim. 

Pythagoras, his Moral Rules. 

First to immortal God thy duty pay. 
Observe thy vow, honour the saints : obey 
Thy prince and rulers, nor their laws despise : 
Thy parents reverence, and near allies : 
Him that is first in virtue make thy friend ; 
And with observance his kind speech attend : 
Nor, to thy power, for light faults cast him by ; 
Thy power is neighbour to necessity. 

These know, and with intentive care pursue ; 
But Anger, Sloth, and Luxury subdue. lo 

In sight of others, or thyself, forbear 
What 's ill ; but of thyself stand most in fear. 
Let Justice all thy words and actions sway, 
Nor from the even course of reason stray ; 
For know that all men are to die ordain'd. 
And riches are as quickly lost as gain'd. 
Crosses that happen by divine decree. 
If such thy lot, bear not impatiently. 
Yet seek to remedy with all thy care, 

And think the just have not the greatest share. ao 

'Mongst men discourses good and bad are spread, 
Despise not those, nor be by these misled. 
If any some notorious falsehood say, 
Thou the report with equal judgement weigh. 

Answer.'] In 1. lo of the ' Answer' 164"] has ' must'. At the end of the poem in 
164'] is the couplet 

Avanopt O-qKvfiavwv y\vKV fit/ \fye Ktvrpov epwTWW 
yiovvos TA2 MOY5A2 6\Pi6s iari ©EAHN. 
Pythagoras, /it's Moral Rules.'] Stanley's three vocations of poet, translator, and philo- 
sopher come well together in this closing piece, and the prose commentary- completes 
the exposition in little. 


Thomas Sta?tley 

Let not men's smoother promises invite, 

Nor rougher threats from just resolves thee fright. 

If ought thou wouldst attempt, first ponder it. 

Fools only inconsiderate acts commit. 

Nor do what afterward thou mayst repent, 

First learn to know the thing on which th' art bent. 30 

Thus thou a life shalt lead with joy replete. 

Nor must thou care of outward health forget; 
Such temperance use in exercise and diet, 
As may preserve thee in a settled quiet. 
Meats unprohibited, not curious, choose, 
Decline what any other may accuse : 
The rash expense of vanity detest. 
And sordidness : a mean in all is best. 
Hurt not thyself; act nought thou dost not weigh; 
And every business of the following day 40 

As soon as by the morn awak'd, dispose ; 
Nor suffer sleep at night thy eyes to close, 
Till thrice that diary thou hast o'errun; 
How slipt ? what deeds, what duty left undone ? 
Thus thy account summ'd up from first to last. 
Grieve for the ill, joy for what good hath past. 

These, if thou study, practise, and affect. 
To sacred Virtue will thy steps direct. 
Nature's eternal fountain I attest, 

Who did the soul with fourfold power invest. 50 

Ere thou begin, pray well thy work may end. 
Then shall thy knowledge to all things extend. 
Divine and human ; where enlarg'd, restrain'd ; 
How Nature is by general likeness chain'd. 
Vain Hope nor Ignorance shall dim thy sight : 
Then shalt thou see that hapless men invite 
Their ills ; to good, though present, deaf and blind ; 
And few the cure of their misfortunes find : 
This only is the fate that harms, and rolls, 
Through miseries successive, human souls. 60 

Within is a continual hidden fight, 
AVhich we to shun must study, not excite : 
Good God ! how little trouble should we know, 
If thou to all men wouldst their genius show ! 

But fear not thou ; men come of heav'nly race. 
Taught by diviner Nature what t' embrace ; 
Which, if pursued, thou all I nam'd shalt gain, 
And keep thy soul clear from thy body's stain : 
In time of prayer and cleansing meats denied 
Abstain from ; thy mind's reins let reason guide : 70 

Then rais'd to Heaven, thou from thy body free, 

A deathless saint, no more shalt mortal be. 

The common received opinion that Pythagoras is not the author of these 

Pythagoras^ his Moral Rules 

verses, seems to be defended by Chrysippus in Agellius, Plutarch^ Laertius, 
and lamblichus, who affirm that the rules and sense only were his, digested 
into verse by some of his scholars. But it is not improbable that they did 
no more than collect the verses, and so gave occasion to the mistake ; for 
Laertius confesseth that Pythagoras used to deliver his precepts to his dis- 
ciples in verse, one of which was 

III; TTO-pi^-qv ; tl 8 cpe^a ; ti ynot 8eov ovk ireXicrOr] ; 

How slipt ? what deeds, what duty left undone ? 

Of this opinion I believe Clemens Alexatidrinus, who cites one of these 
lines under his name, and Proclus, when he calls him twi/ yfivcrZiv i-n-wv 
Trarepa, the father of the golden verses. 

\thy duty pay'\ 

No/xcj) u)s Sia'/ceiTat ; though Hierocks in another sense read SiaxeivTai. 

\thy vow^ 

"OpKo^. Hierocles, Tripr}cri<; twv ^etcuv vo/aojv, observance of religious rules. 

\honour the saints\ 

"}ip<j}a<;. Laertius on these words explains souls whereof the air is full. 
Hierocles, angels, the sons of God, 6^"^. 

[ Thy prince and rulers^ 

KaraxOovLov^ Sat'/xova?, Hierocles, Tous eTri y^s TroXtrcvecr^ai Svva/xeVovs ; 
capable of govermnent. 

[nor their laws despise^ 

'Evvofxa pe^eiv. Hierocles Ilct^to-^ai ots dTroXeXocVao-tv r\pxv TrapayyiXfiaa-L ; 
to obey their com7fiafids. 

[with observance'\ 

Epya iTrw^ikiiia, that is, cvcpyecrta, Oipairua : yet, Hierocles othenvise. 
[Thy poiver is neighbour to necessity'\ 

Whatsoever necessity can force thee to bear, it is in thy power to bear 
voluntarily. If thy friend have wronged thee, how canst thou say, thou art 
not able to endure his company, when imprisonment might constrain thee 
to it ? See Hierocles. 

['Afongst men discourses good and bad are spread ; 
Despise not these ^ nor be by those misled?^ 

So Hierocles\ Marcilius reads Ziv (that is, ovv) for w, which best agrees with 
this sense. 

[what atiy other may accuse] 

<f}66vov. Hierocles interprets p.ip.y^iv, invidia, so taken sometimes by Cicero, 

[And every business of the following day 

As soon as by the morn aivak'd, dispose] 

These two lines I have inserted upon the authority of Porphyrins, lipo 
fiiv ovv Tov vTTVov TavTa eauTw TO, Itd; iiraSciv eKacrTov. 

M.rjS' vTTVov fji.a\aKOL(rii', &C. 

1 ' These ' and ' those ' are originally ' crossed over ' in text and note. 

( 157 ) 

Thomas Stanley 

IIpo 8c Tr\<i i$ava(TTd(re<ji<: CKCiva' 

ITpaiTa fiev i^ vttvolo fie\L<f>povo<; e^uTravio-ras 
Eu jxaXa TrotirvevcLV oa iv rj^ari €pya TcXecro-ei. 

He advised every otie before he slept to repeat these verses to himself 

Nor suffer sleep at nighty o^c. 
And before he rose these ^ 

And every business, &=€. 

How much this confirms Pythagoras the author, and his scholars but 
disposers of the verses (who, as it appears, forgot these two), is evident 
enough. The main argument they insist upon, who labour to prove the 
contrary, is derived from these words, 

[^Nature's eternal fountain I attest, 

Who did the soul tvith fourfold power invest] 

Where Marcilius expounds TrapaSovra TerpaKrjv ^ ilium a quo scientiam rerpa.- 
KTvos acceperant, is autem doctor eorum Pythagoras, as if it were 

Him ivho the Tetrad to our souls exprest, 
{Nature's eternal fountain) I attest ; 

And then takes pains to show that his scholars used to swear by him. But 
7ra/3a8i8ovat ^vy^ ^.a-BtyrZiv for StSacrKeiv is not without a little violence to 
a/xeTepa ^vyo^ (which makes Iamblic\h\us read a/xeTepas cro(;^ias) Marcilius in 
this being the less excusable for confessing immediately, Animae vero nostrae 
dixerunt Pythagorei quoniam quatertiarius atiimae numerus est, an explana- 
tion inconsistent with the other, but (as I conceive) truer ; Macrobius ex- 
pressly agreeth with it ; luro tibi per euni qui dat atiimae nostrae quater- 
narium nutnerum ; or, as others. 

Per qui nostrae animae nutnerutn dedit ipse quaternum. 

By him who gave us life — God. In which sense, Trayav dcvvaou c^wcw?, 
much more easily will follow -n-apaSovTa than rtrpaKi^v. The four powers of 
the soul are, mens, scientia, opinio, sensus, which Aristotle calls the four 
instrujnents of judgement, Hierocles, KpiriKOM Svm/xct?. The mind is compared 
to a unit, in that of many singulars it makes one. Science to the number 
two (which amongst the Pythagoreans is nianerus infinitatis), because it 
proceeds from things certain and granted to uncertain and infinite. 
Opinion to three, a number of indefinite variety. Sense to four, as furnish- 
ing the other three. In this exposition I am the more easily persuaded to 
dissent from Plutarch, Hierocles, lamblichus, and other interpreters, since 
they differ no less amongst themselves. 

[ Within is a continual hidden fight] 
Betwixt Reason and Appetite. 

\^liow little trouble] 
As Marcilius reads, 'H ttoXXwv, &c. 

[jheir genius] 
Oi'w Sai/Aovi, Hierocles expounds ola il/vxfj. Genius includes both. 

' r(rpaicr;v should, as indeed the context proclaims, be TfrpaKrvv. 

Pythagoras^ his Moral Rules 

[what f embrace\ 

Hierocles iravra. to. ^eovra, all that they ought to do. 

\frofn the ^ body's staiti\ 

Hierocles from the infection of the body. 

[In times'^ of prayer\ 

"Ei/ T€ XvVci ij/vxrjs, Meditation. See Plato in Phaedone. 

[and cleansing] 

Which extended (saith Hierocles) ews o-ltlwv koL ttotwv koL t^s 0A.77S Sian^s toC 
Ovr/Tov rifiwv o-cu/Aaros to meat and drtnh, &c. 

[meats denied] 

What they were is expressed by Laertius, Suidas, Hierocles, Agellius, &c. 
Hierocles affirms that in these words w ctTro/xev, he cites his sacred Apo- 
thegms : TO. 8e cTTt /Aepous iv rots lepoig a.Trocf>OeyfJLaaLV, iv aTropprjTdi TrapeSiSoiTO, 
Concertiing meat is particularly delivered in his holy Apothegms, that which 
was not lawful to make known to every one. Which is a great testimony 
that Pythagoras, and not any of his disciples, writ these verses ; for if the 
author had cited him before in the third person (as they argue from Trapa- 
SdvTa T€TpaKi]v ^), he would have cited him now in the first. 



On this sweUing bank, once proud 

Of its burden, Doris lay : 
Here she smil'd, and did uncloud 

Those bright suns eclipse the day; 
Here we sat, and with kind art 

She about me twin'd her arms, 
Clasp'd in hers my hand and heart, 

Fetter'd in those pleasing charms. 

Here my love and joys she crown'd, 

Whilst the hours stood still before me, 10 

With a killing glance did wound. 

And a melting kiss restore me. 
On the down of either breast. 

Whilst with joy my soul retir'd. 
My reclining head did rest^ 

Till her lips new life inspir'd. 

^ Slight alteration of text in notes again original. 

^ See above. The mistake is an odd one because the original oath is in hexameters 
and TfTpanTvv is absolutely necessary as the last word. 


Thofnas Stanley 

Thus, renewing of these sights 

Doth with grief and pleasure fill me, 
And the thought of these delights 

Both at once revive and kill me ! 20 

Dear, fold me once more in thine arms ! 

And let me know 

Before I go 
There is no bUss but in those charms. 

By thy fair self I swear 

That here, and only here, 
I would for ever, ever stay : 
But cruel Fate calls me away. 

How swiftly the light minutes slide ! 

The hours that haste 10 

Away thus fast 
By envious flight my stay do chide. 

Yet, Dear, since I must go. 

By this last kiss I vow. 
By all that sweetness which dwells with thee, 
Time shall move slow, till next I see thee. 


The lazy hours move slow, 

The minutes stay ; 
Old Time with leaden feet doth go, 

And his light wings hath cast away. 
The slow-pac'd spheres above 

Have sure released 
Their guardians, and without help move, 

Whilst that the very angels rest. 

The number'd sands that slide 

Through this small glass, lo 

And into minutes Time divide, 

Too slow each other do displace ; 
The tedious wheels of light 

No faster chime. 
Than that dull shade which waits on night : 

For Expectation outruns Time. 

How long, Lord, must I stay ? 

How long dwell here? 
O free me from this loathed clay ! 

Let me no more these fetters wear ! ao 

With far more joy 

Shall I resign my breath, 
For, to my griev'd soul, not to die 

Is every minute a new death. 

The three pieces which appear in /6/<5 only have no great character, and were very 
likely written for Gamble to tunes — seldom a very satisfactory process. 

( «6o) 

fp O F vr ^ I 





S and 


g London, $ 

|J Printed by gf.(7. for iJ/V-^.- Mmmf^ 

•0 and Htn:Herringman^ and fold S2 J> 

••^ /^wer, and ac rhc Nr^-Ejcchnngt. ^ 

% 1657. J 

( i6i ) 




Among the numerous possible extensions of that practice of writing 
Dialogues of the Dead which has been, at various times, rather unusually 
justified of its practitioners^ not the least tempting would be one which 
should embody the expectations and the disappointment of the pious 
Bishop who held the see of Chichester in Fuller's Bad and Better Times — 
long afterwards, between 1843 and 1888. In the former year, as most 
students of English poetry know, the late Archdeacon Hannah, then 
a young Fellow of Lincoln College, published a most admirable edition 
of part of King's Poems; and announced that the rest must be left for a 
separate volume ' which will be published without delay '. He lived forty- 
five years longer, and 'the rest' was by no means an extensive one; but, 
whatever may have been the reason,' the second volume never appeared, 
while, to complete the misfortune. King's one famous thing, the beautiful 

Tell me no more how fair she is — 

is not in the first. Nor has any one since attempted to supply the deficiency,'' 
though that benefactor of the lovers of Caroline poetry, Mr. J. R. Tutin, 
included a fifteen-page selection of King's poems, with Donne and Walton, 
in one of his ' Orinda Booklets ' (Hull, 1904) some little time after the plan 
of this collection was announced, and when its first volume was passing 
through the press. 

There must have been many readers who, like the present writer long 
enough ago, have felt a sensation of mingled amazement and chagrin on 
buying Dr. Hannah's book and not finding 'Tell me no more' in it. For 
that poem, though in certain ' strange and high ' qualities it is the inferior 
of the best jets of the Caroline genius, is one of the most faultless and 
perfect things in this or indeed in any period of English poetry, and may be 
said to impart the Caroline essence in a form that can be (in the medical 
sense) 'borne' by all who have any feeling for poetry at all, as hardly 
anything else does. It enlists, with unerring art, the peculiar virtue of the 
metre — that of expressing settled but not violent hopelessness — which 
Cowper afterwards utilized, more terribly but hardly more skilfully, in 'The 
Castaway '. It has the ' metaphysical ' fancifulness of thought and diction, 
tempered to a reasonable but not an excessive degree ' below proof and so 

1 I have suegested below that some slight scruples of pudibundity may liave had their 
innuence ; but if they bad been serious the Archdeacon would hardly have promised 
this rest. 

2 Until quite recently, and after this present edition had been long printed, one 
appeared in America (Yale University Press, 1914) by Lawrence Mason, Ph.D. 

( 163 ) M 2 

Henry King 

fit for general consumption. No one who possesses literary ' curiosity ' — in 
the good old sense, not the degenerate modern one — can be indifferent 
to seeing what else the author of this could do. 

It may be frankly and at once admitted that he has nothing exactly 
to match it. The once even more famous — and still perhaps not much 
less famous — Sic Vita, is not certainly his ; and, though a fine thing, is very 
distinctly open to the metaphysical reproach of playing with its subject too 
much — of that almost wilfully mechanical and factory-like conceit-mongering 
which reaches its extreme in Cleveland. If it is King's, 'The Dirge' is 
a sort of extended handling of it — less epigrammatic but more poetical, and 
brought down again to that via media of metaphysicality which is King's 
special path. He is, in fact, a sort of Longfellow of this particular style 
and school of poetry — from the other side ; a sort of Donne in usum vulgi. 
'The Exequy' and 'The Elegy', 'Silence' and 'Brave Flowers', are all in 
this middle way ; and perhaps his treading of it may be a reason why he has 
been comparatively neglected — the great vulgar not being grateful for poetry 
which never can fully please it, and the small wanting something more concen- 
trated and ' above proof. But even if he had not lacked complete present- 
ment so long, such a collection as this would be manifestly incomplete 
without him. It has not, however, been thought necessary to include his verse 
translations of the Psalms, which form a separate volume, not much more 
successful than most of the attempts at that impossible task. With the 
admirable English of the Authorized or the Prayer-Book Versions at 
choice, and the admirable Latin of the Vulgate to fall back upon, nobody 
can want stuff Hke 

Earth is the Lord's wnth her increase, 

And all that there have place : 
He founded it upon the Seas, 

And made the floods her base.^ 

Henry King's private and public history (for he had more to do with public 
affairs than can have been at all comfortable to himself) had no very 
obvious connexion with poetry, except in so far as circumstances fed what 
was clearly a special taste of his for elegiac writing. He was born in 1592 
at Worminghall in Bucks., for some time the abode of a family which, 
whether its tracing to 'the ancient Kings [by function, not name merely] of 
Devonshire ' was fiction or fact, was, and had been for generations, highly 
respectable. The Kings had recently addicted themselves very specially 
to education at Westminster and Christ Church (there are said to have 
been five of the same family on the books of the House at one time) and 

^ I think this will justify the critic (whoever he was) whose sentence — 'quaint 
mediocrit3' and inappropriate metre ' — offended Hannah's editorial chivalry as ' very 
unjust'. Indeed, I should make it stronger and say 'irritating inadequacy alike in 
metre and phrase '. 

( ^64 ) 


to the clerical profession. The poet-bishop was the eldest son of John 
King, Prebendary of St. Paul's and Chaplain to the Queen, himself a verse- 
writer, and after having been Dean of Christ Church, Bishop of London from 
1611 to 162 1. The son — if not without some nepotism yet with results which 
fully justified it — became himself Prebendary of St. Paul's (as did a brother, 
who was still younger, in the same year) when he was only four-and-twenty; 
and successively received the archdeaconry of Colchester (161 7); a canonry 
at Christ Church (1624) ; and the deanery of Rochester (1639)- He had 
then the good and evil luck to be one of the large batch of Bishops made or 
translated by Charles on the very eve of the Rebellion. He never sat in the 
House of Lords before its suppression ; and he had taken possession of his 
see but a short time when he was rabbled out of his palace at Chichester and 
plundered of his property, contrary to the terms of surrender of the City, by 
Waller's soldiers. He was also ousted from the rich living of Petworth, 
usually held in commendam with the (poor) bishopric of Chichester, by that 
particularly pestilent Puritan, Francis Cheynell. He seems to have passed 
great part of the Interregnum with the Salters of Richkings, near Langley 
in Bucks, (a house well famed for hospitality at different times and under 
different owners and names ^), and at the Restoration he recovered his 
preferments, Edmund Calamy tertius having the extraordinary impudence to 
state that Cheynell was ' put out to make room for King '. And he held 
them for nearly a decade longer, dying in 1669. He left children and 
also grandchildren, one of whom, Elizabeth, seems to have married Isaac 
Houblon, Pepys's ' handsome man '. 

Despite King's persecutions by the Puritans he was accused of a leaning to 
Puritanism, as his father had been before him," but seemingly without much 
foundation. He appears to have been a sound Churchman, and a very good 
man in every way, though with a slight tendency (not to be too harshly judged 
by those who have lived in quieter times) to 'grizzle', as it is familiarly 
called, over his tribulations. He was also what was termed at the time ' a 
painful preacher ' and a popular one. Pepys, it is true, did not like him when 
he first heard him, and afterwards thought a sermon of his ' mean '. But 
between these two he describes a third as ' good and eloquent ' ; and Samuel's 
judgements on such matters, always unliterary, were also much conditioned 
by circumstances, and by the curious remnant of Puritan leaven which 
always remained in that very far from pure lump. 

King's poems must, from various signs, have been much handed about 
in manuscript; but how they came to be collected and published in 1657 

' Especially that of Percy Lodge in the eighteenth century, when it was the Dowager 
Duchess of Somerset's : see Shenstone, Lady Luxborough, and Southey's Doctor, chaps. 
107 and 108. Between the times it had belonged to Bathurst, and was then also a home 
of men of letters. 

^ With the complementary and not unusual libel that he died a Romanist. 

( ^65 ) 

Henry King 

is quite unknown. They were at first attributed by some to his brother 
PhiHp; and a reprint, or perhaps merely the remainder with a fresh title-page, 
in 1700 actually attributed them to Ben Jonson, which was going far even 
in a period which had seen Kirkman and was to see CurlL^ One or two 
pieces besides Sic VUa are doubtful, and one or two more certainly not 
his ; but on the whole the collection seems to be fairly trustworthy, from 
Dr. Hannah's comparison of it with MS. copies. And it rarely offers 
cruces of interpretation. 

As to the origin and general character of the pieces there is nothing 
surprising about it either. King belonged to a time when, fortunately, 
churchmanship, scholarship, and literature were almost inseparably con- 
nected ; and by accident or preference he seems, all his life, to have been 
thrown or drawn into the society of men of letters. He was a friend if not 
a ' son ' of Ben Jonson ; he was an intimate of Donne's, and one of the 
recipients of the famous blood-stone seals ; he was for more than forty years 
(as he has himself recorded in a letter to Walton) a friend of ' honest Isaac ' 
\sic\. And if his middle days were politically unhappy, they, and still 
more his earlier, were poetically fortunate. How, and in what degree, he 
caught the wind as it blew has been partly indicated above : the text 
should show the rest.^ 

' Between the two dates there had been a fresh isstte in 1664, with four new elegies. 
But it has been doubted whether even this was a new edition. 

^ The text of the following poems will be found, as far as Hannah's edition goes, to 
differ not greatly from his ; but it has been collated with the originals in print and MS. 
by myself and, more carefully still, by Mr. Percy Simpson. The remaining poems 
(including the fourth or ' King Charles' Elegy added in 1664, which Hannah did not 
give) are adapted in the same way from direct photographic copies of the originals — 
collated where necessary. The variants of Sic Vila which the Archdeacon collected are 
of such interest and so characteristic of seventeenth-century poetry that it seemed 
desirable to reproduce them. 

It may perhaps be added that the 1657 text is very carefully and well printed, requir- 
ing so little modernization as practically to justify the standard adopted in this collection. 
To modernize Chaucer or Chatterton has always seemed to me, though from slightl3' 
different points of view, a grievous error or worse. But to show how close, when 
scholarly writing met careful printing, the result even before the Restoration was to what 
it would have been to-day, I have printed the opening poem exactly as it originally stood, 
and have drawn attention in a note to the fewness of the differences. Because other 
'ypographers, not deacons in their craft, and confronted perhaps with copy as bad as, 
say, mine, plus the eccentric eihelurlhography of the period, lavished italics and capitals 
and superfluous /s, and strappadoed the spelling, I cannot see why the e^'es of a present- 
day reader should be unnecessarily vexed. — Hannah's edition, as far as it goes, can 
hardly be too well spoken of by any one who does not think that, in order to magnify 
himself, it is necessary to belittle his predecessors. One cannot but regret that he did 
not (as he might most easily have done, even in the single volume) complete his work. 
As it is, I am deeply indebted to him. I have, however, restored the order of the 
original, which he altered partly to get chronological sequence in the Elegies, &c., 
and partly to make subject-heads for his groups— a proceeding which to me is rarely 
satisfactory. But I have borrowed his useful datings of the individual pieces under 
their titles. 

( '66 ) 

Table of Contents. 


1. Sonnet. The Double Rock . 169 

2. The Vow-Breaker . . . 169 

3. Upon a Table-Book presented 

to a Lady . , . . 1 70 

4. To the same Lady upon Mr, 

Burton's Melancholy . .170 

5. The Farewell . . . .170 

6. A Blackmoor Maid wooing a 

fair Boy : sent to the Author 
by Mr. Hen. Rainolds . 171 

7. The Boy's Answer to the 

Blackmoor . . . .171 

8. To a Friend upon Overbury's 

Wife given to her . .172 

9. Upon the same . . .172 
10. To A. R. upon the same . 172 
u. An Epitaph on Niobe turned 

to Stone . . . .172 

12. Upon a Braid of Hair in a 

Heart sent by Mrs. E. H. . 173 

13. Sonnet. 'Tell me no more 

how fair she is ' . . • 1 73 

14. Sonnet. ' Were thy heart soft 

as thou art fair ' . . . 1 74 

15. Sonnet. 'Go, thou that vainly' 174 

16. Sonnet. To Patience . .174 

17. Silence, A Sonnet . .175 

18. Love's Harvest . . .175 

19. The Forlorn Hope. . . 176 

20. The Retreat . . . .176 

21. Sonnet. ' Tell me, you stars' 177 

22. Sonnet. ' I prithee turn that 

face away' . . . .177 

23. Sonnet. ' Dry those fair', &c. 177 

24. Sonnet. 'When I entreat ',&c. 178 

25. To a Lady who sent me a copy 

of verses at my going to bed 178 

26. [The Pink. Omitted: not 


27. To his Friends of Christ 

Church, &c. . . -179 

28. The Surrender . . .180 

29. The Legacy . . . .181 

30. The Short Wooing . .182 

31. St. Valentine's Day . . 183 

32. To his unconstant Friend . 184 

33. Madam Gabrina, Or the 111- 

favour'd Choice . . .185 

34. The Defence .... 187 

35. To One demanding why Wine 

sparkles . . . .188 


36. By occasion of the Young 

Prince his happy Birth . 188 

37. Upon the King's happy re- 

turn from Scotland . .190 

38. To the Queen at Oxford . 192 

39. A Salutation of His Majesty's 

ship the Sovereign . .193 

40. An Epitaph on his most 

honoured friend, Richard, 
Earl of Dorset . . .194 

41. The Exequy .... 195 

42. The Anniverse. An Elegy . 198 

43. On Two Children, &c. . . 198 

44. A Letter 199 

45. An Acknowledgement . .201 

46. The Acquittance . . . 202 

47. The Forfeiture . . . 202 

48. The Departure, An Elegy , 203 

49. Paradox, That it is best for 

a Young Maid to marry an 
Old Man . . , .204 

50. Paradox. That Fruition des- 

troys Love .... 206 

51. The Change .... 209 

52. To my sister Anne King, &c. 210 

53. An Elegy upon the immature 

loss of the most virtuous 
Lady Anne Rich . .210 

54. An Elegy upon Mrs. Kirk, 

unfortunately drowned in 
Thames . . . .212 

55. An Elegy upon the death of 

Mr. Edward Holt . . 213 

56. To my dead friend Ben Jon- 

son 214 

57. An Elegy upon Prince Henry's 

death 216 

58. An Elegy upon S, W. R. .217 

59. An Elegy upon the Lord Bishop 

of London, John King . 217 

60. Upon the death of my ever de- 

sired friend, Doctor Donne, 
Dean of Paul's . . . 218 

61. An Elegy upon the most vic- 

torious King of Sweden, 
Gustavus Adolphus . . 220 

62. To my noble and judicious 

friend Sir Henry Blount 
upon his Voyage . . 223 

63. To my honoured friend Mr. 

George Sandys . . . 226 

Henry King 


64. The Woes of Esay . . . 230 

65. An Essay on Death and a 

Prison 232 

66. The Labyrinth . . . 234 

67. Being waked out of my sleep . 235 

68. Sic Vita ..... 236 

69. My Midnight Meditation . 238 

70. A Penitential Hymn . . 238 

71. An fllegy occasioned by Sick- 

ness ..... 239 

72. The Dirge . . . .241 
T},. An Elegy occasioned by the 

loss of the most incompar- 
able Lady Stanhope, &c. . 242 

Poems not included in 
the edition of 1657 but 
in that of 1664 : 

74. An Elegy upon my best friend, 

L. K. C 244 

75. On the Earl of Essex . . 245 

76. An Elegy on Sir Charles Lucas 

and Sir George Lisle . . 246 


TT. An Elegy upon the most in- 
comparable King Charles 
the First .... 255 

Poems in Manuscript: 

78. A Second Elegy on the 

Countess of Leinster . . 267 

79. Epigram. From Petronius 

Arbiter, c. 14 . . . 267 

80. Epigram. From Martial, i. 14 268 

81. Epigram. From Petronius 

Arbiter, c. 83 . . . 26S 

82. Epigram. From Petronius 

Arbiter .... 26S 

83. Epigram. Pro captu, &c. . 268 

84. Upon the Untimely Death of 

J. K., first born of H. K. . 269 

85. The Complaint . . . 269 

86. On his Shadow . . . 270 

87. Wishes to my Son, John . 272 

88. A Contemplation upon 

Flowers .... 273 

The Publishers to the Author. 


It is the common fashion to make 
some address to the Readers, but we 
are bold to direct ours to you, who 
will look on this publication with anger, 
which others must welcome into the 
world with joy. 

The Lord Verulam comparing in- 
genious authors to those who had 
orchards ill neighboured, advised them 
to publish their own labours, lest 
others might steal the fruit : Had you 
followed his example, or liked the 
advice, we had not thus trespassed 
against your consent, or been forced to 
an apology, which cannot but imply a 
fault committed. The best we can 
say for ourselves is, that if we have 
injured you, it is merely in your own 
defence, preventing the present at- 
tempts of others, who to their theft 
would (by their false copies of these 
Poems) have added violence, and 
some way have wounded your reputa- 

Having been long engaged on better 
contemplations, you may, perhaps, 
look down on these Jtiveiiilia (most of 
them the issues of your youthful 
Muse) with some disdain ; and yet 

( >68 ) 

the courteous reader may tell you 
with thanks, that they are not to be 
despised, being far from abortive, nor 
to be disowned, because they are both 
modest and legitimate. And thus if 
we have offered you a view of your 
younger face, our hope is you will 
behold it with an unwrinkled brow, 
though we have presented the mirror 
against your will. 

We confess our design hath been 
set forward by friends that honour you, 
who, lest the ill publishing might dis- 
figure these things from whence you 
never expected addition to your credit 
(sundry times endeavoured and by 
them defeated) furnished us with 
some papers which they thought 
authentic ; we may not turn their 
favour into an accusation, and there- 
fore give no intimation of their names, 
but wholly take the blame of this hasty 
and immethodical impression upon 
ourselves, being persons at a distance, 
who are fitter to bear it than those 
who are nearer related. In hope of 
your pardon we remain. 

Your most devoted servants. 
Rich. Marriot. 
Hen. Herringman. 


Printed in 1657. 

Sonnet. The Double Rock. 

Since thou hast view'd some Gorgon, and art grown 

A solid stone : 
To bring again to softness thy hard heart 

Is past my art. 
Ice may relent to water in a thaw ; 
But stone made flesh Loves Chymistry ne're saw. 

Therefore by thinking on thy hardness, I 

Will petrify; 
And so within our double Quarryes Wombe, 

Dig our Loves Tombe. 10 

Thus strangely will our difference agree ; 
And, with our selves, amaze the world, to see 
How both Revenge and Sympathy consent 
To make two Rocks each others Monument. 

The Vow-Breaker. 

When first the magic of thine eye, 
Usurp'd upon my liberty. 
Triumphing in my heart's spoil, thou 
Didst lock up thine in such a vow ; 
Whefi I prove false, may the bright day 
Be govern' d by the Moon's pale ray / 
(As I too well remember.) This 
Thou said'st, and seal'dst it with a kiss. 

O Heavens ! and could so soon that tie 
Relent in slack apostacy ? 10 

Could all thy oaths, and mortgag'd trust, 
Vanish ? like letters form'd in dust 
^V^hich the next wind scatters. Take heed, 
Take heed, Revolter; know this deed 
Hath wrong'd the world, which will fare worse 
By thy example than thy curse. 

The Double Rock.'\ In this very typical metaphysicality of a good second water (see 
note on Introduction), it will be observed that there is nothing archaic or irregular in 
the spelling except the usual 'neV^' for ' neVr', the insertion of the three 
superfluous e% in lines 9, 10, and at most two or three gratuitous capitals with, if any- 
body pleases, the omission of the apostrophe for the possessive in 11. 6, 9, 10, and 14. 
* Chymistry ' I should have kept, of course, even if I had altered these others. 

T/ie Vow-Breaker.'] 9 Orig. 'Ty', no doubt on the Spenserian principle of eye- 
rhyme. Tliis and some others of the shorter poems which follow have been found by 
Mr. Thorn-Drury in miscellanies of the period, not merely well-known ones like IVi'fs^ 
Recreations (1641), but more obscure collections such as Parnassus Biceps, 1651, and 
IVits'' Interpreter, 1655. The usual variants occur ; but they are seldom, if ever, me 
judice of interest. One or two I have borrowed with acknowledgement. 

( '69 ) 

Henry King 

Hide that false brow in mists. Thy shame 
Ne'er see light more, but the dim flame 
Of funeral lamps. Thus sit and moan, 

And learn to keep thy guilt at home. 20 

Give it no vent ; for if again 
Thy Love or Vows betray more men, 
At length (I fear) thy perjur'd breath 
Will blow out day, and waken Death. 

Upon a Table-Book presented to a Lady. 

When your fair hand receives this little book 
You must not there for prose or verses look. 
Those empty regions which within you see, 
May by yourself planted and peopled be : 
And though we scarce allow your sex to prove 
Writers (unless the argument be Love) ; 
Yet without crime or envy you have room 
Here, both the scribe and author to become. 

To the same Lady upon Mr. Burtons Melancholy. 

If in this Glass of Humours you do find 
The passions or diseases of your mind, 
Here without pain, you safely may endure. 
Though not to suffer, yet to read your cure. 
But if you nothing meet you can apply. 
Then, ere you need, you have a remedy. 

And I do wish you never may have cause 
To be adjudg'd by these fantastic laws ; 
But that this book's example may be known. 
By others' Melancholy, not your own. 10 

The Farewell. 
Splendidis longiim valedico nugts. 

Farewell, fond Love, under whose childish whip, 

I have serv'd out a weary prenti'ship; 

Thou that hast made me thy scorn'd property. 

To doat on rocks, but yielding loves to fly : 

Go, bane of my dear quiet and content, 

Now practise on some other patient. 

Upon a Table-Book, &c.'] The title in one of Hannah's MS. copies has ' Noble Lady '. 
The person addressed does not seem to have been identified. 

To the Same Lady.'] 6 MS. ^before you need ' — perhaps better. The lady to whom 
the Anatomy was hkely to be congenial must have been worth knowing. 
The Farewell.] The following are the variants of Malone MS. 22 : 
4-6 To doat on those that lov'd not and to fly 

Love that wco'd me. Go, bane of my content, 
And practise ... 

( 170 ) 

The Farewell 

Farewell, false Hope, that fann'd my warm desire 

Till it had rais'd a wild unruly fire. 

Which nor sighs cool, nor tears extinguish can, 

Although my eyes out-flow'd the Ocean : lo 

Forth of my thoughts for ever, Thing of Air, 

Begun in error, finish'd in despair. 

Farewell, vain World, upon whose restless stage 
'Twixt Love and Hope I have fool'd out my age ; 
Henceforth, ere sue to thee for my redress, 
I'll woo the wind, or court the wilderness ; 
And buried from the day's discovery, 
Study a slow yet certain way to die. 

My woful monument shall be a cell, 

The murmur of the purling brook my knell; 20 

My lasting epitaph the rock shall groan : 

Thus when sad lovers ask the weeping stone. 

What wretched thing does in that centre lie? 

The hollow Echo will reply, 'twas I. 

A Blackmoor Maid wooing a fair Boy : sent to the 
Author by Mr. Hen. Rainolds. 

Stay, lovely boy, why fly'st thou me 

That languish in these flames for thee ? 

I'm black, 'tis true : why so is Night, 

And Love doth in dark shades deUght. 

The whole world, do but close thine eye, 

Will seem to thee as black as I ; 

Or ope't, and see what a black shade 

Is by thine own fair body made. 

That follows thee where'er thou go ; 

(O who, allow'd, would not do so ?) 10 

Let me for ever dwell so nigh, 
And thou shalt need no other shade than I. 

Mr. Hen. Rainohh. 

The Boys Answer to the Blackmoor. 

Black maid, complain not that I fly, 
AVhen Fate commands antipathy : 
Prodigious might that union prove. 
Where Night and Day together move, 
And the conjunction of our lips 
Not kisses make, but an eclipse ; 

2r And for an epitaph the rock shall groan 

Eternally : if any ask the stone. 

23 centre] compass. 

A Blackmoor Maid, and Answer.^ I do not know whether the exact connexion 
between these two poems and Cleveland's 'Fair Nymph scorning a Black Boy ' ,v. sup., 
p. 42' has ever been discussed. But if ' Mr. Hen. Rainolds' is Drayton's friend, the 

( ^ri ) 

Henry King 

In which the mixed black and white 

Portends more terror than delight. 

Yet if my shadow thou wilt be, 

Enjoy thy dearest wish : but see lo 

Thou take my shadow's property, 

That hastes away when I come nigh : 

Else stay till death hath blinded me, 
And then I will bequeath myself to thee. 

To a Friend upon Overbury s Wife given to her. 

I KNOW no fitter subject for your view 

Than this, a meditation ripe for you. 

As you for it. Which, when you read, you'll see 

What kind of wife yourself will one day be : 

Which happy day be near you, and may this 

Remain with you as earnest of my wish ; 

When you so far love any, that you dare 

Venture your whole affection on his care. 

May he for whom you change your virgin-life 

Prove good to you, and perfect as this Wife. lo 

Upon the same. 

Madam, who understands you well would swear, 
That you the Life, and this your Copy were. 

To A. R. upon the same. 

Not that I would instruct or tutor you 

What is a wife's behest, or husband's due, 

Give I this Widow-Wife. Your early date 

Of knowledge makes such precepts slow and late. 

This book is but your glass, where you shall see 

What yourself are, what other wives should be. 

A71 Epitaph on Niobe tzirned to Stone. 

This pile thou seest built out of flesh, not stone, 
Contains no shroud within, nor mould'ring bone. 

verses printed above must have the priority, for nothing seems to be known of him 
after 1632. 

In RawHnson MS. 1092, fol.27r, there are curious versions of these poems t'the first 
is ascribed to William Strode), inverting the parts * A black boy in love with a fair 
maid', and 'The fair maid's answer'. 

To a Friend upon Overbury' s Wife, ^c] King seems to have been fond of giving this 
popular production as a present, for the first of the three poems is certainly not 
addressed to the recipient of the others, and it seems probable that 2 and 3 are also in- 
dependent. Hannah, without giving any reason, save the initials, suggests that ' A. R.' 
was Lady Anne Rich {y. inf.). 

To A. i?.] 3 Widow-] Overbury himself being dead. 

( '7^ ) 

An Epitaph on Niobe turned to Stone 

This bloodless trunk is destitute of tomb 
Which may the soul-fled mansion enwomb. 

This seeming sepulchre (to tell the troth) 
Is neither tomb nor body, and yet both. 

Upon a Braid of Hair in a Heart sent by 

Mrs. E. H. 

In this small character is sent 

My Love's eternal monument. 

Whilst we shall live, know this chain'd heart 

Is our affection's counterpart. 

And if we never meet, think I 

Bequeath'd it as my legacy. 


Tell me no more how fair she is, 

I have no mind to hear 
The story of that distant bliss 

I never shall come near : 
By sad experience I have found 
That her perfection is my wound. 

And tell me not how fond I am 

To tempt a daring Fate, 
From whence no triumph ever came, 

But to repent too late : lo 

There is some hope ere long I may 
In silence dote myself away. 

I ask no pity. Love, from thee, 

Nor will thy justice blame, 
So that thou wilt not envy me 

The glory of my flame : 
Which crowns my heart whene'er it dies. 
In that it falls her sacrifice. 

Upon a Braid of Hair, <5r=c.] There is something rather out of the common way 
about this little piece. King married early and his wife died after a few years. How- 
he loved her The E.xequy and The Afiitiierse will tell in a few pages. But her initials 
were A. B. (Anne Berkeley) not E. H. On the other hand, his sister Elizabeth married 
Edward Holt, groom of the bedchamber to Charles I, %vho died in attendance on his 
master (see Elegy on him, i>i/.). The verses might be fraternal, and are certainly 

Te/l me no more, dr-c] The heading of this famous thing as ' Sonnet ' has, of course, 
nothing surprising in it : in fact, the successive attachment of the title to five poems in 
a batch here and to four more a little lower down — no one of which is a quatorzain, and 
hardly two of which agree in form — is a capital example of the looseness with which 
that title was used. MS. copies appear to have ' Sonnet ' with no particular addition in 
some cases. 

On ' Tell me no more ' itself see Introduction. The last two lines are, as they should 
be, the finest part — with the fullness of contrasted vowel-sound in ' crowns ', ' heart ', 
' e'er ', and ' dies ', and the emphasis of ' her '. 

Henry King 


Were thy heart soft as thou art fair, 
Thou wer't a wonder past compare : 
But frozen Love and fierce disdain 
By their extremes thy graces stain. 
Cold coyness quenches the still fires 
Which glow in lovers' warm desires ; 
And scorn, like the quick lightning's blaze, 
Darts death against affections gaze. 

O Heavens, what prodigy is this 

When Love in Beauty buried is ! >o 

Or that dead pity thus should be 

Tomb'd in a living cruelty. 


Go, thou that vainly dost mine eyes invite 
To taste the softer comforts of the night, 
And bid'st me cool the fever of my brain 
In those sweet balmy dews which slumber pain ; 
Enjoy thine own peace in untroubled sleep. 
Whilst my sad thoughts eternal vigils keep. 

O couldst thou for a time change breasts with me, 

Thou in that broken glass shouldst plainly see 

A heart which wastes in the slow smoth'ring fire 

Blown by Despair, and fed by false Desire, lo 

Can only reap such sleeps as sea-men have, 

When fierce winds rock them on the foaming wave. 

Sonnet. To Patience. 

Down, stormy passions, down ; no more 
Let your rude waves invade the shore 
Where blushing reason sits, and hides 
Her from the fury of your tides. 
Fit only 'tis, where you bear sway, 
That fools or frantics do obey ; 
Since judgement, if it not resists, 
Will lose itself in your blind mists. 

Wert thy heart, dfc"] This is not much inferior except as concerns the metre. 

Go, thou that, (Sff.] What made the excellent Archdeacon-to-be select this in pre- 
ference to ' Tell me no more ' as a specimen of King's presumed 'juvenile productions ' 
it is difficult to discover. But 

Blown by Despair, and fed by false Desire 
is certainly a fine line. 

To Patience.'] So also he gave this very commonplace 'production' and the next, 
■which is a little better. 

( '74 ) 

Sonnet, To Patience 

Fall easy, Patience, fall like rest 

Whose soft spells charm a troubled breast : lo 

And where those rebels you espy, 

O in your silken cordage tie 

Their malice up ! so shall I raise 

Altars to thank your power, and praise 

The sovereign vertue of your balm, 

Which cures a tempest by a calm. 

Silence. A Sonnet. 

Peace, my heart's blab, be ever dumb, 
Sorrows speak loud without a tongue : 
And, my perplexed thoughts, forbear 
To breathe yourselves in any ear : 

'Tis scarce a true or manly grief, 

Which gads abroad to find relief. 

Was ever stomach that lack'd meat 

Nourish 'd by what another eat? 

Can I bestow it, or will woe 

Forsake me, when I bid it go? lo 

Then I'll believe a wounded breast 

May heal by shrift, and purchase rest. 

But if, imparting it, I do 
Not ease myself, but trouble two, 
'Tis better I alone possess 
My treasure of unhappiness : 

Engrossing that which is my own 

No longer than it is unknown. 

If silence be a kind of death. 

He kindles grief who gives it breath ; 20 

But let it rak'd in embers lie, 

On thine own hearth 'twill quickly die : 

And spite of fate, that very womb 

Which carries it, shall prove its tomb. 

Loves Harvest. 

Fond Lunatic forbear, why dost thou sue 
For thy affection's pay ere it is due? 
Love's fruits are legal use ; and therefore may 
Be only taken on the marriage day. 

Who for this interest too early call, 

By that exaction lose the principal. 

Love's Harvest.'] 11, 12, Malone MS. 22 has the singular : ' So he', &c. 
( ^75 ) 

Henry King 

Then gather not those immature delights, 

Until their riper autumn thee invites. 

He that abortive corn cuts off his ground, 

No husband but a ravisher is found : lo 

So those that reap their love before they wed, 

Do in eifect but cuckold their own bed. 

The Forlorn Hope. 

How long, vain Hope, dost thou my joys suspend ? 

Say ! must my expectation know no end ? 

Thou wast more kind unto the wand'ring Greek 

Who did ten years his wife and country seek : 
Ten lazy winters in my glass are run, 
Yet my thought's travail seems but new begun. 

Smooth quicksand which the easy world beguiles, 

Thou shalt not bury me in thy false smiles. 

They that in hunting shadows pleasure take, 

May benefit of thy illusion make. lo 

Since thou hast banish'd me from my content 

I here pronounce thy final banishment. 

Farewell, thou dream of nothing ! thou mere voice ! 
Get thee to fools that can feed fat with noise : 
Bid wretches mark'd for death look for reprieve, 
Or men broke on the wheel persuade to live. 

Henceforth my comfort and best hope shall be, 

By scorning Hope, ne'er to rely on thee. 

The Retreat. 

Pursue no more (my thoughts !) that false unkind, 

You may as soon imprison the North-wind ; 

Or catch the lightning as it leaps ; or reach 

The leading billow first ran down the breach; 

Or undertake the flying clouds to track 

In the same path they yesterday did rack. 

Then, like a torch turn'd downward, let the same 
Desire which nourish'd it, put out your flame. 

Lo ! thus I do divorce thee from my breast. 

False to thy vow, and traitor to my rest ! lo 

Henceforth thy tears shall be (though thou repent) 

Like pardons after execution sent. 

Nor shalt thou ever my love's story read, 

But as some epitaph of what is dead. 

So may my hope on future blessings dwell, 

As 'tis my firm resolve and last farewell. 

The Forlorn Hope.'] lo MS. ' illusions ' — perhaps better. 14 can] MS. ' will '. 

The Retreat.] 4 'first' of course =* that first'. One naturally asks * beach'? but 
P-Thaps unreasonably. 

6 ' rack ' as a verb in this sense is interesting, and certainly not common. 

( '76 ) 

Tell me^ you stars that our affections move 


Tell me, you stars that our affections move, 
Why made ye me that cruel one to love? 
Why burns my heart her scorned sacrifice, 
Whose breast is hard as crystal, cold as ice? 

God of Desire ! if all thy votaries 
Thou thus repay, succession will grow wise ; 
No sighs for incense at thy shrine shall smoke, 
Thy rites will be despis'd, thy altars broke. 

! or give her my flame to melt that snow 

Which yet unthaw'd does on her bosom grow; lo 

Or make me ice, and with her crystal chains 
Bind up all love within my frozen veins. 


1 PRITHEE turn that face away 
Whose splendour but benights my day. 
Sad eyes like mine, and wounded hearts 
Shun the bright rays which beauty darts. 

Unwelcome is the Sun that pries 
Into those shades where sorrow lies. 

Go, shine on happy things. To me 

That blessing is a misery : 

Whom thy fierce Sun not warms, but burns, 

Like that the sooty Indian turns. lo 

I'll serve the night, and there confin'd 

Wish thee less fair, or else more kind. 


Dry those fair, those crystal eyes, 

Which like growing fountains rise 

To drown their banks. Grief's sullen brooks 

Would better flow in furrow'd looks. 

Thy lovely face was never meant 

To be the shore of discontent. 

Then clear those wat'rish stars again 

Which else portend a lasting rain ; 

Lest the clouds which settle there 

Prolong my winter all the year : lo 

And the example others make 

In love with sorrow for thy sake. 

Tell me, &€."] 6 succession] = ' those who come after us '. 

I pfithee, &c.'] Part of this is very neat and good, but it tails off. 

Dry those fair, dfc.'] This piece is also claimed for Lord Pembroke (see Preface to 
this volume. It might be his, King's, or the work of almost any lyrical poet in this 
collection and of many outside of it. 

( 177 ) N III 

Henry King 


When I entreat, either thou wilt not hear, 
Or else my suit arriving at thy ear 
Cools and dies there. A strange extremity \ 
To freeze i' th' Sun, and in the shade to fry. 
Whilst all my blasted hopes decline so soon, 
'Tis evening with me, though at high noon. 

For pity to thyself, if not to me. 
Think time will ravish, what I lose, from thee. 
If my scorch'd heart wither through thy delay, 
Thy beauty withers too. And swift decay lo 

Arrests thy youth. So thou whilst I am slighted 
Wilt be too soon with age or sorrow nighted. 

To a Lady who sent me a copy of verses at itiy 

going to bed. 

Lady, your art or wit could ne'er devise 

To shame me more than in this night's surprise. 

Why, I am quite unready, and my eye 

Now winking like my candle, doth deny 

To guide my hand, if it had aught to write ; 

Nor can I make my drowsy sense indite 

Which by your verses' music (as a spell 

Sent from the Sybellean Oracle) 

Is charm'd and bound in wonder and delight, 

Faster than all the leaden chains of night. lo 

What pity is it then you should so ill 
Employ the bounty of your flowing quill. 
As to expend on him your bedward thought. 
Who can acknowledge that large love in nought 
But this lean wish ; that fate soon send you those 
Who may requite your rhymes with midnight prose? 

II hen I entreat, &€.'] 6 'E-ven-ing'. 

To a Lady.'] Malone MS. 22, at fol. 34, has a first draft of this poem, in which 

II. i-io appear thus : 

Doubtless the Thespian Spring doth overflow 

His learned bank : else how should ladies grow 

Such poets as to court th' unknowing time 

In verse, and entertain their friends in rhyme? 

Or you some Sybil are, sent to untie 

The knotty riddles of all poetry, 

Whilst your smooth numbers such perfections tell 

As prove yourself a modern oracle. 

11. 1 1 20 follow as in the text. 

8 ' Sybellean ', though an incorrect, is a rather pretty form and good to keep. It will 

be remembered that as a girl's name 'Sybflla' or 'Sibdla' is not unknown, beside 

' Sybilla ' and ' Sybil '. 

( ^78) 

To a Lady who sent me a copy of verses 

Meantime, may all delights and pleasing themes 
Like masquers revel in your maiden dreams, 
Whilst dull to write, and to do more unmeet, 
I, as the night invites me, fall asleep. so 

To his Friends of Christ Church upon the ^nislike 
of the Marriage of the Arts acted at Woodstock. 

But is it true, the Court mislik'd the play, 

That Christ Church and the Arts have lost the day ; 

That Ignorafnus should so far excel. 

Their hobby-horse from ours hath born the bell? 

Troth ! you are Justly serv'd, that would present 
Ought unto them, but shallow merriment; 
Or to your marriage-table did admit 
Guests that are stronger far in smell than wit. 

Had some quaint bawdry larded ev'ry scene, 
Some fawning sycophant, or courted quean ; lo 

Had there appear'd some sharp cross-garter'd man 
Whom their loud laugh might nickname Puritan, 
Cas'd up in factious breeches and small ruff. 
That hates the surplice, and defies the cuff: 
Then sure they would have given applause to crown • 
That which their ignorance did now cry down. 

Let me advise, when next you do bestow 
Your pains on men that do but little know. 
You do no Chorus nor a comment lack, 

Which may expound and construe ev'ry Act : ae 

That it be short and slight ; for if 't be good 
Tis long, and neither lik'd nor understood. 

Know 'tis Court fashion still to discommend 
All that which they want brain to comprehend. 

20 This outrageous assonance may have been meant in character — the poet being too 
much ' in the arms of Porpus ' to notice it. 

There follows in the original a piece called The Pink, but in the Errata acknowledge- 
ment is made that King did not write it. It is therefore omitted here. 

To his Friends of Christ Church.'] The occasion of this piece was one of those ' sorrow- 
ful chances' which befall those who endeavour to please kings, whatever their name. 
' The play ' was Barton Holyday's Technogamia, and the ' misliking ' (James actually 
'offered' to go away twice, though, being a good-natured person, he was persuaded 
to sit it out) is chronicled by Antony Wood under the author's name. It had been 
acted with great applause in the House itself, and two of King's younger brothers 
were among the performers. Also the ' frost ' was made more unkind by the success 
at Cambridge of Ruggles's Igtwramus. So King's spleen, if unwise, was not quite un- 
motived. The date was August, 1621. 

14 There is no probable reference to Malvolio, despite the association of 'cross- 
garter'd ' and ' Puritan ' ; but the tone of the passage enables one to some extent to 
understand why the Puritan party conceived themselves to be deserted by King. 

( 179 ) N 2 

Henry King 

The Surrender. 

My once dear Love ! hapless that I no more 
Must call thee so; the rich affection's store 
That fed our hopes, lies now exhaust and spent, 
Like sums of treasure unto bankrupts lent. 

We, that did nothing study but the way 
To love each other, with which thoughts the day 
Rose with delight to us, and with them, set, 
Must learn the hateful art, how to forget. 

We, that did nothing wish that Heav'n could give, 
Beyond ourselves, nor did desire to live lo 

Beyond that wish, all these now cancel must, 
As if not writ in faith, but words and dust. 

Yet witness those clear vows which lovers make, 
Witness the chaste desires that never brake 
Into unruly heats; witness that breast 
Which in thy bosom anchor'd his whole rest, 
'Tis no default in us; I dare acquite 
Thy maiden faith, thy purpose fair and white, 
As thy pure self. Cross planets did envy 
Us to each other, and Heaven did untie 20 

Faster than vows could bind. O that the stars, 
When lovers meet, should stand oppos'd in wars ! 

Since then some higher Destinies command, 
Let us not strive nor labour to withstand 
What is past help. The longest date of grief 
Can never yield a hope of our relief ; 
And though we waste ourselves in moist laments, 
Tears may drown us, but not our discontents. 

Fold back our arms, take home our fruitless loves, 
That must new fortunes try, like turtle-doves 30 

Dislodged from their haunts. We must in tears 
Unwind a love knit up in many years. 
In this last kiss I here surrender thee 
Back to thyself, so thou again art free. 
Thou in another, sad as that, resend 
The truest heart that lover ere did lend. 

Now turn from each. So fare our sever'd hearts. 
As the divorc'd soul from her body parts. 

The Simender.'] Title ' An Elegy ' in Malone MS. 22. 13 Yet] MS. ' But '. 

17 ' acquite ' may be for rhyme only ; but if ' requite ', why not ? 

34 so] MS. ' lo '. 

This piece and the next must be interpreted as each reader chooses. They are 
not without touches of sincerity, but might as well be exercises in the school of King's 
great friend and master, Donne. 

( 'So) 

My dearest Love ! when thou and I must part 

The Legacy. 

My dearest Love ! when thou and I must part, 
And th' icy hand of death shall seize that heart 
Which is all thine ; within some spacious will 
I'll leave no blanks for legacies to fill : 
'Tis my ambition to die one of those, 
Who, but himself, hath nothing to dispose. 

And since that is already thine, what need 

I to re-give it by some newer deed ? 

Yet take it once again. Free circumstance 

Does oft the value of mean things advance : lo 

Who thus repeats what he bequeath'd before. 
Proclaims his bounty richer than his store. 

But let me not upon my love bestow 

What is not worth the giving. I do owe 

Somewhat to dust : my body's pamper'd care, 

Hungry corruption and the worm will share. 
That mould'ring relic which in earth must lie, 
Would prove a gift of horror to thine eye. 

With this cast rag of my mortality, 

Let all my faults and errors buried be. 30 

And as my cere-cloth rots, so may kind fate 

Those worst acts of my life incinerate. 
He shall in story fill a glorious room. 
Whose ashes and whose sins sleep in one tomb. 

If now to my cold hearse thou deign to bring 

Some melting sighs as thy last offering. 

My peaceful exequies are crown'd. Nor shall 

I ask more honour at my funeral. 

Thou wilt more richly balm me with thy tears, 

Than all the nard fragrant Arabia bears. 30 

And as the Paphian Queen by her grief's show'r 
Brought up her dead Love's spirit in a flow'r : 
So by those precious drops rain'd from thine eyes, 
Out of my dust, O may some virtue rise ! 

And like thy better Genius thee attend. 

Till thou in my dark period shalt end. 

Lastly, my constant truth let me commend 

To him thou choosest next to be thy friend. 

For (witness all things good) I would not have 

Thy youth and beauty married to my grave, 4° 

'Twould show thou didst repent the style of wife, 

Shouldst thou relapse into a single life. 

The Legacy.'] The remark made above applies especially to The Legacy, for there are 
no known or likely circumstances in King's life corresponding to it ; while at the 
same time it might be the fancy of a young lover-husband. The first six stanzas 
have something of the ' yew-and-roses ' charm of their great originals : the last 
four justify the ancients in holding that extravagance too often comports frigidity. 


Henry King 

They with preposterous grief the world delude, 
Who mourn for their lost mates in solitude; 
Since widowhood more strongly doth enforce 
The much lamented lot of their divorce. 

Themselves then of their losses guilty are, 

Who may, yet will not, suffer a repair. 

Those were barbarian wives, that did invent 

Weeping to death at th' husband's monument; 50 

But in more civil rites she doth approve 

Her first, who ventures on a second love; 

For else it may be thought, if she refrain, 

She sped so ill, she durst not try again. 

Up then, my Love, and choose some worthier one. 
Who may supply my room when I am gone; 
So will the stock of our affection thrive 
No less in death, than were I still alive. 

And in my urn I shall rejoice, that I 

Am both testator thus and legacy. 60 

The Short Wooing. 

Like an oblation set before a shrine. 
Fair one ! I offer up this heart of mine. 
Whether the Saint accept my gift or no, 
ril neither fear nor doubt before I know. 
For he whose faint distrust prevents reply. 
Doth his own suit's denial prophesy. 

Your will the sentence is ; who free as Fate 
Can bid my love proceed, or else retreat. 
And from short views that verdict is decreed 
Which seldom doth one audience exceed. to 

Love asks no dull probation, but like light 
Conveys his nimble influence at first sight. 

I need not therefore importune or press; 
This were t' extort unwilling happiness : 
And much against affection might I sin : 
To tire and weary what I seek to win. 
Towns which by ling'ring siege enforced be 
Oft make both sides repent the victory. 

Be Mistress of yourself: and let me thrive 
Or suffer by your own prerogative. 20 

Yet stay, since you are Judge, who in one breath 
Bear uncontrolled power of Life and Death, 
Remember (Sweet) pity doth best become 
Those lips which must pronounce a suitor's doom. 

The Short Wooing.'] A fair average metapliysicality. 

The Short Wooing 

If I find that, my spark of chaste desire 
Shall kindle into Hymen's holy fire : 
Else like sad flowers will these verses prove, 
To stick the coffin of rejected Love. 

St. Valentines Day 

Now that each feather'd chorister doth sing 
The glad approaches of the welcome Spring : 
Now Phoebus darts forth his more early beam 
And dips it later in the curled stream, 
I should to custom prove a retrograde 
Did I still dote upon my sullen shade. 

Oft have the seasons finish'd and begun ; 
Days into months, those into years have run, 
Since my cross stars and inauspicious fate 
Doom'd me to linger here without my mate lo 

Whose loss ere since befrosting my desire, 
Left me an Altar without gift or fire. 


I therefore could have wish'd for your own sake 
That Fortune had design'd a nobler stake 
For you to draw, than one whose fading day 
Like to a dedicated taper lay 
Within a tomb, and long burnt out in vain, 
Since nothing there saw better by the flame. 

Yet since you like your chance, I must not try 
To mar it through my incapacity. ao 

I here make title to it, and proclaim 
How much you honour me to wear my name; 
Who can no form of gratitude devise, 
But offer up myself your sacrifice. 

Hail, then, my worthy lot ! and may each morn 
Successive springs of joy to you be born : 
May your content ne'er wane until my heart 
Grown bankrupt, wants good wishes to impart. 
Henceforth I need not make the dust my shrine, 
Nor search the grave for my lost Valentine. 3° 

St. Valentine's Day.'] I suppose, though I do not remember an instance, that in 
the good days before the prettiest of English customs succumbed — partly to the 
growth of Vulgarity and partly to the competition of the much less interesting Christ- 
mas Card — some one, or more than one, must have made a collection of literary 
Valentines. In that case this should have figured. It has a good deal of ' Henry King, 
his mark ' — good taste, freedom from mawkishness, melody, and enough poetical 
essence to save it from the merely mediocre. The coincidence of 1. 24 with the more 
passionate close of 'Tell me no more' should not escape notice. — I have not altered 
' ere since ' to * e''er since ' in text, because the emendation, though almost, is not quite 

( 183 ) 

Henry King 

To his unco7istant Friend. 

But say, thou very woman, why to me 

This fit of weakness and inconstancy? 

What forfeit have I made of word or vow, 

That I am rack'd on thy displeasure now? 

If I have done a fault, I do not shame 

To cite it from thy lips, give it a name : 

I ask the banes, stand forth, and tell me why 

We should not in our wonted loves comply? 

Did thy cloy'd appetite urge thee to try 

If any other man could love as I ? lo 

I see friends are like clothes, laid up whilst new, 

But after wearing cast, though ne'er so true. 

Or did thy fierce ambition long to make 

Some lover turn a martyr for thy sake? 

Thinking thy beauty had deserv'd no name 

Unless someone do perish in that flame : 

Upon whose loving dust this sentence lies, 

Here 's one was murther'd by his mistress' eyes. 

Or was't because my love to thee was such, 
I could not choose but blab it? swear how much 20 

I was thy slave, and doting let thee know, 
I better could myself than thee forgo. 

Hearken ! ye men that e'er shall love like me, 
I'll give you counsel gratis : if you be 
Possess'd of what you like, let your fair friend 
Lodge in your bosom, but no secrets send 
To seek their lodging in a female breast; 
For so much is abated of your rest. 
The steed that comes to understand his strength 
Grows wild, and casts his manager at length : 30 

And that tame lover who unlocks his heart 
Unto his mistress, teaches her an art 
To plague himself; shows her the secret way 
How she may tyrannize another day. 

And now, my fair Unkindness, thus to thee ; 
Mark how wise Passion and I agree : 
Hear and be sorry for't. I will not die 
To expiate thy crime of levity : 
I walk (not cross-arm'd neither), eat, and live. 
Yea live to pity thy neglect, not grieve 40 

That thou art from thy faith and promise gone. 
Nor envy him who by my loss hath won. 

To his unconstant FriendJ\ 7 I have thought it better to keep the form ' bane ', which 
was not uncommon (and, if I am not mistaken, was sometimes made to carry a pun 
with it), instead of tlie now usual, and even then authoritative, ' banw '. 

II laid] Orig. * lad ' — an evident misprint. 

16 had perisht Malone MS. 22. 

( '84 ) 

To his unconstant Friend 

Thou shalt perceive thy changing Moon-like fits 

Have not infected me, or turn'd my wits 

To lunacy. I do not mean to weep 

When I should eat, or sigh when I should sleep ; 

I will not fall upon my pointed quill, 

Bleed ink and poems, or invention spill 

To contrive ballads, or weave elegies 

For nurses' wearing when the infant cries. 50 

Nor like th'enamour'd Tristrams of the time, 

Despair in prose and hang myself in rhyme. 

Nor thither run upon my verses' feet. 

Where I shall none but fools or madmen meet, 

Who midst the silent shades, and myrtle walks, 

Pule and do penance for their mistress' faults. 

I'm none of those poetic malcontents 

Born to make paper dear with my laments : 

Or wild Orlando that will rail and vex. 

And for thy sake fall out with all the sex. 60 

No, I will love again, and seek a prize 

That shall redeem me from thy poor despise. 

I'll court my fortune now in such a shape 

That will no faint dye, nor starv'd colour take. 

Thus launch I off with triumph from thy shore. 
To which my last farewell ; for never more 
Will I touch there. I put to sea again 
Blown with the churlish wind of thy disdain. 
Nor will I stop this course till I have found 
A coast that yields safe harbour, and firm ground. 70 

Smile, ye Love-Stars ; wing'd with desire I fly, 
To make my wishes' full discovery : 
Nor doubt I but for one that proves like you, 
I shall find ten as fair, and yet more true. 

Madam Gabrina, Or the Ill-favour d Choice. 

Con mala Muger el remedio 
Mucha Tierra por el medio. 

I HAVE oft wond'red why thou didst elect 
Thy mistress of a stuff none could affect, 
That wore his eyes in the right place. A thing 
Made up, when Nature's powers lay slumbering. 
One, where all pregnant imperfections met 
To make her sex's scandal : Teeth of jet. 
Hair dy'd in orp'ment, from whose fretful hue 
Canidia her highest witchcrafts drew. 

57 Orig., as often, ' mal^contents '. 

This piece is one of King's few attempts to play the 'dog'. It is, as one would 
expect, not very happy, but it might be worse. 

Madam Gabrina'] 7 ' Orp[i]ment ' = yellow arsenic— then, and to some extent still, 
used as a gold-dye. 

( ^85) 

Henry King 

A lip most thin and pale, but such a mouth 

Which Hke the poles is stretched North and South lo 

A face so colour'd, and of such a form, 

As might defiance bid unto a storm : 

And the complexion of her sallow hide 

Like a wrack'd body wash'd up by the tide : 

Eyes small : a nose so to her vizard glued 

As if 'twould take a Planet's altitude. 

Last for her breath, 'tis somewhat like the smell 

That does in Ember weeks on Fish-street dwell ; 

Or as a man should fasting scent the Rose 

Which in the savoury Bear-garden grows. 20 

If a Fox cures the paralytical, 

Hadst thou ten palsies, she'd outstink them all. 

But I have found thy plot : sure thou didst try 
To put thyself past hope of jealousy : 
And whilst unlearned fools the senses please. 
Thou cur'st thy appetite by a disease ; 
As many use, to kill an itch withal, 
Quicksilver or some biting mineral. 

Dote upon handsome things each common man 
With little study and less labour can ; 3° 

But to make love to a deformity, 
Only commends thy great ability. 
Who from hard-favour'd objects draw'st content. 
As estriches from iron nutriment. 

Well, take her, and like mounted George, in bed 
Boldly achieve thy Dragon's maiden-head : 
Where (though scarce sleep) thou mayst rest confident 
None dares beguile thee of thy punishment : 
The sin were not more foul that he should commit. 
Than is that She with whom he acted it. 40 

Yet take this comfort : when old age shall raze, 
Or sickness ruin many a good face. 
Thy choice cannot impair; no cunning curse 
Can mend that night-piece, that is, make her worse. 

39 Malone MS. 22 omits ihaf. 

41 It is curious that King, who has elsewhere followed Spenser in the matter of eye- 
rhyme pretty closely, did not spell 'raze', ' race', which was a very usual form and 
perhaps, as in ' race-ship', the commoner pronunciation. — The whole poem is one of 
his most disappointing. His Spanish distich — which (adopting Mr. Browning's use 
of ' fix') might be paraphrased : 

If a bad woman once has fix'd you, 

Put many a mile of ground betwixt you — 

saj-s nothing about mere ugltttess ; while, on the other hand, King does not utilize 
the prescription of absence as the only cure for ill-placed love. He has at first sight 
simply added (though, as one would expect, not in the most olTensive form) another to 
the far too numerous dull and loathsome imitations of one of Horace's rare betrayals of 
the fact that he was not a gentleman. But see on next. 

( 186 ) 

Why slightest thou what I approve ? 

The Defence. 

Piensan los Enamorados 

Que tienen los otros los ojos quebrantados. 

Why slightest thou what I approve? 
Thou art no Peer to try my love, 
Nor canst discern where her form lies, 
Unless thou saw'st her with my eyes. 

Say she were foul and blacker than 
The Night, or sunburnt African, 
If lik'd by me, 'tis I alone 
Can make a beauty where was none; 
For rated in my fancy, she 
Is so as she appears to me. to 

But 'tis not feature, or a face. 
That does my free election grace, 
Nor is my liking only led 
By a well-temper'd white and red ; 
Could I enamour'd grow on those, 
The Lily and the blushing Rose 
United in one stalk might be 
As dear unto my thoughts as she. 

But I look farther, and do find 
A richer beauty in her mind ; 20 

Where something is so lasting fair, 
As time or age cannot impair. 
Hadst thou a perspective so clear. 
Thou couldst behold my object there; 
When thou her virtues shouldst espy, 
They'd force thee to confess that I 
Had cause to like her, and learn thence 
To love by judgement, not by sense. 

The Defence.'] This is very much better, though we need not have had to wade 
through the other poem to get to it. It has neither the conciseness nor the finish 
of Ausonius's triumphant confession to Crispa, but is good enough. The Spanish 
heading here, which in the original has an unnecessary comma at otros and an 
unnecessary divorce of space between quebranta and dos, may be roughly rendered : 

For it is still the lover's mind 
That all, except himself, are blind. 
The piece is also assigned to Rudyard. Mr. Thorn-Drury notes a variant at 11. 23-8 
of some interest from Parnassus Biceps, where the title is 'A Lover to one dis- 
praising his Mistress ' : 

so clear 
That thou couldst view my object there ; 
When thou her virtues didst espy, 
Thou 'Idst wonder and confess that I 
Had cause to like ; and learn from hence 
To love. 


Henry King 

To One demanding why Wine sparkles. 

So diamonds sparkle, and thy mistress' eyes; 

When 'tis not fire but Ught in either flies. 

Beauty not thaw'd by lustful flames will show 

Like a fair mountain of unmelted snow: 

Nor can the tasted vine more danger bring 

Than water taken from the crystal spring, 

Whose end is to refresh and cool that heat 

Which unallay'd becomes foul vice's seat : 

Unless thy boiling veins, mad with desire 

Of drink, convert the liquor into fire. lo 

For then thou quaff'st down fevers, thy full bowls 

Carouse the burning draughts of Portia's coals. 

If it do leap and sparkle in the cup, 
'Twill sink thy cares, and help invention up. 
There never yet was Muse or Poet known 
Not dipt or drenched in this Helicon. 
But Tom ! take heed thou use it with such care 
As witches deal with their familiar. 
For if thy virtue's circle not confine 

And guard thee from the Furies rais'd by wine, 20 

'Tis ten to one this dancing spirit may 
A Devil prove to bear thy wits away ; 
And make thy glowing nose a map of Hell 
Where Bacchus' purple fumes like meteors dwell. 
Now think not these sage morals thee invite 
To prove Carthusian or strict Rechabite ; 
Let fool's be mad, wise people may be free, 
Though not to license turn their liberty. 
He that drinks wine for health, not for excess, 
Nor drowns his temper in a drunkenness, 30 

Shall feel no more the grape's unruly fate, 
Then if he took some chilling opiate. 

By occasion of the Yotmg Prince his happy Birth. 

[Charles II. Born May 29, 1630] 

At this glad triumph, when most poets use '-. 

Their quill, I did not bridle up my Muse 
For sloth or less devotion. I am one 
That can well keep my Holy-days at home ; 

To One demanding, (sfc?\ If not exactly Poetry, this is at least sense, as was 
once remarked (or in words to that effect), with ' Latin ' for ' Poetry ', by the late 
Professor Nett'eship, with regard to a composition not in verse. 

Malone MS. 22, fol. 24, has an earlier draft of this poem, commencing: 
We do not give the wine a sparkling name, 
As if we meant those sparks implied a flame ; 
The flame lies in our blood : and 'tis desire 
Fed by loose appetite sets us on fire, 
and concluding with lines 29-32. 

( 188 ) 

By occasion of the Young Prince his happy Birth 

That can the blessings of my King and State 
Better in pray'r than poems gratulate ; 
And in their fortunes bear a loyal part, 
Though I no bonfires light but in my heart. 

Truth is, when I receiv'd the first report 
Of a new star risen and seen at Court ; lo 

Though I felt joy enough to give a tongue 
Unto a mute, yet duty strook me dumb : 
And thus surpris'd by rumour, at first sight 
I held it some allegiance not to write. 

For howe'er children, unto those that look 
Their pedigree in God's, not the Church book, 
Fair pledges are of that eternity 
Which Christians possess not till they die ; 
Yet they appear, view'd in that perspective 
Through which we look on men long since alive, 20 

Like succours in a Camp, sent to make good 
Their place that last upon the watches stood. 
So that in age, or fate, each following birth 
Doth set the parent so much nearer earth : 
And by this grammar we our heirs may call 
The smiling Preface to our funeral. 

This sadded my soft sense, to think that he 
Who now makes laws, should by a bold decree 
Be summon'd hence, to make another room, 
And change his royal palace for a tomb. 30 

For none ere truly lov'd the present light. 
But griev'd to see it rivall'd by the night : 
And if 't be sin to wish that light extinct. 
Sorrow may make it treason but to think 't. 
I know each malcontent or giddy man. 
In his religion, with the Persian 
Adores the rising Sun ; and his false view 
Best likes, not what is best, but what is new. 
O that we could these gangrenes so prevent 
(For our own blessing, and their punishment), 40 

That all such might, who for wild changes thirst, 
Rack'd on a hopeless expectation, burst, 

By occasion, &c.'] 8 Orig. 'bone-fires', as often, the spelling being accepted by 
recent authorities as etymological. But bones do not make good fires: 'bawe-fire', 
the acknowledged Northern form, which has been held to support this origin, is a very 
likely variant of ' ba/e fire ', and the obvious ' 6o«-fire ' in the holiday sense is by no 
means so absurd as it has been represented to be. 

10 This ' new star' occurs again and again in courtly verse throughout Charles's life 
and at his death, but the accounts of it are uncomfortably conflicting. Some say that 
Venus was visible all day long— a phenomenon of obvious application ; others make it 
Mercury — whereto also an application, at which the person concerned would have 
laughed very genially, is possible. But neither is a ^ new star'; and the miracle 
is perhaps more judiciously put as that of a star, no matter what, shining brightly at 

22 that] MS. ' who '. 27 ' sadded ' has some interest. 

( 189 ) 

Henry King 

To see us fetter time, and by his stay 
To a consistence fix the flying day ; 
And in a Solstice by our prayers made, 
Rescue our Sun from death or envy's shade. 

But here we dally with fate, and in this 
Stern Destiny mocks and controls our wish; 
Informing us, if fathers should remain 

For ever here, children were born in vain; 50 

And we in vain were Christians, should we 
In this world dream of perpetuity. 
Decay is Nature's Kalendar; nor can 
It hurt the King to think he is a man ; 
Nor grieve, but comfort him, to hear us say 
That his own children must his sceptre sway. 
Why slack I then to contribute a vote, 
Large as the kingdom's joy, free as my thought? 
Long live the Prince ! and in that title bear 
The world long witness that the King is here : 60 

May he grow up, till all that good he reach 
Which we can wish, or his Great Father teach : 
Let him shine long, a mark to land and main, 
Like that bright spark plac'd nearest to Charles' Wain, 
And, like him, lead succession's golden team, 
Which may possess the British diadem. 

But in the mean space, let his Royal Sire, 
Who warms our hopes with true Promethean fire, 
So long his course in time and glory run, 
Till he estate his virtue on his son. 70 

So in his father's days this happy One 
Shall crowned be, yet not usurp the Throne ; 
And Charles reign still, since thus himself will be 
Heir to himself, through all posterity. 

Upon the Kings happy return from Scotland. 

So breaks the day, when the returning Sun 
Hath newly through his winter tropic run, 
As You (Great Sir !) in this regress come forth 
From the remoter climate of the North. 

47 ' But here we with fate dally ' Maloyte MS. 22. 

50 were born] MS. ' would live ' — not so well. 

57 vote] In the sense of votum = ' wish '. 60 long] MS. ' glad '. 

63 long] MS. 'forth'. 70 MS. 'virtues'. 

Upon the King's happy reinm, Ct'c] Hannah notes that this appears with variants, 
but signed, in MS. Ashm. 38, fol. 51. I have not thought it necessary to collate this 
version from a work described by good authorities as 'a bad MS.'. The piece itself, 
liowever, with others of King's, may well have been in Drj'den's mind when he com- 
posed his own batch of Restoration welcome-poems to Charles II and Clarendon, 
within three or four years of the publication of these. There is no plagiarism : Heaven 

( 190 ) 

upon the Kings happy return from Scotland 

To tell You now what cares, what fears we past, 
What clouds of sorrow did the land o'er-cast, 
Were lost, but unto such as have been there, 
Where the absented Sun benights the year : 
. Or have those countries travel'd, which ne'er feel 

The warmth and virtue of his flaming wheel. lo 

How happy yet were we ! that when You went, 
You left within Your Kingdom's firmament 
A Partner-light, whose lustre may despise 
The nightly glimm'ring tapers of the skies, 
Your peerless Queen ; and at each hand a Star, 
Whose hopeful beams from You enkindled are. 
Though (to say truth) the light, which they could bring, 
Serv'd but to lengthen out our evening. 

Heaven's greater lamps illumine it ; each spark 
Adds only this, to make the sky less dark. 20 

Nay, She, who is the glory of her se.x, 
Did sadly droop for lack of Your reflex : 
Oft did She her fair brow in loneness shroud, 
And dimly shone, like Venus in a cloud. 

Now are those gloomy mists dry'd up by You, 
As the world's eye scatters the ev'ning dew : 
And You bring home that blessing to the land, 
Which absence made us rightly understand. 

Here may You henceforth stay ! there need no charms 
To hold You, but the circle of her arms, 30 

Whose fruitful love yields You a rich increase. 
Seals of Your joy, and of the kingdom's peace. 
O may those precious pledges fix You here. 
And You grow old within that crystal sphere ! 

Pardon this bold detention. Else our love 
Will merely an officious trouble prove. 
Each busy minute tells us, as it flies, 
That there are better objects for Your eyes. 
To them let us leave You, whilst we go pray, 
Raising this triumph to a Holy-day. 4° 

And may that soul the Church's blessing want. 
May his content be short, his comforts scant. 
Whose bosom-altar does no incense burn, 
In thankful sacrifice for Your return. 

forbid that I should take part in plagiarism-hunting. But there is a sort of resemblance 
in form and tone ('especially in the use of 'You' and ' Your' as pivots), and vthough 
with great improvement) in versification.— The capital Y's here are almost complete in 
the original, and I have completed them. 

( -91 ) 

Henry King 

To the Qtieen at Oxford. 

Great Lady ! that thus, quite against our use, 
We speak your welcome by an English Muse, 
And in a vulgar tongue our zeals contrive, 
Is to confess your large prerogative, 
Who have the pow'rful freedom to dispense 
With our strict Rules, or Custom's difference. 

'Tis fit, when such a Star deigns to appear, 
And shine within the academic sphere, 
That ev'ry college, grac'd by your resort, 

Should only speak the language of your Court ; lo 

As if Apollo's learned quire, but You, 
No other Queen of the Ascendent knew. 

Let those that list invoke the Delphian name. 
To light their verse, and quench their doting flame ; 
In Helicon it were high treason now, 
Did any to a feign'd Minerva bow ; 
When You are present, whose chaste virtues stain 
The vaunted glories of her maiden brain. 

I would not flatter. May that diet feed 
Deform'd and vicious souls ; they only need ao 

Such physic, who, grown sick of their decays, 
Are only cur'd with surfeits of false praise ; 
Like those, who, fall'n from youth or beauty's grace, 
Lay colours on, which more belie the face. 

Be You still what You are ; a glorious theme 
For Truth to crown. So when that diadem 
Which circles Your fair brow drops off, and time 
Shall lift You to that pitch our prayers climb ; 
Posterity will plait a nobler wreath, 

To crown Your fame and memory in death. 30 

This is sad truth and plain, which I might fear 
Would scarce prove welcome to a Prince's ear ; 
And hardly may you think that writer wise. 
Who preaches there where he should poetize ; 
Yet where so rich a bank of goodness is, 
Triumphs and Feasts admit such thoughts as this, 
Nor will your virtue from her client turn, 
Although he bring his tribute in an urn. 

Enough of this : who knows not when to end 
Needs must, by tedious diligence, offend. 40 

'Tis not a poet's office to advance 
The precious value of allegiance. 
And least of all the rest do I affect 
To word my duty in this dialect. 

To the Queen at Oxford.'] This poem was omitted in Hannah's MS., and it is in no 
way clear to what visit it refers. The absence of any reference to politics shows that 
it cannot have been Henrietta's residence at Merton during the Rebellion. 

29 plait] Orig ' plat '. 

( '9» ) 

To the Queen at Oxford 

My service lies a better way, whose tone 
Is spirited by full devotion. 
Thus, whilst I mention You, Your Royal Mate, 
And Those which your blest line perpetuate, 
I shall such votes of happiness rehearse, 
Whose softest accents will out-tongue my verse. 50 

A Salutation of His Majesty s ship The Sovereign. 

Move on, thou floating trophy built to Fame ! 
And bid her trump spread thy majestic name ; 
That the blue Tritons, and those petty Gods 
Which sport themselves upon the dancing floods, 
May bow, as to their Neptune, when they feel 
The awful pressure of thy potent keel. 

Great wonder of the time ! whose form unites 
In one aspect two warring opposites. 
Delight and horror; and in them portends 
Diff"'ring events both to thy foes and friends ; 10 

To these thy radiant brow, Peace's bright shrine, 
Doth like that golden constellation shine, 
Which guides the seaman with auspicious beams. 
Safe and unshipwrack'd through the troubled streams. 
But, as a blazing meteor, to those 
It doth ostents of blood and death disclose. 
For thy rich decks lighten like Heaven's fires, 
To usher forth the thunder of thy tires. 

A Salutation, dfcJ] The Sovereign, Sovereign of the Seas, or Royal Sovereign (I am not 
sure what name she bore during the Rebelhon')is one of the famous //V^wr)' ships of the 
English Navy. She was built in 1637 at Woolwich by Phineas and Peter Pett out of 
a whole year's ship-monej' ; and if the means for raising her cost (;^8o,ooo) were 
unpopular, a great deal of pride was taken in the ship herself. Thomas Heywood 
wrote an account of her which has been frequently quoted. See, for instance, 
Mr. David Hannay's Short History of the Royal Navy, i. 172, 173. She was of 1637 
tons burthen ; was pierced for 98 great guns with many smaller murdering-pieces 
and chasers ; and was most elaborately decorated, with carved stern, galleries, black 
and gold angels, trophies and emblems of all sorts — besides a baker's dozen of allegorical, 
mythological, and historical statues of personages from Cupid to King Edgar on horse- 
back, as figureheads and elsewhere. She fought all through the Dutch wars ; escaped 
the disgraceful disaster in the Medway ; distinguished herself at La Hogue, where 
a great part is assigned to her by some accounts in chasing Tourville's So/«7 /?oj)a/ 
ashore ; and was burnt by accident, not long after, at Chatham in 1696— her sixtieth 

II The 'radiant brow' is of course the gilded figurehead group. There was 
no actual ' Peace ' among the allegories, but the Cupid, a ' child bridling a lion ', might 
perhaps stand for her. 

18 'Tire' is of course 'tier' : the Sovereign was a three-decker. Professor Skeat 
approves the spelling, which occurs in Milton and elsewhere. But some would have 
a special word ' tire ', not for the row but the actual ' fire ' or ' shooting ' (/«>) of the 
guns — which would do well enough here. 

( 193 ) O III 

Henry Ki?ig 

O never may cross wind, or swelling wave, 
Conspire to make the treach'rous sands thy grave : 20 

Nor envious rocks, in their white foamy laugh, 
Rejoice to wear thy loss's Epitaph. 
But may the smoothest, most successful gales 
Distend thy sheet, and wing thy flying sails : 
That all designs which must on thee embark, 
May be securely plac'd, as in the Ark. 
May'st thou, where'er thy streamers shall display. 
Enforce the bold disputers to obey : 
That they, whose pens are sharper than their swords. 
May yield in fact, what they denied in words. 30 

Thus when th' amazed world our seas shall see 
Shut from usurpers, to their own Lord free. 
Thou may'st, returning from the conquer'd main, 
With thine own triumphs be crown'd Sovereign. 

An Epitaph on his most honoured friend^ Richard, 

Earl of Dorset. 

[Died March 28, 1624.] 

Let no profane ignoble foot tread near 

This hallow'd piece of earth ; Dorset lies here. 

A small sad relique of a noble spirit, 

Free as the air, and ample as his merit ; 

Whose least perfection was large, and great 

Enough to make a common man complete. 

A soul refin'd and cuU'd from many men. 

That reconcil'd the sword unto the pen. 

Using both well. No proud forgetting Lord, 

But mindful of mean names, and of his word. ' , 10 

One that did love for honour, not for ends. 

And had the noblest way of making friends 

19-22 King's own age would, after the event, have instanced this as an example ot 
Fate granting prayers to the letter yet evading them in the spirit. The Sovereign did 
escape wind and wave, sand and rock, as well as the enemy, but only to perish 

24 'Sheets' in plural in Hannah's MS. Another in the Ashmolean collection 
' clo[a"lthre'|s ' — a gooil naval technicality. 

27-34 Referring to the Mare Clausurtt dispute and the English insistence on the 
lowering of foreign flags. 

An Epitaph.'] This Dorset was the third earl, Richard. As a very young man he 
married the famous Lady Anne Clifford, whose ill-luck in husbands may have been 
partly caused, but must have been somewhat compensated, by her masterful temper. 
Doryet, who died young, was both a libertine and a spendthrift ; but King seems 
to have thought well enough of him not only to write this epitaph, but to lend him, or 
guarantee for him, a thousand pounds (quite £'3,000 to-day), which he had at any 
rate not got back thirty years afterwards. The present piece appears, with variants, 
in Corbet's Poems, but King seems to have the better claim. Hannah gives a consider- 
able body of various readings from the Corbet version and one in the Ashmole MS. 38, 
but it hardly seems worth while to burden the page-foot with them, for the epitaph is 
mere ' common-form ' and of no special interest. 

( '94 ) 

An Epitaph 

By loving first. One that did know the Court, 
Yet understood it better by report 
Than practice, for he nothing took from thence 
But the king's favour for his recompense. 
One for reHgion, or his country's good, 
That valu'd not his fortune, nor his blood. 
One high in fair opinion, rich in praise, 
And full of all we could have wish'd, but days. 20 

He that is warn'd of this, and shall forbear 
To vent a sigh for him, or lend a tear ; 
May he live long and scorn'd, unpitied fall, 
And want a mourner at his funeral. 

The Exequy. 

Accept, thou Shrine of my dead Saint, 

Instead of dirges this complaint; 

And for sweet flowers to crown thy hearse, 

Receive a strew of weeping verse 

From thy griev'd friend, whom thou might'st see 

Quite melted into tears for thee. 

Dear loss ! since thy untimely fate, 
My task hath been to meditate 
On thee, on thee : thou art the book. 

The library, whereon I look, 10 

Though almost blind. For thee (lov'd clay) 
I languish out, not live, the day. 
Using no other exercise 
But what I practise with mine eyes : 
By which wet glasses, I find out 
How lazily time creeps about 
To one that mourns ; this, only this, 
My exercise and bus'ness is : 
So I compute the weary hours 
With sighs dissolved into showers. 20 

Nor wonder, if my time go thus 
Backward and most preposterous ; 
Thou hast benighted me ; thy set 
This eve of blackness did beget, 
Who wast my day (though overcast, 
Before thou hadst thy noon-tide past), 
And I remember must in tears. 
Thou scarce hadst seen so many years 

The Exequy. "] This beautiful poem (which bore in Hannah's MS. the sub-title, itsell 
not unmemorable, ' To his Matchless never-to-be forgotten Friend ') makes, with ' Tell 
me no more', King's chief claim to poetic rank. It is not — he never is — splendid, or 
strange, or soul-shaking ; but for simplicity, sincerity, tenderness, and grace— nay, as 
the time went, nature — it has, in its modest way, not many superiors. 

Versions are found in Ashmole MS. 36, fol. 253, and Rawlinson Poet. MS. 160, 
fol. 41 verso. 

( 195 ) 02 

Henry King 

As day tells hours. By thy clear Sun, 

My love and fortune first did run; 30 

But thou wilt never more appear 

Folded within my hemisphere, 

Since both thy light and motion 

Like a fled star is fall'n and gone, 

And 'twixt me and my soul's dear wish 

The earth now interposed is. 

Which such a strange eclipse doth make, 

As ne'er was read in almanac. 

I could allow thee, for a time, 
To darken me and my sad clime, 40 

Were it a month, a year, or ten, 
I would thy exile live till then ; 
And all that space my mirth adjourn, 
So thou wouldst promise to return ; 
And putting off thy ashy shroud. 
At length disperse this sorrow's cloud. 

But woe is me ! the longest date 
Too narrow is to calculate 
These empty hopes : never shall I 

Be so much blest as to descry 50 

A glimpse of thee, till that day come. 
Which shall the earth to cinders doom, 
And a fierce fever must calcine 
The body of this world, like thine, 
My Little World ! That fit of fire 
Once off, our bodies shall aspire 
To our souls' bUss : then we shall rise, 
And view ourselves with clearer eyes 
In that calm region, where no night 
Can hide us from each other's sight. 60 

Meantime, thou hast her, Earth; much good 
May my harm do thee. Since it stood 
With Heaven's will, I might not call 
Her longer mine, I give thee all 
My short-liv'd right and interest 
In her, whom living I lov'd best : 
With a most free and bounteous grief, 
I give thee, what I could not keep. 
Be kind to her, and prithee look 

Thou write into thy Dooms-day book 70 

Each parcel of this rarity, 
Which in thy casket shrin'd doth lie : 
See that thou make thy reck'ning straight, 
And yield her back again by weight ; 

36 The] All three MSS. read 'An ', which, considering the obvious double meaning 
)f 'earth ', is perhaps better. 
678 Assonance, though not elsewhere unknown, is not common in King 

( ^96 ) 

The Exequy 

For thou must audit on thy trust 
Each grain and atom of this dust, 
As thou wilt answer Him that lent, 
Not gave thee, my dear monument. 

So close the ground, and 'bout her shade 
Black curtains draw ; — my Bride is laid. 80 

Sleep on, my Love, in thy cold bed, 
Never to be disquieted ! 
My last good night ! Thou wilt not wake, 
Till I thy fate shall overtake : 
Till age, or grief, or sickness, must 
Marry my body to that dust 
It so much loves ; and fill the room 
My heart keeps empty in thy tomb. 
Stay for me there ; I will not fail 

To meet thee in that hollow vale : 90 

And think not much of my delay; 
I am already on the way. 
And follow thee with all the speed 
Desire can make, or sorrows breed. 
Each minute is a short degree, 
And ev'ry hour a step towards thee. 
At night, when I betake to rest, 
Next morn I rise nearer my West 
Of life, almost by eight hours' sail 
Than when sleep breath'd his drowsy gale. ioo 

Thus from the Sun my bottom steers, 
And my day's compass downward bears : 
Nor labour I to stem the tide. 
Through which to Thee I swiftly glide. 

'Tis true, with shame and grief I yield, 
Thou, like the van, first took'st the field, 
And gotten hast the victory. 
In thus adventuring to die 
Before me, whose more years might crave 
A just precedence in the grave. no 

But heark ! My pulse, like a soft drum. 
Beats my approach, tells Thee I come ; 
And slow howe'er my marches be, 
I shall at last sit down by Thee. 

The thought of this bids me go on, 
And wait my dissolution 
With hope and comfort. Dear (forgive 
The crime), I am content to live 
Divided, with but half a heart. 
Till we shall meet and never part. 120 

81 seq. If the last paragraph has seemed to any to approach ' False Wit ' this ought 
to make amends. And so with the conclusion. 

( '97 ) 

Henry King 

The Anniverse. An Elegy. 

So soon grown old ! hast thou been six years dead ? 

Poor earth, once by my Love inhabited! 

And must I live to calculate the time 

To which thy blooming youth could never climb, 

But fell in the ascent ! yet have not I 

Studied enough thy loss's history. 

How happy were mankind, if Death's strict laws 
Consum'd our lamentations like the cause ! 
Or that our grief, turning to dust, might end 
With the dissolved body of a friend ! lo 

But sacred Heaven ! O, how just thou art 
In stamping death's impression on that heart, 
Which through thy favours would grow insolent, 
Were it not physic'd by sharp discontent. 
If, then, it stand resolv'd in thy decree, 
That still I must doom'd to a desert be, 
Sprung out of my lone thoughts, which know no path 
But what my own misfortune beaten hath ; — 
If thou wilt bind me living to a corse, 

And I must slowly waste; I then of force 23 

Stoop to thy great appointment, and obey 
That will which nought avails me to gainsay. 

For whilst in sorrow's maze I wander on, 
I do but follow life's vocation. 
Sure we were made to grieve : at our first birth, 
With cries we took possession of the earth; 
And though the lucky man reputed be 
Fortune's adopted son, yet only he 
Is Nature's true-born child, who sums his years 
(Like me) with no arithmetic but tears. 30 

On Two Child7'en, dying of one disease^ and buried 

in one grave. 

Brought forth in sorrow, and bred up in care, 
Two tender children here entombed are: 
One place, one sire, one womb their being gave, 
They had one mortal sickness, and one grave. 

llif yi universe.] Not quite so good as The Exequy, but not bad. The Hannah- 
Pickcrinp; MS. had a few variants, not worth entering here in most cases. 

19 corse] This word had odd luck in a well-printed book, and a generally well- 
written MS., for it shows in the one as ' coarse ', in the other as ' course ' — both errors 
not infrequent at the time. 

j-2 avails] This is the MS. reading : the book has 'avail \ 

a6 took] MS. 'take'. 

On Two Childrctt, O^c.'] The number of King's children is uncertain, but as the eldest 
reitainly died be/ore the mother, and his sons lived, one nearly as long as the Bishop, 
Ihe other a little longer, Hannah seems justified in arguing from this piece that there 
were five. 

( >y« ) 

0?! Two Children^ dying of one disease 

And though they cannot number many years 

In their account, yet with their parent's tears 

This comfort mingles ; Though their days were few, 

They scarcely sin, but never sorrow knew ; 

So that they well might boast, they carried hence 

What riper ages lose, their innocence. lo 

You pretty losses, that revive the fate, 

Which, in your mother, death did antedate, 

O let my high-swoln grief distil on you 

The saddest drops of a parental dew : 

You ask no other dower than what my eyes 

Lay out on your untimely exequies : 

When once I have discharg'd that mournful score, 

Heav'n hath decreed you ne'er shall cost me more. 

Since you release and quit my borrow'd trust, 

By taking this inheritance of dust. 20 

A Letter. 

I ne'er was dress'd in forms ; nor can I bend 
My pen to flatter any, nor commend, 
Unless desert or honour do present 
Unto my verse a worthy argument. 

You are my friend, and in that word to me 
Stand blazon'd in your noblest heraldry ; 
That style presents you full, and does relate 
The bounty of your love, and my own fate. 
Both which conspir'd to make me yours. A choice, 
Which needs must, in the giddy people's voice, 10 

That only judge the outside, and, like apes, 
Play with our names, and comment on our shapes, 
Appear too light : but it lies you upon, 
To justify the disproportion. 

Truth be my record, I durst not presume 
To seek to you, 'twas you that did assume 
Me to your bosom. Wherein you subdu'd 
One that can serve you, though ne'er could intrude 
Upon great titles ; nor knows how t' invade 
Acquaintance : Like such as are only paid 20 

With great men's smiles ; if that the passant Lord 
Let fall a forc'd salute, or but afford 
The nod regardant. It was test enough 
For me, you ne'er did find such servile stuff 

A Letter^^ I do not know any clue to the object of this epistle. King, like most 
churchmen of distinction at the time, was on familiar terms with divers ' persons 
of quality '. But it might be a mere literary exercise— a ' copy of verses '. 

23 'Nod regardant ' is good. It shows, with 'passant ' just befor" that his own 
reference to heraldry was still floating in King's mind. 

( 199 ) 

Henry King 

Couch'd in my temper ; I can freely say, 

I do not love you in that common way 

For which Great Ones are lov'd in this false time : 

I have no wish to gain, nor will to climb; 

I cannot pawn my freedom, nor outlive 

My liberty, for all that you can give. 30 

And sure you may retain good cheap such friends. 

Who not your fortune make, but you, their ends. 

I speak not this to vaunt in my own story. 

All these additions are unto your glory ; 

Who, counter to the world, use to elect. 

Not to take up on trust, what you affect. 

Indeed 'tis seldom seen that such as you 

Adopt a friend, or for acquaintance sue; 

Yet you did this vouchsafe, you did descend 

Below yourself to raise an humble friend, 40 

And fix him in your love : where I will stand 

The constant subject of your free command. 

Had I no airy thoughts, sure you would teach 

Me higher than my own dull sphere to reach : 

And, by reflex, instruct me to appear 

Something (though coarse and plain) fit for your wear. 

Know, best of friends, however wild report 
May justly say, I am unapt to sort 
With your opinion or society 

(Which truth would shame me, did I it deny), 50 

There 's something in me says, I dare make good. 
When honour calls me, all I want in blood. 

Put off your giant titles, then I can 
Stand in your judgement's blank an equal man. 
Though hills advanced are above the plain. 
They are but higher earth, nor must disdain 
Alliance with the vale ; we see a spade 
Can level them, and make a mount a glade. 
Howe'er we differ in the Heralds' book, 

He that mankind's extraction shall look 60 

In Nature's rolls, must grant we all agree 
In our best part's immortal pedigree : 
You must by that perspective only view 
My service, else 'twill ne'er show worthy you. 

You see I court you bluntly, like a friend, 
Not like a mistress ; my Muse is not penn'd 
For smooth and oily flights : and I indent 
To use more honesty than compliment. 

54 Either of two of the numerous senses of 'blank' would come in here. Oat- 
is tabula rasa, the judgement being obscured by no prepossession ; the other ' bull's-e^'e ' 
or ' target '. 

59 Orig. as usual, ' Heralds ', witli no apostrophe to make case or number. If anj-- 
body prefers 'herald's' I have no objection. 

67 indent] In the sense of ' contract ', ' engage '. 

( 300 ) 

A Letter 

But I have done ; in lieu of all you give, 
Receive his thankful tribute, who must live 70 

Your vow'd observer, and devotes a heart 
Which will in death seal the bold counterpart. 

An Acknowledgement. 

Mv best of friends ! what needs a chain to tie 
One by your merit bound a votary ? 
Think you I have some plot upon my peace, 
I would this bondage change for a release ? 
Since 'twas my fate your prisoner to be, 
Heav'n knows I nothing fear, but liberty. 

Yet you do well, that study to prevent. 
After so rich a stock of favour spent 
On one so worthless, lest my memory 

Should let so dear an obligation die 10 

Without record. This made my precious Friend 
Her token, as an antidote, to send. 
Against forgetful poisons ; That as they 
Who Vespers late, and early Mattins say 
Upon their beads, so on this linked score 
In golden numbers I might reckon o'er 
Your virtues and my debt, which does surmount 
The trivial laws of popular account : 
For that, within this emblematic knot. 
Your beauteous mind, and my own fate, is wrote. 20 

The sparkling constellation which combines 
The lock, is your dear self, whose worth outshines 
Most of your sex ; so solid and so clear 
You like a perfect diamond appear ; 
Casting, from your example, fuller light 
Than those dim sparks which glaze the brow of night, 
And gladding all your friends, as doth the ray 
Of that East-star which wakes the cheerful day. 

But the black map of death and discontent 
Behind that adamantine firmament, 3° 

That luckless figure, which, like Calvary, 
Stands strew'd and copied out in skulls, is I : 
Whose life your absence clouds, and makes my time 
Move blindfold in the dark ecliptic line. 

An Acknowledgement. "] This is evidently of the same class as the last poem, if not as 
evidently addressed to the same person. The recipient of the Letter Tn\^\\\. be of either 
sex, for ' mistress' in 1. 66 {v. sup.) is not quite decisive in the context. This ' precious 
Friend' is definitely feminine. Nineteenth — I do not know about twentieth — century 
man would have been a little uncomfortable about receiving from a lady a gold chain 
with a grouped diamond pendant, welcome as the enclosed ' lock ' might be. But. as 
Scott and others have long ago remarked, there was none of this false pride in 
the seventeenth, and you might even take money from the beloved. The combination 
of death's heads, equally of the time, is more of all time. 

(.01 ) 

Henry King 

Then wonder not, if my removed Sun 
So low within the western tropic run; 
My eyes no day in this horizon see, 
Since where You are not, all is night to me. 

Lastly, the anchor which enfast'ned lies 
Upon a pair of deaths, sadly applies 4^ 

That Monument of Rest, which harbour must 
Our ship-wrackt fortunes in a road of dust. 

So then, how late soe'er my joyless life 
Be tired out in this affection's strife : 
Though my tempestuous fancy, like the sky, 
Travail with storms, and through my wat'ry eye, 
Sorrow's high-going waves spring many a leak ; 
Though sighs blow loud, till my heart's cordage break; 
Though F'aith, and all my wishes prove untrue. 
Yet Death shall fix and anchor Me with You. 50 

'Tis some poor comfort, that this mortal scope 
Will period, though never crown, my Hope. 

The Acquittance. 

Not knowing who should my acquittance take, 

I know as little what discharge to make. 

The favour is so great, that it outgoes 

All forms of thankfulness I can propose. 

Those grateful levies which my pen would raise, 

Are stricken dumb, or buried in amaze. 

Therefore, as once in Athens there was shown 

An Altar built unto the God Unknown, 

My ignorant devotions must by guess 

This blind return of gratitude address, 10 

Till you vouchsafe to show me where and how 

I may to this revealed Goddess bow. 

The Forfeiture- 

Mv Dearest, To let you or the world know 
What debt of service I do truly owe 
To your unpattern'd self, were to require 
A language only form'd in the desire 

The .icqtdltance.'] This group of poems is so obviously a group that Hannah's 
principles of selection in rejecting the present piece and admitting the others may seem 
unreasonably 'undulating and diverse'. I suppose he thought it rather profane 
for a bishop even in/ufuro, and pcriiaps rather ambiguous in other ways. But though 
King became a bishop there is no chance of my becoming an archdeacon, and I think 
the piece rather pretty. 

T/if Forftiturr.\ This piece, which Hannah did not find in his MS., is almost 
certainly connected with the preceding, and, I tliink, with An Acknotvledgcment and 
thf Departure, if not also with A Letter. The suggested unreality in this Letter 
disappears to a large extent in them, which is not unnatural, 

( ^o: ) 

The Forfeiture 

Of him that writes. It is the common fate 

Of greatest duties, to evaporate 

In silent meaning, as we often see 

Fires by their too much fuel smother'd be : 

Small obligations may find vent, and speak, 

When greater the unable debtor break. lo 

And such are mine to you, whose favour's store 

Hath made me poorer then I was before ; 

For I want words and language to declare 

How strict my bond, or large your bounties are. 

Since nothing in my desp'rate fortune found, 
Can payment make, nor yet the sum compound ; 
You must lose all, or else of force accept 
The body of a bankrupt for your debt. 
Then, Love, your bond to execution sue. 
And take myself, as forfeited to you. »o 

The Departure. An Elegy. 

Were I to leave no more than a good friend, 

Or but to hear the summons to my end, 

(Which I have long'd for) I could then with ease 

Attire my grief in words, and so appease 

That passion in my bosom, which outgrows 

The language of strict verse or largest prose. 

But here I am quite lost ; writing to you. 

All that I pen or think is forc'd and new. 

My faculties run cross, and prove as weak 

T' indite this melancholy task, as speak: lo 

Indeed all words are vain ; well might I spare 

This rend'ring of my tortur'd thoughts in air, 

Or sighing paper. My infectious grief 

Strikes inward, and affords me no relief. 

But still a deeper wound, to lose a sight 

More lov'd than health, and dearer than the light. 

But all of us were not at the same time 

Brought forth, nor are we billeted in one clime. 

Nature hath pitch'd mankind at several rates. 

Making our places diverse as our fates. 20 

Unto that universal law I bow, 

Though with unwilling knee, and do allow 

Her cruel justice, which dispos'd us so 

That we must counter to our wishes go. 

'Twas part of man's first curse, which order'd well, 

We should not alway with our likings dwell. 

'Tis only the Triumphant Church where we 

Shall in unsever'd neighbourhood agree. 

910 An ingenious adaptation of Ctirae leves, &c. 

The Departure.'] The special title of this poem was not in Hannah's MS. 

6 largest] MS. ' large?-'. 

( 203 ) 

Henry King 

Go then, best soul, and, where You must appear, 
Restore the day to that dull hemisphere. 30 

Ne'er may the hapless night You leave behind 
Darken the comforts of Your purer mind. 
May all the blessings wishes can invent 
Enrich your days, and crown them with content. 
And though You travel down into the West, 
May Your life's Sun stand fixed in the East, 
Far from the weeping set; nor may my ear 
Take in that killing whisper. You once were. 

Thus kiss I Your fair hands, taking my leave, 
As prisoners at the bar their doom receive. 40 

All joys go with You : let sweet peace attend 
You on the way, and wait Your journey's end. 
But let Your discontents and sourer fate 
Remain with me, borne off in my retrait. 
Might all your crosses, in that sheet of lead 
Which folds my heavy heart, lie buried : 
'Tis the last service 1 would do You, and the best 
My wishes ever meant, or tongue profest. 
Once more I take my leave. And once for all. 
Our parting shows so like a funeral, 50 

It strikes my soul, which hath most right to be 
Chief Mourner at this sad solemnity. 

And think not. Dearest, 'cause this parting knell 
Is rung in verses, that at Your farewell 
I only mourn in poetry and ink : 
No, my pen's melancholy plummets sink 
So low, they dive where th' hid affections sit, 
Blotting that paper where my mirth was writ. 

Believe 't, that sorrow truest is, which lies 
Deep in the breast, not floating in the eyes : 60 

And he with saddest circumstance doth part. 
Who seals his farewell with a bleeding heart. 


That it is best for a Young Maid to marry an Old Man. 

Fair one, why cannot you an old man love? 
He may as useful, and more constant prove. 
Experience shows you that maturer years 
Are a security against those fears 

47 An irregular line of this kind (for it is practically an Alexandrine) is so very rare 
in King that one suspects an error, but Hannah notes no MS. variant. Many, perhaps 
most, contemporary poets would not have hesitated at ' serv'ce ', which with 'Id' 
adjusts the thing ; but our Bishop is seldom rough and still seldomer licentious. 

53 this] MS. ' the '. 56 Orig. ' plommets '. 

Paradox. That it is best, &€."] After Hannah's omission of T/ie Acquittance it is not 
surprising that he did not give this or tlie next — though a greater excess of prudishness 
appears in the exclusion of The Change, and one begins to think that something more 

( 204 ) 


Youth will expose you to ; whose wild desire 

As it is hot, so 'tis as rash as fire. 

Mark how the blaze extinct in ashes lies, 

Leaving no brand nor embers when it dies 

Which might the flame renew : thus soon consumes 

Youth's wand'ring heat, and vanishes in fumes. lo 

When age's riper love unapt to stray 

Through loose and giddy change of objects, may 

In your warm bosom like a cinder lie, 

Quick'ned and kindled by your sparkling eye. 

'Tis not deni'd, there are extremes in both 

Which may the fancy move to like or loathe : 

Yet of the two you better shall endure 

To marry with the cramp than calenture. 

Who would in wisdom choose the Torrid Zone 

Therein to settle a plantation? ao 

Merchants can tell you, those hot climes were made 

But at the longest for a three years' trade : 

And though the Indies cast the sweeter smell, 

Yet health and plenty do more Northward dwell ; 

For where the raging sunbeams burn the earth, 

Her scorched mantle withers into dearth ; 

Yet when that drought becomes the harvest's curse. 

Snow doth the tender corn most kindly nurse : 

Why now then woo you not some snowy head 

To take you in mere pity to his bed? 30 

I doubt the harder task were to persuade 

Him to love you : for if what I have said 

In virgins as in vegetals holds true, 

He'll prove the better nurse to cherish you. 

Some men we know renown'd for wisdom grown 

By old records and antique medals shown ; 

Why ought not women then be held most wise 

Who can produce living antiquities ? 

Besides if care of that main happiness 

Your sex triumphs in, doth your thoughts possess, 40 

I mean your beauty from decay to keep ; 

No wash nor mask is like an old man's sleep. 

Young wives need never to be sunburnt fear. 

Who their old husbands for umbrellas wear: 

How russet looks an orchard on the hill 

To one that 's water'd by some neighb'ring drill ? 

than accident, indolence, or business prevented the appearance of the promised second 
voKime. But if there is some nastiness there is very little naughtiness in them. 

33 Some have thought 'vegetal', which was not uncommon in the seventeenth 
century, a better form than ' vegetable ', though this latter has prevailed. It is the 
French word, and though in Latin there is no • vegetalis ' and there is 'vegetabilis', yet 
this latter has quite a different sense. 

44 Orig. has ' umbrellrt^s ', not 'umbrellos ' (or-oes), which seems to be the older form. 

46 It would be pardonable to suppose ' drill ' an error for ' rill '. But the word is 
unquestionably used in the sense by Sandys and Jeremy Taylor, and seems to be the 
same as the slightly older ' trill ' in the sense of ' trickle '. 

( ^05 ) 

Henry King 

Are not the floated meadows ever seen 

To flourish soonest, and hold longest green ? 

You may be sure no moist'ning lacks that bride, 

Who lies with winter thawing by her side. 50 

She should be fruitful too as fields that join 

Unto the melting waste of Apennine. 

Whilst the cold morning-drops bedew the rose, 

It dolh nor leaf, nor smell, nor colour lose ; 

Then doubt not, Sweet ! Age hath supplies of wet 

To keep You like that flower in water set. 

Dripping catarrhs and fontinells are things 

Will make You think You grew betwixt two springs. 

And should You not think so, You scarce allow 

The force or merit of Your marriage-vow ; 60 

Where maids a new creed learn, and must from thence 

Believe against their own or others' sense. 

Else love will nothing differ from neglect. 

Which turns not to a virtue each defect. 

I'll say no more but this ; you women make 

Your children's reck'ning by the almanac. 

I like it well, so you contented are, 

To choose their fathers by that kalendar. 

Turn then, old Erra Pater, and there see 

According to life's posture and degree, fo 

What age or what complexion is most fit 

To make an English maid happy by it ; 

And You shall find, if You will choose a man. 

Set justly for Your own meridian. 

Though You perhaps let One and Tiventy woo, 

Your elevation is for Fifty-Two. 

That Fruition destroys Love. 

Love is our Reason's Paradox, which still 
Against the judgement doth maintain the will : 
And governs by such arbitrary laws, 
It only makes the act our liking's cause : 
We have no brave revenge, but to forgo 
Our full desires, and starve the tyrant so. 

They whom the rising blood tempts not to taste. 
Preserve a stock of love can never waste; 
When easy people who their wish enjoy. 

Like prodigals at once their wealth destroy. jo 

Adam till now had stay'd in Paradise 
Had his desires been bounded by his eyes. 

Paradox. That Fruition, <&"<:.] Put less tersely but perhaps better by Dryden's 
most original heroine, Doralice, in Marriage a la Mode, ' The only way to keep us true 
to each other is never to enjoy '. The notion is old enough, and several other seven- 
teenth-century poets have treated it. 

( 306 ) 


When he did more than look, that made th' offence, 

And forfeited his state of innocence. 

Fruition therefore is the bane t' undo 

Both our affection and the subject too. 

'Tis Love into worse language to translate, 

And make it into Lust degenerate : 

'Tis to dethrone, and thrust it from the heart, 

To seat it grossly in the sensual part. ao 

Seek for the star that 's shot upon the ground. 

And nought but a dim jelly there is found. 

Thus foul and dark our female stars appear, 

If fall'n or loos'ned once from Virtue's Sphere. 

Glow-worms shine only look'd on, and let lie. 

But handled crawl into deformity : 

So beauty is no longer fair and bright. 

Than whilst unstained by the appetite : 

And then it withers like a blasted flower. 

Some pois'nous worm or spider hath crept o'er. 30 

Pygmalion's dotage on the carved stone. 

Shows amorists their strong illusion. 

Whilst he to gaze and court it was content. 

He serv'd as priest at Beauty's monument : 

But when by looser fires t' embraces led, 

It prov'd a cold hard statue in his bed. 

Irregular affects, like madmen's dreams 

Presented by false lights and broken beams. 

So long content us, as no near address 

Shows the weak sense our painted happiness. 40 

But when those pleasing shadows us forsake, 

Or of the substance we a trial make. 

Like him, deluded by the fancy's mock. 

We shipwrack 'gainst an alabaster rock. 

What though thy mistress far from marble be ? 

Her softness will transform and harden thee. 

Lust is a snake, and Guilt the Gorgon's head, 

Which Conscience turns to stone, and Joys to lead. 

Turtles themselves will blush, if put to name 
Tlie act, whereby they quench their am'rous flame. 50 

Who then that 's wise or virtuous, would not fear 
To catch at pleasures which forbidden were, 
When those which we count lawful, cannot be 
Requir'd without some loss of modesty ? 
Ev'n in the marriage-bed, where soft delights 
Are customary and authoriz'd rites ; 
What are those tributes to the wanton sense. 
But toleration of Incontinence? 

22 Nobody has ever assigned a (to me, at least) plausible reason for this universal 
fancy of the seventeenth century about the jellification of shooting-stars. It is curious, 
but not inexplicable, that Browne does not touch it. 

31 King has very coolly turned the Pygmalion story upside down to suit his thesis. 

50 The talking and blushing turtle (i.e. dove) is another remarkable poetical licence. 

( 207 ) 

Henry King 

For properly you cannot call that Love 

Which does not from the soul, but humour move. 60 

Thus they who vvorship'd Pan or Isis' Shrine, 

By the fair front judg'd all within divine : 

Though ent'ring, found 'twas but a goat or cow 

To which before their ignorance did bow. 

Such temples and such goddesses are these 

Which foolish lovers and admirers please : 

Who if they chance within the shrine to pry. 

Find that a beast they thought a Deity. 

Nor makes it only our opinion less 

Of what we lik'd before, and now possess ; 70 

But robs the fuel, and corrupts the spice 

Which sweetens and inflames Love's sacrifice. 

After fruition once, what is Desire 

But ashes kept warm by a dying fire ? 

This is (if any) the Philosopher's Stone 

Which still miscarries at projection. 

For when the Heat ad Ocfo intermits, 

It poorly takes us like Third Ague fits, 

Or must on embers as dull drugs infuse, 

Which we for med'cine not for pleasure use. 80 

Since lovers' joys then leave so sick a taste, 
And soon as relish'd by the sense are past; 
They are but riddles sure, lost if possest, 
And therefore only in reversion best. 
For bate them expectation and delay. 
You take the most delightful scenes away. 
These two such rule within the fancy keep. 
As banquets apprehended in our sleep ; 
After which pleasing trance next morn we wake 
Empty and angry at the night's mistake. 90 

Give me long dreams and visions of content. 
Rather than pleasures in a minute spent. 
And since I know before, the shedding rose 
In that same instant doth her sweetness lose. 
Upon the virgin-stock still let her dwell 
For me, to feast my longings with her smell. 
Those are but counterfeits of joy at best, 
Which languish soon as brought unto the test. 
Nor can I hold it worth his pains who tries 
To in that harvest which by reaping dies. 100 

Resolve me now what spirit hath delight. 
If by full feed you kill the appetite ? 
That stomach healthi'st is, that ne'er was cloy'd, 
Why not that Love the best then, ne'er enjoy'd? 

77 Hcaiad Octo] An obviously alchemical phrase which I have not interpreted. 
100 in] Orig. 'inne' = 'get in'. Cf. All's Well that Ends Well, i. iii, 'to in the 
crop '. 

( 208 ) 


Since nat'rally the blood, when tam'd or sated, 
Will cool so fast it leaves the object hated. 
Pleasures, like wonders, quickly lose their price 
When Reason or Experience makes us wise. 

To close my argument then. I dare say 

(And without Paradox) as well we may no 

Enjoy our Love and yet preserve Desire, 

As warm our hands by putting out the fire. 

The Chancre. 

El sabio tmida conscio : El loco persevera. 

We lov'd as friends now twenty years and more : 
Is't time or reason, think you, to give o'er? 
When, though two prenti'ships set Jacob free, 
I have not held my Rachel dear at three. 

Yet will I not your levity accuse 3 
Continuance sometimes is the worse abuse. 
In judgement I might rather hold it strange, 
If, like the fleeting world, you did not change : 
Be it your wisdom therefore to retract, 
When perseverance oft is folly's act. 10 

In pity I can think, that what you do 
Hath Justice in't, and some Religion too ; 
For of all virtues Moral or Divine, 
We know, but Love, none must in Heaven shine : 
Well did you the presumption then foresee 
Of counterfeiting immortality : 
Since had you kept our loves too long alive, 
We might invade Heaven's prerogative ; 
Or in our progress, like the Jews, comprise 
The Legend of an earthly Paradise. ao 

Live happy, and more prosperous in the next. 
You have discharg'd your old friend by the text. 
Farewell, fair Shadow of a female faith. 
And let this be our friendship's Epitaph : 

Affection shares the frailty of our fate, 
When (like ourselves) 'tis old and out of date: 
'Tis just all human loves their period have, 
When friends are frail and dropping to the grave. 

The Cftange.l This poem is almost less of a commonplace than any of King's, and 
the expression is vigorous. The nearest parallel I know to it is Crabbe's 'Natural 
Death of Love ', and like that it has a curious, if not cheerful, ring of actuality. But 
the case is more unusual. The Spanish motto (rather dog-Spanish in original) means : 
' The wise man changes consciously : the fool [or, rather, madman] perseveres.' 

22 by the text] =' formally '? as it were, ' by the card'. Or perhaps with direct 
reference to the motto. 

( 209 ) P III 

Henry King 

To my Sister Anne King, who chid me in verse 

for being angry. 

Dear Nan, I would not have thy counsel lost, 

Though I last night had twice so much been crost ; 

Well is a passion to the market brought, 

When such a treasure of advice is bought 

With so much dross. And couldst thou me assure, 

Each vice of mine should meet with such a cure, 

I would sin oft, and on my guilty brow 

Wear every misperfection that I owe, 

Open and visible; I should not hide 

But bring my faults abroad : to hear thee chide lo 

In such a note, and with a quill so sage. 

It passion tunes, and calms a tempest's rage. 

Well, I am charm'd, and promise to redress 
What, without shrift, my follies do confess 
Against myself: wherefore let me entreat. 
When I fly out in that distemper'd heat 
Which frets me into fasts, thou wilt reprove 
That froward spleen in poetry and love : 
So though I lose my reason in such fits 
Thou'lt rhyme me back again into my wits. 20 

An Elegy upon the hnmature loss of the tnost 
vertuotis Lady Anne Rich. 

[Died August 24, 1638.] 

I ENVY not thy mortal triumphs. Death 
(Thou enemy to Virtue, as to breath). 
Nor do I wonder much, nor yet complain 
The weekly numbers by thy arrow slain. 
The whole world is thy factory, and we. 
Like traffic, driven and retail'd by Thee : 
And where the springs of life fill up so fast, 
Some of the waters needs must run to waste. 

To my Sister, (S'r.] Anne King, afterwards Mrs. Dutton and Lady Howe. Howell, the 
epistoleT, admitted her (in rather execrable verse) to that Tenth Museship which has had 
so many fair incumbents. Izaak Walton left her a ring and called her 'a most generos^ 
and ingenious Lady'. The verses assigned to her, which may be found in Hannah's 
notes, are not of the worst Tenth Muse quality. 

2 It has been observed, once or twice, that a placid and philosophical temper does 
not seem to have been one of the Bishop's gifts, and he here acknowledges the fact. 

8 ' Owe ', as so often noted, = ' own '. 

1 7 And seems to have done due penance for it. 

Elegy on Lady Anne Rich.'] Properly Lady Rich, who had been Lady Anne Cavendish. 
Her brother Charles was that leader of the ' Ca'ndishers' in Lincolnshire whose defeat 
and death at Gainsborough, after repeated victories in the spring and summer of 1643. 
was one of the first and most serious blows to the Royal cause. Waller wrote 
epitaphs both on him and on his sister, but the best on her is Sidney Godolphin's 
[y. sup., vol. ii, p. 248}. She is one of the candidates for the personage of Waller's 
« Amoret ', and was not impossibly King's 'A. R.' {v. sup., p. 172). 

4 MS. ' arrows '. 

( »'° ) 

An Elegy upon Lady Anne Rich 

It is confess'd, yet must our griefs dispute 
That which thine own conclusion doth refute, ro 

Ere we begin. Hearken ! for if thy ear 
Be to thy throat proportion'd, thou canst hear. 
Is there no order in the work of Fate? 
Nor rule, but blindly to anticipate 
Our growing seasons? or think'st thou 'tis just, 
To sprinkle our fresh blossoms with thy dust. 
Till by abortive funerals, thou bring 
That to an Autumn, Nature meant a Spring? 
Is't not enough for thee, that wither'd age 
Lies the unpitied subject of thy rage; ao 

But like an ugly amorist, thy crest 
Must be with spoils of Youth and Beauty drest ? 
In other camps, those which sat down to-day 
March first to-morrow, and they longest stay, 
Who last came to the service : but in thine, 
Only confusion stands for discipline. 
We fall in such promiscuous heaps, none can 
Put any diff' rence 'twixt thy rear or van ; 
Since oft the 3'oungest lead thy files. For this, 
The grieved world here thy accuser is, ,^0 

And I a plaintiff, 'mongst those many ones. 
Who wet this Lady's urn with zealous moans; 
As if her ashes, quick'ning into years. 
Might be again embodied by our tears. 
But all in vain ; the moisture we bestow 
Shall make as soon her curled marble grow. 
As render heat or motion to that blood. 
Which through her veins branch't like an azure flood; 
Whose now still current in the grave is lost, 
Lock'd up, and fetter'd by eternal frost. 4° 

Desist from hence, doting Astrology ! 
To search for hidden wonders in the sky ; 
Or from the concourse of malignant stars. 
Foretell diseases, gen'ral as our wars : 
What barren droughts, forerunners of lean dearth, 
Threaten to starve the plenty of the earth : 
What horrid forms of darkness must affright 
The sickly world, hast'ning to that long night 
Where it must end. If there no portents are, 
No black eclipses for the Kalendar, 6° 

Our times sad annals will rememb'red be 
I' th' loss of bright Northumberland and Thee : 
Two stars of Court, who in one fatal year 
By most untimely set drop'd from their sphere. 

38 Which] MS. 'Once', 48 MS. 'hasting'. 

52 Northumberland] Lady Anne Cecil, first wife of Algernon Percy, tenth Earl. 

( 211 ) P 2 

He?iry Ki?tg 

She in the winter took her flight, and soon 

As her perfections reached the point of noon, 

Wrapt in a cloud, contracted her wish'd stay 

Unto the measure of a short-Hv'd day. 

But Thou in Summer, Hke an early rose, 

By Death's cold hand nipp'd as Thou didst disclose, 60 

Took'st a long day to run that narrow stage. 

Which in two gasping minutes summ'd thy age. 

And, as the fading rose, when the leaves shed, 

Lies in its native sweetness buried, 

Thou in thy virtues bedded and inhearst, 

Sleep'st with those odours thy pure fame disperst. 

Where till that Rising Morn thou must remain. 

In which thy wither'd flowers shall spring again. 

And greater beauties thy wak'd body vest, 

Than were at thy departure here possesL 70 

So with full eyes we close thy vault. Content 
(With what thy loss bequeaths us) to lament. 
And make that use of thy griev'd funeral. 
As of a crystal broken in the fall ; 
Whose pitied fractures, gather'd up, and set. 
May smaller mirrors for thy sex beget ; 
There let them view themselves, until they see 
The end of all their glories shown in Thee. 

Whilst in the truth of this sad tribute, I 
Thus strive to canonize thy memory. 80 

Alt Elegy upon Mrs. Kirk, imforiujiately drowned 

171 Thames. 

For all the shipwracks, and the liquid graves 
Lost men have gain'd within the furrow'd waves, 
The Sea hath fin'd, and for our wrongs paid use, 
When its wrought foam a Venus did produce. 

But what repair wilt thou, unhappy Thames, 
Afford our loss ? thy dull unactive streams 
Can no new beauty raise, nor yet restore 
Her who by thee was ravish'd from our shore : 
Whose death hath stain'd the glory of thy flood, 
And mix'd the guilty channel with her blood. 10 

55 winter] December 6, 1637. 

An Elegy upon Mrs. Kirk, <S'f.] This and the following were not in Hannah's MS. He, 
perhaps not quite accurately, regards this as King's only indulgence in what he also 
regarded as 'the frigid and artificial style popular among his contemporaries '. But he 
thought it better than the companion piece in Heath's Clarasiella {v. inf.). From this 
latter we learn that Mrs. Kirk was one of the numerous victims of ' shooting the bridge'. 
The piece is frigid enough certainly, but rather from want of 'conceit' than because 
<'f it. Mr. Thorn-Drury has reminded me of Glapthorne's two elegies on the same 
subject. They form the last contents of the 1874 reprint and give more detail in 
their title, ' On the noble and much to be lamented Mrs. Anne Kirk, wife to Mr. Geo. 
Kirk, Gent, of the Robes and of his Majesty's Bed Chamber, who was unfortunatelj' 
drowned passing London Bridge, July 6, 1641'.) 3 fin'd" = '/a/V^ fine', as often. 

( 2U ) 

A?! Elegy upo?i Airs. Kirk 

O Neptune I was thy favour only writ 
In that loose element where thou dost sit ? 
That, after all this time, thou shouldst repent 
Thy fairest blessing to the continent ? 
Say, what could urge this Fate? is Thetis dead, 
Or Amphitrite from thy wet arms fled? 
Wast thou so poor in Nymphs, that thy moist love 
Must be maintain"d with pensions from above? 
If none of these, but that, whilst thou didst sleep 
Upon thy sandy pillow in the deep, ao 

This mischief stole upon us ; may our grief 
Waken thy just revenge on that sly thief, 
Who, in thy fluid empire, mthout leave, 
And unsuspected, durst her life bereave. 
Henceforth, invert thy order, and pro%-ide 
In gentlest floods a pilot for our guide. 
Let rugged seas be lovd, but the brook's smile 
Shunn'd like the courtship of a crocodile ; 
And where the current doth most smoothly pass. 
Think for her sake, that stream Death's looking-glass, ^o 

To show us our destruction is most near, 
^Mien pleasure hath begot least sense of fear. 

Else break thy forked sceptre 'gainst some rock, 
If thou endure a flattring calm to mock 
Thy far-fam"d powV, and %-iolate that law 
^^^lich keeps the angr}- Ocean in awe. 
Thy trident will grow useless, which doth still 
Wild tempests, if thou let tame rivers kill. 

^Meantime, we owe thee nothing. Our first debt 
Lies canceird in thy watn- cabinet. 40 

We have for Her thou sent'st us from the main, 
Return'd a Venus back to thee again. 

An Ekgy up07i tJie death of Mr. Edward Holt. 

Whether thy father's, or disease's rage, 

More mortal prov'd to thy unhappy age. 

Our sorrow needs not question : since the first 

Is known for length and sharpness much the worst. 

Thy fever yet was kind : which the ninth day 

For thy misfortunes made an easy way. 

When th' other barbarous and hectic fit, 

In nineteen winters did not intermit. 

Mr. EdnardHoW^ Holt was King's brother-in-law. hav'ng married his sister Elizabeth 
< !•. sup., p. I73\ He died at Oxford in 1643 while attending the King as Groom of the 
Bedchamber, and was buried in the Cathedral. His father, who outlived him, was 
a Baronet, and is again abused bj* King in his will as having been ' implacable" ; but 
the Bishop apj>arent]y thought better of his nephew Sir Robert, who was a stout 
Royalist and churchman both before and after the Restoration. Walton dedicated his 
L\ft of Donne to this Sir Robert Holt His much-abused grandfather had at any rale 
set the example of loyalty, ?.nd is said to have been plundered or extortioned by Par- 
liamentary * contributions ' or ' compositions' to the amount of about ;^ 

' ( "3 ) 

Henry King 

I therefore vainly now not ask thee why 
Thou didst so soon in thy youth's mid-way die : lo 

But in my sense the greater wonder make, 
Thy long oppressed heart no sooner brake. 
Of force must the neglected blossom fall, 
When the tough root becomes unnatural. 
And to his branches doth that sap deny, 
Which them with life and verdure should supply. 
For parents' shame, let it forgotten be. 
And may the sad example die with thee. 

It is not now thy grieved friend's intent 
To render thee dull Pity's argument. 20 

Thou hast a bolder title unto fame. 
And at Edge Hill thou didst make good the claim ; 
When, in thy Royal Master's cause and war, 
Thy ventur'd life brought off a noble scar. 
Nor did thy faithful services desist, 
Till death untimely strook thee from the list. 

Though in that prouder vault, then, which doth tomb 
Thy ancestors, thy body find not room. 
Thine own deserts have purchas'd thee a place. 
Which more renowned is than all thy race ; 30 

For in this earth thou dost ennobled lie 
With marks of valour and of loyalty. 

To my dead friend Ben. Jonson. 

[Died August 6, 1637.] 

I SEE that wreath, which doth the wearer arm 
'Gainst the quick strokes of thunder, is no charm 
To keep off Death's pale dart. For, Jonson, then 
Thou hadst been number'd still with living men. 
Time's scythe had fear'd thy laurel to invade, 
Nor thee this subject of our sorrow made. 

Amongst those many votaries who come 
To offer up their garlands at thy tomb; 
Whilst some more lofty pens, in their bright verse 
(Like glorious tapers flaming on thy hearse), 10 

Shall light the dull and thankless world to see, 
How great a maim it suffers, wanting thee; 

Ben. Jonson.'] In orig., as so often, ' JoAnson '. A contribution to Jonsonus Virbius, 
vvhicli, printed nearly twenty years before these Poems, has one slight variant == ' that ' 
for ' who ' in 1. 7. 

5 scythe] Orig. ' sithe ', which some great ones (including even the other Johnson) 
will have to be the proper spelling, and which is certainly usual in Middle English. But 
'scythe' is consecrated by the only Sainte Ampoule of orthography— usage; 'sithe' also 
means ' a path ' and ' a sigh ', and may be mistaken for ' since ', while ' scythe ' is un- 
mistakable. And for my part, if I may not have 'scythe' I stickle for «sig5e'— the 
undoubted original. 

( ^14 ) 

To my dead friend Ben. jfonson 

Let not thy learned shadow scorn, that I 

Pay meaner rites unto thy memory ; 

And since I nought can add but in desire, 

Restore some sparks which leap'd from thine own fire. 

What ends soever others' quills invite, 
I can protest, it was no itch to write. 
Nor any vain ambition to be read, 

But merely love and justice to the dead, ao 

Which rais'd my fameless Muse ; and caus'd her bring 
These drops, as tribute thrown into that spring. 
To whose most rich and fruitful head we owe 
The purest streams of language which can flow. 

For 'tis but truth, thou taught'st the ruder age 
To speak by grammar, and reform'dst the stage : 
Thy comic sock induc'd such purged sense, 
A Lucrece might have heard without offence. 
Amongst those soaring wits that did dilate 
Our English, and advance it to the rate 30 

And value it now holds, thyself was one 
Help'd lift it up to such proportion ; 
That thus refin'd and rob'd, it shall not spare 
With the full Greek or Latin to compare. 
For what tongue ever durst, but ours, translate 
Great TuUy's eloquence, or Homer's state? 
Both which in their unblemish'd lustre shine. 
From Chapman's pen, and from thy Catiline. 
All I would ask for thee, in recompense 

Of thy successful toil and time's expense, 40 

Is only this poor boon ; that those who can 
Perhaps read French, or talk Italian, 
Or do the lofty Spaniard affect. 
To show their skill in foreign dialect. 
Prove not themselves so unnaturally wise. 
They therefore should their mother-tongue despise 
(As if her poets, both for style and wit. 
Not equall'd, or not pass'd, their best that writ). 
Until by studying Jonson they have known 
The height and strength and plenty of their own. 50 

Thus in what low earth or neglected room 
Soe'er thou sleep'st, thy book shall be thy tomb. 
Thou wilt go down a happy corse, bestrew'd 
With thine own flowers ; and feel thyself renew'd, 

38 It was a little dangerous, in Ben's lifetime, to praise others in company with him. 
But King here corroborates Drummond's Conversations, in which Ben is made to speak 
well of Chapman on several occasions, and (more particularly) to declare his Iliad, or 
part of it, ' well done '. 

43 It is rather curious that Drummond (in one of those Marginalia in which he 
relieves his feelings somewhat subacidly) declares that his robustious guest ' neither 
understood French nor Italian '. 


Henry King 

Whilst thy immortal, never- with'ring bays 

Shall yearly flourish in thy readers' praise. 

And when more spreading titles are forgot, 

Or spite of all their lead and cere-cloth rot, 

Thou wrapp'd and shrin'd in thine own sheets wilt lie, 

A relic fam'd by all posterity. 60 

A71 Elegy Upon Prince Henry s death 

[Died Nov. 6, 1612.] 

Keep station, Nature, and rest, Heaven, sure 

On thy supporters' shoulders, lest, past cure, 

Thou dash'd in ruin fall, by a grief's weight 

Will make thy basis shrink, and lay thy height 

Low as the centre. Hark ! and feel it read 

Through the astonish'd Kingdom, Henry's dead. 

It is enough ; who seeks to aggravate 

One strain beyond this, prove[s] more sharp his fate 

Than sad our doom. The world dares not survive 

To parallel this woe's superlative. 10 

O killing Rhetoric of Death ! two words 

Breathe stronger terrors than plague, fire, or swords 

Ere conquer'd. This were epitaph and verse, 

Worthy to be prefix'd in Nature's hearse. 

Or Earth's sad dissolution ; whose fall 

Will be less grievous, though more general : 

For all the woe ruin e'er buried 

Sounds in these fatal accents, Henry's dead. 

Cease then, unable Poetry; thy phrase 

Is weak and dull to strike us with amaze 20 

Worthy thy vaster subject. Let none dare 

To copy this sad hap, but with despair 

Hanging at his quill's point. For not a stream 

Of ink can write, much less improve, this theme. 

Invention highest wrought by grief or wit 

Must sink with him, and on his tombstone split ; 

Who, like the dying Sun, tells us the light 

And glory of our Day set in his Night. 

Prince Henry.'] Besides composing these English verses King contributed two Latin 
sets to Jiista Oxoniensitim, one of several Oxford tombenux for the Prince v^'ho was 
taktn away from tlie evil to come. The present poem appears to me (though, of 
course, the high-strung character of the mourning seems to have been both general 
.nnd sincere) to be much more ' frigid and artificial ' than the Mrs. Anne Kirk. Hannah 
gives several variants, not merely from his usual MS. but from Malone 2i. I have 
taken those which seem to have some point. 

5-6 For 'Hark. . . dead.' the Malone reading is : 

Death and horror wed 
To vent their teeming mischief: Henry's dead. 
The other MS., for 1. 6, has : 

Through the astonisht world, Henry is dead. 

1 1 Malone MS. ' Compendious Eloquence of Death ', &c. 

18 For the first half, Malone MS. ' lies in this narrow compass ' ; the other, ' throngs' 
for ' lies '. 

( 2.6 ) 

/ will not weepy for "'twere as great a si?i 
An Elegy up07i S. W. R. 

[SirW. Raleigh? Executed Oct. 29, 1618.] 

I WILL not weep, for 'twere as great a sin 

To shed a tear for thee, as to have bin 

An actor in thy death. Thy hfe and age 

Was but a various scene on fortune's stage, 

With whom thou tugg'st and strov'st ev'n out of breath 

In thy long toil : ne'er master'd till thy death ; 

And then, despite of trains and cruel wit, 

Thou didst at once subdue malice and it. 

I dare not then so blast thy memory 
As say I do lament or pity thee, 10 

Were I to choose a subject to bestow 
My pity on, he should be one as low 
In spirit as desert ; — that durst not die, 
But rather were content by slavery 
To purchase life : or I would pity those. 
Thy most industrious and friendly foes ; 
Who, when they thought to make thee scandal's story, 
Lent thee a swifter flight to Heav'n and glory ; — 
That thought, by cutting off some wither'd days 
(Which thou couldst spare them), to eclipse thy praise; ao 
Yet gave it brighter foil, made thy ag'd fame 
Appear more white and fair, than foul their shame : 
And did promote an execution 
Which (but for them) Nature and Age had done. 

Such worthless things as these were only born 
To live on Pity's alms (too mean for scorn). 
Thou diedst an envious wonder, whose high fate 
The world must still admire, scarce imitate. 

An Elegy upon the L. Bishop of London, John Kt7ig. 

[Died on Good Friday, 1621.] 

Sad relic of a blessed soul ! whose trust 
We sealed up in this religious dust : 
O do not thy low exequies suspect. 
As the cheap arguments of our neglect. 
'Twas a commanded duty, that thy grave 
As little pride as thou thyself should have. 

S. W.R.'] The initials are not in MS., and the identification, though almost certain, is 
a conjecture of Hannah's. Almost every line fits Raleigh. 

27 envious] Spenser has this sense, to which in some cases the original ' invidious ' 
comes very close. 

John King.] Hannah thought this piece in bad taste, and a neglect of the dead 
Bishop's wishes. As epitaphs go this seems rather severe. 
( 217 ) 

Henry King 

Therefore thy covering is an humble stone, 
And but a word for thy inscription. 
When those that in the same earth neighbour thee, 
Have each his chronicle and pedigree: lo 

They have their waving pennons and their flags 
(Of matches and alliance formal brags), 
When thou (although from ancestors thou came. 
Old as the Heptarchy, great as thy name,) 
Sleep'st there inshrin'd in thy admired parts, 
And hast no heraldry but thy deserts. 
Yet let not them their prouder marbles boast, 
For they rest with less honour, though more cost. 

Go, search the world, and with your mattocks wound 
The groaning bosom of the patient ground : ao 

Dig from the hidden veins of her dark womb 
All that is rare and precious for a tomb; 
Yet when much treasure, and more time, is spent. 
You must grant his the nobler monument, 

Whose Faith stands o'er him for a hearse, and hath 
The Resurrection for his epitaph. 

Upon the death of my ever desired friend,^ 
Doctor Donne, Dean of Paul's. 

[Died March 31, 1631.] 

To have lived eminent, in a degree 

Beyond our loftiest flights, that is, like thee; 

Or t' have had too much merit is not safe; 

For such excesses find no epitaph. 

At common graves, we have poetic eyes, 

Can melt themselves in easy elegies ; 

Each quill can drop his tributary verse, 

And pin it, with the hatchments, to the hearse : 

But at thine, poem or inscription 

(Rich soul of wit and language !) we have none ; 10 

Indeed a silence does that tomb befit. 

Where is no herald left to blazon it. 

Widow'd invention justly doth forbear 

To come abroad, knowing thou art not here, 

8 but a word] Resurgam. Orig. note. 

9 neighbour] In St. Paul's. 

13 ancestors] JThe Kings of Devonshire referred to in Introduction. 

Dr. Donne.'] ihis is also found in some editions of Donne's Poems and in Walton's 
Life, and Hannah took repeated pains to record the variants. I have borrowed those 
which seemed of importance. King's friendship with Donne (whose executor he was) 
was peculiarly intimate, as Walton, a friend of both, elaborately testifies. But the 
greatest of the many great Deans of St. Paul's was certainly ' beyond ' King's ' loftiest 
flights' (or, as Walton read, ' thoughts '), and the Bishop is here below even these. 

8 pin It] This was literally done. 

( "8 ) 

upon the death of Dr. Donne 

Late her great patron ; whose prerogative 

Maintain'd and cloth'd her so, as none alive 

Must now presume to keep her at thy rate, 

Though he the Indies for her dower estate : 

Or else that awful fire, which once did burn 

In thy clear brain, now fall'n into thy urn, 20 

Lives there to fright rude empirics from thence, 

Which might profane thee by their ignorance. 

Who ever writes of thee, and in a style 

Unworthy such a theme, does but revile 

Thy precious dust, and wake a learned spirit 

Which may revenge his rapes upon thy merit. 

For all a low-pitch'd fancy can devise. 

Will prove, at best, but hallow'd injuries. 

Thou, like the dying swan, didst lately sing 
Thy mournful dirge in audience of the king ; 30 

When pale looks, and faint accents of thy breath, 
Presented so to life that piece of death, 
That it was fear'd and prophesied by all 
Thou thither cam'st to preach thy funeral. 
O ! hadst thou in an elegiac knell 
Rung out unto the world thine own farewell ; 
And in thy high victorious numbers beat 
The solemn measure of thy griev'd retreat. 
Thou might'st the poet's service now have miss'd. 
As well as then thou didst prevent the priest : 40 

And never to the world beholden be 
So much as for an epitaph for thee. 

I do not like the office. Nor is 't fit, 
Thou, who didst lend our age such sums of wit, 
Shouldst now reborrow from her bankrupt mine 
That ore to bury thee, which once was thine. 
Rather still leave us in thy debt ; and know 
(Exalted soul !) more glory 'tis to owe 
Unto thy hearse what we can never pay. 
Than with embased coin those rites defray. 50 

Commit we then thee to thyself: nor blame 
Our drooping loves, which thus to thine own fame 

30 Refers to Donne's last sermon at Court, to his long illness, and to the ghastly 
pallor perpetuated by the famous picture of him in his shroud. 

37 ' High victorious numbers' is not bad, and the whole passage does bare justice to 

Donne's mastery of the graver epicede, which equalled Jonson's of the lighter. 

41 beholden] Some versions have the common form ' behold/w^'. 

44 ' Wit ' — in that seventeenth-century sense of which Sir Henry Craik has so well 

defined the object — ' not to excite laughter but to compel attention '—was regarded, and 

rightly, as Donne's special glory, and the best thing written on his death was Carew's 

A king who ruled as he thought fit 
The universal monarchy of Wit. 
49 For ' Unto thy hearse' the Walton version reads 'Thy memory '. 
( 219 ) 

Henry King 

Leave thee executor; since, but thy own, 
No pen could do thee justice, nor bays crown 
Thy vast desert; save that, we nothing can 
Depute to be thy ashes' guardian. 

So jewellers no art or metal trust 

To form the diamond, but the diamond's dust. 

An Elegy upon the most victorious King of Sweden, 

Gustavus Adolphus. 

[Killed at the battle of Lutzen, Nov. 6, 1632.] 

Like a cold fatal sweat which ushers death. 

My thoughts hang on me, and my lab'ring breath 

Stopp'd up with sighs, my fancy, big with woes, 

Feels two twinn'd mountains struggle in her throes,— 

Of boundless sorrow one, — t' other of sin ; — 

For less let no one rate it, to begin 

Where honour ends. — In great Gustavus' flame, 

That style burnt out, and wasted to a name, 

Does barely live with us. As when the stuff 

That fed it, fails, the taper turns to snuff, 10 

With this poor snuff, this airy shadow, we 

Of Fame and Honour must contented be ; 

Since from the vain grasp of our wishes fled 

Their glorious substance is, now He is dead. 

Speak it again, and louder, louder yet ; 
Else, whilst we hear the sound, we shall forget 
What it delivers. Let hoarse rumour cry, 
Till she so many echoes multiply. 
Those may like num'rous witnesses confute 
Our unbelieving souls, that would dispute 20 

Gustavus Adolphus.'] This piece had been previously printed in the Szvedish Intelli- 
gencer, 1633, with other elegies on the subject, one of which (in Malone MS. 21) is 
.ilso ascribed to King, but without any other evidence, and ^as Hannah seems to 
be right in thinking) very improbably. He gives some variants, only two of which seem 
to me important enough to reproduce. There are also versions in Rawlinson Poetic 
M.S. 26, fol. 51, and 160, fol. 39. 

4 throcsl Orig. 'throws'. 

6-7 Hannah in his note, though in his text he had followed i6sy, as above, prefers the 
reading of the Intelligencer — a full-stop at 'it', and 'To begin', which is to a certain extent 
supported by a capitalized ' To ' in his MS., though there is not a full-stop. He has two 
notes on the subject, and for a moment I was perplexed. But I feel certain that the 
J6jy text is right. Hannah's parallel from King's prose, 'I begin there where all must 
end ', is specious, but not convincing. On the other hand, ' To begin, &c.' is wanted 
to complete ' for less ' and to explain ' sin '. Honour, as the next sentence further tells 
us, perished with Gustavus, and it is a solecism to attempt to continue it in verse. This 
is, in the Archdeacon's words elsewhere, ' frigid and artificial ' enough ; but it is also 
sufficiently ' metapliysical '. 

ID Orig, has full-stop at ' snuff', but this (which Hannah keeps and does not comment 
on" leaves nothing to complete ' as'. 

II airy] Forthe ' ayerie ' of edition and Malone MS., the /«/f//»^tfM«r, and Rawlinson 
MS. 160 have ' fiery' — I think, in the context, better. 

( "O 

An Elegy upon Gustavus Ado Ip hits 

And doubt this truth for ever. This one way 

Is left our increduHty to sway; 

To waken our deaf sense, and make our ears 

As open and dilated as our fears ; 

That we may feel the blow, and feeling, grieve, 

At what we would not fain, but must believe. 

And in that horrid faith, behold the world 

From her proud height of expectation hurl'd, 

Stooping with him, as if she strove to have 

No lower centre now than Sweden's grave. 2o 

O could not all thy purchas'd victories 
Like to thy fame thy flesh immortalize? 
Were not thy virtue nor thy valour charms 
To guard thy body from those outward harms 
Which could not reach thy soul ? could not thy spirit 
Lend somewhat which thy frailty might inherit 
From thy diviner part, that Death, nor Hate, 
Nor Envy's bullets e'er could penetrate ? 
Could not thy early trophies in stern fight 
Torn from the Dane, the Pole, the Moscovite ? 40 

Which were thy triumph's seeds, as. pledges sown, 
That when thy honour's harvest was ripe grown. 
With full-summ'd wing thou falcon-like wouldst fly, 
And cuff the Eagle in the German sky : 
Forcing his iron beak and feathers feel 
'J'hey were not proof 'gainst thy victorious steel. 
Could not all these protect thee? or prevail 
To fright that coward Death, who oft grew pale 
To look thee and thy battles in the face ? 
Alas ! they could not : Destiny gives place 50 

To none ; nor is it seen that princes' lives 
Can saved be by their prerogatives. 
No more was thine ; who, clos'd in thy cold lead, 
Dost from thyself a mournful lecture read 
Of man's short-dated glory : learn, you kings, 
You are, like him, but penetrable things ; 
Though you from demigods derive your birth 
You are at best but honourable earth : 
And howe'er sifted from that coarser bran. 
Which does compound and knead the common man, 60 

Nothing's immortal, or from earth refin'd 
About you, but your office and your mind. 
Here then break your false glasses, which present 
You greater than your Maker ever meant : 
Make truth your mirror now, since you find all 
That flatter you, confuted by his fall. 

Yet, since it was decreed, thy life's bright Sun 
Must be eclips'd ere thy full course was run. 
Be proud thou didst, in thy black obsequies, 
With greater glory set, than others rise. 70 

( 221 ) 

Henry King 

For in thy death, as Hfe, thou heldest one 

Most just and regular proportion. 

Look how the circles drawn by compass meet 

Indivisibly joined, head to feet, 

And by continued points which them unite, 

Grow at once circular and infinite : 

So did thy Fate and Honour now contend 

To match thy brave beginning with thy end. 

Therefore thou hadst, instead of passing bells. 

The drums' and cannons' thunder for thy knells ; 80 

And in the field thou didst triumphing die, 

Closing thy eyelids with a victory : 

That so by thousands who there lost their breath, 

King-like thou might'st be waited on in death. 

Lived Plutarch now, and would of Caesar tell, 

He could make none but Thee his parallel; 

Whose tide of glory, swelling to the brim. 

Needs borrow no addition from him. 90 

When did great Julius, in any clime, 

Achieve so much, and in so small a time? 

Or if he did, yet shalt Thou in that land 

Single, for him, and unexampled stand. 

When o'er the Germans first his Eagle towr'd. 

What saw the legions which on them he pour'd? 

But massy bodies, made their swords to try. 

Subjects, not for his fight, but slavery. 

In that so vast expanded piece of ground 

(Now Sweden's theatre and tomb), he found 100 

Nothing worth Caesar's valour or his fear, 

No conqu'ring army, nor a Tilly there. 

Whose strength, nor wiles, nor practice in the war 

Might the fierce torrent of thy triumphs bar. 

But that thy winged sword twice made him yield, 

Both from his trenches beat, and from the field. 

Besides, the Roman thought he had done much, 
Did he the bank of Rhenus only touch. 
But though his march was bounded by the Rhine, 
Not Oder nor the Danube thee confine; no 

And, but thy frailty did thy fame prevent. 
Thou hadst thy conquests stretch'd to such extent, 
Thou might'st Vienna reach, and after span 
From Mulda to the Baltic Ocean. 

But death hath spann'd thee : nor must we divine 
What heir thou leav'st to finish thy design. 
Or who shall thee succeed, as champion 
For liberty and for religion. 

96. Orig. note. Magis triumphati quam victi. Tacit, de Mor. Ger. 

( 323 ) 

An E^egy upon Gustavus Adolphus 

Thy task is done ; as in a watch, the spring, 
Wound to the height, relaxes with the string: lao 

So thy steel nerves of conquest, from their steep 
Ascent declin'd, lie slack'd in thy last sleep. 

Rest then, triumphant soul ! for ever rest ! 
And, like the Phoenix in her spicy nest, 
Embalm'd with thine own merit, upward fly. 
Born in a cloud of perfume to the sky. 
Whilst as in deathless urns, each noble mind 
Treasures thy ashes which are left behind. 

And if perhaps no Cassiopeian spark 
(Which in the North did thy first rising mark) 130 

Shine o'er thy hearse ; the breath of our just praise 
Shall to the firmament thy virtues raise ; 
Then fix, and kindle them into a star. 
Whose influence may crown thy glorious war. 

O Fama ingens, ingenfior armis, 

Rex Gustave, quibus Coelo te laudibus aequem ? 
' ■ Virgil. Aeneid. lib. 2. [11 ?] 

To my Noble and Jtidicious Friend Sir Henry Blotmt 

2Lpon his Voyage. 

Sir, I must ever own myself to be 

Possess'd with human curiosity 

Of seeing all that might the sense invite 

By those two baits of profit and delight : 

And since I had the wit to understand 

The terms of native or of foreign land ; 

I have had strong and oft desires to tread 

Some of those voyages which I have read. 

Yet still so fruitless have my wishes prov'd, 

That from my Country's smoke I never mov'd : 10 

Nor ever had the fortune (though design'd) 

To satisfy the wand'rings of my mind. 

Therefore at last I did with some content, 

Beguile myself in time, which others spent ; 

Whose art to provinces small lines allots, 

And represents large kingdoms but in spots. 

Thus by Ortelius and Mercator's aid 

Through most of the discover'd world I stray'd. 

I could with ease double the Southern Cape, 

And in my passage Afric's wonders take : 20 

135-7 The end quotation (from Aeii. xi. 124-5) is not in MS. 

Sir Henry Blount, >Sj^c.] Biount (1602 82) was of Trinity College, Oxford, published his 
Voyage to the Levant in 1636, and was knighted four years later. He was a good 
Royalist in the early days of the Rebellion, but something of a renegade later. His 
book has been variously judged, but was very popular, and was translated into more 
than one foreign language. 

( "3 ) 

Henry King 

Then with a speed proportion'd to the scale 

Northward again, as high as Zemla sail. 

Oft hath the travel of my eye outrun 

(Though I sat still) the journey of the Sun : 

Yet made an end, ere his declining beams 

Did nighdy quench themselves in Thetis' streams. 

Oft have I gone through Egypt in a day, 

Not hinder'd by the droughts of Lybia ; 

In which, for lack of water, tides of sand 

By a dry deluge overflow the land. 30 

There I the Pyramids and Cairo see, 

Still famous for the wars of Tomombee, 

And its own greatness ; whose immured sense 

Takes forty miles in the circumference. 

Then without guide, or stronger caravan 

Which might secure the wild Arabian, 

Back through the scorched deserts pass, to seek 

Once the world's Lord, now the beslaved Greek, 

Made by a Turkish yoke and fortune's hate 

In language as in mind, degenerate. 40 

And here all wrapp'd in pity and amaze 
I stand, whilst I upon the Sultan gaze ; 
To think how he wath pride and rapine fir'd 
So vast a territory hath acquir'd ; 
And by what daring steps he did become 
The Asian fear, and scourge of Christendom : 
How he achiev'd, and kept, and by what arts 
He did concentre those divided parts ; 
And how he holds that monstrous bulk in awe, 
By settled rules of tyranny, not Law : 50 

So rivers large and rapid streams began. 
Swelling from drops into an Ocean. 

Sure who e'er shall the just extraction bring 
Of this gigantic power from the spring ; 
Must there confess a higher Ordinance 
Did it for terror to the earth advance. 
For mark how 'mongst a lawless straggling crew, 
Made up of Arab, Saracen, and Jew, 
The world's disturber, faithless Mahomet 

Did by impostures an opinion get : 60 

O'er whom he first usurps as Prince, and than 
As prophet does obtrude his Alcoran. 
Next, how fierce Ottoman his claim made good 
PVom that unblest religion, by blood; 
Whilst he the Eastern kingdoms did deface, 
To make their ruin his proud Empire's base. 
Then like a comet blazing in the skies, 
How death-portending Amurath did rise, 

61 ' Than ' for ' then ' as often. 

To my Noble Friend Sir Henry Blount 

When he his horned crescents did display 

Upon the fatal plains of Servia ; j^o 

And farther still his sanguine tresses spread, 

Till Croya life and conquests limited. 

Lastly, how Mahomet thence styl'd the Great, 

Made Constantine's his own Imperial seat; 

After that he in one victorious bond 

Two Empires grasp'd, of Greece and Trebizond. 

This, and much more than this, I gladly read, 
Where my relators it had storyed ; 
Besides that people's manners and their rites, 
Their warlike discipline and order'd fights ; 80 

Their desp'rate valour, hard'ned by the sense 
Of unavoided Fate and Providence : 
Their habit, and their houses, who confer 
Less cost on them than on their sepulchre: 
Their frequent washings, and the several bath 
Each Meschit to itself annexed hath : 
What honour they unto the Mufty give. 
What to the Sovereign under whom they live : 
What quarter Christians have ; how just and free 
To inoffensive travellers they be : 90 

Though I confess, like stomachs fed with news, 
I took them in for wonder, not for use. 
Till your experienc'd and authentic pen 
Taught me to know the places and the men ; 
And made all those suspected truths become 
Undoubted now, and clear as axiom. 

Sir, for this work more than my thanks is due ; 
I am at once inform'd and cur'd by you. 
So that, were I assur'd I should live o'er 
My periods of time run out before; ico 

Ne'er needed my erratic wish transport 
Me from my native lists to that resort. 
Where many at outlandish marts unlade 
Ingenuous manners, and do only trade 
For vices and the language. By your eyes 
I here have made my full discoveries; 
And all your countries so exactly seen. 
As in the voyage I had sharer been. 
By this you make me so ; and the whole land 
Your debtor: which can only understand no 

How much she owes you, when her sons shall try 
The solid depths of your rare history, 

76 Orig. 'Trabfzond ', which at any rate keeps closer than the usual form to 

86 ' Meschit ' = of course ' mosque '. The form seems to be nearest to the Spanish 

102 lists] Here in the sense (akin to the flannelly one) of boundary, as in Hamlet^ iv. 
V. 99, 'The ocean, overpeering of his list\ and several other Shakespearian places. 

( 225 ) Q III 

Henry King 

Which looks above our gadders' trivial reach, 

The commonplace of travellers, who teach 

But table-talk; and seldomly aspire 

Beyond the country's diet or attire ; 

Whereas your piercing judgement does relate 

The policy and manage of each State. 

And since she must here without envy grant 

That you have further journey'd the Levant lao 

Than any noble spirit by her bred 

Hath in your way as yet adventured ; 

I cannot less in justice from her look, 

Than that she henceforth canonize your book 

A rule to all her travellers, and you 

The brave example ; from whose equal view 

Each knowing reader may himself direct, 

How he may go abroad to some effect. 

And not for form : what distance and what trust 

In those remoter parts observe he must: 130 

How he with jealous people may converse. 

Yet take no hurt himself by that commerce. 

So when he shall embark'd in dangers be, 

Which wit and wary caution not foresee ; 

If he partake your valour and your brain, 

He may perhaps come safely off again, 

As you have done; though not so richly fraught 

As this return hath to our staple brought. 

I know your modesty shuns vulgar praise. 
And I have none to bring ; but only raise 140 

This monument of Honour and of Love, 
Which your long known deserts so far improve, 
They leave me doubtful in what style to end. 
Whether more your admirer or your friend. 

To my honoured Friend Mr. George Sandys. 

It is. Sir, a confess'd intrusion here 
That I before your labours do appear. 
Which no loud herald need, that may proclaim 
Or seek acceptance, but the Author's fame. 

124-5 canonize . . . rule] A play of words. 

Mr. George Sandys?^ These verses appeared as commendatory to Sandys' well-known 
Paraphrase upon the Divine Psalms, 1648. Sandys was not only a friend of King (as 
of all his group), but, according to 1. 14 of this piece, a relation: the exact connexion, 
however, was unknown to Hannah and Hooper, and is to me. Indeed, 1. 18 might be 
taken to mean that we were not to look further for ' extraction ' than to the fact that 
they were both sons of bishops. Hannah saw this, but drew the inference somewhat 
too positively. 

Mr. Percy Simpson has found the following variants in Sandys' own book : 
25 might] would. 27 straight vow'd] strait-vow'd. 57-62 absent. 64 With] 

And skill] Art. 89 They would by no means (had they power to choose). 

90 practice] Custom. 96 stuffs] stuff. 116 Allow] Confess. 

King may have retouched the piece. 

( 226 ) 

To my honoured Friend Mr, George Saiidys 

Much less that should this happy work commend, 

Whose subject is its licence, and doth send 

It to the world to be receiv'd and read, 

Far as the glorious beams of truth are spread. 

Nor let it be imagin'd that I look 
Only with custom's eye upon your book; lo 

Or in this service that 'twas my intent 
T' exclude your person from your argument : 
I shall profess, much of the love I owe. 
Doth from the root of our extraction grow ; 
To which though I can little contribute, 
Yet with a natural joy I must impute 
To our tribe's honour, what by you is done 
Worthy the title of a Prelate's son. 

And scarcely have two brothers farther borne 
A father's name, or with more value worn 20 

Their own, than two of you ; whose pens and feet 
Have made the distant points of Heav'n to meet ; 
He by exact discoveries of the West, 
Yourself by painful travels in the East. 

Some more like you might pow'rfully confute 
Th' opposers of Priests' marriage by the fruit. 
And (since 'tis known for all their straight vow'd life, 
They like the sex in any style but wife) 
Cause them to change their cloister for that state 
Which keeps men chaste by vows legitimate : 30 

Nor shame to father their relations, 
Or under nephews' names disguise their sons. 
This child of yours, born without spurious blot, 
And fairly midwiv'd as it was begot, 
Doth so much of the parent's goodness wear, 
You may be proud to own it for your heir. 
Whose choice acquits you from the common sin 
Of such, who finish worse than they begin : 
You mend upon yourself, and your last strain 
Does of your first the start in judgement gain ; 40 

Since what in curious travel was begun, 
You here conclude in a devotion. 

Where in delightful raptures we descry 
As in a map, Sion's chorography 
Laid out in so direct and smooth a line. 
Men need not go about through Palestine : 
Who seek Christ here will the straight road prefer, 
As nearer much than by the Sepulchre. 

23 Orig. note : [Sir Edwin Sandys' survey of Religion in the West.] More properly 
entitled Europae Speculum (1559). 

( 227 ) Q 2 

He?i7y King 

For not a limb grows here, but is a path ; 

Which in God's "City the blest centre hath : 5° 

And doth so sweetly on each passion strike, 

The most fantastic taste will somewhat like. 

To the unquiet soul Job still from hence 

Pleads in th' example of his patience. 

The mortified may hear the wise King preach, 

When his repentance made him fit to teach. 

Nor shall the singing Sisters be content 

To chant at home the Act of Parliament, 

Turn'd out of reason into rhyme by one 

Free of his trade, though not of Helicon, ^o 

Who did in his poetic zeal contend 

Others' edition by a worse to mend. 

Here are choice Hymns and Carols for the glad. 

With melancholy Dirges for the sad : 

And David (as he could his skill transfer) 

Speaks like himself by an interpreter. 

Your Muse rekindled hath the Prophet's fire, 

And tun'd the strings of his neglected lyre; 

Making the note and ditty so agree. 

They now become a perfect harmony. ?<> 

I must confess, I have long wish'd to see 
The Psalms reduc'd to this conformity : 
Grieving the songs of Sion should be sung 
In phrase not diff'ring from a barbarous tongue. 
As if, by custom warranted, we may 
Sing that to God we would be loath to say. 
Par be it from my purpose to upbraid 
Their honest meaning, who first offer made 
That book in metre to compile, which you 
Have mended in the form, and built anew : 80 

53 seq. In the original there are side-notes: 'Job', ' Ecclesiastes ', 'The Act 
of Parliament for Public Thanksgiving on the fifth of November, set to a tune by 
H. Dod a tradesman of London, at the end of his Psalms, which stole from the Press 
Anno Domini 1620' ; 'Hymns', 'Lamentations', ' Psalms', referring to other Para- 
phrases of Sandys on the various books named, and ^in the third place") on certain 
Songs selected from other parts of the Bible. The unfortunate ' H. Dod a tradesman ' 
may have had his Manes refreshed by a notice in the D.N.B. 

70 It was too early for King to recognize, as has been done since, the reason of the 
'perfect harmony ' he relished as a fact in Sandys. That poet was one of the earliest 
after Fairfax, and probably before Beaumont or Waller, to master ^though not always 
to practise) the stopped antithetic couplet which was conquering, and to conquer, 
public favour. 

71 It were much to be desired (though Hannah did not think 'so) that King 
had allowed his wishes to be satisfied by Sandys' performance, without attempting 

79 The reference is, of course, to the universally heard of, but perhaps by extremely 
few read, ' Sternhold and Hopkins '. The actual terms of King's criticism are not very 
happ3', but nobody then knew, or easily could know, much about literary history. It 
was a fifteenth- rather than a sixteenth-century fault ' hardly to distinguish verse 
and rhyme '. Where Sternhold and Hopkins — in common with much greater men, from 
Wyatt to Gascoigne — sometimes went wrong, was in their inability to attain anything 

( 238 ) 

To my honoured Friend Mr. George Sa?idys 

And it was well, considering the time, 

^^^lich hardly could distinguish verse and rhyme. 

But now the language, like the Church, hath won 

More lustre since the Reformation ; 

None can condemn the wish or labour sp>ent 

Good matter in good words to represent 

Yet in this jealous age some such there be, 
So without cause afraid of novelt}-. 
They would not 'were it in their powr to choose) 
An old ill practice for a better lose. 90 

Men who a rustic plainness so aflfect. 
They think God ser\ed best by their neglect. 
Holding the cause would be profan'd by it. 
Were they at charge of learning or of wit 
And therefore bluntly (what comes next) they bring 
Coarse and unstudied stuffs for offering ; 
WTiich like th' old Tabernacle's corring are, 
Made up of badgers' skins, and of goat's hair. 
But these are paradoxes they must use 

Their sloth and bolder ignorance f excuse. 100 

^\^lo would not laugh at one will naked go, 
'Cause in old hangings truth is pictufd so? 
Though plainness be reputed honour's note, 
They mantles use to beautify the coat; 
So that a curious (unaffected) dress 
Adds much unto the bodj-'s comeliness: 
And wheresoe'er the subject 's best, the sense 
Is better'd by the speaker's eloquence. 

But, Sir, to you I shall no trophy raise 
From other men's detraction or dispraise : 1 10 

That jewel never had inherent worth, 
\\Tiich ask'd such foils as these to set it forth. 
If any quarrel your attempt or style. 
Forgive them ; their own folly they re%-ile. 
Since, 'gainst themselves, their factious en\7 shall 
Allow this work of yours canonical 
Nor may you fear the Poet's common lot. 
Read, and commended, and then quite forgot : 
The brazen mines and marble rocks shall waste. 
When your foundation will unshaken last. .20 

'Tis Fame's best pay, that you your labours see 
By their immortal subject crowned be. 
For ne'er was writer in oblivion hid 
Who firm'd his name on such a Pyramid. 

but a ' butterwoman's rank to market ' — a sing-song: and soulless uniformity of 
cadence, and (a sin more specially their own) in the hopeless dullness and drabness 
of their diction. 

( 229 ) 

Henry King 

The Woes of Esay. 

Woe to the worldly men, whose covetous 
Ambition labours to join house to house, 
Lay field to field, till their enclosures edge 
The plain, girdling a country with one hedge : 
That leave no place unbought, no piece of earth 
Which they will not engross, making a dearth 
Of all inhabitants, until they stand 
Unneighbour'd, as unblest, within their land. 

This sin cries in God's ear, who hath decreed 
The ground they sow shall not return the seed. lo 

They that unpeopled countries to create 
Themselves sole Lords, — made many desolate 
To build up their own house, — shall find at last 
Ruin and fearful desolation cast 
Upon themselves. Their mansion shall become 
A desert, and their palace prove a tomb. 
Their vines shall barren be, their land yield tares ; 
Their house shall have no dwellers, they no heirs. 

Woe unto those, that with the morning Sun 
Rise to drink wine, and sit till he have run ao 

His weary course; not ceasing until night 
Have quench'd their understanding with the light : 
Whose raging thirst, like fire, will not be tam'd. 
The more they pour, the more they are inflam'd. 
Woe unto them that only mighty are 
To wage with wine ; in which unhappy war 
They who the glory of the day have won, 
Must yield them foil'd and vanquish'd by the tun. 
Men that live thus, as if they liv'd in jest. 
Fooling their time with music and a feast ; 30 

That did exile all sounds from their soft ear 
But of the harp, must this sad discord hear 
Compos'd in threats. The feet which measures tread 
Shall in captivity be fettered : 
Famine shall scourge them for their vast excess; 
And Hell revenge their monstrous drunkenness; 
Which hath enlarg'd itself to swallow such, 
AVhose throats ne'er knew enough, though still too much. 

Woe unto those that countenance a sin. 
Siding with vice, that it may credit win 40 

By their unhallow'd vote : that do benight 
I'he truth with error, putting dark for light, 

The Woes o/Esay.'] It may seem strange that a man of poetical velleities, with 
tlie magnificent range of choice open to him in the Book of Isaiah, should choose these 
'Woes' for verse-paraphrase. But the fact is interesting as combining with others, 
which have been pointed out here and there already, to show that King, at one time of 
his life, had leanings to that Puiitan-popular temper which, from the days of Langland 
downwards, had shown itself in England. The couplet verse has some vigour. 
( 230 ) 

The Woes of Esay 

And light for dark; that call an evil good, 

And would by vice have virtue understood : 

That with their frown can sour an honest cause, 

Or sweeten any bad by their applause. 

That justify the wicked for reward; 

And, void of moral goodness or regard, 

Plot with detraction to traduce the fame 

Of him whose merit hath enroll'd his name 50 

Among the just. Therefore God's vengeful ire 

Glows on his people, and becomes a fire, 

Whose greedy and exalted flame shall burn. 

Till they like straw or chaff to nothing turn. 

Because they have rebell'd against the right, 

To God and Law perversely opposite. 

As plants which Sun nor showers did ever bless, 

So shall their root convert to rottenness ; 

And their succession's bud, in which they trust, 

Shall (like Gomorrah's fruit) moulder to dust. 60 

Woe unto those that, drunk with self-conceit, 
Value their own designs at such a rate 
Which human wisdom cannot reach ; that sit 
Enthron'd, as sole monopolists of wit; 
That outlook reason, and suppose the eye 
Of Nature blind to their discovery. 
Whilst they a title make to understand 
Whatever secret's bosom'd in the land. 
But God shall imp their pride, and let them see 
They are but fools in a sublime degree : 70 

He shall bring down and humble those proud eyes, 
In which false glasses only they look'd wise ; 
That all the world may laugh, and learn by it. 
There is no folly to pretended wit. 

Woe unto those that draw iniquity 
With cords, and by a vain security 
Lengthen the sinful trace, till their own chain 
Of many links, form'd by laborious pain, 
Do pull them into Hell ; that, as with lines 
And cart-ropes, drag on their unwilling crimes : 80 

Who, rather than they will commit no sin, 
Tempt all occasions to let it in. 
As if there were no God, who must exact 
The strict account for every vicious fact; 
Nor judgement after death. If any be, 
Let him make speed (say they), that we may see. 

84 The original apostrophation (kept by Hannah) of ' every' is 'e'ry' — interesting 
to compare with the common forms of ' e're ' for 'ever' and ' ne're ' fcr 'never'. 
A^. E. D. traces it to the fifteenth century, and notes an eighteenth-century extension 
to ' e'ery '. 

( ^31 ) 

Henry King 

Why is his work retarded by delay? 

Why doth himself thus linger on the way? 

If there be any judge, or future doom, 

Let It and Him with speed together come. 90 

Unhappy men, that challenge and defy 
The coming of that dreadful Majesty ! 
Better by much for you, he did reverse 
His purposed sentence on the Universe ; 
Or that the creeping minutes might adjourn 
Those flames in which you, with the earth, must burn; 
That time's revolting hand could lag the year, 
And so put back his day which is too near. 

Behold his signs advanc'd like colours fly, 
To tell the world that his approach is nigh; 100 

And in a furious march, he's coming on 
Swift as the raging inundation, 
To scour the sinful world; 'gainst which is bent 
Artillery that never can be spent : 
Bows strung with vengeance, and flame-feather'd darts 
Headed with death, to wound transgressing hearts ; 
His chariot wheels wrapp'd in the whirlwind's gyre, 
His horses hoov'd with flint, and shod with fire : 
In which amaze, where'er they fix their eye, 
Or on the melting earth, or up on high, no 

To seek Heaven's shrunk lights, nothing shall appear, 
But night and horror in their hemisphere : 
Nor shall th' affrighted sense more objects know 
Than dark'ned skies above, and Hell below. 

An Essay on Death and a Prison. 

A PRISON is in all things like a grave, 

Where we no better privileges have 

Than dead men, nor so good. The soul once fled 

Lives freer now, than when she was cloistered 

In walls of flesh ; and though she organs want 

To act her swift designs, yet all will grant 

Her faculties more clear, now separate, 

Than if the same conjunction, which of late 

Did marry her to earth, had stood in force, 

Uncapable of death, or of divorce : 10 

But an imprison'd mind, though living, dies, 

And at one time feels two captivities; 

An Essay ^ This piece stands to some work of Donne's much as others of King's do 
to the lyrics of the greater poet. The couplets are more eiijambed than in The Woes of 
Esay, and the metaphysicality is of the satiric kind. It should not be needful, but may 
be well, to say that King had no actual experience of prisons. On the other side of 
the matter the piece might, but by no means need, belong to the series connected with 
his wife's death. 

( 232 ) 

An Essay on Death a^td a Prison 

A narrow dungeon which her body holds, 

But narrower body which herself enfolds. 

Whilst I in prison lie, nothing is free. 

Nothing enlarg'd, but thought and misery ; 

Though every chink be stopp'd, the doors close barr'd, 

Despite of walls and locks, through every ward 

These have their issues forth ; may take the air, 

Though not for health, but only to compare ao 

How wretched those men are who freedom want. 

By such as never suffer'd a restraint. 

In which unquiet travel could I find 

Aught that might settle my distemper'd mind, 

Or of some comfort make discovery, 

It were a voyage well employ'd : but I, 

Like our raw travellers that cross the seas 

To fetch home fashions, or some worse disease, 

Instead of quiet, a new torture bring 

Home t' afflict me, malice and murmuring. 30 

What is 't I envy not ? no dog nor fly 

But my desires prefer, and wish were I ; 

For they are free, or, if they were like me, 

They had no sense to know calamity. 

But in the grave no sparks of envy live. 

No hot comparisons that causes give 

Of quarrel, or that our affections move 

Any condition, save their own, to love. 

There are no objects there but shades and night. 

And yet that darkness better than the light. 40 

There lives a silent harmony ; no jar 

Or discord can that sweet soft consort mar. 

The grave's deaf ear is clos'd against all noise 

Save that which rocks must hear, the angel's voice : 

Whose trump shall wake the world, and raise up men 

Who in earth's bosom slept, bed-rid till then. 

What man then would, who on death's pillow slumbers, 

Be re-inspired with life, though golden numbers 

Of bliss were pour'd into his breast ; though he 

Were sure in change to gain a monarchy ? 50 

A monarch's glorious state compar'd with his, 

Less safe, less free, less firm, less quiet is. 

For ne'er was any Prince advanc'd so high 

That he was out of reach of misery : 

Never did story yet a law report 

To banish fate or sorrow from his Court ; 

Where ere he moves, by land, or through the main. 

These go along, sworn members of his train. 

But he whom the kind earth hath entertain'd, 

Hath in her womb a sanctuary gain'd, 60 

Whose charter and protection arm him so, 

That he is privileg'd from future woe. 

( 233 ) 

He72ry King 

The coffin 's a safe harbour, where he rides 

Land-bound, below cross winds, or churHsh tides. 

For grief, sprung up with life, was man's half-brother, 

Fed by the taste, brought forth by sin, the mother. 

And since the first seduction of the wife, 

God did decree to grief a lease for life ; 

Which patent in full force continue must, 

Till man that disobey'd revert to dust. 70 

So that life's sorrows, ratifi'd by God, 

Cannot expire, or find their period, 

Until the soul and body disunite, 

And by two diff'rent ways from each take flight. 

But they dissolved once, our woes disband, 

Th' assurance cancell'd by one fatal hand ; 

Soon as the passing bell proclaims me dead. 

My sorrows sink with me, lie buried 

In the same heap of dust, the self-same urn 

Doth them and me alike to nothing turn. 80 

If then of these I might election make 

Whether I would refuse, and whether take, 

Rather than like a sullen anchorite 

I would live cas'd in stone, and learn to write 

A Prisoners story, which might steal some tears 

From the sad eyes of him that reads or hears ; 

Give me a peaceful death, and let me meet 

My freedom seal'd up in my winding sheet. 

Death is the pledge of rest, and with one bail 

Two prisons quits, the Body and the Jail. 50 

The Labyrinth. 

Life is a crooked labyrinth, and we 
Are daily lost in that obliquity. 
'Tis a perplexed circle, in whose round 
Nothing but sorrows and new sins abound. 
How is the faint impression of each good 
Drown'd in the vicious channel of our blood? 
Whose ebbs and tides by their vicissitude 
Both our great Maker and ourselves delude. 

O wherefore is the most discerning eye 
Unapt to make its own discovery? lo 

Why is the clearest and best judging mind 
In her own ills' prevention dark and blind? 
Dull to advise, to act precipitate, 
We scarce think what to do, but when too late. 
Or if we think, that fluid thought, like seed, 
Rots there to propagate some fouler deed. 
Still we repent and sin, sin and repent; 
We thaw and freeze, we harden and relent. 

The Labyrinth.'] 12 herl our Ma/one MS. 2a. 
( ^34 ) 

The Labyrinth 

Those fires, which cool'd to-day, the morrow's heat 
Rekindles. Thus frail nature does repeat 20 

What she unlearnt, and still, by learning on. 
Perfects her lesson of confusion. 

Sick soul ! what cure shall I for thee devise, 
Whose leprous state corrupts all remedies? 
What medicine or what cordial can be got 
For thee, who poison'st thy best antidote? 
Repentance is thy bane, since thou by it 
Only reviv'st the fault thou didst commit. 
Nor griev'st thou for the past, but art in pain, 
For fear thou mayst not act it o'er again. 30 

So that thy tears, like water spilt on lime, 
Serve not to quench, but to advance the crime. 

My blessed Saviour ! unto thee I fly 
For help against this homebred tyranny. 
Thou canst true sorrows in my soul imprint. 
And draw contrition from a breast of flint. 
Thou canst reverse this labyrinth of sin, 
My wild affects and actions wander in. 
O guide my faith ! and, by thy grace's clew. 
Teach me to hunt that kingdom at the view 40 

Where true joys reign, which like their day shall last ; 
Those never clouded, nor that overcast. 

Being waked out of my sleep by a snuff of candle 
which offended me, I thus thought. 

Perhaps 'twas but conceit. Erroneous sense ! 
Thou art thine own distemper and offence. 
Imagine then, that sick unwholesome steam 
Was thy corruption breath'd into a dream. 
Nor is it strange, when we in charnels dwell. 
That all our thoughts of earth and frailty smell. 

Man is a Candle, whose unhappy light 
Burns in the day, and smothers in the night. 
And as you see the dying taper waste, 10 

By such degrees does he to darkness haste. 

Here is the diff 'rence : When our bodies' lamps 
Blinded by age, or chok'd with mortal damps, 
Now faint, and dim, and sickly 'gin to wink, 
And in their hollow sockets lowly sink; 
When all our vital fires ceasing to burn. 
Leave nought but snuff and ashes in our urn : 

God will restore those fallen lights again, 

And kindle them to an eternal flame. 

26 Orig. 'anti^o/', on the eye-[and ear]-system as before. 
( 235 ) 

Henry King 

Sic Vita. 
King and Beaumont. 

Like to the falling of a star; 
Or as the flights of eagles are ; 
Or like the fresh springs gaudy hue; 
Or silver drops of morning dew; 
Or like a wind that chafes the flood; 
Or bubbles which on water stood ; 
Even such is man, whose borrow'd light 
Is straight call'd in, and paid to night. 

The wind blows out ; the bubble dies ; 
The Spring entomb'd in Autumn lies; 
The dew dries up 
The flight is past; 



Like as the damask rose you see ; 
Or like the blossom on the tree ; 
Or like the dainty flower of May ; 
Or like the morning to the day ; 
Or like the Sun ; or like the shade ; 
Or like the gourd which Jonas had ; 
Even such is man, whose thread is 

Drawn out, and cut, and so is done. 
The rose withers ; the blossom 

blasteth ; 
The flower fades ; the morning 

hasteth ; 
The sun sets ; the shadow flies ; 
The gourd consumes ; and man he 


Like to the Grass that 's newly sprung ; 
Or like a tale that 's new begun ; 
Or like the bird that 's here to-day ; 
Or like the pearled dew of May ; 
Or like an hour ; or like a span ; 
Or like the singing of a swan ; 

in Autumn 
the star is shot; 
and man forgot. 

Even such is man, who lives by breath, 
Is here, now there, in life, and death. 
The grass withers ; the tale is 

ended ; 
The bird is flown ; the dew 's 

ascended ; 
The hour is short ; the span 

near death ; man' 


The swan 's 
is done. 

's life 


Like to the bubble in the brook ; 
Or, in a glass, much like a look ; 
Or like a shuttle in weaver's hand ; 
Or like the writing on the sand ; 
Or like a thought ; or like a dream ; 
Or like the gliding of the stream ; 
Even such is man, who lives by breath. 
Is here, now there, in life, and death. 

The bubble 's cut ; the look 's forgot ; 

The shuttle 's flung ; the writing 's 
blot ; 

The thought is past ; the dream is 
gone ; 
The water glides ; man's life is done. 

Sic Vita.'\ On this famous piece see Introduction. Only the first form is attributed to 
King and appears in his Poetns ; but it also appears not merely in the singular higgledy- 
piggledy called the poems of Francis Beaumont, 1653, but in the earlier and better edition 
of 1640. Simon Wastell was a schoolmaster who had been at Queen's College, Oxford ; 
and who in 1629 appended these sets of verses to a book then entitled Microbiblton. The 
first is claimed by Quarles, who also wrote another in the form. William Browne's 
version was not published till 1815, and the authors of the two from the Malone MS. are 
unknown. The group is probably the palmary example in English of that coterie- and 
school-verse which distinguished the seventeenth century. The King-Beaumont form is 
certainly the best and probably the original. (It will be observed that X \% palinodic to 
the others. It is, with IX, attributed as a single piece to Strode and entitled ' On 

Death and Resurrection ' 
W. Strode.) 

( 236 ) 

in MS. Malone 16, fol. 35, and Dobell's Poetical Works of 

Sic Vita 


Like to an arrow from the bow ; 
Or like swift course of watery flow ; 
Or like the time twixt flood and ebb ; 
Or like the spider's tender web ; 
Or like a race ; or like a goal ; 
Or like the dealing of a dole ; 
Even such is man whose brittle state 
Is always subject unto fate. 
The arrow 's shot ; the flood soon 

spent ; 
The time no time ; the web soon 

rent ; 
The race soon run ; the goal soon 

won ; 
The dole soon dealt ; man's life first 


Like to the lightning from the sky ; 
Or like a post that quick doth hie ; 
Or like a quaver in short song ; 
Or like a journey three days long ; 
Or like the snow when summer's come ; 
Or like the pear ; or like the plum ; 
Even such is man, who heaps up 

Lives but this day, and dies to- 

The lightning's past ; the post must 


The song is short ; the journey 's so ; 
The pear doth rot ; the plum doth 

fall ; 
The snow dissolves ; and so must 



Like to the damask Rose you see, &c. 


Like to the blaze of fond delight ; 
Or like a morning clear and bright ; 
Or like a post ; or like a shower ; 
Or like the pride of Babel's Tower ; 
Or like the hour that guides the time ; 
Or like to beauty in her prime ; 
Even such is man, whose glory lends 
His life a blaze or two, and ends. 

Delights vanish ; the morn o'er 
casteth ; 

The frost breaks ; the shower 
hasteth ; 

The Tower falls ; the hour spends ; 

The beauty fades ; and man's life 

( 237 ) 



Like to a silkworm of one year ; 
Or like a wronged lover's tear ; 
Or on the waves a rudder's dint ; 
Or like the sparkles of a flint ; 
Or like to little cakes perfum'd ; 
Or fireworks made to be consum'd ; 
Even such is man, and all that trust 
In weak and animated dust. 

The silkworm droops ; the tear 's 
soon shed ; 

The ship's way lost ; the sparkle 
dead ; 

The cake is burnt ; the firework 
done ; 

And man as these as quickly gone. 


Like to the rolling of an eye ; 
Or like a star shot from the sky ; 
Or like a hand upon a clock ; 
Or like a wave upon a rock ; 
Or like a wind ; or like a flame ; 
Or like false news which people frame ; 
Even such is man, of equal stay 
Whose very growth leads to decay. 
The eye is turned ; the star down 
bendeth ; 
The hand doth steal ; the wave 

descendeth ; 
The wind is spent ; the flame 

unfir'd ; 
The news disprov'd ; man's life 


Like to an eye which sleep doth chain ; 
Or like a star whose fall we faine 

[= feign]; 
Or like a shade on A[t]haz' watch ; 
Or like a wave which gulfs do snatch ; 
Or like a wind or flame that 's past ; 
Or smother'd news confirm'd at last ; 
Even so man's life, pawn'd in the 

Waits for a rising it must have 

The eye still sees ; the star still 

The shade goes back; the wave 

escapeth ; 
The wind is turn'd, the flame reviv'd, 
The news renew'd ; and man new 

Henry King 

My Midnight Meditation. 

Ill busi'd man ! why shouldst thou take such care 

To lengthen out thy Hfe's short kalendar? 

When every spectacle thou look'st upon 

Presents and acts thy execution. 

Each drooping season and each flower doth cry, 
Fool ! as I fade and wither, thou must die. 

The beating of thy pulse (when thou art well) 

Is just the tolling of thy passing bell : 

Night is thy hearse, whose sable canopy 

Covers alike deceased day and thee. lo 

And all those weeping dews which nightly fall. 

Are but the tears shed for thy funeral. 

A Penitential Hymn, 

Hearken, O God, unto a wretch's cries. 
Who low dejected at thy footstool lies. 
Let not the clamour of my heinous sin 
Drown my requests, which strive to enter in 
At those bright gates, which always open stand 
To such as beg remission at thy hand. 

Too well I know, if thou in rigour deal, 
I can nor pardon ask, nor yet appeal : 
To my hoarse voice, heaven will no audience grant. 
But deaf as brass, and hard as adamant lo 

Beat back my words ; therefore I bring to thee 
A gracious Advocate to plead for me. 

What though my leprous soul no Jordan can 
Recure, nor floods of the lav'd Ocean 
Make clean? yet from my Saviour's bleeding side 
Two large and medicinable rivers glide. 
Lord, wash me where those streams of life abound. 
And new Bethesdas flow from ev'ry wound. 

If I this precious lather may obtain, 
I shall not then despair for any stain ; 2C 

I need no Gilead's balm, nor oil, nor shall 
I for the purifying hyssop call : 
My spots will vanish in His purple flood, 
And crimson there turn white, though wash'd with blood. 

My Midnight Meditation?^ ii which] iT/S. ' that '. In Prtmffss?/s B/«/>5, p. 80, with 
title 'On Man' : 11. 9-10 are absent from this version. Mr. Thorn Driiry thinks that 
this is Dr. John King's (so ascribed in Malone MS. 21, fol. a6, and Mr. Dobell's M.S. of 

A Pmitential Hymn.'] This piece is referred to by Anthony Wood as one of several 
' anthems '. It was, he tells us, intended for Lenten use, and set by Dr. John Wilson, 
gentleman of the Chapel Royal. To this Dr. Wilson, Hannah thought that his collated 
MS. copy of King's Poems, which bears the name, had belonged, additional evidence 
being found in the curious fact that the Hymn appears in that copy out of order, 
and first. 

( 338 ) 

A Pe7tite7ttial Hymn 

See, Lord ! with broken heart and bended knee, 
How I address my humble suit to Thee; 

give that suit admittance to Thy ears, 

Which floats to Thee, not in my words, but tears : 

And let my sinful soul this mercy crave, 

Before I fall into the silent grave. 30 

An Elegy occasioned by Sickness. 

Well did the Prophet ask, Lord, what is Man? 
Implying by the question none can 
But God resolve the doubt, much less define 
What elements this child of dust combine. 

Man is a stranger to himself, and knows 
Nothing so naturally as his woes. 
He loves to travel countries, and confer 
The sides of Heaven's vast diameter : 
Delights to sit in Nile or Ba^tis' lap. 

Before he hath sail'd over his own map ; 10 

By which means he returns, his travel spent, 
Less knowing of himself than when he went. 
Who knowledge hunt kept under foreign locks, 
May bring home wit to hold a paradox. 
Yet be fools still. Therefore, might I advise, 

1 would inform the soul before the eyes : 
Make man into his proper optics look. 
And so become the student and the book. 
With his conception, his first leaf, begin ; 

What is he there but complicated sin ? 20 

When riper time, and the approaching birth 

Ranks him among the creatures of the earth. 

His wailing mother sends him forth to greet 

The light, wrapp'd in a bloody winding sheet ; 

As if he came into the world to crave 

No place to dwell in, but bespeak a grave. 

Thus like a red and tempest-boding morn 
His dawning is : for being newly born 
He hails th' ensuing storm with shrieks and cries, 
And fines for his admission with wet eyes. 30 

How should that plant, whose leaf is bath'd in tears. 
Bear but a bitter fruit in elder years ? 
Just such is this, and his maturer age 
Teems with event more sad than the presage. 

An Elegy, <S^'c.] It is always well to placate Nemesis before finding fault with a fellow- 
creature's complaints. But this piece, like some others, does rather illustrate that 
'tendency \.o grizzle^ -which has been noticed in the Introduction. It was no doubt 
natural to King, and was probably confirmed in him by his wife's early death. It is 
worth noticing that — a thing rare in his time — he never remarried. 

33 this] MS. ' his '. 

( 339 ) 

Henry King 

For view him higher, when his childhood's span 

Is raised up to youth's meridian ; 

When he goes proudly laden with the fruit 

Which health, or strength, or beauty contribute ; 

Yet,— as the mounted cannon batters down 

The towers and goodly structures of a town, — 40 

So one short sickness will his force defeat. 

And his frail citadel to rubbish beat. 

How does a dropsy melt him to a flood. 

Making each vein run water more than blood ? 

A colic wracks him like a northern gust, 

And raging fevers crumble him to dust. 

In which unhappy state he is made worse 

By his diseases than his Maker's curse. 

God said in toil and sweat he should earn bread, 

And without labour not be nourished : 50 

There, though like ropes of falling dew, his sweat 

Hangs on his lab'ring brow, he cannot eat. 

Thus are his sins scourg'd in opposed themes, 
And luxuries reveng'd by their extremes. 
He who in health could never be content 
With rarities fetch'd from each element, 
Is now much more afflicted to delight 
His tasteless palate, and lost appetite. 

Besides, though God ordain'd, that with the light 
Man should begin his work, yet he made night 60 

For his repose, in which the weary sense 
Repairs itself by rest's soft recompense. 
But now his watchful nights and troubled days 
Confused heaps of fear and fancy raise. 
His chamber seems a loose and trembling mine ; 
His pillow quilted with a porcupine ; 
Pain makes his downy couch sharp thorns appear, 
And ev'ry feather prick him like a spear. 
Thus, when all forms of death about him keep. 
He copies death in any form, but sleep. 70 

Poor walking-clay ! hast thou a mind to know 
To what unblest beginnings thou dost owe 
Thy wretched self? fall sick a while, and than 
Thou wilt conceive the pedigree of Man. 
Learn shalt thou from thine own anatomy. 
That earth his mother, worms his sisters be. 
That he 's a short-liv'd vapour upward wrought, 
And by corruption unto nothing brought. 
A stagg'ring meteor by cross planets beat, 
Which often reels and falls before his set; " 80 

73 ' Than ' for * then ' is much rarer than the converse, though we have it once supra. 
It is odd too here, for ' then ' would have done just as well. 

( 240 ) 

An Elegy occasioned by Sickness 

A tree which withers faster than it grows ; 
A torch puff'd out by ev'ry wind that blows; 
A web of forty weeks spun forth in pain, 
And in a moment ravell'd out again. 

This is the model of frail man : then say 
That his duration 's only for a day : 
And in that day more fits of changes pass, 
Than atoms run in the turn'd hour-glass. 

So that th' incessant cares which life invade 
Might for strong truth their heresy persuade, 90 

Who did maintain that human souls are sent 
Into the body for their punishment : 
At least with that Greek sage still make us cry, 
Not to be born, or, being born, to die. 

But Faith steers up to a more glorious scope. 
Which sweetens our sharp passage ; and firm hope 
Anchors our torn barks on a blessed shore. 
Beyond the Dead Sea we here ferry o'er. 
To this. Death is our pilot, and disease 
The agent which solicits our release. 100 

Though crosses then pour on my restless head, 
Or ling'ring sickness nail me to my bed : 
Let this my thought's eternal comfort be, 
I'hat my clos'd eyes a better light shall see. 
And when by fortune's or by nature's stroke 
My body's earthen pitcher must be broke. 
My soul, like Gideon's lamp, from her crack'd urn 
Shall Death's black night to endless lustre turn. 

T/te Dirge. 

What is th' existence of Man's life 

But open war, or slumber'd strife? 

Where sickness to his sense presents 

The combat of the elements ; 

And never feels a perfect peace, 

Till Death's cold hand signs his release. 

It is a storm, where the hot blood 
Outvies in rage the boiling flood ; 
And each loud passion of the mind 

Is like a furious gust of wind, 10 

Which beats his bark with many a wave, 
Till he casts anchor in the grave. 

90 * Their ' = Origen and the Priscillianists. 

93 Posidippus? But the thing was a commonplace. 

94 Side-note in orig. : Non nasci, aut quant dtissinte mori. 
The Dirge.'] An obvious extension-variation of Sic Vita. 

8 MS, 'Vies rages with'— rather well. 
12 MS. 'cast' — perhaps better. 

( 341 ) R III 

Henry King 

It is a flower, which buds and grows, 
And withers as the leaves disclose; 
Whose spring and fall faint seasons keep. 
Like fits of waking before sleep : 
Then shrinks into that fatal niould, 
Where its first being was enroU'd. 


It is a dream, whose seeming truth 
Is moraliz'd in age and youth r 23 

Where all the comforts he can share 
As wand'ring as his fancies are ; 
Till in a mist of dark decay 
The dreamer vanish quite away. 

It is a dial, which points out 
The sun-set as it moves about : 
And shadows out in lines of night 
The subtile stages of Time's flight. 
Till all obscuring earth hath laid 
The body in perpetual shade. 3° 

It is a weary interlude 
Which doth short joys, long woes include. 
The World the stage, the Prologue tears. 
The Acts vain hope, and varied fears ; 
The Scene shuts up with loss of breath, 
And leaves no Epilogue but Death. 

An Elegy, occasioned by the loss of the most incomparable 
Lady Stanhope, daughter to the Earl of Northumberland. 

[Died November 29, 1654.] 

Light'ned by that dim torch our sorrow bears, 

We sadly trace thy coffin with our tears ; 

And though the ceremonious rites are past 

Since thy fair body into earth was cast, 

Though all thy hatchments into rags are torn, 

Thy funeral robes and ornaments outworn ; 

We still thy mourners, without show or art, 

With solemn blacks hung round about our heart. 

Thus constantly the obsequies renew. 

Which to thy precious memory are due. 10 

26 MS. * His sun-set'. 27-8 These run in MS. : 

Whilst it demonstrates Time's swift flight 
In the black lines of shady night. 
30 The] MS. ' His'. 35 MS. 'in loss'. 

An Elegyi\ The subject of this was Anne Percy, daughter of the Northumberland 
whose personal umbrage or lukewarm loyalty so grievously affected the Royal cause, 
and the wife of that Philip Lord Stanhope who afterwards, and after her death, seems 
to have flirted with Lady Elizabeth Howard before she married Dryden. 

( -42 ) 

A?i E^cgy upo?] LaJy Stanhope 

Vet think not that we rudely would invade 
The dark recess of thine untroubled shade, 
Or give disturbance to that happy peace. 
Which thou enjoy 'st at full since thy release : 
Much less in sullen murmurs do complain 
Of His decree who took thee back ai;ain, 
And did, ere Fame had spread thy vutue's lii;ht, 
Eclipse and fold thee up in endless nii;ht. 
This, like an act of envy, not o\ grief, 

Might doubt thy bliss, and shake \nir own belief, ao 

Whose studied wishes no proportion bear 
With joys which crown thee now in glory's sphere. 

Know then, blest Soul ! we for ourselves, ni)t thee, 
Seal our woe's dictate by this elegy : 
Wherein our tears, united in one stream. 
Shall to succeeding times convey this theme, 
Worth all men's pity, who discern, how rare 
Such early growths of lame and goodni>ss are. 
Of these, part must thy sex's loss bewail, 

Maim'd in her noblest patterns through thy fail ; .lo 

For 'twould require a double term of life 
To match thee as a daughter or a wife ; 
Both which Northumberland's dear loss improve, 
And make his sorrow ecjual to his love. 
The rest fall for ourselves, who, cast behind, 
Cannot yet reach the peace which thou dost fmd ; 
But slowly follow thee in that dull stage 
Which most untimely posted hence thy age. 

Thus, like religious pilgrims, who design 
A short salute to their beloved shrine, in 

Most sad and humble votaries we cotne, 
To offer up our sighs upon thy tomb, 
And wet thy marble with our dro|)ping eyes, 
Which, till the sjiring which feeds their current dries. 
Resolve each falling night and rising day, 
This mournful homage at thy grave to pay. 

28 early] Lady Stanhope was not twenty-one when she died, and had been niarrM d 
little more than two years. 

( 24?, ) k 2 

Heitry King 

Poems not included in the Edition of 1657 
but added in reissue of 1664 

An Elegy upon my best friend, L. K. C. 

[Countess of Leinster : died June 15, 1657 ] 

Should we our sorrows in this method range, 
Oft as misfortune doth their subjects change, 
And to the sev'ral losses which befall, 
Pay diff'rent rites at ev'ry funeral ; 
Like narrow springs, drain'd by dispersed streams, 
We must want tears to wail such various themes, 
And prove defective in Death's mournful laws, 
Not having words proportion'd to each cause. 

In your dear loss, my much afflicted sense 
Discerns this truth by sad experience, 10 

Who never look'd my Verses should survive, 
As wet records. That you are not alive ; 
And less desir'd to make that promise due, 
Which pass'd from me in jest, when urg'd by you. 

How close and slily doth our frailty work ! 
How undiscover'd in the body lurk ! 
That those who this day did salute you well. 
Before the next were frighted by your knell. 
O wherefore since we must in order rise, 
Should we not fall in equal obsequies? 20 

But bear th' assaults of an uneven fate. 
Like fevers which their hour anticipate ; 
Had this rule constant been, my long wish'd end 
Might render you a mourner for your Friend : 
As he for you, whose most deplor'd surprise 
Imprints your death on all my faculties ; 
That hardly my dark phant'sy or discourse 
This final duty from the pen enforce. 

Such influence hath your eclipsed light. 
It doth my reason, like myself, benight. 30 

yf M Elegy upon my best friend.'] King's 'best friend' (or, as a MS. gives it, ' worthiest ') 
was Katharine Stanhope, daughter of John Lord Stanhope of Harrington. Her husband, 
Robert Cholmondeley, successively created an Irish Viscount, an English Baron (his 
surname serving as title in each case), and Earl of Leinster, died very shortly after her 
and before the Restoration. There is a MS. sermon on her death attributed to King, 
but doubted by Hannah. The poem itself, unlike the next but like the three which 
follow that, appears printed in the 1664 issue. And it is, on the principles of this 
collection, not unimportant to notice that in these later printed pieces the irrational 
prodigality of capitals which, as has been noted, is absent from idjj, reappears. There 
could be no stronger evidence that these things have nothing to do with the author, and 
are not worth reproducing. 

13 The original bestows a capital even upon ' Alive '—a thing capital in another way 
as illustrating the utter unreason of the practice. 15-18 Absent in MS. ' 

( 244 ) 

An Elegy upon my best friend^ L. K, C, 

Let me, with luckless gamesters, then think best 
(After I have set up and lost my rest), 
Grown desp'rate through mischance, to venture last 
My whole remaining stock upon a cast, 
And flinging from me my now loathed pen, 
Resolve for your sake ne'er to write again : 
For whilst successive days their light renew, 
I must no subject hope to equal you. 
In whose heroic breast, as in their Sphere, 
All graces of your sex concentred were. 40 

Thus take I my long farewell of that art, 
Fit only glorious actions to impart ; 
That art wherewith our crosses we beguile. 
And make them in harmonious numbers smile : 
Since you are gone, this holds no further use 
Whose virtue and desert inspir'd my Muse. 

may she in your ashes buried be, 
Whilst I myself become the Elegy. 

And as it is observ'd, when Princes die, 
In honour of that sad solemnity, 50 

The now unoffic'd servants crack their staves, 
And throw them down into their masters' graves : 
So this last office of my broken verse 

1 solemnly resign upon your hearse; 

And my brain's moisture, all that is unspent, 

Shall melt to nothing at the monument. 

Thus in moist weather, when the marble weeps, 

You'll think it only his tears reck'ning keeps, 

Who doth for ever to his thoughts bequeath 

The legacy of your lamented death. 60 

On the Earl of Essex, 

[Died September 14, 1646.] 

Essex, twice made unhappy by a wife, 

Yet married worse unto the People's strife : 

He who, by two divorces, did untie 

His bond of wedlock and of loyalty : 

Who was by easiness of nature bred. 

To lead that tumult which first him misled ; 

36 Orig. 'nev'r' — a form unpronounceable but not uninteresting. 

40 your] MS. 'the'. 43 crosses] MS. 'sorrows'. 

On the Earl of Essex.'\ This and the next two may be called King's chief, if not liis 
only, political poems: that they were kept back till after the Restoration is not 
surprising. Of Essex — one of the most unfortunate of men, the son of an unlucky 
father, the husband of one of the worst of women, and of another not much better, 
a half-hearted rebel, a soldier not less brave than blundering — not much is to be said 
here. King had some interest in the first and universally known divorce t^the second, 
much less notorious, was from Elizabeth Paulet), for his father had been uncourtly and 
honest enough to oppose it strongly. 

( M5 ) 

He?27y King 

Yet had some glimm'ring sparks of virtue, lent 

To see (though late) his error, and repent : 

Essex lies here, like an inverted flame, 

Hid in the ruins of his house and name; lo 

And as he, frailty's sad, example, lies, 

Warns the survivors in his exequies. 

He shows what wretched bubbles great men are, 
Through their ambition grown too popular : 
For they, built up from weak opinion, stand 
On bases false as water, loose as sand. 
Essex in differing successes tried 
The fury and the falsehood of each side ; 
Now with applauses deified, and then, 
Thrown down with spiteful infamy again : — ao 

Tells them, what arts soever them support, 
Their life is merely Time and Fortune's sport. 
And that no bladders, blown by common breath, 
Shall bear them up amidst the waves of Death : 

Tells them, no monstrous birth, with pow'r endu'd, 
By that more monstrous beast, the Multitude, — 
No State-C6'/(3j-j (though tall as that bestrid 
The Rhodian harbour where their navy rid). 
Can hold that ill-proportion'd greatness still. 
Beyond his greater, most resistless will, 30 

Whose dreadful sentence, written on the Wall, 
Did sign the temple-robbing tyrant's fall ; 
But spite of their vast privilege, which strives 
T' exceed the size of ten prerogatives ; 
Spite of their endless parliament, or grants 
(In order to those votes and Covenants, 
When, without sense of their black perjury, 
They swear with Essex they would live and die). 
With their dead General ere long they must 
Contracted be into a span of dust. 40 

An Elegy on Sir Charles Lucas and 
Sir George Lisle. 

[Murdered August 28, 1648.] 

In measures solemn as the groans that fall 
From the hoarse trumpet at some funeral; 
With trailing Elegy and mournful verse, 
I wait upon two peerless soldiers' hearse : 

10 This rather vigorous line was to be prophetic as well as true at the time, for when, 
after the Restoration, the title of Essex was revived it was for the Capels,*,who still hold 
it, not for any Devereux. The vigour just referred lo is by no means absent from the 
whole poem, and in an ante-Drydenian piece is really remarkable. 

32 temple-robbing tyrant's fall] side-note in orig. : Bclshazar, Dan. 5. 

Elegy on Sir Charles Lucas, dfc.} This, King's longest poem (except the Kin^ Charles) , 
shows, like the preceding, a vigour which might have made him a very formidable 
( 246 ) 

Elegy on Sir C, Lucas and Sir G, Lisle 

Though I acknowledge must my sorrow's dress 
111 matched to the cause it should express; 
Nor can I, at my best invention's cost, 
Sum up the treasure which in them we lost. 

Had they, with other worthies of the age, 
Who late upon the kingdom's bloody stage, lo 

For God, the King, and Laws, their valour tried. 
Through War's stern chance in heat of battle died, 
We then might save much of our griefs expense, 
Reputing it, not duty, but offence. 
They need no tears, nor howling exequy, 
Who in a glorious undertaking die ; 
Since all that in the bed of honour fell, 
Live their own Monument and Chronicle. 

But these, whom horrid danger did not reach, 
The wide-mouth'd cannon, nor the wider breach, 30 

These, whom, till cruel want and coward fate 
Penn'd up like famish'd lions in a grate. 
Were for their daring sallies so much fear'd, 
Th' assailants fled them like a frighted herd ; 
Resolving now no more to fight, but lurk 
Trench'd in their line, or earth'd within a work. 
Where, not like soldiers they, but watchmen, creep, 
Arm'd for no other office, but to sleep ; 
They, whose bold charge whole armies did amaze, 
Rend'ring them faint and heartless at the gaze, 30 

To see Resolve and Naked Valour charms 
Of higher proof than all their massy arms ; 
They, whose bright swords ruffled the proudest troop 
(As fowl unto the tow'ring falcon stoop), 
Yet no advantage made of their success, 
Which to the conquer'd spake them merciless 
(For they, whene'er 'twas begg'd, did safety give, 
And oft unasked bid the vanquish'd live) ; 
Ev'n these, not more undaunted in the field. 
Than mild and gentle unto such as yield, 40 

Were, after all the shocks of battles stood, 
(Let me not name it) murder'd in cold blood. 

political satirist. If he has not Cleveland's wit he is free from Cleveland's abuse of it. 
The subject is again a well-known one. No impartial authority denies that the execu- 
tion of Lucas and Lisle was one of the worst blots on that side of the record of the 
Rebellion, and perhaps the only unforgivable act of Fairfax. Whether he was 
actuated, as the Royalists generally believed, by a mean personal spite, or allowed 
himself to be the tool of Ireton, matters uncommonly little ; and his own ' Vindication ' 
contains statements demonstrably false. However, as usual in revolutions, the curse 
came home, and the Colchester ' Septemberings ' (as they would actually have been 
had the New Style prevailed in England) were undoubtedly as much instrumental as 
anything, next to the execution of the King himself, in turning the national sentiment 
against the perpetrators. The bracketed notes that follow are, as usual, original. 

31 [Sir George Lisle at Newbury charged in his shirt, and routed them.] This was 
the second battle of Newbury, October 27, 1644 : he was knighted at Oxford, December 
21, 1645. 

( »47 ) 

Henry King 

Such poor revenge did the enraged Greek 
Against (till then) victorious Hector seek, 
Triumphing o'er that body, bound and dead, 
From whom, in life, the pow'rs of Argos fled. 
Yet might Achilles borrow some excuse 
To colour, though not warrant, the abuse : 
His dearest friend, in the fierce combat foil'd, 
Was by the Trojan's hand of life despoil'd ; 50 

From whence unruly grief, grown wild with rage, 
Beyond the bounds of Honour did engage. 
But these, confirm'd in their unmanly hate, 
By counsels cruel, yet deliberate. 
Did from the stock of bleeding honour hew 
Two of the noblest branches ever grew ; 
And (which our grief and pity must improve) 
When brought within their reach with shows of love : 
For by a treaty they entangled are. 

And rend'ring up to Mercy is the snare ; 60 

Whence we have learn'd, whene'er their Saintships treat, 
The ends are mortal, and the means a cheat ; 
In which the world may read their black intent, 
Drawn out at large in this sad precedent. 
Who (though fair promis'd) might no mercy have, 
But such as once the faithless Bashaw gave, 
When to his trust deluded Bragadme 
Himself and Famagosta did resign. 
Whose envied valour thus to bonds betray'd, 
Was soon the mark of barb'rous slaughter made : 70 

So gallant ships, which rocks and storms had past, 
Though with torn sails, and spending of their mast, 
When newly brought within the sight of land. 
Have been suck'd up by some devouring sand. 

You wretched agents for a kingdom's fall, 
Who yet yourselves the Modell'd Army call ; 
Who carry on and fashion your design 
By Sylla's, Sylla's red proscription's line, 

49 friend] [Patroclus.] 

60 Mercy] Fairfax in his own 'Vindication ' admits the 'snare'. 'Delivering upon 
Mercy is to be understood that some are to suffer, the rest to go free.' In other words, 
the garrison might take 'mercy' to mean 'quarter', but Fairfax took it to mean 
'discretion '. 

64 Orig. 'President', as often printed, though of course no scholar like King would 
deliberately write it. 

66 [Famagosta, defended most valiantly by Signior Bragadino in the time of 
Selimus II, was upon honourable terms surrendered to Mustapha the Bashaw, who, 
observing no conditions, at his tent murdered the principal commanders, invited thither 
under show of love, and flayed Bragadine alive.] This siege of Famagosta in 157 1, 
which came just before, and may be said to have been revenged by, Lepanto, greatlv 
affected the mind of Christendom, and is duly chronicled in Knolles, the chief Englioh 
liistorical writer of King's day. It is therefore hardly necessary to suppose, with 
Hannah, that the note was abridged from George Sandys' Travels, though King and 
iSand3-s were certainly friends. 

( 248 ) 

Elegy Oil Sir C. Lucas and Sir G. Lisle 

(Rome's Comet once, as you are ours) for shame 

Henceforth no more usurp the soldier's name : 80 

Let not that title in fair battles gain'd 

Be by such abject things as you profan'd; 

For what have you achiev'd, the world may guess 

You are those Men of Might which you profess? 

Where ever durst you strike, if you met foes 

Whose valour did your odds in men oppose ? 

Turn o'er the annals of your vaunted fights, 

Which made you late the People's favourites ; 

Begin your course at Naseby, and from thence 

Draw out your marches' full circumference, 90 

Bridgwater, Bristol, Dartmouth, with the rest 

Of your well-plotted renders in the West; 

Then to the angry North your compass bend. 

Until your spent career in Scotland end, 

(This is the perfect scale of our mishap 

Which measures out your conquest by the map), 

And tell me he that can. What have you won. 

Which long before your progress was not done? 

What castle was besieg'd, what Port, what Town, 

You were not sure to carry ere sat down ? 100 

There needed no granadoes, no petard, 

To force the passage, or disperse the guard. 

No, your good masters sent a Golden Ram 

To batter down the gates against you came. 

Those blest Reformers, who procur'd the Swede 

His armed forces into Denmark lead, 

'Mongst them to kindle a sharp war for hire, 

Who in mere pity meant to quench our fire, 

Could where they pleased, with the King's own coin, 

Divert his aids, and strengths at home purloin. no 

Upon sea voyages I sometimes find 
Men trade with Lapland witches for a wind. 
And by those purchas'd gales, quick as their thought, 
To the desired port are safely brought. 
We need not here on skilful Hopkins call. 
The State's allow'd Witch-finder General. 

82, 85 I would have left the capitals for the ' Yous' in these lines, as I have already' 
done in other places, because they not improperly further emphasize that emphatic use 
of the pronoun in different parts of the line which Dryden afterwards perfected. But 
unfortunately they are not uniformly used, or even in the majority of cases — which 
shows how utterly haphazard and irrational this capitalization was. 

105 [The Swedes hired anno 1644, ^o invade the King of Denmark, provided to 
assist his nephew, the King of England.] 

115 Hopkins] Hannah only knew for a certainty that the scoundrel Matthew was 
'swum' for a wizard, and had to put a 'probably' as to his being executed. There 
seems to be no doubt (see D.N.B.) that the great and glorious 'Herb Pantagruelion ' 
had its own, and that Hopkins was hanged in 1647, before the date of this poem. But 
in that distracted time King, like his editor, may easily have been unaware of it. 

( 249 ) 

Henry King 

For (though Rebellion wants no cad nor elf, 

But is a perfect witchcraft of itself) 

We could with little help of art reveal 

Those learn'd magicians with whom you deal : lao 

We all your juggles, both for time and place, 

From Derby-house to Westminster can trace, 

The circle where the factious jangle meet 

To trample Law and Gospel under feet ; 

In which, like bells rung backward, they proclaim 

The Kingdom by their wild-fire set on flame, 

And, quite perverting their first rules, invent 

What mischief may be done by Parliament : 

We know your holy flamens, and can tell 

What spirits vote within the Oracle; 130 

Have found the spells and incantations too, 

By whose assistance you such wonders do. 

For divers years the credit of your wars 

Hath been kept up by these Familiars, 

Who, that they may their providence express. 

Both find you pay, and purchase your success : 

No wonder then you must the garland wear, 

Who never fought but with a silver spear. 

We grant the war's unhappy consequence. 
With all the num'rous plagues which grow from thence, 140 
Murders and rapes, threats of disease and dearth, 
From you as for the proper Spring take birth ; 
You may for laws enact the public wrongs, 
With all foul violence to them belongs ; 
May bawl aloud the people's right and pow'r. 
Till by your sword you both of them devour 
(For this brave liberty by you upcried 
Is to all others but yourselves denied). 
May with seditious fires the land embroil, 

And, in pretence to quench them, take the spoil; 150 

You may Religion to your lust subdue, 
For these are actions only worthy you : 
Yet when your projects, crown'd with wish'd event. 
Have made you masters of the ill you meant, 
You never must the soldiers' glory share. 
Since all your trophies executions are: 
Not thinking your successes understood. 
Unless recorded and scor'd up in blood. 

In which, to gull the people, you pretend, 
That Military Justice was your end; 160 

1 17 An early literary use of ' cad ' for assistant or understrapper. 

142 Instead of ' for' Hannah, who very seldom meddled with his text, suggested 
' from'. The temptation is obvious, but I think 'for' is possible, and therefore prefer- 
able as lectio difficilior. 

160 Military Justice] [See the letter sent to Edward Earl of Manchester, Speaker of 
the House of Peers, pro tempore^ from T. Fairfax, dated August 29, 1648, at Hieth.] 
( 250 ) 

Elegy on Sir C, Lucas and Sir G, Lisle 

As if we still were blind, not knowing this 

To all your other virtues suited is; 

Who only act by your great grandsires' law, 

The butcher Cade, Wat Tyler, and Jack Straw, 

Whose principle was murder, and their sport 

To cut off those they fear'd might do them hurt : 

Nay, in your actions we completed find 

What by those Levellers was but design'd. 

For now Committees, and your arm'd supplies, 

Canton the land in petty tyrannies, 170 

And for one King of commons in each shire, 

Four hundred Commons rule as tyrants here. 

Had you not meant the copies of each deed 

Should their originals in ill exceed. 

You would not practice sure the Turkish art. 

To ship your taken pris'ners for a mart, 

Lest if with freedom they at home remain. 

They should (which is your terror) fight again. 

A thing long since by zealous Rigby moved. 

And by the faction like himself approv'd ; 180 

Though you uncounsell'd can such outrage try, 

Scarce sampled from the basest enemy. 

Naseby of old, and late St. Fagan's fare, 

Of these inhuman truckings witness are ; 

At which the captiv'd Welsh, in couples led, 

Were marketed, like cattle, by the head. 

According to Royalist accounts there were, even in Parliament, speakers bold enough 
and impartial enough to object to this letter, and to give voice to the common behef that 
the execution was either an act of private vengeance, or a deliberate affront to the King, 
or a device to make the pending negotiations with him impossible. It must be re- 
membered that it was three months before the ' Purge ' had deprived the Commons of 
the last remnant of independence or representative quality. 

170 petty tyrannies] [Wat Tyler and his complices' design was to take away 
the King and chief men, and to erect petty tyrannies to themselves in every shire. 
And already one Littistar, a dyer, had taken upon him in Norfolk the name of King of 
Commons, and Robert Westbom in Suffolk, Richard il, anno 1381. Speed.'] This note 
from Speed is not exactly quoted and Hannah corrected it, but the variations are of no 

176 There is no doubt about the selling of prisoners as convict-slaves to the West 
Indies (if not, as Rigby proposed, to Algiers) by the Roundheads after the second 
Civil War. Unluckily James II — born in this and other cases to be the curse of 
English Royal ism — took the reproach away from the other side by authorizing the 
practice after Sedgmoor. 

179 The particular bearer of this name of evil repute in Parliamentary history was 
Alexander Rigby (1594-1650). He had a brother, Joseph, whose politics were as bad 
as his own, but who survived the Restoration, and seems to have had a touch of the 
' crank ' in him. I have not yet come across his Drunkard's Prospective (1656), but it 
should be agreeable. 

183 The savagery of the two-to-one victors at Naseby — especially towards the hap- 
less so-called * Irishwomen ' camp followers — is beyond question, but it does not seem 
proved that there was much selling of prisoners then. As for St. Fagan's in the second 
Civil War the case is different, and justifies the following note in the original: 'At 
St. Fagan's in Glamorganshire, near Cardiff, the Welsh unarmed were taken in very 
great numbers, and sold for twelve pence apiece to certain merchants, who bought 
them fcr slaves to their plantations.' 

( ^51 ) 

He?iry King 

Let it no more in History be told 

That Turks their Christian slaves for aspers sold ; 

When we the Saints selling their brethren see, 

Who had a Call (they say) to set them free; 190 

And are at last by right of conquest grown 

To claim our land of Canaan for their own. 

Though luckless Colchester in this outvies 

Argiers' or Tunis' shameful merchandise ; 

Where the starv'd soldier (as th' agreement was) 

Might not be suffer'd to their dwelling pass, 

Till, led about by some insulting band. 

They first were show'd in triumph through the land : 

In which, for lack of diet, or of strength. 

If any fainted through the march's length, 200 

Void of the breasts of men, this murd'rous crew 

All those they could drive on no further, slew ; 

What bloody riddle 's this ? They mercy give, 

Yet those who should enjoy it, must not live. 

Indeed we cannot less from such expect. 
Who for this work of ruin are elect : 
This scum drawn from the worst, who never knew 
The fruits which from ingenuous breeding grew ; 
But take such low commanders on their lists. 
As did revolted Jeroboam priests: 210 

That 'tis our fate, I fear, to be undone. 
Like Egypt once with vermin overrun. 
If in the rabble some be more refin'd. 
By fair extractions of their birth or mind, 
Ev'n these corrupted are by such allays, 
That no impression of their virtue stays. 
As gold, embased by some mingled dross, 
Both in its worth and nature suffers loss. 

Else, had that sense of honour still surviv'd 
Which Fairfax from his ancestors deriv'd, no 

He ne'er had show'd himself, for hate or fear. 
So much degen'rous from renowned Vere 
(The title and alliance of whose son 
His acts of valour had in Holland won), 
As to give up, by his rash dooming breath, 
This precious pair of lives to timeless death ; 

188 aspers] A Turkish coin of the smallest value: the 120th part of a piastre or 

201 murd'rous crew] [Grimes, now a Captain, formerly a tinker at St. Albans, with 
his own hand killed four of the prisoners, being not able for faintness to go on with the 
rest, of which number Lieutenant Woodward was one. Likewise at Thame, and 
at Whateley ( = Wheatley), some others were killed.] This story is backed up by 
not a few similar ones in different accounts of the time. And indeed, as King very 
cogently goes on to argue, your tinker-captain is capable of anything. 

222 It was Sir Horace Vere (1565-1635), afterwards Lord Vere of Tilbury, under 
whom Fairfax served, and whose daughter Anne he married. 

( 252 ) 

Elegy on Sir C, Lucas and Sir G. Lisle 

Whom no brave enemy but would esteem, 

And, though with hazard of his own, redeem. 

For 'tis not vainly by the world surmis'd, 

This blood to private spleens was sacrific'd. 330 

Half of the guilt stands charg'd on Whalley's score 

By Lisle affronted on his guards before; 

For which his spite by other hands was shown, 

Who never durst dispute it with his own. 

Twice guilty coward ! first by vote, then eye, 

Spectator of the shameful tragedy. 

But Lucas elder cause of quarrel knew. 

From whence his critical misfortune grew ; 

Since he from Berkeley Castle with such scorn 

Bold Ransborough's first summons did return, 240 

Telling him loudly at the parley's beat. 

With rogues and rebels he disdain'd to treat. 

Some from this hot contest the world persuade 
His sleeping vengeance on that ground was laid : 
If so, for ever blurr'd with Envy's brand. 
His honour gain'd by sea, was lost at land : 
Nor could he an impending judgement shun, 
Who did to this with so much fervour run. 
When late himself, to quit that bloody stain. 
Was, 'midst his armed guards, from Pomfret slain. 350 

But all in vain we here expostulate 
What took them hence, private or public hate : 
Knowledge of acted woes small comforts add, 
When no repair proportion'd can be had : 
And such are ours, which to the kingdom's eyes 
Sadly present ensuing miseries, 
P^oretelling in These Two some greater ill 
From those who now a patent have to kill. 
Two, whose dear loss leaves us no recompense, 
Nor them atonement, which in weight or sense 260 

With These shall never into balance come. 
Though all the army fell their hecatomb. 
Here leave them then ; and be 't our last relief 
To give their merit value in our grief. 
Whose blood however yet neglected must 
Without revenge or rites mingle with dust ; 

331 Whalley (spelt, as often with the name, Whaley in printed original) is cleared 
by others, though he is said by them as \>y King to have been present and to have had 
some private grudge against Lisle. Lucas had not only thrown Fairfax's troops into 
disorder at Marston Moor but is said by some to have actually wounded him in the face. 
He had also held Berkeley Castle against Rans- or Ra««sborough till the outworks were 
taken, and the guns turned from them on the Castle itself. Rainsborough, with 
Whalley and Ireton, was actually present at the execution — which as a duty could 
hardly be incumbent on all three, and with which they were often reproached ; and as 
a matter of course Rainsborough's death shortly afterwards was counted as a ' judge- 
ment '. His father had been an officer in the Navy, and the son commanded both by 
sea and land. 

( ^53 ) 

Henry King 

Not any falling drop shall ever dry, 

Till to a weeping spring it multiply, 

Bath'd in whose tears their blasted laurel shall 

Grow green, and with fresh garlands crown their fall. 270 

From this black region then of Death and Night, 

Great Spirits, take your everlasting flight : 

And as your valour's mounting fires combine, 

May they a brighter constellation shine 

Than Gemini, or than the brother-stars, 

Castor and Pollux, fortunate to wars; 

That all fair soldiers, by your sparkling light, 

May find the way to conquer, when they fight. 

And by those patterns which from you they take, 

Direct their course through Honour's Zodiac : a8o 

But upon traitors frown with dire aspect. 

Which may their perjuries and guilt reflect ; 

Unto the curse of whose nativity, 

Prodigious as the Caput Algol be, 

Whose pale and ghastly tresses still portend 

Their own despair or hangman for their end. 

And that succeeding ages may keep safe 

Your lov'd remembrance in some Epitaph, 

Upon the ruins of your glorious youth. 

Inscribed be this monumental truth : 290 

Here lie the valiant Lucas and brave Lisle, 
With Amasa betray'd in Joab's smile : 
In whom, revenge of Honour taking place. 
His great corival 's stabb'd in the embrace. 

And as it was the Hebrew Captain's stain. 

That he two greater than himself had slain, 

Shedding the blood of War in lime of Peace, 

When love pretended was, and arms did cease, 

May the foul murderers expect a fate 

Like Joab's, blood with blood to expiate ; 300 

Which, quick as lightning, and as thunder sure. 

Preventions wisest arts nor shun, nor cure. 

O may it fall on their perfidious head ! 

That when, with Joab to the Altar fled. 

Themselves the sword and reach of vengeance flee, 

No Temple may their sanctuary be. 

Last, that nor frailty nor devouring time 
May ever lose impressions of the crime, 
Let loyal Colchester (who too late tried 

To check, when highest wrought, the Rebels' pride, 310 

Holding them long and doubtful at the bay, 
Whilst we, by looking on, gave all away), 

284 Algol] A star of great but varying brightness, the name of which — ' The ghoul' 
-and its position in the head of Medusa in the constellation Perseus, explains the text. 
311 long and doubtful] Fairfax, to enhance his exploit, called it 'four months close 
( 254 ) 



Sir C. Lucas and Sir G. Lisle 

Be only nam'd : which, like a Column built, 
Shall both enhearse this blood unnobly spilt, 
And live, till all her towers in rubbish lie, 
The monuments of their base cruelty. 

An Elegy upon the most Incomparable King 
Charles the First. 

Call for amazed thoughts, a wounded sense 
And bleeding hearts at our intelligence. 
Call for that Trump of Death, the Mandrake's groan 
Which kills the hearers : this befits alone 
Our story which through times vast Calendar, 
Must stand without example or repair. 
What spouts of melting clouds, what endless springs 
Pour'd in the Ocean's lap for offerings, 
Shall feed the hungry torrent of our grief. 
Too mighty for expression or belief? lo 

Though all those moistures which the brain attracts 
Ran from our eyes like gushing cataracts. 
Or our sad accents could out-tongue the cries 
Which did from mournful Hadadrimmon rise. 
Since that remembrance of Josiah slain 
In our King's murder is reviv'd again. 

O pardon me that but from Holy Writ 
Our loss allows no parallel to it : 

siege'. It was actually not quite eleven weeks, but the place yielded to nothing but 

An Elegy upon King Charles the First."] I have thought it desirable to give this Elegy 
though Hannah did not, and though I scarcely myself think it to be King's, first 
because it is very little known (it was strange even to Professor Firth when I asked 
him about it) ; secondly, because the 1664 issue or reissue seems worth completing ; 
but thirdly, and principally, because it is well worth giving. It seems to me, in fact, 
rather too good in a certain way to be King's. He could write, as we have seen, fairly 
vigorous couplets of a kind rather later than this date ; but I do not know where he 
keeps up such continuous and effective ' slogging ' as here. The Colchester piece, which 
is the natural parallel, is distinctly inferior in that respect. There are, moreover, in 
the piece some things which I suspect King would not, as well as could not, have 
written, and which perhaps influenced Hannah in not giving it. The close and effective 
Biblical parallels are not quite in the Bishop's way in verse, and the clear vigorous 
summary of the whole rebellion — dates and facts in margin — is like nothing else of his 
that I know. But — his or not his — it is found with his undoubted work ; it is good ; 
and so it shall be given. 

But the reader must not suppose that it has never appeared except in the 1664 King 
or before that. While reading for the present edition I had noticed an entry of a very 
similar title in Hazlitt, and on looking the book up in the British Museum I found it, as 
I expected, to be identical in all important respects, putting aside some minor variants 
and a shorter title, with 1664. The original (in black border at least an inch deep) adds: 
' Persecuted by two implacable factions, Imprisoned by the one and murthered by the 
other, January 30th, 1648.' The final prose clause is the same, and I noticed no various 
readings, except merest 'literals' — an occasional capital for lower case, '-or' for '-our', 
and the like — which it did not seem necessary to collate or report exactly. 

Title] As usual, ' Chads ' in original. 

14 Zechariah xii. 11 compared with 2 Kings xxiii. 29 and 2 Chronicles xxxv. 22-4. 

( ^55 ) 

Henry Ki?tg 

Nor call it bold presumption that I dare 

Charles with the best of Judah's Kings compare : 20 

The virtues of whose life did I prefer 

The text acquits me for no flatterer. 

For he like David perfect in his trust, 

Was never stain'd like him, with blood or lust. 

One who with Solomon in judgement tried, 
Was quick to comprehend, wise to decide 
(That even his Judges stood amaz'd to hear 
A more transcendent mover in their sphere), 
Though more religious : for when doting love 
Awhile made Solomon apostate prove, 3° 

Charles ne'er endur'd the Truth which he profest, 
To be unfix'd by bosom-interest. 
Bold as Jehosaphat, yet forc'd to fight, 
And for his own, no unconcerned right. 
Should I recount his constant time of pray'r. 
Each rising morn and ev'ning regular. 
You'd say his practice preach'd, 'They ought not eat 
Who by devotion first not earn'd their meat : ' 
Thus Hezekiah he exceeds in zeal, 

Though not (like him) so facile to reveal 40 

The treasures of God's House, or His own heart, 
To be supplanted by some foreign art. 
And that he might in fame with Joash share 
When he the ruin'd Temple did repair, 
His cost on Paul's late ragged fabric spent 
Must (if no other) be His monument. 

From this survey the kingdom may conclude 
His merits, and her losses' magnitude : 
Nor think he flatters or blasphemes, who tells 
That Charles exceeds Judea's parallels, 50 

In whom all virtues we concentred see —Spar- 

Which 'mongst the best of them divided be. ^mms '" 

O weak-built glories ! which those tempests feel ! /„ /g mhia 

To force you from your firmest bases reel, flimnt — 

What from the strokes of Chance shall you secure, Claudian. 

When rocks of Innocence are so unsure? 
When the World's only mirror slaughter'd lies. 
Envy's and Treason's bleeding sacrifice ; 

27 This line is slightly ambiguous. At first one takes 'Judges' as referring to the 
regicide tribunal — and of course not merely the dignity but the unanswerable logic of 
Charles's attitude is admitted. But our elegist would hardly admit that the King 
moved in the sphere of his rebellious subjects, so that it may be a reference to the 
legally constituted bench of earlier years — 'A/s Judges' in another sense. 

40 See 2 Kings xx, 2 Chronicles xxxii, and Isaiah xxxix. 

45 A little prosaic. Old St. Paul's was being constantly tinkered : indeed, as is 
well known from Evelyn's Diary, there were plans for very extensive restoration just 
before the Kire. 

48 Orig. 'losses ', which at the time would stand equally well for singular and plural 

58 Orig. ' sacrifice ', to get a complete ear-rhyme. 

( ^56 ) 

An Elegy upon Charles the First 

As if His stock of goodness could become 
No kalendar, but that of martyrdom. 

See now, ye cursed mountebanks of State, 
Who have eight years for reformations sate ; 
You who dire Alva's counsels did transfer, 
To act his scenes on England's theatre ; 
You who did pawn yourselves in public faith 
To slave the Kingdom by your pride and wrath \ 
Call the whole World to witness now, how just, 
How well you are responsive to your trust, 
How to your King the promise you perform, 
With fasts, and sermons, and long prayers sworn. 
That you intended Peace and Truth to bring 
To make your Charles Europe's most glorious Kitig. 
Did you for this Lift up your hands on high, 
To kill the King, and pluck down Monarchy ? 
These are the fruits by your wild faction sown. 
Which not imputed are, but born your own : 
For though you wisely seem to wash your hands, 
The guilt on every vote and order stands ; 
So that convinc'd, from all you did before, 
Justice must lay the murder at your door. 
Mark if the body does not bleed anew. 
In any circumstance approach'd by You, 
From whose each motion we might plain descry 
The black ostents of this late tragedy. 
For when the King, through storms in Scotland bred, 
To his Great Council for his shelter fled. 
When in that meeting every error gain'd 
Redresses sooner granted than complain'd : 
Not all those frank concessions or amends 
Did suit the then too powerful faction's ends : 
No acts of Grace at present would content, 
Nor promise of Triennial Parl'ament, 
Till by a formal law the King had past 
This Session should at Your pleasure last. 

So having got the bit, and that 'twas known 
No power could dissolve You but Your own, 
Your graceless Junto make such use of this, 
As once was practis'd by Semiramis ; 
Who striving by a subtile suit to prove 
The largeness of her husband'[s] trust and love. 
Did from the much abused King obtain 
That for three days she might sole empress reign ; 
Before which time expir'd, the bloody wife 
Depriv'd her lord both of his crown and life. 


CaWd the 
Council of 

The form of 
taking the 
June 1643. 




lib. 2. 

61 This apostrophe to the ' cursed mountebanks of State ' is uncommonly vigorous, 
and much straighten 'hitting from the shoulder' than King usually manages. 

loo Orig. ' husband 

( m ) 

without 'Sj and possibly intended. 


Henry King 


1 20 strance of 
the State of 
the King- 
dom, Dec. 
15, 164 1. 

There needs no comment when your deeds apply 
The demonstration of her treachery. 

Which to effect, by Absolon's foul wile 
You of the people's heart your prince beguile ; 
Urging what eases they might reap by it 
Did you their legislative Judges sit. 
How did you fawn upon, and court the rout, 
Whose clamour carried your whole plot about? 
How did you thank seditious men that came 
To bring petitions which yourselves did frame? 
And lest they wanted hands to set them on, 
You led the way by throwing the first stone. 
For in that libel after midnight born. 
Wherewith your faction labour'd till the mom. 
That famous lie, you a Remonstrance name; 
Were not reproaches your malicious aim ? 
Was not the King's dishonour your intent, 
By slanders to traduce his Government? 
All which your spiteful cunning did contrive; 
Men must receive through your false perspective. 
In which the smallest spots improved were, 
And every mote a mountain did appear. 
Thus Caesar by th' ungrateful Senate found 
His life assaulted through his honour's wound. 

And now to make Him hopeless to resist. 
You guide his sword by vote, which as you list 
Must strike or spare (for so you did enforce 
His hand against His reason to divorce 
Brave Strafford's life), then wring it quite away 
By your usurping each MiHtia : 
Then seize His magazines, of which possest 
You turn the weapons 'gainst their master's breast. 

This done, th' unkennell'd crew of lawless men 
Led down by Watkins, Pennington, and Venn, 
Did with confused noise the Court invade; 
Then all Dissenters in both houses bay'd. 
At which the King amaz'd is forc'd to fly, 
The whilst your mouth's laid on maintain the cry. 

The Royal game dislodg'd and under chase. 
Your hot pursuit dogs Him from place to place : 
Not Saul with greater fury or disdain 
Did flying David from Jeshimon's plain 
Unto the barren wilderness pursue. 
Than cours'd and hunted is the King by you. 

124 perspective] As commonly = 'telescope '. 

138 Watkins I know not; Pennington we have seen in Cleveland; Venn (1586-1650) 
was John Venn, wool-merchant, M.P., active rebel, and regicide. 

142 This (original) may read, * Your mouths, laid on, maintain the cry ', which seems 
most probable ; or, ' Your mouth 's \t. e. is] laid on " Maintain the cry ".' 

146 I Samuel xxiii. 24. Jeshimon seems to have escaped Alexander the Concordance- 

( ^68) 


Ord. Feb. 
29, Voted 
March 15. 
77?^ Nanv 
seiz'd Mar. 
28, 1642. 

Jan. 10, 


An Elegy upon Charles the First 

The mountain partridge or the chased roe 

Might now for emblems of His fortune go, 150 

And since all other May-games of the town 

(Save those yourselves should make) were voted down, 

The clam'rous pulpit hoUaes in resort. 

Inviting men to your King-catching sport. 

Where as the foil grows cold you mend the scent 

By crying Privilege of Parliament, 

Whose fair pretensions the first sparkles are, 

Which by your breath blown up enflame the war, 

And Ireland (bleeding by design) the stale 

Wherewith for men and money you prevail. 160 

Yet doubting that imposture could not last, 
When all the Kingdom's mines of treasure waste, 
You now tear down Religion's sacred hedge 
To carry on the work by sacrilege; 
Reputing it Rebellion's fittest pay 
To take both God's and Caesar's dues away. 

The tenor of which execrable vote 
Your over-active zealots so promote, 
That neither tomb, nor temple could escape, 
Nor dead nor living, your licentious rape. 170 

Statues and grave-stones o'er men buried 
Robb'd of their brass, the * coffins of their lead ; 
Not the seventh Henry's gilt and curious screen, 
Nor those which 'mongst our rarities were seen. 
The * chests wherein the Saxon monarchs lay, 
But must be basely sold or thrown away. 
May in succeeding times forgotten be 
Those bold examples of impiety. 
Which were the Ages' wonder and discourse. 
You have their greatest ills improv'd by worse. 180 

No more be mention'd Dionysius' theft. 
Who of their gold the heathen shrines bereft; 
For who with Yours his robberies confer, 
Must him repute a petty pilferer. 
Nor Julian's scoff, who when he view'd the state 
Of Antioch's Church, the ornaments and plate. 
Cried, Meaner vessels would serve turn, or none 
Might well become the birth of Mary's Son : 

Nor how that spiteful Atheist did in scorn 
Piss on God's Table, which so oft had borne 190 

The Hallow'd Elements, his death present : 
Nor he that foul'd it with his excrement, 
Then turn'd the cloth unto that act of shame, 
Which without trembHng Christians should not name. 

sold Dec. 
29, 1643. 
* At Win. 

1. 2, c. 4. 

Theodoret , 

1. 3, c- "• 

1. 6. 

155 foil] The word in this sense had puzzled me; but the readers of the Clarendon 
Press put me literally on it by reference to N.E.D. It means the 'scent' or 'track' 
of a hunted animal and occurs in the first sense in Turbervile, and elsewhere, as well as 
(figuratively used) in as late and well-known a place as Torn Jones. 

( 259 ) S 2 

Henry King 

Nor John of Leyden, who the pillag'd quires 
Employ'd in Munster for his own attires; 
His pranks by Hazlerig exceeded be, 
A wretch more wicked and as mad as he, 
Who once in triumph led his sumpter moil 
Proudly bedecked with the Altar's spoil. 

Nor at Bizantium's sack how Mahomet 
In St. Sophia's Church his horses set. 
Nor how Belshazzar at his drunken feasts 
Carous'd in holy vessels to his guests : 

Nor he that did the books and anthems tear, 
Which in the daily Stations used were. 

These were poor essays of imperfect crimes, 
Fit for beginners in unlearned times, 
Siz'd only for that dull meridian 
Which knew no Jesuit nor Puritan 
(Before whose fatal birth were no such things 
As doctrines to depose and murder kings). 
But since your prudent care enacted well. 
That there should be no King in Israel, 
England must write such annals of your reign 
Which all records of elder mischiefs stain. 

Churches unbuilt by order, others burn'd ; 
Whilst Paul's and Lincoln are to stables turn'd; 
And at God's Table you might horses see 
By (those more beasts) their riders manger'd be, 
Some kitchens and some slaughter-houses made, 
Communion-boards and cloths for dressers laid : 
Some turn'd to loathsome goals, so by you brought 
Unto the curse of Baal's house, a draught. 
The Common Prayers with the Bibles torn, 
The copes in antic Moorish dances worn, 
And sometimes, for the wearer's greater mock, 
,The surplice is converted to a frock. 
Some, bringing dogs, the Sacrament revile, 
Some, with Copronymus, the Font defile. 
O God ! canst Thou these profanations Hke } 
If not, why is Thy thunder slow to strike 
The cursed authors? who dare think that Thou 
Dost, when not punish them, their acts allow. 
All which outrageous crimes, though your pretence 
Would fasten on the soldiers' insolence, 
We must believe, that what by them was done 
Came licens'd forth by your probation. 


The Carpet 


to the Corti- 


Table of 



Dec. 18, 




a 10 


At Winch - 
comb in 


199 'Moil' — or rather, more commonly, 'moyle' — is very common for 'mule' in 
Elizabethan drama, and is said to be still dialectic, especially in Devon and Cornwall. 

223 * Goal' would seem here to be used as =' Jakes', though it has been suggested 
that the common sense of 'jail ' will do. 

226 Orig. ' Coaps '. 

238 ' probation ' must here = ' a/probation '. 

( 260 ) 

An Elegy upon Charles the First 

For, as yourselves with Athaliah's brood 

In strong contention for precedence stood, 240 Whitehall, 

You robb'd two Royal Chapels of their plate, Windsor, 

Which Kings and Queens to God did dedicate ; ^^b. 3, 

Then by a vote more sordid than the stealth, ^ '*3- 

Melt down and coin it for the Commonwealth, 

That is, giv't up to the devouring jaws 

Of your great Idol Bel, new styl'd The Cause. 

And though this monster you did well devise 

To feed by plunder, taxes, loans, excise ; 

(All which provisions You the people tell 

Scarce serve to diet Your Pantagruel). 250 

We no strew'd ashes need to trace the cheat. 

Who plainly see what mouths the messes eat. 

Brave Reformation ! and a through one too, 
Which to enrich yourselves must all undo. 
Pray tell us (those that can). What fruits have grown 
From all Your seeds in blood and treasure sown? 
What would you mend ? when Your projected State 
Doth from the best in form degenerate? 
Or why should You (of all) attempt the cure, 
Whose facts nor Gospel's test nor Law's endure? 260 
But like unwholesome exhalations met 
From Your conjunction only plagues beget, 
And in Your circle, as imposthumes fill 
Which by their venom the whole body kill ; 
For never had You pow'r but to destroy. 
Nor will, but where You conquer'd to enjoy. 

This was Your master-prize, who did intend 
To make both Church and Kingdom's prey Your end. 
'Gainst which the King (plac'd in the gap) did strive 
By His (till then unquestion'd) negative, 270 

Which finding You lack'd reason to persuade, 
Your arguments are into weapons made ; 
So to compel him by main force to yield. 

You had a formed army in the field E. of Essex 

Before his reared standard could invite Army, 

Ten men upon his Righteous Cause to fight : ■^"S- ^1 

Yet ere those raised forces did advance, ^j-^^^' 

Your malice struck him dead by Ordinance, standard 

When your Commissions the whole Kingdom swept at Notting- 

With blood and slaughter, Not the King except. 280 ham, Aug. 

Now hard'ned in revolt. You next proceed '^Sj 1642. 

By pacts to strengthen each rebellious deed, 

246 Orig. ' Idol Bel/', which may puzzle for a moment. Of course the Dragon's 
companion and Nebo's is meant. The poet seems indeed rather to have mixed up the 
monster and the false god. 

250 Here again there seems to be a slight confusion between Pantagruel and his 
{rlorious father. 

265-6 Another uncommonly vigorous couplet. 

( ^61 ) 

Henry Ki?ig 

New oaths and vows, and Covenants advance, 

All contradicting your allegiance, 

Whose sacred knot you plainly did untie, 

When you with Essex swore to live and die. 

These were your calves in Bethel and in Dan, 

Which Jeroboam's treason stablish can, 

Who by strange pacts and altars did seduce 

The people to their laws' and King's abuse ; 390 

All which but serve like Shibboleth to try 

Those who pronounc'd not your conspiracy ; 

That when your other trains defective are, 

P'orc'd oaths might bring refusers to the snare. 

And lest those men your counsels did pervert, 

Might when your fraud was seen the Cause desert, 

A fierce decree is through the Kingdom sent. 

Which made it death for any to repent. 

What strange dilemmas doth Rebellion make? 

'Tis mortal to deny, or to partake : 300 

Some hang who would not aid your traitorous act. 

Others engag'd are hang'd if they retract. 

So witches who their contracts have unsworn, 

By their own Devils are in pieces torn. 

Thus still the raging tempest higher grows. 
Which in extremes the King's resolvings throws. 
The face of Ruin everywhere appears, 
And acts of outrage multiply our fears ; 
Whilst blind Ambition by successes fed 
Hath You beyond the bound of subjects led, 310 

Who tasting once the sweet of regal sway. 
Resolving now no longer to obey. 
For Presbyterian pride contests as high 
As doth the Popedom for supremacy. 
Needs must you with unskilful Phaeton 
Aspire to guide the chariot of the Sun, 
Though your ill-govern'd height with lightning be 
Thrown headlong from his burning axle-tree. 
You will no more petition or debate. 
But your desire in Propositions state, 330 

Which by such rules and ties the King confine, 
They in effect are summons to resign. 
Therefore your war is manag'd with such sleight, 
Twas seen you more prevail'd by purse than might ; 
And those you could not purchase to your will, 
You brib'd with sums of money to sit still. 

The King by this time hopeless here of peace, 
Or to procure His wasted People's ease, 

June 37, 

tion and 
of Pari, 
Aug. 15, 

History of 





p. 320. 

The 19 


312 The writer either intended to continue the set of participles or forgot that he had 
begun it. But if ' For Presbyterian . . . supremacy ' be thrown into parenthesis the 
anacoluthon will be mended— after a fashion. 

( 262 ) 

An E/egy upon Charles the First 

Which He in frequent messages had tried, 

By you as oft as shamelessly denied ; 330 

Wearied by faithless friends and restless foes, 

To certain hazard doth His life expose : 

When through your quarters in a mean disguise April 27, 

He to His countrymen for succour flies, J^46. 

Who met a brave occasion then to save i6^6^ 

Their native King from His untimely grave : 

Had he from them such fair reception gain'd, 

Wherewith ev'n Achish David entertain'd : 

But faith to Him or hospitable laws 

In your Confederate Union were no clause, 340 

Which back to you their rend'red Master sends 

To tell how He was us'd among his friends. 

Far be it from my thoughts by this black line 

To measure all within that warlike clime ; 

The still admir'd Montrose some numbers led 

In his brave steps of loyalty to tread. 

I only tax a furious party there, 

Who with our native pests enleagued were. 

Then 'twas you follow'd Him with hue and cry, 

Made midnight searches in each liberty, 350 

Voting it Death to all without reprieve, This Order 

Who should their Master harbour or relieve. t**^h^^'i^f 

Ev'n in pure pity of both Nations' fame, Dnm' 

I wish that act in story had no name. May 4', 

When all your mutual stipulations are 1646. 

Converted at Newcastle to a fair. 

Where (like His Lord) the King the mart is made, 

Bought with Your money, and by them betrayed ; 

For both are guilty, they that did contract. 

And You that did the fatal bargain act. 360 

Which who by equal reason shall peruse, 

Must yet conclude, they had the best excuse : 

For doubtless they (good men) had never sold, 

But that you tempted them with English gold ; 

And 'tis no wonder if with such a sum 

Our brethren's frailty might be overcome. 

What though hereafter it may prove their lot 

To be compared with Iscariot ? 

Yet will the World perceive which was most wise, 

And who the nobler traitor by the price ; 370 

For though 'tis true both did themselves undo. 

They made the better bargain of the two, 

Which all may reckon who can difference 

Two hundred thousand pounds from thirty-pence. 

However something is in justice due. 
Which may be spoken in defence of You ; 

373-4 Good again ; and with a fore-echo of Dryden's ' Shimei ' rhythm and swash- 
ing blow. 

( 263 ) 

Hefiry King 

For in your Master's purchase you gave more, 

Than all your Jewish kindred paid before. 

And had you wisely us'd what then you bought, 

Your act might be a loyal ransom thought, 380 

To free from bonds your captive sovereign, 

Restoring Him to his lost Crown again. 

But You had other plots, your busy hate 
Plied all advantage on His fallen state. 
And show'd You did not come to bring Him bail. 
But to remove Him to a stricter gaol, 
To Holmby first, whence taken from His bed, 
He by an army was in triumph led ; 
Till on pretence of safety Cromwell's wile 
Had juggl'd Him into the Fatal Isle, 39° 

Where Hammond for his jailor is decreed, 
And murderous Rolf as lieger-hangman fee'd. 
Who in one fatal knot two counsels tie, 
He must by poison or by pistol die. 
Here now denied all comforts due to life, 
His friends, His children, and his peerless wife ; 
From Carisbrook He oft but vainly sends. 
And though first wrong'd, seeks to make you amends; 
For this He sues, and by His restless pen 
Importunes Your deaf ears to treat again. 400 

Whilst the proud faction scorning to go less, 
Return those trait'rous votes of Non Address, 

Which foUow'd were by th' Armies thund[ejring 

To act without and quite against the King. 

Yet when that cloud remov'd, and the clear light 

Drawn from His weighty reasons, gave You sight 

Of Your own dangers, had not their intents 

Retarded been by some cross accidents; 

Which for a while with fortunate suspense 

Check'd or diverted their swoll'n insolence: 410 

When the whole Kingdom for a Treaty cried, 

Which gave such credit to Your falling side. 

That you recall'd those votes, and God once more 

Your power to save the Kingdom did restore ; 

Remember how Your peevish Treators sate. 

Not to make peace, but to prolong debate; 

How You that precious time at first delay'd, 

And what ill use of Your advantage made. 

As if from Your foul hands God had decreed 

Nothing but war and mischief should succeed. 430 

For when by easy grants the King's assent 

Did your desires in greater things prevent, 

392 lieger-hangman] * Hangman resident ',' house-hangman '. 

403 Orig. 'Armies', with the usual choice between singular and plural genitive or 
(here) nominative plural. 

415 I think it well to keep the form 'Treator'. 

( ^64 ) 

Jan. 3, 
Jan. 9, 


June 30, 




July 28, 


An Elegy upon Charles the First 

When He did yield faster than You entreat, 

And more than modesty dares well repeat ; 

Yet not content with this, without all sense 

Or of His honour or His conscience. 

Still you press'd on, till you too late descried, 

'Twas now less safe to stay than be denied : 

For like a flood broke loose the armed rout. 

Then shut Him closer up, and shut You out, 430 

Who by just vengeance are since worried 

By those hand-wolves You for his ruin bred. 

Thus like two smoking firebrands, You and They 
Have in this smother chok'd the Kingdom's day : 
And as you rais'd them first, must share the guilt. 
With all the blood in those distractions spilt. 
For though with Sampson's foxes backward turn'd 
(When he Philistia's fruitful harvest burn'd), 
The face of your opinions stands averse. 

All your conclusions but one fire disperse ; 440 

And every line which carries your designs, 
In the same centre of confusion joins. 
Though then the Independents end the work, 
'Tis known they took their platform from the Kirk ; 
Though Pilate Bradshaw with his pack of Jews, 
God's High Vice-gerent at the bar accuse ; 
They but reviv'd the evidence and charge, 
Your pois'nous Declarations laid at large; 
Though they condemn'd or made his life their spoil, 
You were the setters forc'd him to the toil : 450 

For you whose fatal hand the warrant v.'rit, 
The prisoner did for execution fit ; 
And if their axe invade the Regal throat, 
Remember you first murder'd Him by vote. 
Thus they receive your tennis at the bound, 
Take off that head which you had first un-crown'd ; 
Which shows the texture of our mischief's clew, 
If ravell'd to the top, begins in You, 
Who have for ever stain'd the brave intents 
And credit of our English Parliaments : 460 

And in this one caus'd greater ills, and more, 
Than all of theirs did good that went before. 

Yet have You kept your word against Your will. 
Your King is great indeed and glorious still. 
And you have made Him so. We must impute 
That lustre which His sufferings contribute 

430 Pointed, if slightly burlesque. 

432 hand-wolves] A dog trained and on the leash was said to be ' in hand '. 

438 Philistia] The letter here is slightly ' smashed ' and the word might be 
' Philistins ' or ' Philistia's '. It looks more like the former, but the latter is better, 
and is said to be clear in Mr. Thorn-Drury's copies. 

444 platform] This is interesting. 

( 265 ) 

Henry Ki?ig 

To your preposterous wisdoms, who have done 

All your good deeds by contradiction : 

For as to work His peace you rais'd this strife, 

And often shot at Him to save His life ; 470 

As you took from Him to increase His wealth, 

And kept Him pris'ner to secure His health ; 

So in revenge of your dissembled spite. 

In this last wrong you did Him greatest right. 

And (cross to all You meant) by plucking down 

Lifted Him up to His Eternal Crown. 

With this encircled in that radiant sphere, 
Where thy black murderers must ne'er appear ; 
Thou from th' enthroned Martyrs' blood-stain'd line, 
Dost in thy virtues bright example shine. 480 

And when thy darted beam from the moist sky 
Nightly salutes thy grieving people's eye, 
Thou like some warning light rais'd by our fears, 
Shalt both provoke and still supply our tears. 
Till the Great Prophet wak'd from his long sleep. 
Again bids Sion for Josiah weep : 
That all successions by a firm decree 
May teach their children to lament for Thee, 

Beyond these mournful rites there is no art 
Or cost can Thee preserve. Thy better part 490 

Lives in despite of Death, and will endure 
Kept safe in thy unpattern'd Portraiture : 
Which though in paper drawn by thine own hand, 
Shall longer than Corinthian-marble stand. 
Or iron sculptures : There thy matchless pen 
Speaks Thee the Best of Kings as Best of Men : 
Be this Thy Epitaph ; for This alone 
Deserves to carry Thy Inscription. 
And 'tis but modest Truth (so may I thrive 
As not to please the best of thine alive, 500 

Or flatter my Dead Master, here would I 
Pay my last duty in a glorious lie) : 
In that admired piece the World may read 
Thy virtues and misfortunes storied; 
Which bear such curious mixture, men must doubt 
Whether Thou wiser wert or more devout. 

There live, Blest Relic of a saint-like mind. 
With honours endless, as Thy peace, enshrin'd ; 
Whilst we, divided by that bloody cloud. 
Whose purple mists Thy murder'd body shroud, 510 

Here stay behind at gaze : apt for Thy sake 
Unruly murmurs now 'gainst Heav'n to make. 
Which binds us to live well, yet gives no fence 
To guard her dearest sons from violence. 

492 Portraiture] A reference to the Iakwv BaaihiK-q. 
( 266 ) 

An Elegy upon Charles the First 

But he whose trump proclaims, Revenge is mine. 

Bids us our sorrow by our hope confine, 

And reconcile our Reason to our Faith, 

Which in thy Ruin such conclusions hath ; 

It dares conclude, God does not keep His Word 

If Zimri dies in peace that slew his Lord. 520 

From my sad Retirement 
March 11, 1648. 

CaroLUs stUart reX angLI/e seCUre CaesUs ^ 
VIta CessIt trICessIMo IanUarII. 

Poems in Manuscript. 

A Second Elegy on the Countess of Lemster. 

Sleep, precious ashes, in thy sacred urn 

From Death and Grave till th' last trump sounds return ; 

Meanwhile embalm'd in Virtues. Joseph's Tomb 

Were fitter for thee, than the Earth's dark womb. 

Cease, Friends, to weep ; she 's but asleep, not dead, — 

Chang'd from her husband's, to her mother's, bed ; 

Or from his bosom into Abram's rather, 

Where now she rests, Blest Soul, in such a father. 

Thus Death hath done his best, and worst. His best. 

In sending Virtue to her place of rest; xo 

His worst, in leaving him, as dead, in life 

Whose chiefest Joys were in his dearest Wife. 


Quid faciant leges, ubi sola pecunia regnat? &c. — Petron. Arbit. 

To what serve Laws, where only Money reigns? 
Or where a poor man's cause no right obtains ? 
Even those that most austerity pretend. 
Hire out their tongues, and words for profit lend. 

What 's Judgement then, but public merchandise ? 

And the Court sits, but to allow the price. 

1 Orig. Coesus. 

A Second Elegy on the Countess of Leinster.'\ Hannah found this in the Pickering MS. 
' immediately after ' the printed one v. supra. On what other grounds he assigned its 
subject I do not know ; but both, as noted above, have a most extraordinary efflor- 
escence of capitals. 

Epigrams.'] This Httle bunch of epigrams is of no particular value, but being so small 
may be given for completeness' sake. The first three Hannah found in both Pickering 
and Malone 22 MSS., together with V, which, I suppose, shocked him so that he did 
not print it. The Pro captii lectoris, which is the best, is in Malone only. 

( 267 ) 

Henry Kmg 


Casta suo gladium cum traderet Arria Paeto, &c. — Martial. 

When x\rria to her Paetus had bequeath'd 
The sword in her chaste bosom newly sheath'd ; 
Trust me (quoth she) My own wound feels no smart; 
'Tis thine (My Paetus) grieves and kills my heart 


Qui pelago credit, raagno se faenore tollit, &c. — Petron. Arbit, 

He whose advent'rous keel ploughs the rough seas, 

'Jakes interest of fate for wealth's increase. 

He that in battle traffics, and pitch'd fields, 

Reaps with his sword rich harvests, which war yields. 

Base parasites repose their drunken heads, 

Laden with sleep and wine, on Tyrian beds; 

And he that melts in Lust's adult'rous fire. 

Gets both reward and pleasure for his hire. 

But Learning only, midst this wanton heat. 

Hath (save itself) nothing to wear or eat; 

Faintly exclaiming on the looser Times, 

That value Wit and Arts below their crimes. 


Pro captu lectoris habent sua fata libelli. 

The fate of books is diverse as man's sense : 
Two critics ne er shar'd one intelligence. 


I WOULD not in my love too soon prevail : 
An easy conquest makes the purchase stale. ^ 

' From a copy most kindly made for me by Mr. Nichol Smith. It is a harmless 
enough, and rather neat, translation of Petronius, Nolo quod cupio, &c. 

( 268 ) 

Blessed Spirit^ thy infant breath 

The following group of poems has been printed by Mr. Mason, the first as authentic, 
the others as doubtful. He points out that The Complaint and On his Shadow are 
autograph, and written on the same sheet of paper as the lines Upon the Untimely 
Death of J. K. The text here printed has been supplied by Mr, Percy Simpson from 
the original MSS., and the few textual notes are his. In view of the uncertainty of 
the bulk of the matter I [G. S.] have not thought it worth while to add any annotation 
of the more general kind. In addition, Mr. Mason prints a translation of a Latin eleg^- 
on Dr. Spenser, President of Corpus Christi College, Oxford ; the Latin text of this in 
Rawlinson MS. D. 912, fol. 305 verso, is in King's autograph, but the translation 
is not, and moreover it is so tinkered and changed as to suggest the efforts of a far 
from facile, if very conscientious, copyist. This has not been printed, and only the 
first of the following poems can with certainty be ascribed to King. 

Upon the Untimely Death of J . K., first born of IK. 

Blessed Spirit, thy infant breath, 

Fitter for the quire of saints 

Than for mortals here beneath, 

Warbles joys, but mine complaints — 

Plaints that spring from that great loss 

Of thy little self, sad cross. 
Yet do I still repair thee by desire 
Which warms my benumbed sense, but like false fire. 

But with such delusive shapes 

Still my pensive thoughts are eased, 10 

As birds bating at mock grapes 

Are with empty error pleased. 

Yet I err not, for decay 

Hath but seized thy house of clay. 
For lo the lively image of each part 
Makes deep impression on my waxy heart. 

Thus learn I to possess the thing I want ; 

Having great store of thee, and yet great scant. 

Oh let me thus recall thee, ne'er repine, 

Since what is thy fate now, must once be mine. ao 

The Complaint. 

Fond, hapless man, lost in thy vain desire; 

Thy lost desire 

May now retire. 
She, like a salamander, in thy flame 

Sports with Love's name, 

And lives the same, 
Unsinged, impenetrably cold. 

Upon the Untimely Death of J. K., ^c] The text is taken from Rawlinson MS. 
D. 317 of the Bodleian, fol. 175 ; the monogram of the title was used by King. An 
unsigned copy is in Harleian MS. 6917 of the British Museum, foil. 96 verso-97 : 
this omits 'but', 1. 8. 

The Complaint.^ The text is taken from Rawlinson Poet. MS. D. 317, foL 161, 
where it is written, without title or signature, in King's autograph. There is a copy 
in Harleian MS. 6917, fol, 97, entitled The Complaint. 

4 thy] the Harl. MS. 

( 269 ) 

Henry King 

Sure, careless Boy, thou slep'st ; and Death, instead 

Of thine, conveyed 

His dart of lead. 'o 

This thou unluckily at her hast sent, 

Who now is bent 

Not to relent, 
Though thou spend all thy shafts of gold. 
I prithee filch another fatal dart 

And pierce my heart ; 

To ease this smart. 
Strike all my senses dull. Thy force devours 

Me and my powers 

In tedious hours, Jo 

And thy injustice I'll proclaim 
Or use some art to cause her heat return, 

Or whilst I burn 

Make her my urn, 
Where I may bury in a marble chest 

All my unrest. 

Thus her cold breast. 
If it but lodge, will quench, my flame. 

On his Shadow 

Come, my shadow, constant, true, 

Stay, and do not fly me : 
When I court thee or would sue, 

Thou wilt not deny me. 
Female loves I find unkind 

And devoid of pity; 
Therefore I have changed my mind 

And to thee frame this ditty. 
Child of my body and that flame 

From whence our light we borrow, lo 

Thou continues! still the same 

In my joy or sorrow. 
Though thou lov'st the sunshine best 

Or enhghtened places, 
Yet thou dost not fly, but rest, 

'Midst my black disgraces. 
Thou wouldst have all happy days 

When thou art approaching, 

2 1 King originally wrote 'And she thy weakness will proclaim '. and then added 
the text as an afterthought. 28 will] may Harl. 

On his Shadow.'] The text is taken from King's autograph in Rawlinson Poet 
D. 3T7, foil. 173-4 : it has neither heading nor signature. At line 25, the last on this 
page of the MS., the catchword reads 'Yet when', which is slightly more appro- 
priate, but the text continues 'And when'. There is a copy in Harleian MS. 6917, 
fol. 97 verso-98, entitled On his Shadow. There are the following variants : 

8 frame] framed. 11 still om. 23 harbourd'st] harbour'st. 26 By] At. 

^9 so] thus. 55 could] could not (but compare 1. 31). 64 would] could. 

( 370 ) 

On his Shadow 

No cloud nor night to dim bright rays 

By their sad encroaching. 20 

Let but ghmmering lights appear 

To banish night's obscuring, 
Thou wilt show thou harbourd'st near, 

By my side enduring ; 
And, when thou art forced away 

By the sun's declining, 
Thy length is doubled, to repay 

Thy absence whilst he 's shining. 
As I flatter not thee fair, 

So thou art not fading ; 30 

Age nor sickness can impair 

Thy hue by fierce invading. 
Let the purest varnished clay 

Art can show, or Nature, 
View the shades they cast ; and they 

Grow duskish like thy feature. 
'Tis thy truth I most commend — 

That thou art not fleeting : 
For, as I embrace my friend. 

So thou giv'st him greeting. 40 

If I strike, or keep the peace. 

So thou seem'st to threaten. 
And single blows by thy increase 

Leave my foe double beaten. 
As thou findst me walk or sit, 

Standing or down lying, 
Thou dost all my postures hit, 

Most apish in thy prying. 
When our actions so consent — 

Expressions dumb, but local — 50 

"Words are needless complement. 

Else I could wish thee vocal. 
Hadst thou but a soul, with sense 

And reason sympathising, 
Earth could match, nor heaven dispense 

A mate so far enticing. 
Nay, when bedded in the dust, 

'Mongst shades I have my biding, 
Tapers can see thy posthume trust 

Within my vault residing. 60 

Had heaven so pliant women made 

Or thou their souls couldst marry, 
I'd soon resolve to wed my shade ; 

This love would ne'er miscarry. 
But they thy lightness only share ; 

If shunned, the more they follow, 
And to pursuers peevish are 

As Daphne to Apollo. 

( 271 ) 

Henry King 

Yet this experience thou hast taught : 
A she-friend and an honour 

Like thee; nor that nor she is caught, 
Unless I fall upon her. 

Wishes to my Son, John, 
For this fiew, and all succeeding years : 

January i, i6jo. 

If wishes may enrich my boy, 

My Jack, that art thy father's joy, 

They shall be showered upon thy head 

As thick as manna, angel's bread ; 

And bread I wish thee — this short word 

Will furnish both thy back and board ; 

Not Fortunatus' purse or cap 

Nor Danae's gold-replenished lap 

Can more supply thee : but content 

Is a large patrimony, sent lo 

From him who did thy soul infuse. 

May'st thou this best endowment use 

In any state ; thy structure is 

I see complete — a frontispiece 

Promising fair ; may it ne'er be 

Like Jesuit's volumes, where we see 

Virtues and saints adorn the front, 

Doctrines of devils follow on't : 

May a pure soul inhabit still 

This well-mixed clay; and a straight will . ao 

Biassed by reason, that by grace. 

May gems of price maintain their place 

In such a casket : in that list 

Chaste turquoise, sober amethyst 

That sacred breastplate still surround : 

Urim and Thummim be there found, 

Which for thy wearing I design, 

That in thee King and Priest may join, 

As 'twas thy grandsire's choice, and mine. 

May'st thou attain John the Divine 30 

Chief of thy titles, though contempt 

Now brand the clergy ; be exempt, 

I ever wish thee, from each vice 

That may that calling scandalize : 

Wishes to my Son, John.'] This poem is preserved anon3'mously in Harleian MS. 
6917, foil. loi verso-102, and Mr. Mason assigns it to Henry King. Lines 28-9 
strongly support this attribution, but the date at the head of the poem is a serious 
difficulty, which can only be met by supposing the lines to have been addressed in 
1630 to the son of a second marriage : 1. 40 refers to a living wife, who could not be 
the lady of The Exequy, King's authorship must therefore be regarded as doubtful. 

( 272 ) 

JVishes to my Son^ yohn 

Let not thy tongue with court oil flow, 

Nor supple language lay thee low 

For thv preferment ; make God's cause 

Thy pulpit's task, not thine applause ; 

May'st thou both preach by line and life ; 

That thou live well and chaste, a wife 4° 

I wish thee, such as is thy sire's, 

A lawful help 'gainst lustful fires ; 

And though promotions often frown 

On married brows, yet lie not down 

In single baudry ; impure monks, 

That banish wedlock, license punks. 

Peace I do wish thee from those wars 

Which gownmen talk out at the bars 

Four times a year ; I wish thee peace 

Of conscience, country, and increase 50 

In all that best of men commends. 

Favour with God, good men thy friends. 

Last, for a lasting legacy 

I this bequeath, when thou shalt die. 

Heaven's monarch bless mine eyes, to see 

My wishes crowned, in crowning thee. 

A Contemplation upon Flowers. 

Brave flowers, that I could gallant it like you 

And be as little vain ! 
You come abroad and make a harmless show, 

And to your beds of earth again ; 
You are not proud, you know your birth. 
For your embroidered garments are from earth. 

You do obey your months and times, but I 

Would have it ever spring ; 
My fate would know no winter, never die, 

Nor think of such a thing. 10 

Oh that I could my bed of earth but view, 
And smile, and look as cheerfully as you ! 

Oh teach me to see death and not to fear, 

But rather to take truce ; 
How often have I seen you at a bier, 

And there look fresh and spruce. 
You fragrant flowers then teach me that my breath 
Like yours may sweeten and perfume my death. 

A Contemplation uport Flowers.'] Another very doubtful poem from Harleian MS. 
6917, fol. 105 verso, where it is attributed to ' H. Kinge'. Mr. Mason points out in 
support of the attribution that this MS. contains other poems of King and documents 
relating to his family; but the poem can hardly be regarded as authenticated. It has, 
however, been quoted as King's in more than one anthology; and it would probably 
be missed if omitted from an edition of King's poems. 

( 373 ) T III 




B Y 


Cfje JFourtJ) €tiition, 

With many Additions and Amendments. 

Me quoque vatem 

Dktwt Fajlores^ Jed non Ego credulws iliis. Virgil. 

L ND N, 

Printed for 'Benjamin Tooke^ at the Ship in 
St. Paul's Church-Yard, 16^6. 


Flatman has been condoled with on his name by Mr. Bullen, one of the 
few persons who have done him some justice in recent years. ^ I should 
rather myself, for reasons which will be given presently, condole with him 
on his date. His father was probably Robert Flatman of Mendham, 
Norfolk, and it is supposed that the poet was born in London. The date 
of his birth, recorded here for the first time, was February 21, 1635, about 
5.29 in the morning. So his horoscope, preserved by Ashmole,' informs 
us. When he was elected at Winchester on Michaelmas Day, 1648, he 
was stated to be ' eleven years old ' — a slight miscalculation. He himself 
in The Reiiremetit, written in 1665, correctly speaks of his 'thirty years'. 
He actually entered Winchester in September, 1649. He was transferred 
in the usual (when uninterrupted) course to New College, Oxford ; he was 
admitted as a probationer on September 1 1, 1654, but seems not to have 
matriculated till July 25, 1655 ; he became Fellow in 1656.* There is no 
academic record, it would seem, of his ever having taken his degree, 
though he is spoken of as ' A.B. of Oxford' when, by the King's Letters, 
he was made M.A. of St. Catherine Hall, Cambridge, in 1666. He went 
from Oxford to the Inner Temple, in 1655, and was called to the Bar on 
May II, 1662. Oldys has a half-satiric reference to his pleading.* He 
Avas elected a Fellow of the Royal Society in April, 1668. In 1672 
he married, his wife being favourably spoken of, and gossip — inevitable 
whether well founded or not — records that his ' Bachelor's Song ' {p. inf.) was 
sung under his windows on the occasion by 'merry friends'. And he died 
in London on December 8, 1688. Beyond these meagre details, and a 
statement that he had property at Diss (the cure of Skelton and the home 

1 By judicious remarks in the preface to his Musa Proterva (London, 1889, p. viii), 
and by specimens both in that and in its companion. Speculum Aniatttis, 

2 In Ashmole MS. 436, at folio 50. Mr. J. K. Fotheringham, who has kindly 
deciphered the horoscope, points out that there are some inaccuracies in the astrologer's 
computation, which ' leave a doubt of a few minutes'. 

^ Mr. Ernest Barker, Librarian of New College, kindly gave Mr. Simpson access to 
the College records to test the above dates and facts. 

* Should Flatman for his Client strain the laws 

The Painter gives some colour to the cause : 

Should Critics censure what the Poet writ, 

The Pleader quits him at the Bar of wit. 

(^77 ) 

Tho7nas Flat7nan 

of Maria Jolly), we know little about him directly or by external evidence. 
By that of his poems he must have. been a friend of good men — Walton, 
Cotton, Edward Browne^ (Sir Thomas's son), Faithorne the engraver, 
Oldham, and others. His miniature portraits are well spoken of; — one 
is in possession of the Duke of Buccleuch, seven are in the South 
Kensington Museum. That, however, which illustrates his Poems is 
from a painting by John Hayls, whom Pepys's Diary has made known 
to a wider circle than students of the History of English Painting. 

Flatman was evidently a tolerable scholar; and his Latinity, of which 
several specimens will be found here, does no discredit to the Winchester 
and the New College of the time. When he began English verse-writing 
does not seem to be known, but it must have been pretty early. He does 
not appear to have hurried his Muse ; but collected his poems first in 1674, 
issuing augmented editions, to the number of four in all, up to a time shortly 
before his death. Of these, the third (1682) and the fourth (1686) have 
a claim to be regarded as authoritative and are the basis of the present 
text. The 1682 edition, 'With Additions and Amendments', is better 
printed, and the 1686 — which makes a modest attempt to outbid it 'With 
many Additions and Amendments ' — is valuable for the supplementary 
poems.^ His Pindaric epicedes on public men — Ossory, Rupert, the 
King, &c. — for the most part appeared separately in folio ; and in the 
earlier days of my preparation of this collection I gave myself a good deal 
of trouble in looking them up. Except the elegy on Ormond (1688) 
they were reprinted in these two editions. The last (1686) edition of the 
Foems, after some search, was procured for me. It seems to be much rarer 
than the third of 1682, which I have long possessed, and is not in the 
Bodleian. Additional poems, not included in the texts of 1682 and 1686, 
are added as a supplement. Three of these are taken from a transcript in 
Professor Firth's collection of an autograph MS. of Flatman which is now 
in America ; the title is ' Miscellanies bv Tho. Flatman, ex Interiori 
Templo Londini. Sic imperantibus fatis. Nov. 9, 1661, 130 Caroli 2'^i.' 
This contains in all twenty-three of the poems which have been collated 
for this reprint. An interesting feature of this manuscript is that it dates 
a number of the poems. Besides his poems, some pamphlets and 
Almanacks ' have been attributed to him on extremely doubtful evidence, 
(^r none at all. Except among his friends, it does not seem even in his 

1 Browne's diary (March, 1663-4) contains repeated mention of 'Mr. Flatman, 
chirurgeon ' of Norwich, who had been a great traveller. This is additional evidence 
of the connexion of the Flatmans with Norfolk. 

'^ The publisher was Benjamin Tooke, whom Flatman in a letter of November 3, 
1675, recommended to Sancroft if he wished to publish his Fifth of November sermon 
before the House of Commons (Tanner MS. xlii, fol. 181, in Bodley). 

* V. inf., p. 360. 

( ^78 ) 


own time to have been the fashion to think much of his verse ; and 
a triplet of Rochester's, dismissing him as an imitator of Cowley, 
and a bad one, is usually quoted.' Flatman's Pindarics are certainly his 
weakest poems. But Rochester, for all his wit and wits, was, though 
an acute, a very ill-natured critic ; we know that he thought Cowley 
himself out of date and (as his representatives in kind, though not 
in gift, would say to-day) 'early Caroline'. Besides, to dismiss a Pindaric 
poet of the Restoration as an imitator, and a bad imitator, of Cowley is too 
obvious to be of much importance. I should certainly admit that the 
minor Pindaric — of which I have, for my sins or as part of them, probably 
read as much as any one living — is one of the most dismal departments of 
English verse. But Flatman's is by no means exceptionally bad, and is at 
its best better than that of Oldham, or of Otway, or of Swift — men with 
whom he cannot compare as a man of letters generally. Let us come 
closer to him and to his work. 

Hayls may not have been a great painter ; but he certainly seems to have 
had the knack of putting character in his portraits. Neither that of Pepys 
nor that of his wife is without it : and that of Flatman has a great deal.-^ 
It is what would be called, I suppose, by most superficial judges an ' ugly ' 
face— with a broad rif/wz/w/nose, lipsof the kind sometimes called 'sensual', 
and a heavy (something of a double) chin. But the forehead is high, the 
mouth smallish, and above all there are a pair of somewhat melancholy 
eyes which entirely rescue it from any charge of vulgarity, though it is not 
exactly refined. It certainly suggests what is called in stock phrase an 
' artistic temperament ' : and it may not be too fanciful to see in it the 
kind of artistic temperament which aims higher than it can hit, begins 
what it is unable to finish, and never forgets the yew even among the 
roses. This complexion is, of course, in a way reflected in the very titles of 
the few things of Flatman known ^ to the few people who do know him — 
'Death', 'A Thought of Death', 'A Dooms-day Thought', ' Nudus 
Redibo ', &c. But it is almost everywhere ; and there is no affectation or 
sensiblerie about it. Flatman is not, as Longfellow, picturesquely and 
perhaps Carlylesquely, remarked of Matthiessen and Salis, 'a gentleman who 
walks through life with a fine white cambric handkerchief pressed to his 
eyes '. He can write battle-songs and love-songs and festive gaillardises 

^ Nor that slow drudge in swift Pindaric strains, 

Flatman, who Cowley imitates with pains, 
And rides a jaded Muse, whipt, with loose reins. 
Flatman, who had no bad blood in him, took a magnanimous revenge {v. inf., p. 365)» 

^ Four letters of Flatman are published in Familiar Letters of Love, Galla)itry, And 
Several Occasions, By the Wits oj the last and present Age, 17 18, vol. i, pp. 249-54.. 
One of these is a letter to an unnamed patron, sending his own portrait for the patron's 
collection as 'a foil to the rest'. 

^ And that chiefly because Pope is supposed to have borrowed from them. 

( 279 ) 

Thomas Flat man 

naturally enough. But the other vein is also natural, and perhaps more 
so. The funeral panegyric Odes which make a considerable feature of his 
works were, of course, almost part of the routine business of a professional 
poet in those times of patronage : one of his regular sources of revenue, in 
fives or tens or hundreds of guineas, according to his rank on Parnassus and 
the rank and liberality of his subject in Church or State or City. But 
Flatman at his best suffuses them with a grave interest in Death itself 
— a touch now of Lucretius (who seems to have been a favourite of his), 
now of the Preacher — which is not in the least conventional. In this 
curious Second Caroline period of faint survivals of the Renaissance and 
complete abandonment of its traditions, Flatman's heritage appears to have 
been this sense of Death. A poet might have a worse portion. 

In powers of expression he was not equally well apanaged : and it 
was unlucky for him that he fell in with the special period of popularity 
of that difficult and dangerous thing the Pindaric, and had enough of the 
older taste in him to attempt the short metaphysical lyric : ' The Resolve ', 
' The Fatigue ', ' The Indifferent '. For the first he carried guns hardly 
heavy enough ; for the second his lyrical craft was hardly sufficiently swift 
and handy to catch every puff of spiritual wind. Yet it is mildly astonish- 
ing to find how often he comes near to success, and how near that 
approach sometimes is. How many poets have tried to put the thought 
of the first line of the first poem in the complete edition : 

No more ! — -Alas ! that bitter word, No more ! 

and how many have put it more simply and passionately ? The * Morning 
Hymn ' and ' Evening Anthem ' have rather strangely missed (owing no 
doubt to that superficial connexion with Bishop Ken's which is noticed below) 
association with hundreds and thousands of very often inferior divine poems 
that have found home in collections. 'The Resolve' begins quite admirably, 
and only wanted a little more pains on the poet's part to go on as well. 
* Love's Bravo ' and ' The Expectation ' and ' Fading Beauty ' and ' The 
Slight ' are very far indeed from being contemptible. The two gaillardises, 
the ' Bachelor ' and the ' Cats ', want very little to make them quite capital ; 
and 'The Whim' is in the same case. 'The Advice' actually deserves 
that adjective, and not a few others will be found pointed out in the notes ; 
while even his Pindarics (at least the earlier ones, for those written after 
Rochester's death more fully justify his censure than those he can have 
read) have fine lines and even fine passages. 

It is no doubt rather unfortunate that Flatman should have left us so 

many Horatian translations. For the one thing needful — except in a very 

few pieces where Horace outgoes himself in massive splendour, and so can 

be outgone further by more of this, as in Dryden's magnificent version of 

( 280 ) 


Tyrrhetia regum — the one thing needful in translating Horace is something 
of his well-known and 'curious' urbane elegance. And this was the very 
quality which perhaps no Restoration poet — certainly not Flatman — could 
give. The ' dash of vulgarity ' ^ which Mr. Bullen has too truly stigmatized 
affects nearly all of them except when transported by passion (which is 
nowhere in Horace) ; or fighting hard in a mood of satiric controversy 
which is quite different from his pococurantism ; or using a massive 
rhetoric which is equally absent from him. The consequence is that what 
Flatman gives us is not Horace at all; and is not good Flatman. The 
' Canidia ' pieces, as one would expect, are about the best, and they are 
not very good. 

I own, however, and I am duly prepared to take the consequences of the 
confession, that Flatman appeals to me, though in a different way, almost as 
much as any other of the constituents of this volume, though certainly not 
so much as some of those of the other two. He had the pure misfortune— 
as the sternest critic must acknowledge it to have been — of being born too 
late for one period and too early for another. He could not give to his 
most serious things the ' brave translunary ' exaltations and excursions 
which came naturally to the men of a time just before his, and he could 
not correct this want by the order and the sense, the neatness and the 
finish, which were born with the next generation. 'Death' and 'A 
Thought of Death ' and the other things mentioned unfairly but inevitably 
remind us that we have left Donne and Crashaw, Vaughan, and even 
Herbert, behind us. ' The Mistake ' and ' The Whim ' and many others 
remind us that we have not come to Prior. Yet others— which it were 
cruel to particularize and which he that reads will easily find for himself— 
display a lack of the purely lyrical power which, among his own con- 
temporaries, Rochester and Sedley and Aphra Behn, not to mention others, 
possessed. Nor had he that gift of recognizing the eclipse of the Moon and 
utilizing the opportunities of the Earth, which has made Dryden, to com- 
petent and catholic tastes, all but one of the greatest of English poets. But 
still he was a 'child of the Moon ' herself; and he has the benefits which 
she never withholds from her children, though they may be accompanied 
by a disastrous influence. He was no doubt a minor poet in a time when 
minor poetry was exposed to special disadvantages. But with far less wit 
he was more of a poet than Cleveland ; with far less art he was perhaps 
as much of a poet as Stanley ; and I am not even sure that, with ' weight 
for age ' in the due sense, he was so very much less of a poet than King. 

* Flatman, however, is much less 'coarse' than most of his contemporaries. Putting 
a very few pieces aside (not themselves very shocking) he might almost challenge my 
Lord Roscommon for those 'unspotted bays' which his own supposed debtor Pope 
assigned, and of which we are all so tired. 

(28t ) 

Thomas Flatmaii 

And if those who think but Httle of these others as poets deem this scanty 
praise let us go further and say that he is a poet — imperfect, disappointing 
as well as disappointed, only half aneled with the sacred unction and 
houselled with the divine food — but a poet. Which if any denies he may 
be 'an excellent person' — as Praed or Praed's Medora so finally puts it — 
but he does not know much, if indeed he knows anything, about poetry.' 

1 The Additional Poems (p. 408 sq.) I owe to Mr. Percy Simpson, who collected 
them from their various sources, added variants throughout from the Firth MS., and 
gave some hints for correcting my own notes. Mr. G. Thorn-Drury has again given 
his valuable help. 

( 282 ) 






Lord Lieutei^ant ^Ireland, ^c. 

In humble acknowledo^ment of 

His Princely Favours 

These ^ TO EMS are with all Dutifol 



By his GRACE'S 

Ever Oblig'd, and most 
Obedient Servant, 

'Thomas Flatman, 

* So in 1682, where this Dedication first appeared : 1686 with its usual carelessness 
' The ', which is most improbable. 

( 283 ) 

To the Reader. 

WHEN Iwasprevairdtip07i to make 
a Fourth Publication of these Poems 
with a great many Additions, it was 
told ?ne, That without a Preface the 
Book would be unfashionable ; Uni- 
versal Custom had made it a Debt, and 
in this Age the Bill of Fare was as 
necessary as the Entertainment. To 
be Civil therefore, afid to Coinply with 
Expectation, instead of an elaborate 
Harangue in Commendation of the Art 
i?i general, or what, and what Quali- 
fications go to the making up of a 
Poet in particular, and without such 
artificial Imbellishments as use to be 
the Ornament of Prefaces, as Sayings 
of Philosophers, Ends of Verses, Greek, 
Latin, Hungarian, French, Welch, or 
Italian, Be it known u?ito the Reader, 
That in my poor Opinion Poetry has 
a vefy near Resemblance to the tnodern 
Experiment of the Ambling-Saddle ; 
It's a good Invention for stuoothifTg the 
Trott of Prose ; Thafs the Mechanical 
use of it. But Physically it gives 
present Ease to the Pains of the Mind, 
co7itracted by violent Surfeit of either 
good or bad Usage in the World. To 
be serious, 'tis an Innocent Help to 
Sham a Mans time whe/iit lies on his 
hands and his Fancy can relish nothing 
else. I speak but 7ny own Experience ; 
whefi a?jy Accident hath either pleas d 
or vex'd me beyond my power of ex- 
pressing either 77iy Satisfaction or Indig- 
nation i7i downright Prose, I found it 
seaso7iable for Rhiming ; a7id I believe 
fro7}i what follows it 7nay be discernhi 
when 'twas Fair Weather, when 
Changeable, and whe7t the Quicksilver 
fell dow7i to Storm and Tempest. As 
to the Measu7'es obserzi' d by 7iie, /always 
took a peculiar delight in the Pindar- 
ique strai7i, and that for two Reasons, 
First, it gave 77ie a liberty now a7id 
then to correct the saucy forward7iess 

of a Rhime, and to lay it aside till 1 
had a 77iind to ad7nit it ; And secondly, 
if 77iy Sense fell at any time too short 
for7ny Stanza, {and it willofte7i happe7i 
soi7i Versifying)! had the7i opportunity 
to fill it up with a Metaphor little to 
the purpose, and {up07t occasion) to rtcn 
that Metaphor stark mad into an 
Allegory, a practiceve7y frequent andof 
adi7iirable use a7nongst the Moderns, 
especially the Nobless of the Faculty. 
But in good earnest, as to the Subjects, 
TV inch ca77ie in 7/iy way to write upon, 
J 77iust declare that I have chose7t 07tly 
such as 77iight be treated within the 
Rules of Decency, a7id without off'e7ice 
either to Religion or good Manners. 
The Caution I received [by Tradition) 
fro/n the Inco77iparable Mr. Cowley, 
a7id him I must ever ack7towledge but 
to imitate, if any of the e7isuing Copies 
may deserve the name of Good or In- 
different. / have not vanity e7iough 
to presct^be how a Muse ought to be 
Courted, and I want leisure to borrow 
froi7i so7ne Treatises I have seen, which 
look like so 7nany Academies of Com- 
plements for that purpose. I have 
known a 77ian, who whe7i he was about 
to write would screw his face i7ito 7nore 
disguises than Scaramuccio, or a 
Quaker at a Meeting when his Tu7n 
came to mount j his breast heavd, his 
hair stood on end, his eyes star'd, and 
the whole 77ian was disorde7^d ; and 
t7-uly whe7i he had done, a7iy body at 
first readi7ig would C07iclude that at the 
tii7ie he 77icuie the77i he was possessed 
with an evil Spirit. Atiother that 
see77i\l like Nostradamus {when the 
Whi77i took him in the head to Prophe- 
sied he sate upon his Divining Tripos, 
his elbow on his knee, his La77tp by his 
side, all the ave7tues of light stopped, full 
of expectation when /^^little faint flames 
should steal in throjigh a crevice of the 

To the Reader.] As in some other cases, I have thought it best to keep the original 
arrangement of capitals, type-differences, &c., here. The poems are printed, like the 
greater part of the collection, in modern form, but with no important alterations 

( 284 ) 

To the Reader 

Shutters ; This Gentleman indeed 
writ extreme Melancholy Madrigals. 
/ have had the happiness to hear of a 
Third toe, whose whole life was 
Poetical, he was a Walking Poem, 
and his %vo.y was this ; finding that 
the fall of the Leaf was already 
upon hifn , atid prudently foreseeing that 
in the Winter of his old Age he tnight 
possibly want Fodder, he carry' d always 
about him one of Raimund Lully's 
Repositories, a piece of Mathematical 
Paper, and in what Company soever 
he came, the Spoon was always ready 
for the Civet- Cat, fiothitig scap'd him 
that fell from a Wit : At night his 
custom was to digest all that he had 
pirated that Day, under proper Heads; 
This was his Arsenal, his ifiexhaustible 
Magazine ; so that upon occasion he had 
no more to do, than to give a snap, or 
two to his Nails ; a rub or two upon 
the sutures of his Head, to turn over 
his Hint-Book, and the Matter was at 
hand, his business {after that piece of 
Legerdemain i was only Tacking, and 
Tagging : I never saw but One of this 
Author'' s Compositions, and really It 
troubled tne, because It put me in mind, 
how tmcch time I had jnispent in Coffee- 
Houses, for there was nothing in It, 
but what I could find a Father for 

There; Nay, {with a little recollection,) 
a fnan might name 7nost of the Birds 
from whence he had pluckt his Feathers. 
Some there are that Beseech, Others 
that Hector their Muses : Some that 
Diet their Pegasus, give him his Heats 
and Ayrings for the Course ; Others 
that endeavour to stop up his broken 
wind with Medicinal Ale and Bisquet; 
But these for the most part are men of 
Industry; Rhiming is their proper 
Business, they are fain to labour 
hard, and use much Artifice for a poor 
Livelihood, I wish 'em good Trading. 
I profess I never had desrgn to be in- 
corporated into the Society ; my utmost 
End was merely for Diversion of my 
self and a few Friends whom I very 
well love; and if the question should 
be ask' d why these Productions are ex- 
pos' d, I may truly say, I could not help 
it; One unlucky Copy, like a Bell- 
weather, stole fom me into the Cotmnon, 
and the rest of the Flock took their 
opportunity to leave the Enclosure. 
If I might be proud of any thing, it 
should be the first Copy of the Book, but 
therein I had the greatest advantage 
given me that any Noble Subject could 
afford. And so much for Preface and 
Poetry, //// some very powerful Star 
shall over-rttle my presefit Resolution. 

On the Excellent Poems of my most Worthy 

Friend, Mr. Thomas Flatman. 

You happy issue of a happy wit, 

As ever yet in charming numbers writ, 

Welcome into the light, and may we be 

Worthy so happy a posterity. 

We long have wish'd for something 

excellent ; 
But ne'er till now knew rightly what it 

meant : 
For though we have been gratified, 'tis 

From several hands with things both 

fine and new. 
The wits must pardon me, if I profess, 
That till this time the over-teeming 

press 10 

Ne'er set out Poesy in so true a 

dress : 

Nor is it all, to have a share of wit, 
There must be judgement too to 

a rough, but ready 

govern'd more by 

manage it ; 
For Fancy's like 

Whose mouth is 

skill than force : 
Wherein (my friend) you do a maistry 

If not particular to you alone ; 
Yet such at least as to all eyes declares 
Your Pegasus the best performs his 

Your Muse can humour all her subjects 

so, 20 

That as we read we do both feel and 

know ; 

You happy, &cf\ 16 Cotton may have had several reasons for keeping the form 
' maistry ' — at any rate it should certainly be kept here, though ' mastery ' with or with- 
out apostrophated e would fill the verse properly. 

( 2S5 ) 

Thomas Flatman 

And the most firm impenetrable breast 
With the same passion that you write 's 

Your Hnes are rules, which who shall 

well observe 
Shall even in their errors praise 

deserve : 
The boiling youth, whose blood is all 

on fire, 
Push'd on by vanity, and hot desire, 
May learn such conduct here, men 

may approve 
And not excuse, but even applaud his 

Ovid, who made an art of what to all 
Is in itself but too too natural, 31 

Had he but read your verse, might 

then have seen 
The style of which his precepts should 

have been, 
And (which it seems he knew not) 

learnt from thence 
To reconcile frailty with innocence. 
The love you write virgins and boys 

may read, 
And never be debauch'd but better 

bred ; 
For without love, beauty would bear 

no price, 
And dullness, than desire's a greater 

vice : 
Your greater subjects with such force 

are writ 40 

So full of sinewy strength, as well as 

That when you are relig^Iotis, our divines 
May emulate, but not reprove your 

lines : 

And when you reason, there the learned 

May leam to speculate, and speak from 

You no profane, no obscene language 

To smut your paper, or defile your 

Your gayest things, as well express'd 

as meant. 
Are equally both quaint and innocent. 
But your Pindaric Odes indeed are 

such 50 

That Pindar's lyre from his own skilful 

Ne'er yielded such an harmony, nor yet 
Verse keep such time on so unequal 

So by his own generous confession 
Great Tasso by Guarini was outdone : 
And (which in copying seldom does 

The ectype 's better than th' original. 
But whilst your fame I labour to send 

By the ill-doing it I cloud your worth, 
In something all mankind unhappy 

are, 60 

And you as mortal too must have your 

share ; 
'Tis your misfortune to have found a 

Who hurts and injures where he would 

But let this be your comfort, that your 

Shall flourish green, maugre an ill- 

couch'd praise. 

Charles Cotton, Esq. 

To my Friend Mr Thomas Flatman, upon the 

Publication of his Poems. 

As when a Prince his standard does 
And calls his subjects to the field. 
From such as early take his side, 
And readily obedience yield. 

He is instructed where he may suspect, 

And where he safely may confide ; 

So, mighty friend. 

That you may see 
A perfect evidence of loyalty. 

No business I pretend ; 10 

50 ' Pindari^!*^' or ' Pindariqu" in the original throughout the volume. 

57 ectype] Not uncommon even later for 'copy'. 

This piece is in the original about half italics, which, for the most part, express no 
kind of emphasis. The next is almost entirely free from them, and the difference 
continues throughout the Commendatory Poems in such a fashion as to show that they 
were used on no principle at all. Flatman's own text has very few, outside of proper 

( 286 ) 

Comm2?idatory Poems 

From all th' incumbrances of human 

From nourishing the sinful people's 

And the increasing weaknesses of age. 

Domestic care, the mind's incurable 
I am resolv'd I will forget. 
Ah 1 could I hope the restless pain 
Would now entirely cease, 
And never more return again, 
T^Iy thoughts I would in other order 

set ; 
By more than protestations I would 
show, 20 

Not the sum total only of the debt, 
But the particulars of all I owe. 

This I would do : but what will our 
desire avail 
When active heat and vigour fail ? 
'Tis well thou hast more youthful 

combatants than I, 
Right able to protect thy immortality : 
If envy should attack thy spotless 


(And that attacks the best of things 

And into rigid censure brings 29 

The most undoubted registers of fame), 

Their fond artillery let them dispense, 

Piercing wit and murd'ring eloquence, 

Noble conceit and manly sense, 
Charming numbers let 'em shine 
And dazzle dead in ev'ry line 
The most malicious of thy foes. 
Though Hell itself should offer to 

oppose ; 
I (thy decrepit subject) only can resign 
The little life of art is left, to ransom 
thine : 
Fumbling 's as bad in poetr^', 40 
And as ridiculous, as 'tis in gallantry : 
But if a dart I may prevent, 
Which at myfrien I's repute was meant, 
Let them then direct at me ; 
By dying in so just a war, 
I possibly may share 
In thy infallible eternity. 


But, dearest friend 
(Before it be too late), 
Let us a while expostulate, 50 
What heat of glory call'd you on, 
Your learned empire to extend 
Beyond the limits of your own dominion? 

( 287 ) 

At home, you were already crown'd 

with bays : 
Why foreign trophies do you seek to 
raise ? 
Poets arcanas have of government, 
And tho' the homagers of your own 
Out of a sense of duty do submit, 
Yet public print a jealousy creates, 
And intimates a laid design 60 
Unto theneighb'ring potentates. 
Now into all your secret arts they 

And weigh each hmt by rules of 
Offensive leagues they twine. 
In councils, rotas, and cabals they sit. 
Each petty burgess thinks it fit 
The Corporation should combine 
Against the Universal Monarchy of 

And straight declare for quite abjuring 

Hence then must you prepare for an 

invasion : 7° 

Tho' not from such as are reclaim'd by 

education ; 
In the main points all European wits 

All allow order, art, and rules of 

And to be absolutely perfect, ne'er was 

A beauty such, or such a wit. 

I fearthe Pas^an and the barbarous, 
A nation quite Antipodes to us ; 
The infidel unletter'd crew (I mean) 

Who call that only wit, 79 

Which is indeed but the reverse of it ; 
Creatures in whom civility ne'er shone, 
But (unto Nature's contradiction) 
It is their glory to be so obscene. 
You'd think the legion of th' unclean 
Were from the swine (to which they 

were condemn'd) releas'd, 
And had these verier swine (than them) 



If these should an advantage take 
And on thy fame a depredation make. 
You must submit to the unhappiness ; 
These are the common enemies of our 
belief and art, 90 

And by hostility possess'd 
The world's much greater part : 

Thomas Flatman 

All things with them are measur'd by 
success : 
If the battle be not won ; 
If the author do not sell ; 
Into their dull capacities it will not 

They cannot with deliberation think 
How bravely the commander led them 

No nor wherein the book was written 
well : 99 

When ('tis a thing impossible to do) 

He cannot find his army courage (Sir), 
nor you 

Your readers, learning, wit, and judge- 
ment too. 

Robert Thompson, LL.D. 

To my Friend Mr. Thomas Flatman, on the 

Publishing of these his Poems, 

Let not (my friend) th' incredulous 

sceptic man 
Dispute what potent Art and Nature 

can ! 
Let him believe, the birds that did 

The loss of Zeuxis' grapes in querulous 

Were silenc'd by a painted dragon, 

A Telesme to restrain their chatt'ring 

And that one made a mistress could 

A neighing sigh, ev'n from a stallion 

horse ! 
Let old Timanthes now unveil the 

Of his Atrides, thou'lt give sorrow 

grace! lo 

Now may Parrhasius let his curtain 

stand ! 
And great Protogenes take off his 

hand ! 
For all that lying Greece and Latium 

Have told us of, thou (only thou) 

mak'st true. 
And all the miracles which they could 

Remain no longer faith ; but science 

Thou dost those things that no man 

else durst do. 

Thou paint'st the lightning, and the 

thunder too ! 
The soul and voice! 

Thou'lt make Turks, Jews, with 

Romanists consent, 20 

To break the second great Commande- 

ment : 
And them persuade an adoration 

In picture, will as grateful be to Heav'n 
As one in metre. Th' art is in excess ; 
But yet thy ingenuity makes it less. 
With pen and pencil thou dost all out- 
In speaking picture, Poesy divine. 
Poets, creators are ! You made us know 
Those are above, and dread those are 

below ; 
But 'tis no wonder you such things can 

dare, 30 

That painter, poet, and a prophet 

The stars themselves think it no scorn 

to be 
Plac'd, and directed in their way by 

Thou know'st their virtue, and their 

The fate of years, and every great 

mutation ; 
With the same kindness let them look 

on Earth, 
As when they gave thee first thy happy 

birth ! 

103 I have not identified Robert Thompson, LL.D., but I shall always think" of 
him as author of some of the worst Pindaric of his time, which is saying a great deal. 

Let not, &C.'] 6 The form Telesme, which may be allowed its italics, reproduces the 
(late) Greek riXiayn, instead of the Spanish-Arabic ' tahsman '. 

22 giv'n] Orig. ' givW, but correct in previous (1682) edition. 
( 288 ) 

Commendatory Poems 

The sober Saturn aspects Cynthia 

Resiening hers, to give us thy new 

light. 40 

The gentle Venus rose with Mercury 
(Presage of softness in thy Poesy), 

And Jove and Mars in amicable Trine 
Do still give spirit to thy polish'd line. 
Thou mayst do what thou wilt without 

control : 
Only thyself and Heav'n can paint thy 


P'ran. Barnard, M. D. 

To his esteemed Friend Mr. Thomas Flatman, 

Upon the Publishing of his Poems. 

Your Poems (friend) come on the 

public stage 
In a debauch'd and a censorious age : 
Where nothing now is counted standard 

But what's profane, obscene, or's 

bad as it. 
For our great wits, like gallants of the 

(And such they are), court only those 

loose rhymes. 
Which, like their misses, patch'd and 

painted are ; 
]5ut scorn what virtuous is and truly 

Such as your Muse is, who with careful 

For all but such, hath wisely fram'd a 

part. 10 

One while (methinks) under some 

gloomy shade, 
I see the melancholy lover laid, 
Pleasing himself in that his pensive fit 
With what you have on such occasion 

Another while (methinks) I seem to 

'Mongst those, who sometimes will 

unbend their care, 

And steal themselves out from the busy 

Your pleasant Songs in solemn consort 

Again (methinks) I see the grave 

Lay by his other books, to look on 

thine, 20 

And from thy serious and divine 

See what our duty is, and his own 

Yet, worthy friend, you can't but 

guess what doom 
Is like to pass on what you've writ, by 

some ; 
Put there are others, now your book 

comes forth, 
Who (I am sure) will prize it as 'tis 

Who know it fully fraught with staple 

Such as the IVorAs of the great Cowley 

And 'mongst our rarest English poems, 

thine 29 

Next unto his immortally shall shine. 
Rich. Newcourt. 

39 Both editions have a comma at 'aspects', which obscures the sense, 'Aspect' 
is made a transitive verb in the sense of the astroiosrical substantive = 'arranges his 
situation in regard to the Moon so as to make her resign ', &c. 1686 'To' for ' The', 

46 It would be a shame to rob Francis Barnard of the italics which distinguish the 
entire line in the original. He died on February 9, 1698, and was buried at St. Botolph's, 

Your Poems, tfc."] 14 i.e., no doubt, The Desperate Lover (v. inf. p. 336). 

18 consort] As so often = 'concert '. 

21 divine Review^^ The poem to Sancroft (»'»{/"., p. 301"). 

31 Richard Newcourt is discoverable and throws a little more light on Flatman's 
circle of acquaintance. He was a topographer, and drew a map of London published 
in 1658 by Faithorne the elder \v. inf.). 

( 389 ) U HI 

Thomas Flatman 

To my Worthy Friend Mr. Thomas Flatman, 

Upon the Publishing of his Poems. 

Rude and unpolish'd as my lines can While wit and virtue are allow'd by 

be, men ? 

I must start forth into the world with Thou entertain'st the world with such 

thee. a feast, 

That which, yet private, did my wonder So cleanly and so elegantly drest, ao 

raise, So stor'd with laudable varieties 

Now 'tis made public challenges my As may a modest appetite suffice ; 

praise : Whoever is thy puest is sure to find 

Such miracles thy charming verse can Something or other that may please 

do, his mind. 

Where'er it goes, it draws me with Sometimes in pious flames thy Muse 

it too. aspires 

This is a kind of birthday to thy Her bosom warm'd with supernat'ral 

Muse ! fires ; 

Transported with delight I cannot In noble flights with Pindar, soars 

choose above ; 

But bid her Welcome to the Light, Dallies sometimes with not-indecent 

and tell, love, 

How much I value what is writ so well ; Thence down into the grave does 
Tho' thou reap'st no advantage by my humbly creep, 

rhyme, 1 1 And renders Death desirable as Sleep. 

More than a taper helps the day to The debonair, the melancholy here 31 

shine. Find matter for their mirth, ease for 
Thus in dull pomp does th' empty their care. 

coach attend 
To pay respect to some departed 

friend ! 
The difference of regard in this does 

That honours dust, mine that which 

cannot die : 
For what can blast the labours of thy 


Since such provision's made for all 
that come. 
He must be squeamish that goes empty 

home ; 
If these refections cannot do him 

'Tis 'cause his stomach 's vicious, not 
the food. 

Francis Knollys, Esq. 

To the Author on his excellent Poems. 

^' Touch'd with a sense of our hard 

Strange magic of thy wit and style. fate, 

Which to their griefs mankind can We sigh perhaps, or drop a tear, 

reconcile ! But he the mournful song so sweetly 

Whilst thy Philander's tuneful voice sings, 

we hear That more of pleasure than regret it 

Condoling our disastrous state, brings. 

Rude and UHpoUsKd, Ifc.'] 4 public] Orig. ' publique '. So often ' Pindarique ' and 
sometimes ' -iq' '. 

37 This Knollys is again unknown to me. 
( 390 ) 

Commendatory Poems 

With such becoming grief 

The Trojan chief lo 

Troy's conflagration did relate, 
Whilst ev'n the sufifrers in the fire drew 
And with a greedy ear 
Devour'd the story of their own sub- 
verted state. 


Kind Heav'n (as to her darling son) to 
A double portion did impart, 

A gift of Painting and of Poesy : 

But for thy rivals in the painter's art, 

If well they represent, they can effect 
No more, nor can we more expect. 

But more than this thy happy pencils 
give ; 2 1 

Thy draughts are more than represen- 

For, if we'll credit our own eyes, they 
live ! 

Ah ! worthy friend, couldst thou main- 
tain the state 

Of what with so much ease thou dost 
We might reflect on death with 
scorn ! 

But pictures, like th' originals, decay ! 

Of colours those consist, and these of 
clay ; 

Alike compos'd of dust, to dust alike 
return ! 


Yet 'tis our happiness to see 30 
Oblivion, Death, and adverse Destiny 
Encounter'd, vanquish'd, and dis- 
arm'd by thee. 
For if thy pencils fail, 
Change thy artillery 
And thou'rt secure of victory. 
Employ thy quill and thou shalt still 

The Grand Destroyer, greedy Time, 
Thy Fancy's imag'ry, and spares 
The meanest thing that bears 
Th' impression of thy pen ; 40 

Tho' coarse and cheap their natural 

metal were, 
Stamp'd with thy verse he knows th' 
are sacred then, 

He knows them by that character to be 
Predestinate and set apart for immor- 


If native lustre in thy themes appear, 
Improv'd by thee it shines more 
clear : 
Or if thy subject *s void of native light, 
Thy Fancy need but dart a beam 
To gild thy theme, 
And make the rude mass beautiful and 
bright. 50 

Thou vary'st oft thy strains, but still 

Success attends each strain : 
Thy verse is always lofty as the hill, 

Or pleasant as the plain. 
How well thy Muse the Pastoral Song 

improves ! 
Whose nymphs and swains are in their 

As innocent, and yet as kind as doves. 
Hut most She moves our wonder and 

When She performs her loose Pindaric 

Oft to their outmost reach She will 
extend 60 

Her tow'ring wings to soar on high. 
And then by just degrees descend : 
Oft in a swift strait course She glides, 
Obliquely oft the air divides. 
And oft with wanton play hangs hov'ring 
in the sky. 


Whilst sense of duty into my artless 
Th' ambition would infuse 
To mingle with those Nymphs that 

homage pay. 
And wait on thine in her triumphant 

Defect of merit checks her forward 
pride, 7° 

And makes her dread t* approach thy 

chariot side; 
For 'twere at least a rude indecency 
(If not profane) t' appear 
At this solemnity, 
Crown'd with no laurel wreath (as 
others are) ; 
But this we will presume to do. 
At distance, to attend the show, 

4a * th' ' for ' they ' is an instance, good in its badness, of the uglier apostrophation. 

63 strait] So both edd. : but as often for ' strai^At '. 

75 ' Crown'd with no laurel wreath (as others are)' should be a comfort to the poetaster. 
For Nalium had only to wait less than twenty years and he was crowned in the very 
lifetime of the discrowned ' other ' Dryden, who wore the wreath at this time, and who 

( 291 ) U 2 

Thomas Flat man 

' Ofificious to gather up 

The scatter'd bays, if any drop 

From others' temples, and with those 

A plain plebeian coronet compose. 8r 

This, as your livery, she'd wear, to hide 

Her nakedness, not gratify her pride ! 

Such was the verdant dress 
Which the Oftending Pair did frame 
Of platted leaves, not to express 
Their pride i'th' novel garb, but to 
conceal their shame. 

N. Tate. 

To my dear Friend Mr. Thomas Flatman, 

Upon the Publication of his Poenis. 

Pindaric Ode. 


Within the haunted thicket, where 
The feather'd choristers are met to 

play ; 
And celebrate with voices clear, 
And accents sweet, the praise of May: 
The ouzel, thrush, and speckled lark. 
And Philomel, that loves the dawn and 
These (the inspired throng) 
In numbers smooth and strong 
Adorn their noble theme with an im- 
mortal song, 
While woods and vaults, the brook and 

Th' harmonious sound did reach my 
That echo'd fhy clear name. 
Which all must know, who e'er did 
Of Cowley or Orinda's fame ; 
I heard the Genius, with surprising 
grace, 30 

Would visit us with his fair offspring, 

As is the morning spring in May ; 
But fairer much, and of immortal race. 

neighbouring hill. 


Repeat the varied close and the melo- 
dious trill. 


Here feast your ears, but let their eye 
Wander, and see one of the lesser fry 
Under a leaf, or on a dancing twig, 
Ruffle his painted feathers, and look 

Perk up his tail, and hop between 
The boughs ; by moving, only to be 

Perhaps his troubled breast he prunes, 
As he doth meditate his tunes : 
At last (compos'dj his little head he 

rears, 20 

Towards (what he strives to imitate) 

the spheres ; 
And chirping then begins his best, 
I'alls on to pipe among the rest ; 
Deeming that all 'snot worth a rush. 
Without his whistle from the bush. 


Delighted greatly, as I list'ning stood, 
The sound came from each corner of 

the wood ; 
It both the shrubs and cedars shak'd, 
And my drowsy Muse awak'd ; 

Strange that the sound should be so 

That had its passage through a quill. 
Then I resolv'd thy praises to rehearse. 
The wonders of ihy pen, among the 

crowd 41 

Of thy leam'd friends that sing so 

loud : 
But 'twas not to be sung, or reach'd in 

By my weak notes, scarce to be heard, 
Or if they could, not worth regard ; 
Desisting therefore I must only send 
My very kind well wishes to my friend. 


meanwhile had done him the enormous honour of admitting him to collahoration in 
Absalom and Achiiophd. Tate has other verses addressed to Flatraan ; see his Poems, 
I). 67. 

Within the haunted, ^c.'] 9 theme] So spelt here ; ' theam ' elsewhere — a fresh pair 
of instances from the same book of the absurdity of keeping bad spelling for its 
own sake. 

48 Octavian Pulleyn was probably the son of Octavian Pulleyn, warden of the 
Stationers' Company; he published Woodford's Paraphrase 0/ the Psalms. 

( 39a ) 

Commejtdatory Poems 

The following spirited preface and a prefatory poem were printed only in 
the Poevis and Songs of 1674 ; they are worth preserving here. 

Advertisement to the Reader. 

By long Prescription time out of mind, the next Leafe to the Title Page claims 
an Epistle to the Reader; / had the Project once in my own thoughts too : 
But the Market is so abominably forestall'd already with all manner of excuses 
for Printing, that 1 cotcld not possibly contrive one, that would look any thing 
New : And besides I never found, amongst all the EPISTLES that I have read, 
that the best Rethorick in Vw could persivade me to have a better opinion of the 
Books for Ih&yr sakes : I am apt to believe the rest of Mankind much of niy 
humour in this particular, arid therefore do here expose these few Results of mv 
tnany Idle hours, to the mercy of the ruide World, quite guiltless of Address or 
Ceremony. And that Reader, who will not belie7Je I had some tolerable Reason 
for This Publication, cannot give me much disturbance, because Pme sure he is 
not at all acquainted with 

April 10. 1674. 

T. F. 

To his Worthy Friend Mr. Thomas Flatman 
on the pubHshing of his Poems. 

1 THINK thou art not well advised, my 

To bring thy spritely Poems on the 

Now when the Muses' empire 's at an 

And there 's none left that feel poetic 

Now Cowley's dead, the glory of the 


And all the lesser singing birds are 
starved i'th' cage. 


Nor was it well done to permit my bush, 
My holly bush, to hang before thy wine, 
For friends' applauses are not worth a 

And every fool can get a gilded sign. 
In troth I have no faculty at praise ; 
My bush is very full of thorns, though 

it seems bays. 

When I would praise I cannot find a 

But if I have a just pretence to rail, 
They come in numerous throngs at any 

Their everlasting fountains never fail. 
They come in troops and for employ- 
ment pray ; 
If I have any wit, it lies only that way. 

( 293 ) 


But yet I'll try, if thou wilt rid thy 

Of thoughts of rt^yming and of writing 

And bend thy studies to another kind — 
I mean, in craft and riches to excel ; 
If thou desert thy friends and better 

And pay'st no more attendance on the 

needy Nine. 

Go, and renounce thy wit and thy good 
parts — 

Wit and good parts, great enemies to 
wealth, — 

And barter honesty for more thriving 

Prize gold before a good name, ease, 
and health. 

Answer the Dog and Bottle, and main- 

There "s great ease in a yoke, and fj ee- 
dom in a chain. 


ril love thee now when this is done, 

Til try 
To sing thy praise, and force my honest 

Muse to lie. 

Walter Pope. 

The Contents. 

On the Death of the Right 
Honourabie Thomas Earl of 
Ossor>'. Pindaric Ode . . . 296 
To the Memory of the Incom- 
parable Orinda. Pindaric Ode 298 
The review to Dr. \V. S. Pin- 
daric Ode 30i 

To my Worthy Friend Mr. Sam. 
Woodford on his Excellent 
Version of the Psalms. Pin- 
daric Ode 506 

Cn the Deathofthe Truly Valiant 
George Duke of Albemarle. 

Pindaric Ode 308 

The Retirement. Pindaric Ode, 
made in the time of the great 

Sickness 1665 3'- 

Translated out of a part of 
Petronius Arbiter's Satyricon . 314 

A Thought of Death 317 

Psalm 39, verses 4 and 5 . . . 317 
Hymn for the Morning. . . . 318 
Anthem for the Evening . . . 318 

Death. A Song 3^9 

The Happy Man 3^9 

On Mr. Johnson's several Ship- 
wrecks 3-° 

An Explanation of an Emblem 

engraven by V. H 321 

Yor Thoughts 321 

Against Thoughts 323 

A Dooms-Day Thought . . . 325 
Virtus sola manet, caetera mortis 

erunt 327 

Translated 328 

Psalm 15. Paraphrased . . . 329 

Job 330 

Xudus Redibo 330 

An Eleg>' on the Earl of Sandwich 331 
An Epitaph on the Earl of Sand- 
wich 332 

Pastoral 332 

On the Death of Mr. Pelham 
Humfries, a Pastoral Song . 334 

The Mistake 334 

The Incredulous 335 

Weeping at parting, Song . . 335 

( 294 ) 

The Desperate Lover 
The Fatigue, A Song 
The Resolve, Song 



Love's Bravo, Song 338 

The Expectation, Song . . . 339 
Coridon converted, Song . . . 339 
The Humourist, Song .... 340 
Fading Beauty, Song .... 340 
A Dialogue, Cioris and Parthe- 

nissa 341 

A Dialogue, Orpheus and Eury- 

dice 341 

The Bachelor's Song .... 342 
The Bachelor's Song, Second part 343 
An Appeal to Cats in the business 

of Love 343 

Advice to an Old Man of 63 about 
to marry a Girl of 16, Song . 343 

The Slight, Song 344 

The Penitent, Song 345 

The Defiance, Song .... 345 
The Surrender, Song .... 346 

The Whim, Song 34^ 

The Renegado, Song .... 347 

Phyllis withdrawn 347 

The Malecontent, Song . . . 348 
The Inditierent, Song .... 348 

The Harbour, Song 349 

The Unconcerned, Song . . . 349 
The Immovable, Song .... 350 

The Wish, Song 35*^ 

The Cordial madeinthe year 1637 351 
Celadon on Delia singing. Song 351 

The Advice, Song 352 

To Mr. Sam. Austin of Wadham 
Coll. Oxon, on his most un- 
intelligible Poems . .... 353 
To my ingenious Friend 
Mr. W^iliiam Faithorne on his 
Book of Drawing, Etching, and 

Graving 354 

On the Commentaries of 
Messire Blaize de Montluc, to 
the Worthy Translator Charles 

Cotton, Esq 355 

A Character of a Belly-God. 
Catius and Horace .... 35^ 


The Disappointed. Pindaric Ode 359 
On Mrs. E. Montague's Blushing 
in the Cross-Bath. A Trans- 
lation 360 

II Infido 361 

n Immature, Epitaph .... 362 
On Mrs. Dove, Epitaph . . . 562 

Lucretius 362 

Paraphrased 362 

On Dr. Browne's Travels . . . 363 

On Poverty 363 

Urania to her Friend Parthenissa. 

A Dream 364 

On the Death cf the Earl of 

Rochester. Pastoral .... 365 
On Dr. Woodford's Paraphrase 

on the Canticles 366 

Laodamia to Protesilaus: One of 

Ovid's Epistles Translated . . 367 
To the Excellent Master of Music 
Signior Pietro Reggio, on his 

Book of Songs 37 1 

In the Temple Church. Epitaph 

on Sir John King 372 

On the Death of my dear Brother 
Mr. Richard Flatman. Pin- 
daric Ode 373 

Coridon on the Death of his dear 

Alexis ■ . . 375 

.A. Song on New-years-day before 

the King 376 

On the King's return to Whitehall 
after his Summer's Progress, 

1684 ■ ' ■ in 

To Mr. Isaac Walton on his pub- 
lication of Thealma .... 37S 

Pastoral Dialogue, Castara and 
Parthenia 379 

Castabella going to Sea, Song . 3S0 

On the Death of my Worthy 
Friend Mr. John Oldham. 
Pindaric Pastoral Ode . . . 380 

On Sir John Micklethwaite's 
Monument in St. Botolphs 
Aldersgate Church. London . 3S2 

Epitaph on Thomas Rock . . 383 

On the Death of the Illustrious 
Prince Rupert. Pindaric Ode 3S4 

Poema in obitum illustrissimi prin- 

cipis Ruperti Latin^redditum . 388 
On the much Lamented Death 

of our late Sovereign Lord King 

Charles II of blessed Memor)-. 

Pindaric Ode 391 

To his Sacred Majesty King 

James II 394 

Odes of Horace 

Book the Second, Ode 19 

. 39^ 

Book the Third. Ode 8 . . 


Book the Third, Ode 9 

. SQ6 

Book the Third, Ode 12 


Book the Third, Ode 17 

• 397 

Book the Third, Ode 19 


Book the Third, Ode 20 

. 398 

Book the Third, Ode 21 

• 399 

Book the Third, Ode :2 


Book the Third, Ode 3 . 


Book the Fourth, Ode i . 


Book the Fourth, Ode 10 


Book the Fourth, Ode II 

. 401 

Epode the Third . . . 


Eoode the Sixth . . . 


Epode the Tenth . . . 


Epode the Eleventh . . 

. 404 

Epode the Fifteenth . . 


Epode the Seventeenth 


Poems not ikcluded in the 

EdITIOKS of 16S2 AND 1 686. 

Upon a Chine of Beef .... 409 

On the Death of Charles Capell . 410 
From W. Sanderson's Graphice : — 

On the Picture of the Author . 411 

On the noble .\rt of Painting . 411 

On Mistress S.W 413 

Song (' Oh no, oh no ! it cannot 

be') . 414 

Epitaph on his eldest Son Thomas 414 

Lines to John Northleigh . . . 415 

Lines to Archbishop Sancroft . 416 
On the Death of James, Duke of 

Ormond, Pindaric Ode . • 417 

Job, ch. xsvii. Paraphrased . . 420 



On the Death of the Right Honourable Thomas 

Earl of Ossory. 

Pindaric Ode. 
Stanza I. 
No more!— Alas that bitter word, No more! 
The Great, the Just, the Generous, the Kind; 
The universal Darling of Mankind, 
The noble Ossory is now A"o more! 
The mighty man is fall'n— 
From Glory's lofty pinnacle, 
Meanly like one of us, he fell, 
Not in the hot pursuit of victory. 
As gallant men would choose to die ; 
But tamely, like a poor plebeian, from his bed lo 

To the dark grave a captive led ; 
Emasculating sighs, and groans around, 

His friends in floods of sorrow drown'd; 
His awful truncheon and bright arms laid by, 
He bow'd his glorious head to Destiny. 

Celestial Powers ! how unconcern'd you are ! 

No black eclipse or blazing star 
Presag'd the death of this illustrious man. 

No deluge, no, nor hurricane ; 
In her old wonted course Nature went on, ao 

As if some common thing were done. 
One single victim to Death's altar's come. 
And not in Ossory an whole hecatomb. 
Yet, when the founder of old Rome expir'd, 
When the Pellean youth resign'd his breath. 
And when the great Dictator stoop'd to death, 
Nature and all her faculties retir'd : 
Amaz'd she started when amaz'd she saw 
The breaches of her ancient fundamental law, 

Which kept the world in awe : ?,o 

On the Death of the Earl of Ossory.'] Thomas Butler (1634-80), by courtesy £arl of 
Ossory, though not exactly a Marcellus (for he was forty-six when he died), liolds 
a distinguished place among those who have died too soon. He was a soldier, a sailor, 
a statesman ; if not an orator, an effective speaker ; and though no milksop or 'good 
boy ', one, emphatically, ' of the right sort '. The excellent first line (see Introduction) 
is well supported by the whole opening quatrain ; and it has been left, typographicallj', 
as it appears in the original. The rest may undergo the usual law. The poem was 
first issued in folio in 1681 : ' be ' was read for * grow ' in 1. 63. 

( 296 ) 

On the Death of the Karl of Ossory 

For men less brave than him, her very heart did ache. 

The labouring Earth did quake, 
And trees their fix'd foundations did forsake ; 

Nature in some prodigious way 

Gave notice of their fatal day : 
Those lesser griefs with pain she thus exprest, 
This did confound, and overwhelm her breast. 


Shrink, ye crown'd heads, that think yourselves secure, 
And from your mould'ring thrones look down, 
Your greatness cannot long endure, 40 

The King of Terrors claims you for his own ; 
You are but tributaries to his dreadful crown : 

Renown'd, Serene, Imperial, most August, 
Are only high and mighty epithets for dust. 
In vain, in vain so high 
Our tow'ring expectations fly. 
While th' blossoms of our hopes, so fresh, so gay. 
Appear, and promise fruit, then fade away. 
From valiant Ossory's ever loyal hands, 

What did we not believe ! 50 

We dream'd of yet unconquer'd lands 
He to his Prince could give. 
And neighbouring crowns retrieve : 
Expected that he would in triumph come 
Laden with spoils and Afric banners home, 
As if an hero's years 
Were as unbounded as our fond desires. 


Lament, lament, you that dare Honour love, 

And court her at a noble rate 60 

(Your prowess to approve). 
That dare religiously upon her wait, 
And blush not to grow good, when you grow great, 
Such mourners suit His virtue, such His State. 
And you, brave souls, who for your country's good 
Did wondrous things in fields and seas of blood, 
Lament th' undaunted chief that led you on ; 
Whose exemplary courage could inspire 
The most degenerate heart with martial English fire. 

Your bleeding wounds who shall hereafter dress 70 

With an indulgent tenderness ; 
Touch'd with a melting sympathy, 
Who shall your wants supply. 
Since he, your good Samaritan, is gone? 
O Charity ! thou richest boon of Heaven, 
To man in pity given ! 

58 The French rhyme, as if 'desiV, is not uninteresting. 

( 297 ) 

Thomas Flatman 

(For when well-meaning mortals give, 

The poor's and their own bowels they relieve;) 
Thou mak'st us with alacrity to die, 

Miss'd and bewail'd like thee, large-hearted Ossory. Ho 


Arise, ye blest inhabitants above. 

From your immortal seats arise, 
And on our wonder, on our love 

Gaze with astonish'd eyes. 

Arise ! Arise ! make room, 

Th' exalted Shade is come. 
See where he comes ! What princely port he bears ! 

How God-like he appears! 

His shining temples round 
With wreaths of everlasting laurels bound ! 9^ 

As from the bloody field of Mons he came, 
Where he outfought th' hyperboles of Fame. 
See how the Guardian-Angel of our isle 
Receives the deifi'd champion with a smile ! 
Welcome, the Guardian-Angel says. 

Full of songs of joy and praise. 
Welcome thou art to me. 
And to these regions of serenity ! 

Welcome, the winged choir resounds. 
While with loud Euge's all the sacred place abounds. 


To the Metnory of the Incomparable Orinda. 

Pindaric Ode. 
Stanza I. 

A LONG adieu to all that's bright. 
Noble, or brave in woman-kind ; 
To all the wonders of their wit. 

And trophies of their mind : 
The glowing heat of th' holy fire is gone : 

To th' altar, whence 'twas kindled, flown ; 
There's nought on earth, but ashes left behind; 
E'er since th' amazing sound was spread, 

Orinda 's dead; 
Every soft and fragrant word, ^° 

All that language could afford ; 
Every high and lofty thing 
That's wont to set the soul on wing, 
No longer with this worthless world would stay. 

To ihe memory, ifc.} For ' Orinda ', or Katharine Philips, see vol. i. This Pindaric 
was first printed in her Poems of 1667 : the chief variants are— 58 blurs] crowns. 
71 While you securely sleep. 75 Those useless things] Inglorious arms. 77 can] 

will. 99 generous om. 101 Neither the expense of blood nor sweat. 

( 298 ) 

To the Memory of the Incotnparahle Ori?ida 

Thus, when the death of the great Pan was told, 
Along the shore the dismal tidings roll'd; 

The lesser Gods their fanes forsook, 

Confounded with the mighty stroke, 

They could not overlive that fatal day. 
But sigh'd and groan'd their gasping Oracles away. ao 


How rigid are the laws of Fate 

And how severe that black decree ! 

No sublunary thing is free, 
But all must enter th' adamantine gate : 

Sooner or later must we come 

To Nature's dark retiring room : 

And yet 'tis pity, is it not ? 

The learned, as the fool should die, 

One, full as low, as t'other lie, 
Together blended in the general lot ! 30 

Distinguish'd only from the common crowd 
By an hing'd coffin or an holland shroud, 
Though Fame and Honour speak them ne'er so loud. 
Alas, Orinda ! even thou. 

Whose happy verse made others live, 
And certain immortality could give ; 
Blasted are all thy blooming glories now. 

The laurel withers o'er thy brow : 
Methinks it should disturb thee to conceive 
That when poor I this artless breath resign, 40 

My dust should have as much of Poetry as thine ! 


Too soon we languish with desire 
Of what we never could enough admire. 
On th' billows of this world sometimes we rise 
So dangerously high, 

We are to Heaven too nigh : 
When all in rage 

(Grown hoary with one minute's age) 

The very self-same fickle wave. 

Which the entrancing prospect gave, 50 

Swoln to a mountain, sinks into a grave. 
Too happy mortals, if the Powers above 

As merciful would be, 
And easy to preserve the thing we love, 

As in the giving they are free ! 
But they too oft delude our wearied eyes, 
They fix a flaming sword 'twixt us and Paradise ! 
A weeping evening blurs a smiling day. 
Yet why should heads of gold have feet of clay? 

( »99 ) 

Thomas Flatman 

Why should the man that wav'd th' Almighty wand, Go 

That led the murmuring crowd 
By pillar and by cloud, 
Shivering atop of aery Pisgah stand 
Only to see, but never, never tread the Promis'd I^nd? 


Throw your swords and gauntlets by, 
You daring Sons of War ! 

You cannot purchase ere you die 
One honourable scar, 
Since that fair hand that gilded all your bays; 
That in heroic numbers wrote your praise, 70 

That you might safely sleep in Honour's bed. 
Itself, alas! is wither'd, cold, and dead: 

Cold and dead are all those charms 

That burnish'd your victorious arms; 

Those useless things hereafter must 

Blush first in blood, and then in rust : 
No oil but that of her smooth words can serve 

W^eapon and warrior to preserve. 

Expect no more from this dull age 

But folly or poetic rage, "^o 

Short-liv'd nothings of the stage. 
Vented to-day, and cried to-morrow down ; 
With her the soul of Poesie is gone, 

Gone, while our expectations flew 

As high a pitch as she has done, 

Exhal'd to Heaven like early dew. 

Betimes the little shining drops are flown, 
Ere th' drowsy world perceiv'd that manna was come down. 

You of the sex that would be fair, 

Exceeding lovely, hither come, 9° 

Would you be pure as Angels are. 

Come dress you by Orinda's tomb, 
And leave your flattering glass at home. 
Within that marble mirror see, 
How one day such as she 
You must, and yet alas ! can never be ! 
Think on the heights of that vast soul, 
And then admire, and then condole. 
Think on the wonders of her generous pen, 

'Twas she made Pompey truly great ; 100 

Neither the purchase of his sweat 
Nor yet Cornelia's kindness made him live again : 
With envy think, when to the grave you go, 
How very little must be said of you. 
Since all that can be said of virtuous woman was her due. 
( 300 ) 

lVhe7t first I stept i?2to tli alluring Maze 

The Review. 

Pindaric Ode to the Reverend Dr. William Sancroft, 
now Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. 

Stanza I. 

When first I stept into th' alluring maze 
To tread this world's mysterious ways, 

Alas ! I had nor guide, nor clue, 
No Ariadne lent her hand, 
Not one of Virtue's guards did bid me stand, 
Or ask'd me what I meant to do, 
Or whither I would go : 
This labyrinth so pleasant did appear, 
I lost myself with much content. 

Infinite hazards underwent, lo 

Out-straggled Homer's crafty wanderer. 
And ten years more than he in fruitless travels spent ; 
The one half of my life is gone, 
The shadow the meridian past ; 
Death's dismal evening drawing on, 
Which must with damps and mists be overcast. 

An evening that will surely come, 
'Tis time, high time to give myself the welcome home. 


Had I but heartily believ'd 
That all the Royal Preacher said was true, ao 

When first I ent'red on the stage, 
And Vanity so hotly did pursue; 
Convinc'd by his experience, not my age, 

I had myself long since retriev'd, 

I should have let the curtain down, 
Before the Fool's part had begun : 
But I throughout the tedious play have been 

Concern'd in every busy scene ; 

The Review.'] Dated in the Firth MS. December 17, 1666. Entered in the Stationers' 
Register on December 17, 1673, as * A poem or copy intituled the Review, To the Rev- 
erend my honored freind Dr. Wm. Sancroft, Deane of St. Paules, A Pindarique Ode'. 
Similarly in the Firth MS. * The Review. A Pindarique Ode. To the Reverend, my 
worthy friend, Dr. Wm. Sandcroft, Dean of St. Paul's': the chief variants only are 
recorded. The words 'now Lord Archbishop of Canterbury ' are added in the fourth 
edition. In the earlier editions — even that of 1682, when Sancroft had been Primate 
for four years — the poem is addressed 'to Dr. W. S.' The piece is a rather remark- 
able ' Religio Laid'' for the time, and as anticipating Dryden's ; and has some, though 
rather vague, autobiographic interest. It seems [y. Commendatory Poems) to have 
attracted some attention as such. 

16 must] will MS, 

( 301 ) 

Thomas Flatman 

Too too inquisitive I tried 

Now this, anon another face, 30 

And then a third, more odd, took place, 

Was everything, but what I was. 
Such was my Protean folly, such my pride, 
Befool'd through all the tragi-comedy, 
Where others met with hissing, to expect a Plaudite. 


I had a mind the Pastoral to prove, 

Searching for happiness in Love, 

And finding Venus painted with a Dove, 
A little naked Boy hard by, 
The Dove, which had no gall, 40 

The Boy no dangerous arms at all ; 

They do thee wrong, great Love, said I, 

Much wrong, great Love ! scarce had I spoke 

Ere into my unwary bosom came 

An inextinguishable flame : 
From fair Amira's eyes the lightning broke. 

That left me more than thunder-strook ; 
She carries tempest in that lovely name : 

Love's mighty and tumultuous pain 
Disorders Nature like an hurricane. 50 

Yet couldn't I believe such storms could be. 

When I launch'd forth to sea; 
Promis'd myself a calm and easy way, 

Though I had seen before 

Piteous ruins on the shore. 
And on the naked beach Leander breathless lay. 


To extricate myself from Love 
Which I could ill obey, but worse command, 

I took my pencils in my hand. 
With that artillery for conquest strove, 60 

Like wise Pygmalion then did I 

Myself design my deity ; 

Made my own saint, made my own shrine : 
If she did frown, one dash could make her smile, 
All bickerings one easy stroke could reconcile, 
Plato feign'd no idea so divine : 
Thus did I quiet many a froward day, 

While in ray eyes my soul did play, 
Thus did the time, and thus myself beguile ; 

40 had] has MS., 1674-82. 46 fair] my MS. 51 couldn't] did not AfS. 

56 breathless] shipwrack'd MS. 64 could] should MS. 

( 303 ) 

The Review 

Till on a day, but then I knew not why, 

A tear fall'n from my eye, 
Wash'd out my saint, my shrine, my deity : 

Prophetic chance ! the lines are gone, 
And I must mourn o'er what I doted on : 
I find even Giotto's circle has not all perfection. 

To Poetry I then inclin'd ; 
Verse that emancipates the mind, 
Verse that unbends the soul ; 
That amulet of sickly fame. 
Verse that from wind articulates a name; 80 

Verse for both fortunes fit, to smile and to condole. 
Ere I had long the trial made, 
A serious thought made me afraid : 
For I had heard Parnassus' sacred hill 
Was so prodigiously high. 
Its barren top so near the sky; 
The ether there 
So very pure, so subtil, and so rare, 

'Twould a chameleon kill, 
The beast that is all lungs, and feeds on air: 90 

Poets the higher up that hill they go. 
Like pilgrims, share the less of what 's below : 

Hence 'tis they ever go repining on. 
And murmur more than their own Helicon. 
I heard them curse their stars in ponderous rhymes, 
And in grave numbers grumble at the times; 
Yet where th' illustrious Cowley led the way, 
I thought it great discretion there to go astray. 


From liberal Arts to the litigious Law, 

Obedience, not ambition, did me draw ; 100 

I look'd at awful quoif and scarlet gown 

Through others' optics, not my own : 

Untie the Gordian knot that will, 

I see no rhetoric at all 
In them that learnedly can brawl. 
And fill with mercenary breath the spacious hall ; 
Let me be peaceable, let me be still. 
The solitary Tishbite heard the wind, 

With strength and violence combin'd. 

That rent the mountains, and did make no 

The solid Earth's foundations shake ; 
He saw the dreadful fire, and heard the horrid noise, 
But found what he expected in the small still voice. 

81 fit] apt MS. 93 ever added in 1684. 113 what] whom MS. 

( 303 ) 

Thomas FIatma?i 


Nor here did my unbridled fancy rest, 
But I must try 
A pitch more high, 
To read the starry language of the East ; 
And with Chaldean curiosity 
Presum'd to solve the riddles of the sky ; 

Impatient till I knew my doom, lao 

Dejected till the good direction come, 
I ripp'd up Fate's forbidden womb, 
Nor would I stay till it brought forth 
An easy and a natural birth. 
But was solicitous to know 
The yet misshapen embryo 

(Preposterous crime !) 
Without the formal midwif'ry of time : 
Fond man, as if too little grief were given 

On Earth, draws down inquietudes from Heaven! 17,0 

Permits himself with fear to be unmann'd, 

Belshazzar-like, grows wan and pale, 

His very heart begins to fail, 
Is frighted at that Writing of the Hand, 
Which yet nor he, nor all his learn'd magicians understand. 


And now at last what 's the result of all ? 
Should the strict audit come. 
And for th' account too early call ; 
A num'rous heap of ciphers would be found the total sum. 
When incompassionate age shall plow 140 

The delicate Amira's brow, 
And draw his furrows deep and long, 

Wliat hardy youth is he 
Will after that a reaper be, 
Or sing the harvest song? 
And what is verse, but an effeminate vent 

Either of lust or discontent ? 
Colours will starve, and all their glories die, 
Invented only to deceive the eye ; 

And he that wily Law does love 150 

Much more of serpent has than dove. 
There's nothing in Astrology, 
But Delphic ambiguity ; 

ri4 seq. It is well known that Astrology maintained its hold throughout the seven- 
teenth century. Dryden himself does not seem to have been by any means insensible 
to its fascination ; and Flatman — who, though a slightly younger man, represents an older 
temper— may well have been a disciple of Lilly. 135 he] we MS. his] our MS. 

148 will] must M5. starve] In its proper sense of ' perish '. Italic in original ; 

but, as has been pointed out, this type is used with such utter capriciousness that it 
affords no evidence whether the term had any technical vogue among artists of the time. 

( 304 ) 

The Review 

We are misguided in the dark, and thus 
Each star becomes an Ignis fatuus-. 
Yet pardon me, ye glorious Lamps of light, 
'Twas one of you that led the way, 
Dispell'd the gloomy night, 
Became a Phosphor to th' Eternal Day, 
And show'd the Magi where th' Almighty Infant lay. 160 


At length the doubtful victory's won, 

It was a cunning ambuscade 
The World for my felicities had laid ; 

Yet now at length the day 's our own, 
Now conqueror-like let us new laws set down. 
Henceforth let all our love seraphic turn. 

The sprightly and the vigorous flame 

On th' altar let it ever burn, 

And sacrifice its ancient name : 
A tablet on my heart next I'll prepare 170 

Where I would draw the Holy Sepulchre, 
Behind it a soft landskip I would lay 

Of melancholy Golgotha ! 
On th' altar let me all my spoils lay down, 
And if I had one, there I'd hang my laurel crown. 
Give me the Pandects of the Law Divine, 
Such was the Law made Moses' face to shine. 

Thus beyond Saturn's heavy orb I'll tower, 

And laugh at his malicious power : 
Raptur'd in contemplation thus I'll go iSo 

Above unactive earth, and leave the stars below. 


Toss'd on the wings of every wind, 

After these hoverings to and fro 

(And still the waters higher grow), 
Not knowing where a resting-place to find, 
Whither for sanctuary should I go 

But, Reverend Sir^ to you ? 
You that have triumph'd o'er th' impetuous flood, 
That, Noah-like, in bad times durst be good, 
And the stiff" torrent manfully withstood, 190 

Can save me too ; 
One that have long in fear of drowning bin, 
Surrounded by the rolling waves of sin ; 

159 Eternal] Immortal MS. 168 let it] shall for MS. 172 soft] fair MS. 

187 Sir] Friend 16^4-82. 

189 A possible but not necessary reminiscent of Fuller's well-known book, Good 
Thoughts for Bad Times. 193 the rolling waves] a cataclysm MS. 

( 305 ) X III 

Thomas Flatman 

Do you but reach out a propitious hand 

And charitably take me in, 
I will not yet despair to see dry land. 

'Tis done ; — and I no longer fluctuate, 
I've made the Church my Ark, and Sion's Hill my Ararat. 

To my Reverend Friejid, Dr. Sam. Woodford, On his 
Excelle7it Version of the Psalms. 

Pindaric Ode. 
Stanza I. 

See (worthy friend) what I would do 
(Whom neither Muse nor Art inspire), 
That have no friend in all the sacred quire, 
To show my kindness for your Book, and you, 
Forc'd to disparage what I would admire ; 
Bold man, that dares attempt Pindaric now. 

Since the great Pindar's greatest Son 

From the ingrateful age is gone, 
Cowley has bid th' ingrateful age adieu ; 

Apollo's rare Columbus, he lo 

Found out new worlds of Poesy : 

He, like an eagle, soar'd aloft. 
To seize his noble prey ; 

Yet as a dove's, his soul was soft, 
Quiet as Night, but bright as Day : 
To Heaven in a fiery chariot he 
Ascended by seraphic Poetry ; 
Yet which of us dull mortals since can find 
Any inspiring mantle, that he left behind? 


His powerful numbers might have done you right ; so 

He could have spar'd you immortality, 
Under that Chieftain's banners you might fight 
Assur'd of laurels, and of victory 
Over devouring Time and sword and fire 
And Jove's important ire : 

To Dr. Sam. Woodford.^ First printed in A Paraphrase upon the Psalms of David, 
1668. A MS. version is in Rawlinson D. 260 (fol. 27) of the Bodleian. Woodford 
(1636-1700% though much forgotten now, must have been something more than an 
ordinary person. As such he might have been, as he was, a St. Paul's boy and an 
Oxford (Wadham) man, a member of the Inner Temple, an early F.R.S., and later 
a Canon of Chichester and Winchester. But as such merely he would hardly have been, 
in the Preface to his Paraphrases of the Canticles {v. inf., p. 366"), the first, and for 
a longtime the only, 'ingoing' critic of Milton's blank verse. He does not take quite the 
right view of it, but it is noteworthy that he should have taken any view of an 
intelligent character. 12 soar'd] towVed MS. 16 a cm. MS. 

18 ' But which of us poor mortals' 1668, MS. 20, 21, &c. have] ha' 1668. 

25 ire] Dire MS., a word of which a unique instance in the sense of 'dire quality ' 
is quoted in the N.E.D. from Anthony a Wood. The scribe may have misunderstood 
•important' (= 'importunate'). 

( 306 ) 

To my Rev, Friend^ Dr, Sam, Woodford 

My humble verse would better sing 

David the Shepherd, than the King : 
And yet methinks 'tis stately to be one 

(Though of the meaner sort) 
Of them that may approach a Prince's throne, 30 

If 'twere but to be seen at Court. 
Such, Sir, is my ambition for a name, 
Which I shall rather take from you, than give, 
For in your Book I cannot miss of fame, 

But by contact shall live. 
Thus on your chariot wheel shall I 
Ride safe, and look as big as Aesop's fly. 

Who from th' Olympian Race new come, 
And now triumphantly flown home. 
To 's neighbours of the swarm thus proudly said, 40 

Don't you remember what a dust I t?iade ! 


Where'er the Son of Jesse's harp shall sound, 

Or Israel's sweetest songs be sung, 

(Like Samson's lion sweet and strong) 
You and your happy Muse shall be renown'd, 
To whose k'ind hand the Son of Jesse owes 
His last deliverance from all his foes. 
Blood-thirsty Saul, less barbarous than they, 

His person only sought to kill ; 

These would his deathless poems slay, 50 

And sought immortal blood to spill, 
To sing whose songs in Babylon would be 

A new Captivity ; 
Deposed by these rebels, you alone 
Restor'd the glorious David to his throne. 
Long in disguise the royal Prophet lay, 

Long from his own thoughts banished, 
Ne'er since his death till this illustrious day 
Was sceptre in his hand, or crown plac'd on his head : 
He seem'd as if at Gath he still had bin 60 

As once before proud Achish he appear'd. 
His face besmear'd. 
With spittle on his sacred beard, 
A laughing-stock to the insulting Philistine. 
Drest in their rhymes, he look'd as he were mad, 
In tissue you, and Tyrian purple have him clad. 

39 flown] got MS. 

41 This quaint anti-climax is one of the not very few indications which make of 
Flatman a sort of rough draft of Prior. 

4a seq. Translations of the Psalms have been so numerous — and so bad — that it is 
difficult to know whether Flatman had any particular translator or translators in his 
mind while writing the last stanza. It may have been merely the usual Sternhold and 
Hopkins. At any rate his own friend Tate did not join Brady in lise-poesie (as well as 
lese-tMa/esfe against the Son of Jesse) till thirty years after Woodford wrote and eight 
after Flatman's own death. 

55 Restor'd] Restore MS. 59 plac'd] set MS. 63 sacred o»i. MS. 

( 3or ) X 2 

Thomas FlaUnaii 

On the Death of the truly valiant George Duke of 


Pindaric Ode. 

Stanza I. 

Now blush thyself into confusion, 

Ridiculous Mortality 
With indignation to be trampled on 

By them that court Eternity; 
Whose generous deeds and prosperous state 
Seem poorly set within the reach of Fate, 
Whose every trophy, and each laurel wreath 

Depends upon a little breath ; 
Confin'd within the narrow bounds of Time, 

And of uncertain age, lo 

With doubtful hazards they engage, 
Thrown down, while victory bids them higher climb ; 

Their glories are eclips'd by Death. 
Hard circumstances of illustrious men 
Whom Nature (like the Scythian Prince) detains 

Within the body's chains 

(Nature, that rigorous Tamberlain). 
Stout Bajazet disdain'd the barbarous rage 

Of that insulting conqueror. 
Bravely himself usurp'd his own expiring power, 20 

By dashing out his brains against his iron cage. 


But 'tis indecent to complain, 
And wretched mortals curse their stars in vain, 
In vain they waste their tears for them that die, 
Themselves involv'd in the same destiny. 
No more with sorrow let it then be said 

The glorious Albemarle is dead. 
Let what is said of him triumphant be, 

Words as gay, as is his Fame, 

And as manly as his name, 50 

Words as ample as his praise. 

And as verdant as his bays, 
An Epinicion, not an Elegy. 
Yet why shouldst thou, ambitious Muse, believe 
Thy gloomy verse can any splendours give, 
Or make him one small moment longer live? 


On tht Death of the Duke of Albemarle.'] First printed in small folio in 1670. Monk 
died tliat year. Tiiere are some important variants, noted below. 
( 308 ) 

On the Death of the Duke of Albemaj'le 

Nothing but what is vulgar thou canst say ; 

Or misbecoming numbers sing ; 
What tribute to his memory canst thou pay, 
Whose virtue sav'd a Crown, and could oblige a King? 40 


Many a year distressed Albion lay 

By her unnatural offspring torn, 

Once the World's terror, then its scorn, 
At home a prison, and abroad a prey : 
Her valiant Youth, her valiant Youth did kill, 

And mutual blood did spill ; 
Usurpers then, and many a mushroom Peer 

Within her palaces did domineer ; 
There did the vulture build his nest, 

There the owls and satyrs rest, 50 

By Zini and Ohhn all possest ; 
'Till England's Angel-Guardian, thou. 

With pity and with anger mov'd 
For Albion thy belov'd 

(Olive-chaplets on thy brow), 
With bloodless hands upheld'st her drooping head, 
And with thy trumpets call'dst her from the dead. 

Bright Phosphor to the rising Sun ! 
That Royal Lamp, by thee did first appear 
Usher'd into our happy hemisphere j 60 

O may it still shine bright and clear ! 
No cloud nor night approach it, but a constant noon ! 


Nor thus did thy undaunted valour cease, 

Or wither with unactive peace : 

Scarce were our civil broils allay'd. 
While yet the wound of an intestine war 

Had left a tender scar. 
When of our new prosperities afraid. 
Our jealous neighbours fatal arms prepare; 
In floating groves the enemy drew near. 70 

Loud did the Belgian Lion roar, 
Upon our coasts th' Armada did appear, 
And boldly durst attempt our native shore, 

40 a Crown] three Realms iS'jo. 

47 The extreme rapidity of Monk's own transition from commonerhood to the 
highest rank in the peerage mai<es this allusion to Oliver's mock-lords rather hazardous ; 
but after all Monk was a gentleman, and had richly deserved it. 

49 vulture] bloody vulture i6']o. 

51 Zvn and Ohim are the original Hebrew for the 'wild beasts of the desert' and 
the ' doleful creatures ' who accompany owls and satyrs in Isaiah xiii. 21 (A.V.). 

61 bright] warm ib'jo. 

( 309 ) 

Thomas Flat man 

Till his victorious squadrons check'd their pride, 

And did in triumph o'er the Ocean ride. 

With thunder, lightning, and with clouds of smoke 

He did their insolence restrain. 
And gave his dreadful law to all the main. 
Whose surly billows trembled when he spoke, 
And put their willing necks under his yoke. 80 

This the stupendious vanquisher has done, 
Whose high prerogative it was alone 
To raise a ruin'd, and secure an envied throne. 


Then angry Heav'n began to frown, 
From Heav'n a dreadful pestilence came down. 
On every side did lamentations rise ; 

Baleful sigh, and heavy groan. 

All was plaint, and all was moan ! 

The pious friend with trembling love, 

Scarce had his latest kindness done, 90 

In sealing up his dead friend's eyes, 
Ere with his own surprising fate he strove, 

And wanted one to close his own. 

Death's iron sceptre bore the sway 

O'er our imperial Golgotha ; 
Yet he with kind, though unconcerned eyes. 
Durst stay and see those numerous tragedies. 
He in the field had seen Death's grisly shape. 

Heard him in volleys talk aloud. 
Beheld his grandeur in a glittering crowd, 100 

And unamaz'd seen him in cannons gape : 
Ever unterrified his valour stood 
Like some tall rock amidst a sea of blood : 
'Twas loyalty from sword and pest kept him alive, 
The safest armour and the best preservative. 


Th,e flaming City next implor'd his aid. 

And seasonably pray'd 
His force against the Fire, whose arms the sea obey'd ; 
Wide did th' impetuous torrent spread, 

After 1. 75 (' ride ') the following lines appeared in 1670 : 
Under a gallant Admiral he fought, 
York, whose success a taller Muse must sing ; 
Who so his country loved, that he forgot 
He was the Brother of a King ; 
Whose daring courage might inspire 
A meaner soul than his with martial fire. 

80 put] crouch'd. 

81 stupend/ous] These forms are always worth noting, when they occur. 

94 Death's iron sceptre bore the sway] With iron sceptre Death bore all the sway. 

96 unconcerned] undisturbed. 97 tragedies] butcheries. 

98 shape] face. 99 volleys! niter. 104 kept] saved. 

107 And seasonably pray'd] Successfully it prayed. 

( ?>io ) 

Oft the Death of the Duke of Albemarle 

Then those goodly fabrics fell, no 

Temples themselves promiscuously there 
Dropp'd down, and in the common ruin buried were, 

The City turn'd into one Mongibel : 
The haughty tyrant shook his curlfed head, 
His breath with vengeance black, his face with fury red. 

Then every cheek grew wan and pale, 

Every heart did yield and fail : 
Nought but thy presence could its power suppress. 

Whose stronger light put out the less. 

As London's noble structures rise, 120 

Together snail his memory grow. 
To whom that beauteous town so much does owe. 
London ! joint Favourite with him thou wert ; 
As both possess'd a room within one heart. 
So now with thine indulgent Sovereign join, 
Respect his great friend's ashes, for he wept o'er thine. 


Thus did the Duke perform his mighty stage. 

Thus did that Atlas of our State 
With his prodigious acts amaze the age. 
While worlds of wonders on his shoulders sate; 130 

Full of glories and of years, 
He trod his shining and immortal way, 
Whilst Albion, compass'd with new floods of tears, 

Besought his longer stay. 
Profane that pen that dares describe thy bliss, 

Or write thine Apotheosis ! 
Whom Heaven and thy Prince to pleasure prove, 
Entrusted with their armies and their love. 
In other Courts 'tis dangerous to deserve, 

Thou didst a kind and grateful Master serve, 140 

Who, to express his gratitude to thee, 
Scorn'd those ill-natur'd arts of policy, 

Happy had Belisarius bin 

(Whose forward fortune was his sin) 

By many victories undone, 
He had not liv'd neglected, died obscure. 

If for thy Prince those battles he had won, 
Thy Prince, magnificent above his Emperor. 

113 Mongibel] i. e. Etna. 

117 did yield and fail i began to fail. After 117 come the following lines : 

And had not our Anointed's flame 

(From heaven towards his subjects sent) 

Outblazed the furious element. 

What could the furious element tame? 
121 His] thy. After 122 (' owe ') there is a line which completes the rhj-me 

with 'rise' : 'For its revived tranquillities.' 

124 possess'd] took up. 133 floods] seas. 135 Profane] Saucy. 

137 prove] strove (so also the texts of /^7^, i(>'j6, 1682), 

( 3x1 ) 

Thomas Flat man 


Among the Gods, those Gods that died like thee, 

As great as theirs, and full of majesty, 150 

Thy sacred dust shall sleep secure. 
Thy monument as long as theirs endure : 
There, free from envy, thou with them 
Shalt have thy share of diadem ; 

Among their badges shall be set 

Thy Garter and thy coronet ; 

Or (which is statelier) thou shalt have 
A Mausoleum in thy Prince's breast ;■ 

There thine embalmed name shall rest, 

That sanctuary shall thee save 160 

From the dishonours of a regal grave : 

And every wondrous history. 

Read by incredulous Posterity, 
That writes of him, shall honourably mention thee. 

Who by an humble loyalty hast shown. 
How much sublimer gallantry and renown 
'Tis to restore, than to ttsurp a Monarch's Crown. 

The Retirement. 

Pindaric Ode made in the time of the Great Sickness, 1665. 

Stanza I. 

In the mild close of an hot summer's day, 
When a cool breeze had fann'd the air. 
And heaven's face look'd smooth and fair; 
Lovely as sleeping infants be, 
That in their slumber smiling lie 
Dandled on their mother's knee. 
You hear no cry. 
No harsh, nor inharmonious voice. 
But all is innocence without a noise : 
When every sweet, which the sun's greedy ray 10 

So lately from us drew. 
Began to trickle down again in dew ; 

Weary, and faint, and full of thought. 
Though for what cause I knew not well. 
What I ail'd I could not tell, 
I sate me down at an aged poplar's root. 
Whose chiding leaves excepted and my breast, 
All the impertinently busied world inclin'd to rest. 

161 a regal] the. 

The Retirement. Exactly dated in the Firth MS., August 17, 1665. Stanza III, 
found in this MS., was cancelled in i6j4, i6j6, 1682, but restored in 1686. Stanzas IV 
and V appear as a separate poem entitled ' Upon the Plague' in Bodley Rawlinson MS. 
D. 260, fol. 29 verso. 

( 312 ) 

The Retirement 

I list'ned heedfully around, 

But not a whisper there was found. , 20 

The murmuring brook hard by, 
As heavy, and as dull as I, 

Seem'd drowsily along to creep; 

It ran with undiscover'd pace, 
And if a pebble stopp'd the lazy race, 
'Twas but. as if it started in its sleep. 
Echo herself, that ever lent an ear 

To any piteous moan. 

Wont to groan with thqm that groan. 

Echo herself was speechless here. 30 

Thrice did I sigh, thrice miserably cry, 

Ai me ! the Nymph, ai me ! would not reply, 
Or churlish, or she was asleep for company. 


There did I sit and sadly call to mind 
Far and near, all I could find 
All the pleasures, all the cares, 
The jealousies, the fears, 
All the incertainties of thirty years, 
From that most inauspicious hour 

Which gave me breath ; 40 

To that in which the fair Amira's power 
First made me wish for death : 
And yet Amira's not unkind; 
She never gave me angry word, 
Never my mean address abhorr'd ; 
Beauteous her face, beauteous her mind : 
Yet something dreadful in her eyes I saw 
Which ever kept my falt'ring tongue in awe, 

And gave my panting soul a law. 
So have I seen a modest beggar stand, 50 

Worn out with age and being oft denied. 

On his heart he laid his hand ; 
And though he look'd as if he would have died 
The needy wretch no alms did crave : 
He durst not ask for what he fear'd he should not have. 


I thought on every pensive thing, 
That might my passion strongly move, 
That might the sweetest sadness bring ; 
Oft did I think on Death, and oft of Love, 
The triumphs of the little God, and that same ghastly King. 60 

28 moan] tone Firih MS., i6y6, 1682. 57 strongly] deeply Firth and 

Rawlinson MSS. 59 of Love] on Love MSS., i6-]4, i6y6. 


Thomas Flat man 

The ghastly King, what has he done? 

How his pale territories spread ! 
Strait scantlings now of consecrated ground 

His swelling empire cannot bound, 
But every day new colonies of dead 
Enhance his conquests, and advance his throne. 
The mighty City sav'd from storms of War, 

Exempted from the crimson flood, 

When all the land o'erflow'd with blood, 
Stoops yet once more to a new conqueror : 70 

The City which so many rivals bred, 
Sackcloth is on her loins, and ashes on her head. 


When will the frowning Heav'n begin to smile? 

Those pitchy clouds be overblown, 

That hide the mighty town. 

That I may see the mighty pile ! 
When will the angry Angel cease to slay, 

And turn his brandish'd sword away 

From that illustrious Golgotha, 

London, the great Aceldama ! 80 

A\'hen will that stately landscape open lie, 
The mist withdrawn that intercepts my eye ! 

That heap of Pyramids appear, 
Which, now, too much like those of Egypt are : 

Eternal monuments of pride and sin. 
Magnificent and tall without, but dead men's bones within. 

Ti'mislated out of a Part of Petromtis Arbiters 



After a blust'ring tedious night, 

The wind's now hush'd and the black tempest o'er, 

Which th' crazy vessel miserably tore. 

Behold a lamentable sight ! 
Rolling far off, upon a briny wave, 
Compassionate Philander spied 

A floating carcase ride. 
That seem'd to beg the kindness of a grave. 

66 advance] exalt MSS. 71 rivals MSS. : rival 1682, 16S6. 

73 begin to om. MSS. Raivlinson reads ' Heavens '. 

76 mightyl amazing mighty Rawlinson. 77 angry om. RaivUnson. 

B5 Eternall Vast RaivUnson. 

PeirotvHs Arbiter's SatyHcon.'] This translation-amplification of one of the most famous 
passages of the Satyricon is the piece referred to by Nahum Tate at the opening of his 
commendation {sup., p. 290). 

( 314 ) 

Part of Petronius Arbiter s Satyricon 


Sad and concern'd, Philander then 
Weigh'd with himself the frail, uncertain state lo 

Of silly, strangely disappointed men, 

Whose projects are the sport of Fate. 
Perhaps (said he) this poor man's desolate wife, 
In a strange co^ntry far away, 

Expects some happy day 
This ghastly thing, the comfort of her life; 


His son it may be dreads no harm, 
But kindly waits his father's coming home ; 
Himself secure, he apprehends no storm, 

But fancies that he sees him come. so 

Perhaps the good old man, that kiss'd this son, 

And left a blessing on his head. 
His arms about him spread, 
Hopes yet to see him ere his glass be run. 

These are the grand intrigues of Man, 
These his huge thoughts, and these his vast desires, 
Restless, and swelling like the Ocean 
From his birth till he expires. 
See where the naked, breathless body lies 

To every puff of wind a slave, 30 

At the beck of every wave. 
That once perhaps was fair, rich, stout, and wise ! 


While thus Philander pensive said, 
Touch'd only with a pity for mankind. 
At nearer view, he thought he knew the dead, 

And call'd the wretched man to mind : 
Alas, said he, art thou that angry thing, 
That with thy looks didst threaten death. 

Plagues and destruction breath. 
But two days since, little beneath a King ! 40 


Ai me ! where is thy fury now, 
Thine insolence, and all thy boundless power, 
O most ridiculously dreadful thou ! 
Expos'd for beasts and fishes to devour. 
Go, sottish mortals, let your breasts swell high ; 

All your designs laid deep as Hell, 
A small mischance can quell. 
Outwitted by the deeper plots of Destiny. 

39 ' breath ', as in 1. 72, a seventeenth-century form. 
( 315 ) 

Thomas Flatman 


This haughty lump a while before 
Sooth'd up itself, perhaps with hopes of life, 50 

What it would do, when it came safe on shore, 

What for its son, what for its wife ; 
See where the man and all his politics lie. 

Ye Gods ! what gulfs are set between 
What we have and what we ween. 
Whilst luU'd in dreams of years to come, we die ! 


Nor are we liable alone 
To misadventures on the merciless sea, 
A thousand other things our Fate bring on, 

And shipwreck'd everywhere we be. 60 

One in the tumult of a battle dies 

Big with conceit of victory, 
And routing th' enemy. 
With garlands deck'd, himself the sacrifice. 


Another, while he pays his vows 
On bended knees, and Heaven with tears invokes, 
With adorations as he humbly bows, 

While with gums the altar smokes, 
In th' presence of his God, the temple falls : 

And thus religious in vain 70 

The flatter'd bigot slain. 
Breathes out his last within the sacred walls. 


Another with gay trophies proud. 
From his triumphant chariot overthrown, 
Makes pastime for the gazers of the crowd. 

That envied him his purchas'd crown. 
Some with full meals, and sparkling bowls of wine 

(As if it made too long delay). 
Spur on their fatal day, 
Whilst others (needy souls) at theirs repine. So 


Consider well, and every place 
Offers a ready road to thy long home. 
Sometimes with frowns, sometimes with smiling face 

Th' embassadors of Death do come. 
By open force or secret ambuscade, 

By unintelligible ways, 

We end our anxious days, 
And stock the large plantations of the Dead. 

88 A good line, if I mistake not. There is no suggestion even of it in the original, 
but, as often in Flatman, much of Sir Thomas Browne. 

( 316 ) 

Pai't of Petronius Arbiter s Satyricon 


But (some may say) 'tis very hard 
With them, whom heavy chance has cast away, 90 

With no solemnities at all interr'd, 

To roam unburied on the sea : 
No — 'tis all one where we receive our doom, 

Since, somewhere, 'tis our certain lot 
Our carcases must rot, 
And they whom heaven covers need no tomb. 

A Thought of Death. 

When on my sick bed I languish, 
Full of sorrow, full of anguish, 

Fainting, gasping, trembling, crying, 

Panting, groaning, speechless, dying, 
My soul just now about to take her flight 
Into the regions of eternal night ; 
Oh tell me you, 
That have been long below, 
What shall I do! 
What shall I think, when cruel Death appears, 10 

That may extenuate my fears ! 
Methinks I hear some gentle Spirit say. 

Be not fearful, come away ! 
Think with thyself that now thou shalt be free, 
And find thy long-expected liberty ; 
Better thou mayst, but worse thou canst not be 
Than in this vale of tears and misery. 
Like Caesar, with assurance then come on, 
And unamaz'd attempt the laurel crown, 
That lies on th' other side Death's Rubicon. 20 

Psalm xxxix. Vers. ./, 5. 

Verse IV. 

Lord, let me know the period of my age, 
The length of this my weary pilgrimage. 
How long this miserable life shall last, 
This life that stays so long, yet flies so fast ! 

Verse V. 

Thou by a span measur'st these days of mine, 

Eternity 's the spacious bound of thine : 

Who shall compare his little span with thee, 

With thine Incomprehensibility. 

Man born to trouble leaves this world with pain, 

His best estate is altogether vain. • 10 

A Thought of Death.'] Flatman's best-known, if not his only known thing to most 
people — the knowledge being due to Warton's suggestion of indebtedness to it on Pope's 
part in his Dying Christian, 


Thomas Flatman 

Hymn for the Mornmg. 

Awake, my soul! Awake, mine eyes! 

Awake, my drowsy faculties; 

Awake, and see the new-born light 

Spring from the darksome womb of Night! 

Look up and see th' unwearied Sun, 

Already hath his race begun : 

The pretty lark is mounted high, 

And sings her matins in the sky. 

Arise, my soul ! and thou my voice 

In songs of praise, early rejoice ! lo 

O Great Creator! Heavenly King! 

Thy praises let me ever sing ! 

Thy power has made. Thy goodness kept 

This fenceless body while I slept, 

Yet one day more hast given me 

From all the powers of darkness free: 

O keep my heart from sin secure, 

My life unblameable and pure, 

That when the last of all my days is come, 

Cheerful and fearless I may wait my doom. 20 

Anthem for the Evening. 

Sleep ! downy sleep ! come close my eyes, 

Tir'd with beholding vanities ! 

Sweet slumbers come and chase away 

The toils and follies of the day : 

On your soft bosom will I lie, 

Forget the world, and learn to die. 

O Israel's watchful Shepherd ! spread 

Tents of Angels round my bed j 

Let not the Spirits of the air, 

While I slumber, me ensnare ; 10 

But save Thy suppliant free from harms, 

Clasp'd in Thine everlasting Arms. 

Hymn for the Mommg.] This Hymn will of course suggest Ken's infinitely better- 
Icnown one to everybody. The facts are curious and not quite fully given in 
Mr. Julian's invaluable Diciioiiary of Hytnnoloiry, where it is not mentioned that Ken 
and Flatman were both Winchester and New College men of almost exactl}' the same 
age and standing. Moreover, Sir Thomas Browne — also a Wy'ehamist and their con- 
temporary, though a senior— has another very similar composition— one of his rare 
exercises in verse — towards the end of Religio Medici. The triple connexion with 
Winchester, and with Latin hymns known to be in use there, is pretty striking, though 
the matter cannot be followed out here. It is enough to say that the resemblance is 
chiefly confined to the opening. In the Evening hymns of the two this resemblance is 
still slighter, though there are passages, naturally enough, that approach each other. 
Ken's hymns were not publisltKi till 1695; but in 1674, the very years of Flatman's 
original issue, they are palpably referred to in the future bishop's and actual prebendary's 
Manual of Prayers for the use of the Scholars of Winchester College. Browne's piece 
must be at least forty years older. 

6 hath /(57<5, 16S2 : has 2686. 

( 3'8 ) 

Anthem for the Evening 

Clouds and thick darkness is Thy Throne, 

Thy wonderful pavilion : 

Oh dart from thence a shining ray, 

And then my midnight shall be day ! 

Thus when the morn in crimson drest. 

Breaks through the windows of the East, 
My hymns of thankful praises shall arise 
Like incense or the morning sacrifice. 20 



Oh the sad day, 
When friends shall shake their heads and say 

Of miserable me, 
Hark how he groans, look how he pants for breath, 
See how he struggles with the pangs of Death ! 
When they shall say of these poor eyes, 

How hollow, and how dim they be ! 

Mark how his breast does swell and rise. 

Against his potent Enemy ! 
When some old friend shall step to my bedside, 10 

Touch my chill face, and thence shall gently slide. 

And when his next companions say. 
How does he do? what hopes? shall turn away, 

Answering only with a lift-up hand, 
Who can his fate withstand? 

Then shall a gasp or two do more 

Than e'er my rhetoric could before, 
Persuade the peevish world to trouble me no more ! 

The Happy Man. 

Peaceful is he, and most secure. 
Whose heart and actions all are pure ; 
How smooth and pleasant is his way, 
Whilst Life's Meander slides away. 

If a fierce thunderbolt do fly, 

This man can unconcernM lie ; 

Knows 'tis not levell'd at his head, 
So neither noise nor flash can dread : 

Anthem for the Evening.'] 19 ause 1682; r\sfi 1686. 

Death.'] This, in my humble judgement, is finer, as it is certainly more original, than 
the earlier ' thought' on the same subject. The copy in the Firth MS. reads 'dear' 
for 'poor' (1. 6) and 'hope' (1. 13), omits 'peevish' in 1. 18, and notes that the 
Song was set to music by Captain Sylvanus Tavlor. 

The Happy Man.] In the Firth MS., and dated December 27, 1604. 

I Peaceful] Happy MS. 2 heart] life MS. 

( 319 ) 

Thomas Flatman 

Though a swift whirlwind tear in sunder 

Heav'n above him, or earth under; lo 

Though the rocks on heaps do tumble, 

Or the world to ashes crumble, 
Though the stupendious mountains from on high 
Drop down, and in their humble valleys lie; 

Should the unruly Ocean roar, 

And dash its foam against the shore ; 

He finds no tempest in his mind, 

Fears no billow, feels no wind : 

All is serene, all quiet there, 

There 's not one blast of troubled air, ao 

Old stars may fall, or new ones blaze. 

Yet none of these his soul amaze; 
vSuch is the man can smile at irksome death, 
And with an easy sigh give up his breath. 

On Mr. Johnsons Several Shipwrecks. 

He that has never yet acquainted been 

With cruel Chance, nor Virtue naked seen, 

Stripp'd from th' advantages (which vices wear) 

Of happy, plausible, successful, fair ; 

Nor learnt how long the low'ring cloud may last, 

Wherewith her beauteous face is overcast, 

Till she her native glories does recover. 

And shines more bright, after the storm is over; 

To be inform'd, he need no further go, 

Than this Divine Epitome of woe. lo 

In Johnson's Life and Writings he may find, 

What Homer in his Odysses design'd, 

A virtuous man, by miserable fate, 

Rend'red ten thousand ways unfortunate ; 

Sometimes within a leaking vessel tost. 

All hopes of life and the lov'd shore quite lost, 

While hidden sands, and every greedy wave 

With horror gap'd themselves into a grave : 

Sometimes upon a rock with fury thrown. 

Moaning himself, where none could hear his moan ; 20 

Sometimes cast out upon the barren sand, 

Expos'd to th' mercy of a barbarous land : 

Such was the pious Johnson, till kind Heaven 

A blessed end to all his toils had given : 

To show that virtuous men, though they appear 

But Fortune's sport, are Providence's care. 

13 ThouRlil When MS. 19 all quiet MS., 1674, 1676, 1682 : and quiet 1686. 

23 atl on MS. 24 give up] resign MS. 

On Mr. Johnson^s several Shipwrecks.'] First in Deus Nobiscum. A Narrative of 
a Great Deliverance at Sea, . . . By William Johnson, D.D., late Chaplain and Sub-Almoner 
to His Sacred Majesty, . . . The Third Edition, Corrected, London, 1672, small octavo. 
These arc some minor variants. 

( 320 ) 

ISeest thou those Rays^ the Light above them 

An Explanation of an Emblem Engraven by V. H. 

Seest thou those Rays, the Light 'bove them ? 

And that gay thing the Diadem? 

The Wheel and Balance, which are tied 

To th' Gold, black Clouds on either side ? 

Seest thou the winged Trumpeters withal, 

That kick the World's blue tottering Ball? 

The flying Globe, the Glass thereon, 

Those fragments of a Skeleton? 

The Bays, the Palms, the Fighting men, 

And written Scroll? — Come tell me then, io 

Did thy o'er-curious eye e'er see 

An apter scheme of Misery? 

What 's all that Gold and sparkling Stones 

To that bald Skull, to those Cross Bones? 

What mean those Blades (whom we adore) 

To stain the Earth with purple gore? 

Sack stately towns, silk banners spread, 

Gallop their coursers o'er the dead? 

Far more than this? and all to sway 

But till those sands shall glide away. 20 

For when the bubble world shall fly 

With stretch'd-out plumes, when the brisk eye 

Shall close with anguish, sink with tears, 

And th' angels' trumpets pierce our ears, 

What 's haughty man, or those fine things, 

Which Heaven calls men, though men style kings? 

Vain World, adieu ! and farewell, fond renown ! 

Give me the Glory, that's above the Crown. 

Eor Thotights. » 


Thoughts! What are they? 

They are my constant friends. 
Who, when harsh Fate its dull brow bends, 

Uncloud me with a smiling ray. 
And in the depth of midnight force a day. 


When I retire, and flee 
The busy throngs of company 
To hug myself in privacy ; 

O the discourse ! the pleasant talk, 
'Twixt us (my thoughts) along a lonely walk ! 10 

Emblem engraven by V. H.'] V. or W[enceslas] H[ollar], I suppose. 

13 and sparkling 16J4-82 : and what those Sparkhng 1686. 

15 Blades 1674-82 : Braves 16S6. 

thoughts.'] Dated in the Firth MS. May 13, 1659. 

( 321 ) y in 

Tho?nas Fiatma7t 

You, like the stupefying wine 

The dying malefactors sip 
With shivering lip, 

T' abate the rigour of their doom, 
By a less troublous cut to their long home; 
Make me slight crosses, though they pil'd up lie, 
All by th' enchantments of an ecstasy. 


Do I desire to see 

The Throne and Majesty 

Of that proud one, ao 

Brother and Uncle to the Stars and Stni? 
Those can conduct me where such toys reside, 
And waft me 'cross the main, sans wind and tide. 


Would I descry 
Those radiant mansions 'bove the sky, 
Invisible by mortal eye? 

My Thoughts, my Thoughts can lay 
A shining track thereto, 
And nimbly fleeting go : 
Through all the eleven orbs can shove a way, 3c 

These too, like Jacob's Ladder, are 
A most Angelic thoroughfare. 


The wealth that shines 
"' In th' Oriental mines ; 

Those sparkling gems which Nature keeps 
Within her cabinets, the deeps ; 

The verdant fields. 
The rarities the rich World yields ; 
Rare structures, whose each gilded spire 
Glimmers like lightning ; which, while men admire, 40 

They deem the neighbouring sky on fire, — 
These can I gaze upon, and glut mine eyes 
With myriads of varieties. 
As on the front of Pisgah, I 
Can th' Holy Land through these my optics spy. 

13 shivering] trembling MS. 17 th' enchantments] the magic J/S. 

19 Majesty] awful Majestic MS. 22 Thosel These MS. 

26 by I to MS. 27 My Tliotighis, my Thoughts can] My Thoughts can 

eas'Iy MS. 29 fleeting] flitting MS. 30 a way MS : * away ' all editions. 

31 These too] My Thoughts] MS. : 1686 stupidly misprints ' two '. 
38 The] Those MS. 39 Rare] Huge MS. (cf. ' rarities ' 38). 

40 Glimmers] Glisters MS., 167./, i6y6. 42 gaze. ..glut] dwell... tire MS. 

43 myriads] millions MS. : fancies i6y6. 

( 322 ) 

For Thoughts 


Contemn we then 

The peevish rage of men, 

Whose violence ne'er can divorce 

Our mutual amity; 

Or lay so damn'd a curse 5° 

As Non-addresses, 'twixt my thoughts and me: 

For though I sigh in irons, they 
Use their old freedom, readily obey; 
And when my bosom-friends desert me, stay. 


Come then, my darlings, I'll embrace 

My privilege; make known 

The high prerogative I own, 
By making all allurements give you place ; 

Whose sweet society to me 
A sanctuary and a shield shall be 60 

'Gainst the full quivers of my Destiny. 

Agamst Thoughts. 


Intolerable racks ! 

Distend my soul no more, 

Loud as the billows when they roar, 
More dreadful than the hideous thunder-cracks. 

Foes inappeasable, that slay 

My best contents, around me stand, 
Each Hke a Fury, with a torch in hand; 
And fright me from the hopes of one good day, 


When I seclude myself, and say 

How frolic will I be, to 

Unfetter'd from my company 
I'll bathe me in felicity] 
In come these guests. 
Which Harpy-like defile my feasts : 
Oh the damn'd dialogues, the cursed talk 
'Twixt us (my Thoughts^ along a sullen walk. 

48 ne'er can] cannot MS. 

Against Thoughts.'] Entitled in the Firth MS. Thoughts: tM Answer to the other, 
and dated May 18, 1659. 2 Distend] O tear MS. 

4 More dreadful than] Less dreadful are MS. 5 Foes inappeasable] Too cruel 

enemies MS. 

( 323 ) Y 2 

Thomas Flatinaii 

You, like the poisonous wine 
The gallants quaff 
To make 'em laugh, 
And yet at last endure ao 

From thence the tortures of a calenture, 
Fool me with feign'd refections, till I lie 
Stark raving in a Bedlam ecstasy. 


Do I dread 

The starry Throne and Majesty 
Of that high God, 
Who batters kingdoms with an iron rod. 
And makes the mountains stagger with a nod? 

That sits upon the glorious Bow, 

Smiling at changes here below. 30 

These goad me to his grand tribunal, where 
They tell me I with horror must appear. 
And antedate amazements by grim fear. 


Would I descry 
Those happy souls' blest mansions 'bove the sky. 
Invisible by mortal eye, 
And in a noble speculation trace 

A journey to that shining place; 

Can I afford a sigh or two, 
Or breathe a wish that I might thither go : 40 

These clip my plumes, and chill my blazing love 
That, O, I cannot, cannot soar above. 


The fire that shines 

In subterranean mines, i 

The crystall'd streams, 

The sulphur rocks that glow upon 

The torrid banks of Phlegeton; 

Those sooty fiends which Nature keeps. 

Bolted and barr'd up in the deeps ; 
Black caves, wide chasms, which who see confess 50 

Types of the pit, so deep, so bottomless ! 
These mysteries, though I fain would not behold, 

You to my view unfold : 

19 'cm] them MS. 

20 Yet thence at last procure MS. : Yet chance at last t' endure i6']4. 

21 From thence the] The burning MS. 

22 refections] reflections i6-]4. 26 high] great MS. 

50 changes here] us poor things MS. 31 grand 1674-82, MS. : great 16S6. 

orrid] burning AIS. 50 chasms] chasma's MS. 

( 324 ) 

Against Thoughts 

Like an old Roman criminal, to the high 
Tarpeian Hill you force me up, that I 
May so be hurried headlong down, and die. 


Mention not then 
The strength and faculties of men; 
Whose arts cannot expel 

These anguishes, this bosom-Hell. 60 

When down my aching head I lay, 
In hopes to slumber them away; 

Perchance I do beguile 

The tyranny awhile. 
One or two minutes, then they throng again, 
And reassault me with a trebled pain : 

Nay, though I sob in fetters, they 
Spare me not then; perplex me each sad day, 
And whom a very Turk would pity, slay. 


Hence, hence, my Jailors ! Thoughts be gone, 70 

Let my tranquillities alone. 
Shall I embrace 
' A crocodile, or place 

My choice affections on the fatal dart. 
That stabs me to the heart? 
I hate your curst proximity. 
Worse than the venom'd arrows-heads that be 
Cramm'd in the quivers of my Destiny. 

A Dooms-Day Thought. 

Anno i6j^. 

Judgement! two syllables can make 
The haughtiest son of Adam shake. 
'Tis coming, and 'twill surely come, 
The dawning to that Day of Doom ; 
O th' morning blush of that dread day, 
When Heav'n and Earth shall steal away, 

54 old Roman criminal] adjudged offender i6']4. 

56 headlong] headly 1674-82. 58 and] nor MS. 

59 cannot] ne'er could MS. 63 do] may MS. 64 The] Their MS. 

65 throng] swarm MS. 66 And reassault] Then they assault MS. 

67 sob] groan MS. 68 each sad] every MS. 70 Thoughts be] get ye MS. 

75 Directed at my heart MS. 

The Firth MS. supplies very interesting evidence of Flatman's care in revision ; in 
1. 54 there is a curious reversion to the original, and more effective, reading. 

A Dootns-Day Thought.'] This, the last of Flatman's three poems on the Novissima, 
is perhaps not the worst ; except for those who hate ' conceits '. It has a curious genuhie- 
ntss, though in manner it slightly resembles his friend Cotton's 'New Year' poem so 
highly and rightly praised by Lamb, 

( 325 ) 

Thomas Flat man 

Shall in their pristine Chaos hide, 

Rather than th' angry Judge abide. 

'Tis not far off; methinks I see 

Among the stars some dimmer be ; lo 

Some tremble, as their lamps did fear 

A neighbouring extinguisher. 

The greater luminaries fail. 

Their glories by eclipses veil, 

Knowing ere long their borrow'd light 

Must sink in th' Universal Night. ^ 

When I behold a mist arise, 

Straight to the same astonish'd eyes 

Th' ascending clouds do represent 

A scene of th' smoking firmament. * ao 

Oft when I hear a blustering wind 

With a tempestuous murmur join'd, 

I fancy, Nature in this blast 

Practises how to breathe her last, 

Or sighs for poor Man's misery, 

Or pants for fair Eternity. 

Go to the dull church-yard and see 
Those hillocks of mortality, 
Where proudest Man is only found 

By a small swelling in the ground. 30 

What crowds of carcases are made 
Slaves to the pickaxe and the spade ! 
Dig but a foot, or two, to make 
A cold bed, for thy dead friend's sake, 
'Tis odds but in that scantling room 
Thou robb'st another of his tomb, 
Or in thy delving smit'st upon 
A shinbone, or a cranion. 

When th' prison 's full, what next can be 
But the Grand Gaol-Delivery? 40 

The Great Assize, when the pale clay 
Shall gape, and render up its prey ; 
When from the dungeon of the grave 
The meagre throng themselves shall heave, 
Shake off their linen chains, and gaze 
With wonder, when the world shall blaze. 
Then climb the mountains, scale the rocks. 
Force op'n the deep's eternal locks. 
Beseech the clifts to lend an ear — 

Obdurate they, and will not hear. 50 

What? ne'er a cavern, ne'er a grot, 
To cover from the common lot? 
No quite forgotten hold, to lie 
Obscur'd, and pass the reck'ning by? 
No — There's a quick all-piercing Eye 
Can through the Earth's dark centre pry, 
( 326 ) 

A Dooms-Day Thought 

Search into th' bowels of the sea, 
And comprehend Eternity. 

What shall we do then, when the voice 
Of the shrill trump with strong fierce noise 60 

Shall pierce our ears, and summon all 
To th' Universe' wide Judgement Hall? 
What ^hall we do ! we cannot hide, 
Nor yet that scrutiny abide : 
When enlarg'd conscience loudly speaks, 
And all our bosom-secrets breaks ; 
When flames surround, and greedy Hell 
Gapes for a booty {who can dwell 
With everlasting Burnings !)^ when 

Irrevocable words shall pass on men ; 70 

Poor naked men, who sometimes thought 
These frights perhaps would come to nought ! 
What shall we do ! we cannot run 
For refuge, or the strict Judge shun. 
'Tis too late then to think what course to take ; 
While we live here, we must provision make. 

Virtus sola luanet, caetera mortis erimt. 


Nunqttam sitivi, quae vehit aureo 
Factolus alveo flumina ; quo magis 
Potatur Hermus, ianto avarde 
Mentis Hydrops sitibundus ardet. 


Frustra caduci carceris incola 
Molirer Arces ; quilibet angulus 
Sat ossa post manes reponet ; 
Exiguum satis est Sepulchnim. 


Nil stemma penso, ftil titulos moror, 

Cerdsve aviti sanguinis i7idices, ■ 10 

Sunt ista fatorum, inque Lethes 
Naufragium patientur undis. 

Ergo in quieto pectoris ambitu 
Quid mens anhelas fulgura gloriae, 
Laude'sque inanes, et loquacem 
Quae populi sedet ore faniam 1 

Virtus sola manetP^ These Alcaics look like a college exercise, in which kind there 
have been worse. The third lines, as usual, are the weakest parts. But the English is 
perhaps better. The decasj'llabic quatrain, though practised by Davies, by Davenant, 
and recently and best of all by Dryden, in Annus Mirabilis, has qualities which it 
remained for Gray to bring out fully, but which Flatman has not quite missed here. 
I wonder if Gray knew the piece, especially Stanza III ? 

( 327 ) 

Thomas Flatman 


Letho supersies gloria, somnii 
Dulcedo vana est, fama malignior 
Nil tangit umbras, nee feretrum 

Ingreditiir Popularis Aura. so 

VI. . 

Mansura sector, sola sed invidi 
Expers Sepulchri sidera trajicit, 
Sper?iensque fatorum tuinultus 
Fellit htitnum generosa Virtus. 


Praeceps novorum caetera mensium 
Consufnet aetas, seraque temporis 
Delebit amiosi vetusias 

Utopicae nova Regna Ltintie. 



I NEVER thirsted for the Golden Flood, 

Which o'er Pactolus' wealthy sands does roll, 

From whence the covetous mind receives no good, 
But rather swells the dropsy of his soul. 


On palaces why should I set my mind, 

Imprison'd in this body's mould'ring clay? 
Ere long to poor six foot of earth confin'd, 

Whose bones must crumble at the fatal day. 


Titles and pedigrees, what are they to me, 

Or honour gain'd by our forefathers' toil, 
The sport of Fate, whose gaudiest pageantry 

Lethe will wash out, dark Oblivion soil? 


Why then, my soul, who fain wouldst be at ease, 
Should the World's glory dazzle thy bright eye? 

Thyself with vain applause why shouldst thou please. 
Or dote on Fame, which fools may take from thee ? 


Praise after death is but a pleasant dream. 
The Dead fare ne'er the worse for ill report; 

The Ghosts below know nothing of a name, 

Nor ever popular caresses court. 20 

( 328 ) 


Vii^tiis sola manet — Traitslated 


Give me the lasting Good, Virtue, that flies 
Above the clouds, that tramples on dull earth, 

Exempt from Fate's tumultuous mutinies, 
Virtue, that cannot need a second birth. 


All other things must bend their heads to Time, 
By age's mighty torrent borne away, 

Hereafter no more thought on than my rhyme, 
Or faery kingdoms in Utopia. 

Psalm XV. Paraphrased. 

Verse I. 
Who shall approach the dread Jehovah's Throne 
Or dwell within thy courts, O Holy One ! 
That happy man whose feet shall tread the road 
Up Sion's Hill, that holy Hill of God ! 

Verse II. 

He that's devoiit and strict in all he does, 

That through the sinful world uprightly goes, 

The desp'rate heights from whence the great ones fall 

(Giddy with Fame) turn not his head at all : 

Stands firm on Honour's pinnacle, and so 

Fears not the dreadful precipice below. lo 

Of Conscience, not of Man, he stands in awe, 

Just to observe each tittle of the Law ! 

His words and thoughts bear not a double part. 

His breast is open, and he speaks his heart. 

Verse III. 
He that reviles not, or with cruel words 
(Deadly as venom, sharp as two-edg'd swords) 
Murthers his friend's repute, nor dares believe 
That rumour which his neighbour's soul may grieve : 
But with kind words embalms his bleeding Name, 
Wipes off the rust, and polishes his fame. 30 

Verse IV. 

He in whose eyes the bravest sinners be 
Extremely vile, though rob'd in majesty ; 
But if he spies a righteous man (though poor) 
Him he can honour, love, admire, adore : 
In Israel's humble plains had rather stay. 
Than in the tents of Kedar bear the sway : 

Psalm xv?^ In the Firth MS. : the chief variant is 'brains' for 'head' in 1. 8. 
( 329 ) 

Thomas Flat 7n an 

He that severely keeps iiis sacred vow, 

No mental reservation dares allow, 

But what he swears, intends ; will rather die, 

Lose all he has, than tell a solemn lie. 30 

Verse V. 
He that extorts not from the needy soul. 
When laws his tyranny cannot control ; 
He whom a thousand empires cannot hire, 
Against a guiltless person to conspire. 
He that has these perfections, needs no more; 
What treasures can be added to his store? 
The Pyramids shall turn to dust, to hide 
Their own vast bulk, and haughty Founders' pride. 
Leviathan shall die within his deep ; 

The eyes of Heaven close in eternal sleep ; 40 

Confusion may o'erwhelm both sea and land ; 
Mountains may tumble down, but he shall stand. 


Few be the days that feeble man must breath, 
Yet frequent troubles antedate his death : 
Gay like a flow'r he comes, which newly grown, 
F'ades of itself, or is untimely mown : 
Like a thin aery shadow does he fly, 
Length'ning and short'ning still until he die. 
And does Jehovah think on such a one, 
Does he behold him from his mighty Throne? 
Will he contend with such a worthless thing, 
• Or dust and ashes into Judgement bring? 10 

Unclean, unclean is man ev'n from the womb, 
Unclean he falls into his drowsy tomb. 
Surely, he cannot answer God, nor be 
Accounted pure, before such purity. 

Nudus Redibo. 

Naked I came, when I began to be 
A man among the Sons of Misery, 
Tender, unarm'd, helpless, and quite forlorn, 
E'er since 'twas my hard fortune to be born ; 
And when the space of a few weary days 
Shall be expir'd, then must I go my ways. 
Naked I shall return, and nothing have. 
Nothing wherewith to bribe my hungry Grave. 

Job.'\ In the Firth MS., which records that it was set by William Havves. 
Nudus Redibo.'] In the Firth MS., and dated June 15, 1660. It was set by William 

4 hard fortune] misfortune MS. 7 I shall] shall I MS. 

( 330 ) 

Nudus Redibo 

Then what 's the proudest Monarch's glittering robe, 
Or what's he, more than I, that rul'd the globe? lo 

Since we must all without distinction die, 
And slumber both stark naked, he and I. 

An Elegy on the Earl of Sandwich. 

If there were aught in Verse at once could raise 

Or tender pity or immortal praise, 

Thine obsequies, brave Sandwich, would require 

Whatever would our nobler thoughts inspire ; 

But since thou find'st by thy unhappy fate, 

What 'tis to be unfortunately great. 

And purchase Honour at too dear a rate : 

The Muse's best attempt, howe'er design'd, 

Cannot but prove impertinently kind. 

Thy glorious valour is a theme too high lo 

For all the humble arts of Poesy. 

To side with chance and kingdoms overrun 

Are little things ambitious men have done ; 

But on a flaming ship thus to despise 

That life, which others did so highly prize ; 

To fight with fire, and struggle with a wave. 

And Neptune with unwearied arms outbrave, 

Are deeds surpassing fab'lous chronicle, 

And which no future age shall parallel ; 

Leviathan himself's outdone by thee, 30 

Thou greater wonder of the deep, than he : 

Nor could the deep thy mighty ashes hold, 

The deep that swallows diamonds and gold ; 

Fame ev'n thy sacred relics does pursue, 

Richer than all the treasures of Peru : 

While the kind sea thy breathless body brings 

Safe to the bed of honour and of kings. 

9 glittering] pearly 71/5. 

Elegy on the Earl of Sandwich ?\ Pepys's (the first) Earl, who perished at tJie fight of 
Solebay in 1672. The duplication (see next piece) looks as if Flatman had had some 
personal connexion with him. At any rate there are expressions which are not the 
mere conventions of such writing. Line 6, and in fact the whole vigorous triplet in 
which it occurs, must be connected with the nearly certain facts that Sandwich's advice 
would have prevented the most unfavourable of the conditions under which the English 
fought ; that the Duke of York not only would not listen but hinted at cowardice on 
Sandwich's part ; and that the Earl in consequence, not only, as Mr. David Hannay 
{^A Short History of the Royal Navy, i. 423) says, ' fought the ship on this the last and 
most glorious day of his life, with determined courage ', but refused to attempt to save his 
life by swimming, when she was grappled by a firesliip and burnt. Moreover, the last 
lines express the fact that the body was only recovered after being washed ashore some 
days after the battle, when it was duly buried in Westminster Abbey, ' the bed of 
honour and of kings '. 

( 331 ) 

Thomas Flatma?i 

An Epitaph on the Earl of Sandwich^ 

Here lies the dust of that illustrious man, 

That triumph'd o'er the Ocean ; 
Who for his country nobly courted Death, 

And dearly sold his glorious breath, 
Or in a word, in this cold narrow grave 

Sandwich the Good, the Great, the Brave 
(Oh frail estate of sublunary things !), 
Lies equal here with England's greatest kings. 



At break of day poor Celadon 

Hard by his sheepfolds walk'd alone, 

His arms across, his head bow'd down, 

His oaten pipe beside him thrown, 
When Thirsis, hidden in a thicket by, 
Thus heard the discontented Shepherd cry. 


What is it Celadon has done, 

That all his happiness is gone ! 

The curtains of the dark are drawn. 

And cheerful morn begins to dawn, , lo 

Yet in my breast 'tis ever dead of night. 
That can admit no beam of pleasant light. 


You pretty lambs may leap and play 

To welcome the new-kindled day. 

Your shepherd harmless, as are you, 

Why is he not as frolic too? 
If such disturbance th' innocent attend. 
How differs he from them that dare offend ! 


Ye Gods ! or let me die, or live. 

If I must die, why this reprieve? 20 

If you would have me live, O why 

Is it with me as those that die ! 
I faint, I gasp, I pant, my eyes are set, 
My cheeks are pale^ and I am living yet. 
( 332 ) 



Ye Gods ! I never did withhold 

The fattest lamb of all my fold, 

But on your altars laid it down, 

And with a garland did it crown. 
Is it in vain to make your altar smoke? 
Is it all one, to please, and to provoke? 50 


Time was that I could sit and smile, 

Or with a dance the time beguile : 

My soul like that smooth lake was still. 

Bright as the sun behind yon hill, 
Like yonder stately mountain clear and high. 
Swift, soft, and gay as that same butterfly. 


But now ivitki?i there 's Civil War, 

In arms my rebel passions are. 

Their old allegiance laid aside, 

The traitors now in triumph ride 40 

That many-headed monster has thrown down 
Its lawful monarch, Reason, from its throne, 


See, unrelenting Sylvia, see, 

All this, and more, is 'long of thee : 

For ere I saw that charming face. 

Uninterrupted was my peace. 
Thy glorious beamy eyes have struck me blind, 
To my own soul the way I cannot find. 


Yet is it not thy fault nor mine; 

Heav'n is to blame, that did not shine 50 

Upon us both with equal rays — 

It made thine bright, mine gloomy days ; 
To Sylvia beauty gave, and riches store; 
All Celadon's offence is, he is poor. 


Unlucky stars poor shepherds have. 

Whose love is fickle Fortune's slave : 

Those golden days are out of date, 

When every turtle chose his mate : 
Ctipid, that mighty Prince, then uncontroll'd, 
Now like a Uttle negro's bought and sold. 60 

Pastoral.'] 36 that 16S2 ; the 16S6. 
( 333 ) 

Thomas Flatma7t 

On the Death of Mr. Pelham Humfi'ies. 
Pastoral Song. 

Did you not hear the hideous groan, 
The shrieks, and heavy moan 
That spread themselves o'er all the pensive plain ; 
And rent the breast of many a tender swain? 

'Twas for Amintas, dead and gone. 
Sing, ye forsaken shepherds, sing His praise 

In careless melancholy lays, 

Lend Him a little doleful breath : 
Poor Amintas ! cruel Death ! 
'Twas Thou couldst make dead words to live, lo 

Thou that dull numbers couldst inspire 

With charming voice and tuneful lyre, 
That life to all, but to Thyself, couldst give; 
Why couldst Thou not Thy wondrous art bequeath? 
Poor Amintas ! cruel Death ! 

Sing, pious shepherds, while you may, 
Before th' approaches of the Fatal Day : 
For you yourselves that sing this mournful song, 
Alas ! ere it be long. 

Shall, like Amintas, breathless be, 20 

Though more forgotten in the grave than He. 

The Mistake, 


I HEARD a young lover in terrible pain. 

From whence if he pleas'd, he might soon be releas'd. 

He swore, and he vow'd again and again. 
He could not outlive the turmoils of his breast ; 

But, alas, the young lover I found 
Knew little how cold Love would prove under ground ; 

Why should I believe, prithee, Love, tell me why, 
Where my own fiesh and blood must give me the lie ! 
Let 'em rant while they will, and their destinies brave, 
They'll find their flames vanish on this side the grave ; 10 

For though all addresses on purpose are made 
To be huddled to bed, — 'tisn't meant, with a spade! 

On the Death of Mr. Pelham Hiimfncs.'] Pelham Humfries or Humfrej' died in the 
year ( 1674) of first publication of these Poems. He was a musician and gentleman of 
the Chapel Royal. 21 than 1682; that 1686. 

( 334 ) 

/'// 7ieer believe for Strepho7is sake 

The Incredulous. 

I'll ne'er believe for Strephon's sake 

That Love (whate'er its fond pretences be), 
Is not a slave to mutability. 
The Moon and that alike of change partake : 

Tears are weak, and cannot bind, 

Vows, alas ! but empty wind : 

The greatest art that Nature gave 
To th' amorous hypocrite to make him kind, 
Long ere he dies will take its leave. 

Had you but seen, as I have done, lo 

Strephon's tears, and heard his moan, 

How pale his cheek, how dim his eye, 
As if with Chloris he resolv'd to die ; 

And when her spotless soul was fled 
Heard his amazing praises of the dead ; 

Yet in a very little time address 

His flame t' another Shepherdess, 
In a few days giving his love the lie, 
You'd be as great an infidel as I. 

Weeping at Parting. 


Go, gentle Oriana, go, 

Thou seest the Gods will have it soj 

Alas ! alas ! 'tis much in vain 

Of their ill usage to complain, 

To curse them when we want relief, 

Lessens our courage, not our grief : 

Dear Oriana, wipe thine eye, 

The time may come that thou and I 

Shall meet again, long, long to prove 

What vigour absence adds to love. lo 

Smile, Oriana, then, and let me see 

That look again, which stole my liberty. 


But say that Oriana die 
(And that sad moment may be nigh), 
The Gods that for a year can sever, 
If it please them, can part us ever; 
They that refresh, can make us weep, 
And into Death can lengthen sleep. 

Weeping at Partmg.'] In the Firth MS., entitled 'To Oriana weeping at parting ', and 
dated December 31, 1664; 'Set by Mr. Roger Hill.' In 1. 3 the MS. reads 'but' for 
• much '. 

( 335 ) 

Thomas FIatma7t 

Kind Oriana, should I hear 

The thing I so extremely fear, 20 

'Twill not be strange, if it be said, 

After a while, I too am dead. 
Weep, Oriana, weep, for who does know 
Whether we e'er shall meet again below? 

The Desperate Love7\ 


O MIGHTY King of Terrors, come ! 

Command thy slave to his long home : 

Great sanctuary Grave ! to thee 

In throngs the miserable flee ; 

Encircled in thy frozen arms, 

They bid defiance to their harms, 
Regardless of those pond'rous little things 
That discompose th' uneasy heads of kings. 


In the cold earth the pris'ner lies 

Ransom'd from all his miseries; 10 

Himself forgotten, he forgets 

His cruel creditors, and debts ; 

And there in everlasting peace 

Contentions with their authors cease. 
A turf of grass or monument of stone 
Umpires the petty competition. 


The disappointed lover there. 
Breathes not a sigh, nor sheds a tear; 
With us (fond fools) he never shares 
In sad perplexities and cares ; 30 

The willow near his tomb that grows 
Revives his memory, not his woes; 
Or rain, or shine, he is advanc'd above 
Th' affronts of Heaven and stratagems of Love. 


Then, mighty King of Terrors, come. 
Command thy slave to his long home. 
And thou, my friend, that lov'st me best, 
Seal up these eyes that brake my rest; 
Put out the lights, bespeak my knell, 
And then eternally farewell. jo 

'Tis all th' amends our wretched Fates can give, 
That none can force a desperate man to live. 

The Desperate Lover.'] 28 'brake', if right, must mean 'used to break' by making me 
behold ' Love or some other vanity '. 

( 336 ) 

Adieu^ fo72d W^orld^ ajid all thy wiles 

The Fatigtie, 


Adieu, fond World, and all thy wiles, 

Thy haughty frowns, and treacherous smiles, 

They that behold thee with my eyes, 

Thy double dealing will despise : 

From thee, false World, my deadly foe. 

Into some desert let me go ; 

Some gloomy melancholy cave. 

Dark and silent as the grave ; 

Let me withdraw, where I may be 

From thine impertinences free : 

There when I hear the turtle groan, lo 

How sweetly would I make my moan ! 

Kind Philomel would teach me there 

My sorrows pleasantly to bear : 

There could I correspond with none 

But Heaven, and my own breast alone. 

The Resolve. 



Had Phyllis neither charms, nor graces 

More than the rest of women wear, 
Levell'd by Fate with common faces. 

Yet Damon could esteem her fair. 


Good-natur'd Love can soon forgive 

Those petty injuries of Time, 
And all th' affronts of years impute 

To her misfortune, not her crime. 


Wedlock puts Love upon the rack, 

Makes it confess 'tis still the same lo 

In icy age, as it appear'd 

At first when all was lively flame. 

The Resolve.'] The superiority of the first stanza of this to the rest, and the reason 
of that superiority (the double rhyme 'graces' and 'faces'), are both clear enough. 
But what is not clear is why Flatman — who, if no great poet, seems usually to have 
been at no loss for verse or rhyme — should have suddenly run dry of the latter in his 
first and third lines. If he had not been so stingy the piece might have been worth 
something. It is not quite worthless as it is. 

( 337 ) z ni. 

Thomas Flat man 


If Hymen's slaves, whose ears are bored, 

Thus constant by compulsion be, 
Why should not choice endear us more 

Than them their hard necessity? 


Phyllis ! 'tis true, thy glass does run. 

But since mine too keeps equal pace, 
My silver hairs may trouble thee. 

As much as me thy ruin'd face. 20 


Then let us constant be as Heaven, 

Whose laws inviolable are. 
Not like those rambling meteors there 

That foretell ills, and disappear. 


So shall a pleasing calm attend 

Our long uneasy destiny, 
So shall our loves and lives expire. 

From storms and tempests ever free. 

Loves Bravo. 


Why should we murmur, why repine, 

Phyllis, at thy fate, or mine? 
Like pris'ners, why do we those fetters shake ; 

Which neither thou, nor I can break? 
There is a better way to baffle Fate, 

If mortals would but mind it, 
And 'tis ,not hard to find it : 
Who would be happy, must be desperate ; 

He must despise those stars that fright 

Only fools that dread the night ; 10 

Time and chance he must outbrave. 

He that crouches is their slave. 

Thus the wise Pagans, ill at ease, 
Bravely chastis'd their surly Deities. 

( 338 ) 

Why did I ever see those glorious eyes 

The Expectation, 



Why did I ever see those glorious eyes 

My famish'd soul to tantalize? 
I hop'd for Heav'n, which I had lately seen, 

But ne'er perceiv'd the gulf between : 
In vain for bliss did my presumptions seek, 
My love so strong 
I could not hold my tongue, 
My heart so feeble that I durst not speak. 


Yet why do I my constitution blame, 

Since all my heart is out of frame? lo 

'Twere better, sure, my passion to appease. 

With hope to palliate my disease : 
And 'twill be something like tranquillity, 
To hope for that 
I must not compass yet, 
And make a virtue of necessity. 

' Coridon Converted. 


When Coridon a slave did lie, 

Entangled in his PhyUis' eye, 

How did he sigh ! how did he groan ! 

How melancholy was his tone ! 

He told his story to the woods, 

And wept his passion by the floods; 
Then PhyUis, cruel PhyUis, too to blame, 
Regarded not his sufferings, nor his flame. 

The Expectation^^ In the Firth MS. entitled ' Song', and dated July ii, 1671. It was 
set by Roger Hill. The chief variants are : — 

5 presumptions] presumption. 8 that] yet. 14 hope for] think of. 

15 must not compass] may not purchase. 

Coridon Converted.'] In the Firth MS. entitled 'Song', and dated April 29, 1664. 
It was set by William Gregory. The MS. yields some important corrections : — 
' conquest ' and * passion ' in 11. 13, 14, for the plural of the printed texts ; and ' gentle 
Phyllis ' in 1. 15 for ' cruel Phyllis '. The plural ' woods ' and ' floods ' perhaps account 
for the former variants ; the latter is evidently an attempt to adhere strictly to the refrain. 

( 339 ) 2 2 

Thomas Flatmait 

Then Coridon resolv'd no more 

His mistress' mercy to implore ; lo 

How did he laugh, how did he sing ! 

How did he make the forest ring ! 

He told his conquest to the woods, 

And drown'd his passion in the floods : 
Then Phyllis, gentle Phyllis, less severe, 
Would have had him, but he would none of her. 

The Humourist. 


Good faith ! I never was but once so mad 
To dote upon an idle woman's face, 
And then, alas ! my fortune was so bad 
To see another chosen in my place ; 
And yet I courted her, I'm very sure, 
With love as true as his was, and as pure. 


But if I ever be so fond again 

To undertake the second part of love. 

To reassume that most unmanlike pain, 

Or after shipwreck do the ocean prove; lo 

My mistress must be gentle, kind, and free. 

Or I'll be as indifferent as she. 

Fading Beauty. 


■ ' I- 

As poor Aurelia sate alone, 

Hard by a rivulet's flow'ry side, 
Envious at Nature's new-born pride, 
Her slighted self she thus reflected on. 


Alas ! that Nature should revive 

These flowers, which after Winter's snow 
Spring fresh again, and brighter show, 

But for our fairer sex so ill contrive ! 


Beauty, like theirs a short-liv'd thing, 

On us in vain she did bestow, lo 

Beauty that only once can grow, 
An Autumn has, but knows no second Spring. 

T/ie Humourist.'] In the Firth MS. entitled 'Song', and dated April 29, 1664. It 
was set by William Gregory. In the MS. the poem opens * In faith'. 

( 340 ) 

Why dost thou all address deny f 

A Dialogue. 

Cloris and Parthenissa. 

C. Why dost thou all address deny? 
Hard-hearted Parthenissa, why? 
See how the trembling lovers come, 
That from thy lips expect their doom. 

F. Cloris ! I hate them all, they know, 
Nay I have often told them so; 
Their silly politics abhorr'd : 
I scorn to make my slave my lord. 

C. But Strephon's eyes proclaim his love 
Too brave, tyrannical to prove. lo 

F. Ah, Cloris ! when we lose our pow'r 
We must obey the conqueror. 

C. Yet where a gentle Prince bears sway. 
It is no bondage to obey. 

F. But if like Nero, for awhile, 
With arts of kindness he beguile ; 
How shall the tyrant be withstood 
When he has writ his laws in blood ! 

C. Love, Parthenissa, all commands : 
It fetters Kings in charming bands ; 20 

Mars yields his arms to Cupid's darts, 
And Beauty softens savage hearts. 

If nothing else can pull tlie Tyrant down. 
Kill him zvith kindness, and the day 's your own. 

A Dialogue. 

Orpheus and Eurydice. 

Eurydice, my fair, my fair Eurydice ! 
My love, my joy, my life, if so thou be 
In Pluto's kingdom answer me; appear 

And come to thy poor Orpheus. 

Eur. Oh, I hear, 
I hear, dear Orpheus, but I cannot come 
Beyond the bounds of dull Elysium. 

I cannot 

Orph. And why wilt thou not draw near? 
Is there within these courts a shade so dear 
As he that calls thee? 

A Dialogue.'] 22 And^ But i6j^. 

A Dialogue^ Dated in the Firth MS. September 15, 1663 ; it was set to music by 
W. Gregory. 

(341 ) 

Thomas Flat7nan 

Eur. No, there cannot be 
A thing so lovely in mine eyes as thee. to 

Orph. Why comes not then Eurydice? 

Eur. The Fates, 
The Fates forbid, and these eternal gates, 
Never unbarr'd to let a pris'ner go, 
Deny me passage; nay, grim Cerberus too 

Stands at the door 

Orph. But cannot then 
They that o'er Lethe go, return again? 

Eur. Never, oh never ! 

Orph. Sure they may, let's try 
If Art can null the Laws of Destiny. 
My lays compacted Thebes, made every tree 
Loosen its roots to caper ; come let 's see 20 

What thou and I can do. 

Chor. Perchance the throng 
Of Ghosts may be enchanted with a song, 

And mov'd to pity. 

Eur. Hark ! the hinges move, 
The gate 's unbarr'd. I come, I come, my Love ! 

Chorus afuhonan. 

'Twas Music, only Music, could unspell 
Helpless, undone Eurydice from Hell. 

The Bachelor s Song. 

Like a dog with a bottle, fast ty'd to his tail, 
Like vermin in a trap, or a thief in a jail, " 
Like a Tory in a bog, 
Or an ape with a clog : 
Such is the man, who when he might go free, 
Does his liberty lose 

For a Matrimony noose, 
And sells himself into captivity. 

The dog he does howl, when his bottle does jog, 

The vermin, the thief, and the Tory in vain 10 

Of the trap, of the jail, of the quagmire complain. 

But well fare poor Pug ! for he plays with his clog ; 

The Bachelor^ s Song], In the Firth MS. entitled 'Song', and dated 1670. See Intro- 
duction for the rather obvious legend connected with this profane doggerel. As proof 
of its popularity it may be noted that versions of it appear in the Windsor Drollery, 1672, 
and the Wesiminsier Drollery, 1691 ; in the latter there are also The Bachelors Satyr 
Related and A Reply to The Bachelors Satyr Related. These unauthorized versions have 
a number of minor variants. 

3 Like] Or \\\&i6j^-82. * Tory ' in the original, not the transferred sense, which latter 
Flatman seems himself to have well deserved. 

5 Such is the] Even such is a MS. might go] may be MS. 9 his] the 16S6. 

10 and] om. MS. 11 quagmire] bog do MS. 

( 342 ) 

The Bachelor s Song 

And though he would be rid on 't rather than his life, 
Yet he lugs it, and he hugs it, as a man does his wife. 

The Second Pa7't. 


How happy a thing were a wedding 

And a bedding, 
If a man might purchase a wife 

For a twelvemonth and a day ; 
But to live with her all a man's life, 

For ever and for ay, 
Till she grow as grey as a cat, 
Good faith, Mr. Parson, I thank you for that. 

An Appeal to Cats in the business of Love. 


Ye Cats that at midnight spit love at each other, 
Who best feel the pangs of a passionate lover, 
I appeal to your scratches and your tattered fur, 
If the business of Love be no more than to purr. 
Old Lady Grimalkin with her gooseberry eyes, 
Knew something when a kitten, for why she was wise ; 
You find by experience, the love-fit's soon o'er. 
Fuss ! Puss ! lasts not long, but turns to Cat-ivhore ! 
Men ride many miles. 
Cats tread many tiles, 
Both hazard their necks in the fray ; 
Only Cats, when they fall 
From a house or a wall, 
Keep their feet, mount their tails, and away ! 

Advice to an Old Man of sixty -three, about to Many 

a Girl of sixteen. 


Now fie upon him ! what is Man, 
Whose life at best is but a span? 
When to an inch it dwindles down, 
Ice in his bones, snow on his crown, 

An appeal to Cats.'\ Added in 16&6. It is a pity we do not possess the tune to which 
Mr. Humfries, or somebody else, most probably set this lively fantasy. It is quite 
in the style of Dr. Blow, Humfries's friend and colleague. 

Advice to an Old Man.'] In the Firth MS. entitled * Song', and dated 1671. This was 
set by R. Hill. In 1. 9 the MS. reads ' imagination 's ' ; in 1. 1 1 ' them ' for ' those ' ; in 
1. 18 ' ribbands '. In Rawlinson MS. D. a6o '^fol. 36 verso) the chief variant is 'chest ' 
for ' sheet ' in 1. 19. 

( 343 ) 

Thomas Fiatman 

That he within his crazy brain 
Kind thoughts of Love should entertain, 
That he, when harvest comes, should plow, 
And when 'tis time to reap, go sow, 

Who, in imagination only strong, 

Though twice a child, can never twice grow young. lo 


Nature did those design for fools. 

That sue for work, yet have no tools. 

What fellow-feeling can there be 

In such a strange disparity? 

Old age mistakes the youthful breast, 

Love dwells not there, but Interest: 

Alas, good man ! take thy repose. 

Get ribband for thy thumbs and toes. 
Provide thee flannel, and a sheet of lead, — • 
Think on thy Coffin, not thy Bridal Bed. :o 

The Slight. 


I DID but crave that I might kiss, 

If not her lip, at least her hand, 
The coolest Lover's frequent bliss, 

And rude is she that will withstand 

That inoffensive liberty : 
She (would you think it?) in a fume 

Turn'd her about and left the room ; 
Not she, she vow'd, not she. 


Well, Chariessa, then said I, 

If it must thus for ever be, lo 

I can renounce my slavery, 

And since you will not, can be free. 

Many a time she made me die. 
Yet (would you think 't?) I lov'd the more. 

But I'll not take 't as heretofore, 
Not I, I'll vow, not I. 

The Slight.'] In the Firth MS., a first draft, dated August, 1666, and recorded as 
having been set to music by Sylvanus Taylor. The variants are important : — 

3 frequent] hourly. 4, 5 Which at his wish he may command, Nay, often takes 

the liberty. The copy in Rawiinson MS. D. 260 (fol. 27 ' verso) has the same readings. 

( 344 ) 

Had I iut kfiown some years ago 

The Penitent. 


Had I but known some years ago 

What wretched lovers undergo, 

The tempests and the storms that rise 

From their Beloved's dangerous eyes, 

With how much torment they endure 

That ague and that calenture ; 

Long since I had my error seen, 

Long since repented of my sin : 
Too late the soldier dreads the trumpet's sound 
That newly has receiv'd his mortal wound. lo 


But so adventurous was I 

My fortunes all alone to try, 

Needs must I kiss the burning light. 

Because it shin'd, because 'twas bright. 

My heart with youthful heat on fire, 

I thought some God did me inspire ; 

And that blind zeal embold'ned me 

T' attempt Althea's Deity. 
Surely those happy Pow'rs that dwell above, 
Or never courted, or enjoy'd their love. 20 

The Dejiance. 


Be not too proud, imperious Dame, 

Your charms are transitory things, 

May melt, while you at Heaven aim. 

Like Icarus's waxen wings ; 
And you a part in his misfortunes bear, 
Drown'd in a briny Ocean of despair. 


You think your beauties are above 

The Poet's brain and Painter's hand. 

As if upon the Throne of Love 

You only should the world command : 10 

Yet know, though you presume your title true, 
There are pretenders that will rival you. 

The Penitent.'] In the Firth MS. entitled 'Song', and dated 1671. It was set by 
Roger Hill. 9 dreads] loathes MS. 15 heart] breast MS. 18 The 

reference, if any, to the classical story of Althea is so confused and muddled that 
perhaps there is none. See The Surrender, below. 

The Defiance.'] 5 misfortunes 1682 : misfortune j686. 
( 345 ) 

Thomas Flat7?tan 


There's an experienc'd rebel, Time, 
■ And in his squadron 's Poverty ; 

There's Age that brings along with him 

A terrible artillery : 
And if against all these thou keep'st thy crown, 
Th' usurper Death will make thee lay it down. 

The Sztrrender. 

I YIELD, I yield ! Divine Althaea, see 

How prostrate at thy feet I bow, 
Pondly in love with my captivity. 

So weak am I, so mighty thou ! 

Not long ago I could defy, 

Arm'd with wine and company. 

Beauty's whole artillery : 
Quite vanquish'd now by thy miraculous charms, 

Here, fair Althaea, take my arms. 
For sure he cannot be of human race. 
That can resist so bright, so sweet a face. 

The Whim. 



Why so serious, why so grave ? 

Man of business, why so muddy? 
Thyself from Chance thou canst not save 
With all thy care and study. 
Look merrily then, and take thy repose ; 
For 'tis to no purpose to look so forlorn. 
Since the World was as bad before thou wert born, 
And when it will mend who knows? 
And a thousand year hence 'tis all one. 
If thou lay'st on a dunghill, or sat'st on a throne. lo 


To be troubled, to be sad, 

Carking mortal, 'tis a folly, 
For a pound of Pleasure 's not so bad 

As an ounce of Melancholy : 

14 '■ squadron 's ' is not apostrophated in original, but the practice in this respect is so 
loose as to be of no value. The plural would make sense, of course. 

( 346 ) 

The Whijn 

Since all our lives long we travel towards Death, 
Let us rest us sometimes, and bait by the way, 
Tis but dying at last; "in our race let us stay, 
And we shan't be so soon out of breath. 
Sit the comedy out, and that done, 
When the play's at an end, let the curtain fall down, 20 

The Renegado. 


Remov'd from fair Urania's eyes 

Into a village far away : 
Fond Astrophil began to say, 

Thy charms, Urania, I despise ; 
Go bid some other shepherd for thee die, 
That never understood thy tyranny. 


Return'd at length the amorous swain, 

Soon as he saw his deity, 
Ador'd again, and bow'd his knee, 

Became her slave, and wore her chain. 10 

The Needle thus that motionless did lie, 
Trembles, and moves, when the lov'd Loadstone's nigh. 

. Phyllis withdrawn. .* 


I DID but see her, and she's snatch'd away, 

I find I did but happy seem ; 
So small a while did my contentments stay. 

As short and pleasant as a dream : 
Yet such are all our satisfactions here, 
They raise our hopes, and then they disappear. 


lU-natur'd Stars, that evermore conspire 

To quench poor Strephon's flame. 
To stop the progress of his swift desire. 

And leave him but an aery name ; 10 

Why art thou doom'd (of no pretences proud) 
Ixion-like thus to embrace a cloud? 

The Renegado.'] In the Firth MS. entitled 'Song', and dated 1671. 'Set b}- 
Roger Hill.' 

Phyllis withdrawn.'] The first stanza is a good example of the purely haphazard 
character of typographical peculiarities at the time. There is not a capital in the 
original, though in that original elsewhere one would find ' Contentments ', ' Dream ', 
• Satisfactions', and ' Hopes ', if not others as well. 

C 34? ) 

Thomas Flatman 

Yet why should Strephon murmur, v-^hy complain, 

Or envy Phyllis her delight, 
Why should her pleasures be to him a pain, 

Easier perhaps out of his sight ? 
No, Strephon, no ! If Phyllis happy be. 
Thou shouldst rejoice, whate'er becomes of thee. , 


Amidst the charming glories of the spring 

In pleasant fields and goodly bowers, 20 

Indulgent Nature seems concern'd to bring 

All that may bless her innocent hours. 
While thy disastrous Fate has tied thee down 
To all the noise and tumult of the Town. 

Strephon that for himself expects no good 

To Phyllis wishes everywhere 
A long serenity without a cloud. 

Sweet as these smiles of th' infant year. 
May Halcyons in her bosom build their nest, 
Whatever storms shall discompose my breast. 3c 

The Malecontent. 

Phyllis, O Phyllis ! Thou art fondly vain, 

My wavering thoughts thus to molest. 
Why should my pleasure be the only pain, 

That must torment my easy breast? 
If with Prometheus I had stolen fire, 

Fire from above. 
As scorching, and as bright, as that of Love, 

I might deserve Jove's ire, 
A vulture then might on my liver feed. 

But now eternally I bleed, 10 

And yet on Thee, on Thee lies all the blame, 
Who freely gav'st the fuel and the flame. 

The Indifferent. 


Prithee confess for my sake and your own. 

Am I the man or no? 
If I am he, thou canst not do 't too soon, 
If not, thou canst not be too slow. 

The Malecontent.'] 5 ' Stoirn ' in original, though the valued ' en ' is indispensabli 
lor the metre. 

( 348 ) 

The Indifferent 

If Woman cannot love, Man's folly's great 
Your sex with so much zeal to treat ; 

But if we freely proffer to pursue 

Our tender thoughts and spotless love, 
Which nothing shall remove. 

And you despise all this, pray what are you? 

The Harbour. 


O TEDIOUS hopes ! when will the storm be o'er ! 

When will the beaten vessel reach the shore ! 
Long have I striv'n with blust'ring winds and tides, 

Clouds o'er my head, waves on my sides ! 
Which in my dark adventures high did swell, 
While Heaven was black as Hell. 

O Love, tempestuous Love, yet, yet at last, 

Let me my anchor cast. 
And for the troubles I have undergone, 
O bring me to a port which I may call my own. lo 

The Unconcerned. 


Now that the world is all in amaze, 

Drums and trumpets rending heav'ns. 
Wounds a-bleeding, mortals dying. 

Widows and orphans piteously crying; 
Armies marching, towns in a blaze. 

Kingdoms and states at sixes and sevens : 
What should an honest fellow do, 
Whose courage, and fortunes run equally low ! 
Let him live, say I, till his glass be run, 

As easily as he may ; lo 

Let the wine, and the sand of his glass flow together, 
For life 's but a winter's day. 
Alas ! from sun to sun. 
The time's very short, very dirty the weather, 
And we silently creep away. 
Let him nothing do, he could wish undone; 
And keep himself safe from the noise of gun. 

The Unconcerned.'] i amaze 1674, 1676, 1682 : a maze 1686. 
( 349 ) 

Thomas Flatman 

The hnmovable. 


What though the sky be clouded o'er, 

And Heav'ns influence smile no more? 

Though tempests rise, and earthquakes make 

The giddy World's foundation shake? 

A gallant breast contemns the feeble blow 
Of angry Gods, and scorns what Fate can do. 


What if alarums sounded be, 

And we must face our enemy, 

If cannons bellow out a death. 

Or trumpets woo away our breath ! lo 

'Tis brave amidst the glittering throng to die, 

Nay, Samson-like, to fall with company. 


Then let the swordman domineer, 
I can nor pike nor musket fear; 
Clog me with chains, your envies tire. 
For when I will, I can expire; 

And when the puling fit of Life is gone, 

The worst that cruel man can do, is done. 

The Wish. 



Not to the hills where cedars move 

Their cloudy head, not to the grove 

Of myrtles in th' Elysian shade. 

Nor Tempe which the poets made; 

Not on the spicy mountains play; 

Or travel to Arabia : 

I aim not at the careful Throne, 

Which Fortune's darlings sit upon ; 
No, no, the best this fickle world can give, 
Has but a little, little time to live. lo 

The Wish.'] Entitled * A Wish ' in the Firth MS., and dated September lo, 1659. It 
was set by Captain Taylor. The chief variants are 'clouds' for 'stars' in ]. 15, and 
* the sun ' for ' Phoebus ' in 1. 16. 

( 350 ) 

The Wish 

But let me soar, O let me fly 
Beyond poor Earth's benighted eye, 
Beyond the pitch swift eagles tower, 
Above the reach of human power; 
Above the stars, above the way, 
Whence Phoebus darts his piercing ray. 

let me tread those Courts that are. 
So bright, so pure, so blest, so fair. 

As neither thou nor I must ever know 

On Earth — 'tis thither, thither would I go. 20 

. The Cordial. In the year 16^'j. 



Did you hear of the News (O the News) how it thunders ! 
Do but see, how the block-headed multitude wonders ! 
One fumes, and stamps, and stares to think upon 

What others wish as fast, Confusion. 

One swears w' are gone, another just agoing, 
While a third sits and cries, 
'Till his half-bhnded eyes 

Call him pitiful rogue for so doing. 
Let the tone be what 'twill that the mighty ones utter. 
Let the cause be what 'twill why the poorer sort mutter; 10 

1 care not what your State-confounders do, 
Nor what the stout repiners undergo; 

I cannot whine at any alterations. 

Let the Swede beat the Dane, 

Or be beaten again, 
What am I in the crowd of the Nations? 


What care I if the North and South Poles come together ; 
If the Turk or the Pope 's Antichristian, or neither; 
If fine Astraea be (as Naso said) 

From mortals in a peevish fancy fled : 20 

Rome, when 'twas all on fire, her people mourning, 
'Twas an Emperor could stand 
With his harp in his hand. 
Sing and play, while the city was burning. 

Celadon on Delia singing. 

Delia ! for I know 'tis she. 

It must be she, for nothing less could move 
My tuneless heart, than something from above. 

1 hate all earthly harmony : 


Thomas Flatman 

Hark, hark, ye Nymphs, and Satyrs all around ! 
Hark, how the baffled Echo faints ; see how she dies, 
Look how the winged choir all gasping lies 
At the melodious sound ; 

See, while she sings 
How they droop and hang their wings ! lo 

Angelic Delia, sing no more, 
Thy song 's too great for mortal ear ; 
Thy charming notes we can no longer bear : 
O then in pity to the World give o'er, 
And leave us stupid as we were before. 

Fair Delia, take the fatal choice, 
Or veil thy beauty, or suppress thy Voice. 

His passion thus poor Celadon betray'd, 
When first he saw, when first he heard the lovely Maid. 

The Advice. 




Poor Celia once was very fair, 

A quick bewitching eye she had, 
Most neatly look'd her braided hair, 

Her dainty cheeks would make you mad, 
Upon her lip did all the Graces play. 
And on her breasts ten thousand Cupids lay. 


Then many a doting lover came 

From seventeen till twenty-one. 
Each told her of his mighty flame, 

But she, forsooth, affected none. lo 

One was not handsome, t'other was not fine, 
This of tobacco smelt, and that of wine. 


But t'other day It was my fate 

To walk along that way alone, 
I saw no coach before her gate. 

But at the door I heard her moan : 
She dropt a tear, and sighing, seem'd to say, 
Young ladies, marry, marry while you may ! 

The Advice. '] In the Firth MS., where it is dated December 22, 1664, and recorded 
to have been set by Roger Hill ; and in Rawlinson MS. D. 260 (fol. 28) of the 
Bodleian. The variants are trivial. Found also in the IVestminster Drollery, 1671, and 
the JVindsor Drollery, 1672: the latter reads ' lock'd ' for 'look'd' in 1. 3. In 1. 9 
16S2 reads ' her ' for ' his '. 

( 352 ) 

In that small inch of thne I stole^ to look 

To Mr. Sam. Austin of Wadham Coll. Oxon, 
On his 7nost tmintelligible Poe7?is. 

In that small inch of time I stole, to look 
On th' obscure depths of your mysterious book, 
(Heav'n bless my eyesight!) what strains did I see! 
What steropegeretic Poetry ! 
What hieroglyphic words, what [riddles] all, 
In letters more than cabalistical ! , 
We with our fingers may your verses scan, 
But all our noddles understand them can 
No more, than read that dungfork, pothook hand 
That in Queen's College Library does stand. to 

To Mr. Sam. Austin.'] Samuel Austin the younger (his father of the same name 
was a respectable divine and a writer of sacred verse of the preceding generation') was 
a Wadham man, a contemporary of Flatman's, and a common Oxford butt for conceit 
and affectation. His Panegyric on the Restoration appeared in 1661, and contained 
a statement that the author ' intended a larger book of poems according as these find 
acceptance'. He had taken his degree five years earlier, and his poetry, probably in 
MS., had been soon afterwards made the subject of one of the liveliest and naughtiest 
of Oxford skits, Naps on Parnassus (London, 1658), where some of Austin's own 
lucubrations, and more parodies and lampoons on him. appear — side-noted with quaint 
and scandalous adversaria. Flatman himself contributed, among others, some kitchen- 
Latin leonines : 

O decus Anglorum ! vates famose tuorum 
Cujus pars nona facit Oxenford Helicona, 
SiC, sometimes dropping into a sort of Macaronic, or at least mongrel dialect : 

Haec ratio non est — quid rides ?— my meaning's honest. 
The elder Samuel Austin, a Cornishman, of Exeter, was a very serious person who 
wrote, and after difficulties got published in 1629, Austin's Urania, or the Heavenly Muse. 
with the most unreasonable motto Aut perlegas ant non legas — rendered 
Whate'er thou be whose e^'e do chance to fall 
Upon this Book, read all or none at all. 
For a considerable time I obeyed the second part of this injunction only. 

Naps on Parnassus has some important variants and some corrections of the present 
text. Omitting minor changes, these are :^ 

2 obscure] abstruse. 5 what all] what riddles? all (Clearly the right text). 

After 16 is the couplet : 

There were Philosophers content to be 
Renown'd, and famous in obscurity. 
Line 18 has a marginal note on ' scower ' — 'But when he does so, he verifies the 
Proverb, viz. ^Ethiopem lavat,' 
Lines 29, 30 read : 

were your verses stol'n, that so we might 
Hope in good time to see them come to light. 

After line 36 is the couplet : 

1 hope some wit when he your honour hears, 
Will praise your mother's eyes' turpentine tears. 

In line 42 is printed ' everlastin ' with the note ' [g]aufertur in fine, per Apocopen '. 

4 The blessed word ' stero (it should be 'sterro' or 'stereo') -pegeretic ' (a rather 
erratic compound from 7r777i/iip(ri is very likely Austin's own for ' strongly put together'. 

10 [• The Devil's handwriting in Queen's College Library at Oxford.' Note in orig.] 
Tiiis interesting autograph is still preserved, and a photograph of it may be seen in 
Mr. Andrew Clark's Anthony a Wood's Life and Ti>nes,\. 498 (^Oxford Historical Society;. 
( 353 ) A a III 

Thofnas Flatmait 

The cutting hanger of your Wit I can't see, 

For that same scabbard that conceals your Fancy : 

Thus a black velvet casket hides a jewel ; 

And a dark woodhouse, wholesome winter fuel; 

Thus John Tradeskin starves our greedy eyes, 

By boxing up his new-found rarities ; 

We dread Actaeon's fate, dare not look on, 

When you do scower your skin in Helicon ; 

"We cannot (Lynceus-like) see through the wall 

Of your strong-mortar'd Poems ; nor can all 20 

The small shot of our brains make one hole in 

The bulwark of your book, that fort to win. 

Open your meaning's door, O do not lock it ! 

Undo the buttons of your smaller pocket, 

And charitably spend those angels there, 

Let them enrich and actuate our sphere. 

Take off our bongraces, and shine upon us, 

Though your resplendent beams should chance to tan us. 

Had you but stol'n your verses, then we might 

Hope in good time they would have come to light ; 30 

And felt I not a strange poetic heat 

Flaming within, which reading makes me sweat, 

Vulcan should take 'em, "and I'd not exempt 'em. 

Because they're things Quibus himen ademphnn. 

I thought to have commended something there, 
But all exceeds my commendations far : 
I can say nothing; but stand still, and stare, 
And cry, O wondrous, strange, profound, and rare. 
Vast Wits must fathom you better than thus. 
You merit more than our praise : as for us 40 

The beetles of our rhymes shall drive full fast in. 

The wedges of your worth to everlasting, 

My much Apocalyptic friend Sam. Austin. 

To ?ny ingenious F^-iend Mr. William Faithorne on 
his Book of Drawing, Etching, and Gi^aving. 

Should I attempt an elogy, or frame 

A paper-structure to secure thy name. 

The lightning of one censure, one stern frown 

Might quickly hazard that, and thy renown. 

15 John Tradeskin] John Tradescant the second (1608-J662}, original collector nf 
the Ashmolean Museum. 

27 bongraces] Sun-bonnets. 

To my Ingenious Friend Mr. William Faithorne.'] The elder Faithorne {v. sup., 
p. 278). The younger, his son and namesake, was but eighteen when Flatman first 
published. The lines first appeared in The Art of Graveing and Etching . . . Published 
by IViW"- Faithorne. And Sold at his Shop next to y^ Signe of y^ Drake withovtt 
Temple Barre, 1662. 

I ' elogy ' is no doubt here merely an equivalent for ' eulogy ', and rather from Moge 
than elogiittn. But it is a pity that it has not been kept in English as an equivalent for 
the Latin. 

( 354 ) 

To my ingeiiious Frie?id Mr. W, Faithofyie 

But this thy book prevents that fruitless pain. 

One line speaks purelier thee, than my best strain. 

Those mysteries (once like the spiteful mould, 

Which bars the greedy Spaniard from his gold) 

Thou dost unfold in every friendly page, 

Kind to the present, and succeeding age. lo 

That hand, whose curious art prolongs the date 

Of frail mortality, and baffles Fate 

With brass and steel, can surely potent be, 

To rear a lasting monument for thee : 

For my part I prefer (to guard the dead) 

A copper-plate beyond a sheet of lead. 

So long as brass, so long as books endure. 

So long as neat-wrought pieces, thou'rt secure. 

A \Faithor7ie sadpsit\ is a charm can save 

From dull oblivion, and a gaping grave. 20 

On the Commentaries of Messire Blaize de Montluc. 

To the Worthy Translator, 
Charles Cotton, Esq. 

He that would aptly write of warlike men. 

Should make his ink of blood, a sword his pen ; 

At least he must their memories abuse, 

Who writes with less than Maro's mighty Muse : 

All, Sir, that I could say of this great theme 

(The brave Montluc) would lessen his esteem ; 

Whose laurels too much native verdure have 

To need the praises vulgar chaplets crave : 

His own bold hand, what it durst write, durst do. 

Grappled with enemies, and oblivion too ; 10 

Hew'd his own monument, and grav'd thereon 

Its deep and durable inscription. 

To you. Sir, whom the valiant Author owes 

His second life, and conquest o'er his foes — 

lU-natur'd foes, Time and Detraction, — 

What is a stranger's contribution ! 

Who has not such a share of vanity, 

To dream that one, who with such industry 

Obliges all the world, can be oblig'd by me. 

5 that fruitless] my slender 1662. Other important variants are : — 

Lines 9, 10 read : — 

Thine ingenuity reveals, and so 

By making plain, thou dost illustrious grow. 

14 lasting] stately. 

On the Commentaries of MessJt-e Blaize de Monihic.'] Cotton's translation of the 
admirable Gascon appeared in the same year (1674) with Flatman's Poems. 

( B-SS ) A a 2 

Thomas Flatjna?! 

A Charade}' of a Belly-God. 

Catius and Horace. 


Whence, Brother Case, and ivhither bound so fast f 
Ca. O, Sir, you must excuse me, I'm in haste, 

I dine with my (Lord Mayor) and can't allow 

Time for our eating directory now : 

Though I must needs confess, I think my rules 

Would prove Pythagoras and Plato fools. 
HoR. Grave Sir, I f?iust acknowledge, 'tis a crime 

2^0 interi'upt at such a nick of time ; , 

Yet stay a little. Sir, it is no sin ; 

You're to say Grace ere dinner can begin ; lo 

Since you at food such virtuoso are. 

Some precepts to an hungry poet spare. 
Ca. I grant you, Sir, next pleasure ta'en in eating 

Is that (as we do call it) of repeating ; 

I still have kitchen systems in my mind. 

And from my stomach's fumes a brain well lin'd. 
HoR. Whence, pray, Sir, learnt you those itigenuous arts, 

From ofie at home, or hir'd from foreign parts ? 
Ca. No names, Sir (I beseech you), that's foul play, 

We ne'er name authors, only what they say. ao 

1. ' For eggs choose long, the round are out of fashion, 
' Unsavoury and distasteful to the nation : 

' E'er since the brooding Rump, they're addle too, 

* In the long egg lies Cock a-doodle-doo. 

2. ' Choose coleworts planted on a soil that 's dry, 
' Even they are worse for th' wetting (verily). 

3. ' If friend from far shall come to visit, then 

' Say thou wouldst treat the wight with mortal hen, 

' Don't thou forthwith pluck off the cackling head, 

'And impale corpse on spit as soon as dead; 30 

* For so she will be tough beyond all measure, 
'And friend shall make a trouble of a pleasure. 

' Steep'd in good wine let her her life surrender, 
' O then she'll eat most admirably tender. 

4. 'Mushrooms that grow in meadows are the best; 
'For aught I know, there's poison in the rest. 

5. ' He that would many happy summers see, 
' Let him eat mulberries fresh off the tree, 

' Galher'd before the sun 's too high, for these 

'Shall hurt his stomach less than Cheshire cheese. 40 

6. 'Aufidius (had you done so 't had undone ye) 

' Sweet'ned his morning's draughts of sack with honey ; 

3 I had struck out the brackets, but replaced them. For some obsolete uses of the 
mark see Mr. Percy Simpson's Shakesperian Punctuation, pp. 94-5. 

( 356 ) 









A Character of a Belly- God 

But he did ill, to empty veins to give 

Corroding potion for a lenitive. 

If any man to drink do thee inveigle in, 

First wet thy whistle with some good metheglin. 

If thou art bound, and in continual doubt, 

Thou shalt get in no more till some get out, 

The mussel or the cockle will unlock 

Thy body's trunk, and give a vent to nock. 50 

Some say that sorrel steep'd in wine will do, 

But to be sure, put in some aloes too. 

All shell-fish (with the growing Moon increast) 

Are ever, when she fills her orb, the best : 

But for brave oysters, Sir, exceeding rare, 

They are not to be met with everywhere. 

Your Wall-fleet oysters no man will prefer 

Before the juicy grass-green Colchester. 

Hungerford crawfish match me, if you can, 

There 's no such crawlers in the Ocean. 60 

Next for your suppers, you (it may be) think 

There goes no more to 't, but just eat and drink ; 

But let me tell you, Sir, and tell you plain, 

To dress 'em well requires a man of brain : 

His palate must be quick, and smart, and strong, 

For sauce, a very critic in the tongue. 

He that pays dear for fish, nay though the best. 

May please his fishmonger, more than his guest, 

If he be ignorant what sauce is proper ; 

There 's Machiavel in th' manage of a supper. 70 

For swines-flesh, give me that of the wild boar, 

Pursu'd and hunted all the forest o'er; 

He to the liberal oak ne'er quits his love. 

And when he finds no acorns, grunts at Jove. 

The Hampshire hog with pease and whey that 's fed 

Sty'd up, is neither good alive nor dead. 

The tendrils of the vine are salads good, 

If when they are in season understood. 

If servants to thy board a rabbit bring, 

Be wise, and in the first place carve a wing. 80 

When fish and fowl are right, and at just age, 

A feeder's curiosity t' assuage. 

If any ask, who found the mystery, 

Let him inquire no further, I am he. 

Some fancy bread out of the oven hot : 

Variety's the glutton's happiest lot. 

57 Wall-fleet i6'j4-82 ; Wain-fleet 1686, Wainfleet is in Lincolnshire, famous as the 
birthplace of the founder of Magdalen College, Oxford. I never heard Wainfleet oysters 
specially quoted, but if Walter White in his Eastern England {\\. 10) may be trusted, 
the place was not so very long ago excellent for cockles. 

60 The ocean 'crawlers' are at any rate bigger than those of the Kennet. 

75-6 This is a libel. 

( 357 ) 

Thomas Flat?na7t 

17. 'It's not enough the wine you have be pure, 
' But of your oil as well you ought be sure. 

18. 'If any fault be in the generous wine, 

' Set it abroad all night, and 'twill refine, 90 

' But never strain 't, nor let it pass through linen, 
'Wine will be worse for that, as well as women. 

19. 'The vintner that of Malaga and Sherry 

' With damn'd ingredients patcheth up Canary, 
'With segregative things, as pigeons' eggs, 
'Straight purifies, and takes away the dregs. 

20. 'An o'er-charg'd stomach roasted shrimps will ease, 
' The cure by lettuce is worse than the disease. 

21. 'To quicken appetite it will behove ye 

' To feed courageously on good anchovy, 100 

22. 'Westphalia ham, and the Bologna sausage, 

' For second or third course will clear a passage, 
' But lettuce after meals ! fie on 't, the glutton 
' Had better feed upon Ram-alley mutton. 

23. "Twere worth one's while in palace or in cottage, 
* Right well to know the sundry sorts of pottage ; 
'There is your French pottage. Nativity broth, 
'Yet that of Fetter-lane exceeds them both; 

' About a limb of a departed tup 

'There may you see the green herbs boiling up, 110 

'And fat abundance o'er the furnace float, 

' Resembling whale-oil in a Greenland boat. 

24. 'The Kentish pippin's best, I dare be bold, 
'That ever blue-cap costard-monger sold. 

25. 'Of grapes, I like the raisins of the sun. 
' I was the first immortal glory won, 

' By mincing pickled herrings with these raisin 

'And apples; 'twas I set the world a-gazing, 

' When once they tasted of this Hogaii fish, 

'Pepper and salt enamelling the dish. 120 

26. "Tis ill to purchase great fish with great matter, 
'And then to serve it up in scanty platter; 

' Nor is it less unseemly, some believe, 

' From boy with greasy fist drink to receive, 

' But the cup foul within 's enough to make 

' A squeamish creature puke and turn up stomach. 

104 Ram-alley] The constantly cited street of coarse cook-shops. 

107 'Nativity' is no doubt 'Christmas', as in ' Nativity-/i/^ '. The reference is to 
'plum-broth', the old Christmas dish, made of beef, prunes, raisins, currants, white 
bread, spices, wine, and sugar. 

114 It would be a pity-not to keep the form ' costariZ-monger '. 

119 '■ Hogan'' ofcourse = ' Dutch'. This, the only positive rfc/'/if in the poem, would 
be a sort of salmagundy — not bad, but rather coarse, like most of the cookery of the time. 
Flalman, had he cared, miglit evidently have anticipated the earlier Dr. (not Bishop) 
King, who published his ingenious Art of Cookery in prose and verse (to be found in 
the ninth volume of Chalmers) some thirty years later. 

125-6. If ' within 's' be extended to ' within i5 ' we shall have in 'to-make' a pleasant 
Hudibrastic rhyme to 'stomach ', which otherwise comes in but ill. 

(358 ) 

A Character of a Belly-God 

27. 'Then brooms and napkins and the Flanders tile, 
' These must be had too, or the feast you spoil, 
'Things little thought on, and not very dear, 

' And yet how much they cost one in a year ! 150 

28. 'Wouldst thou rub alabaster with hands sable, 
' Or spread a diaper cloth on dirty table ? 

' More cost, more worship : Come : be a la mode; 
' Embellish treat, as thou would do an ode.' 
HOR. O kar/ied Sir, hoiv greedily I hear 
This elegant Diatriba of good cheer ! 
Noiv by all that 's good, by all prova7it you love, 
By stia-dy Chine of Beef, and mighty Jove ; 
/ do conjure thy gravity, let me see 

The man that made thee this Discovery; 140 

For he that sees tli Original 's 7nore happy 
Than him that draws by an ill-favouf^d Copy. 
O bring me to the man I so admire ! 
The Flint from whence' brake forth these sparks of fi?-e. 
What satisfaction would the Vision bring? 
If sweet the stream, much sweeter is the spring. 

The Disappointed. 

Pindaric Ode. 

Stanza I. 

Oft have I ponder'd in my pensive heart,^ 
When even from myself I've stol'n away, 
And heavily consider'd many a day, 
The cause of all my anguish and my smart : 

Sometimes besides a shady grove 
(As dark as were my thoughts, as close as was my Love), 

Dejected have I walk'd alone, 
Acquainting scarce myself with my own moan. 
Once I resolv'd undauntedly to hear 

What 'twas my passions had to say, 10 

To find the reason of that uproar there, 
And calmly, if I could, to end the fray : 
No sooner was my resolution known 

But I was all confusion. 
Fierce Anger, flattering Hope, and black Despair, 
Bloody Revenge, and most ignoble Fear, 

Now altogether clamorous were ; 
My breast a perfect chaos grown, 

127 What the special use of Dutch tiles was I can only guess. For tankard stands ' 
141-2 The plagiarism-hunters may, if they like, accuse Sam Weller of stealing from 

Flatman when he observed, » I'm very glad I've seen the 'rig'nal, cos it 's a gratifyin' 

sort of thing, and eases one's mind so much '. 

Tlie Disappointed. '\ In 1674 and in Contents of 1686 The Disappointment. 

( 359 ) 

Thomas Flat7na7t 

A mass of nameless things together hurl'd, 
Like th' formless embryo of the unborn world, 20 

Just as it's rousing from eternal night, 
Before the great Creator said, Let there be Light. 


Thrice happy then are beasts, said I, 
That underneath these pleasant coverts lie, 
They only sleep, and eat, and drink. 

They never meditate, nor think ; 
Or if they do, have not th' unhappy art 
To vent the overflowings of their heart ; 
They without trouble live, without disorder die, 

Regardless of Eternity. 30 

I said, I would like them be wise, 
And not perplex myself in vain, 
Nor bite th' uneasy chain. 
No, no, said I, I will Philosophise ! 
And all th' ill-natur'd World despise : 
But when I had reflected long. 
And with deliberation thought 
How few have practis'd what they gravely taught, 

(Tho' 'tis but folly to complain) 
I judg'd it worth a generous disdain, 40 

And brave defiance in Pindaric song. 

On Mrs. E. Montague s Blushing in the Cross-Bath. 

A Translation. 


Amidst the Nymphs (the glory of the flood) 

Thus once the beauteous Aegle stood, 
So sweet a tincture ere the Sun appears. 

The bashful ruddy morning wears : 
Thus through a crystal wave the coral glows, 
And such a blush sits on the virgin rose. 

21 as] at j6']4. 27 unhappy] happy 16&2. 29 without disorder die, 16^2. 

On Mrs. E. Montague, ifc.^^ This, though I do not know exactly who the lady was. 
may be taken with the Sandwich epicedes as evidence of Flatman's acquaintance with the 
Montague family. It is odd that Pepys does not mention him, especially as he does 
record buying the 'Montelion' Almanack for 1661, which has been attributed to our 
poet. The Cross-Bath is of course the famous one at Bath itself, which was then the 
most fashionable, and was visited and used by Pepys himself. It is now 'drawn to the 
dregs of a democracy ' — a cheap public swimming-bath, at a penny entrance or twopence 
with towel. Flatman's comparison of a blushing cheek to a judge on the bench is 
worthy of Cleveland, or even of Benlowes. But the extravagance was doubtless, in part 
at least, conscious. 

( 360 ) 

071 Mi^s. E. Mo7itague s Blushing^ etc. 


Ye envied waters that with safety may 

Around her snowy bosom play, 
Cherish with gentle heat that noble breast 

Which so much innocence has blest, lo 

Such innocence, as hitherto ne'er knew 
What mischief Venus or her son could do. 

Then from this hallow'd place 
Let the profane and wanton eye withdraw, 
For Virtue clad in scarlet strikes an awe 
From the tribunal of a lovely face. 

// htfido. 

I BREATHE, 'tis true, wretch that I am, 'tis true. 

But if to live be only not to die. 

If nothing in that bubble, Life, be gay, 

But all t' a tear must melt away ; 
Let fools and Stoics be cajol'd, say I : 

Thou that lik'st Ease and Love, like me. 
When once the world says. Farewell both, to thee. 

What hast thou more to do 
Than in disdain to say, Thou foolish world, adieu ! 


There was a time, fool that I was ! when I lo 

Believ'd there might be something here below, 
A seeming cordial to my drooping heart 
That might allay my bitter smart ; 

I call'd it Friend: but O th' inconstancy 

Of human things ! I tried it long. 
Its love was fervent, and, I fancied, strong: 
But now I plainly see. 
Or 'tis withdrawn, or else 'twas all hypocrisy. 


I saw thy much-estranged eyes, I saw, 

False Musidore, thy formal alter'd face, ao 

When thou betray'dst my seeming happiness. 

And coldly took'st my kind address : 
But know that I will live ; for in thy place 

Heaven has provided for me now 
A constant friend, that dares not break a vow; 

That friend will I embrace, 
And never more my overweening love misplace. 

( 361 ) 

Tho7nas Flat ma?! 

// Inimatu7'o. 


Brave Youth, whose too too hasty fate 

His glories did anticipate, 
Whose active soul had laid the great design 
To emulate those Heroes of his line! 

He show'd the world how great a man 

Might be contracted to a span ; 
How soon our teeming expectations fail, 
How little tears and wishes can prevail : 

Could life hold out with these supplies 

He'd liv'd still in his parents' eyes, lo 

And this cold stone had ne'er said, Here he lies. 

On Mrs. Dove, Wife to the Reverend Lr. Henry Dove. 


'Tis thus and thus farewell to all 

Vain mortals do perfection call ; 
To Beauty, Goodness, Modesty, 
Sweet temper, and true Piety. 
The rest an Angel's pen must tell ; 
Long, long, beloved Dust, farewell. 
Those blessings which we highliest prize 
Are soonest ravish'd from our eyes. 


Sed jam nee Dotniis accipiet te laefa, nee Uxvr 
Optima, nee dulces oeeurrent oseida nati 
Fraeripere, et taeita pectus dulcedine tangent. 


When thou shalt leave this miserable life, 

Farewell thy house, farewell thy charming wife, 

Farewell for ever to thy soul's delight. 

Quite blotted out in everlasting night ! 

No more thy pretty darling babes shall greet thee 

By thy kind name, nor strive who first shall meet thee. 

Their kisses with a secret pleasure shall not move thee ! 

For who shall say to thy dead cla.y, I love thee? 

On Mrs. Dove, ^c] Dr. Henry Dove was a divine of some mark, chaplain (it must 
have been rather in the Vicar of Bray line) to Charles, James, and William, Arch- 
deacon of Richmond, and a strongly recommended candidate for the Mastership of 
Trinity, when young John Montague, Lord Sandwich's son, got it — iure nataliuni, 
apparently, as he had previously got his M.A. degree. 

( 362 ) 

Thus from a foreign clifne rich merchants co?7te 

On the Emment Dr. Edward Browne s Travels. 

Thus from a foreign clime rich merchants come, 

And thus unlade their rarities at home : 

Thus undergo an acceptable toil, 

With treasures to enrich their native soil. 

They for themselves, for others you unfold 

A cargo swoln with diamonds and gold. 

With indefatigable travels, they 

The trading world, the learned you, survey; 

And for renown with great Columbus vie, 

In subterranean cosmography. lo 

On Poverty. 

O POVERTY ! thou great and wise-man's school ! 
Mistress of Arts ! and scandal to the fool ! 
Heav'n's sacred badge, which th' heroes heretofore 
(Bright caravans of saints and martyrs) wore ! 
To th' Host Triumphant valiant souls are sent 
From those we call the ragged regiment : 
Sure guide to everlasting peace above. 

Thou dost th' impediments remove; 
Th' unnecessary loads of wealth and state. 
Which make men swell too big for the strait gate. lo 

Thou happy port ! where we from storms are free, 
And need not fear (false world !) thy piracy. 
Hither for ease and shelter did retire 
The busy Charles, and wearied Casimire; 
Abjur'd their thrones, and made a solemn vow, 
Their radiant heads to thee should ever bow. 
Why should thy tents so terrible appear 
Where monarch s reform adoes were ? 
Why should men call that state of life forlorn, 
Which God approves of, and which kings have borne? 20 


Mad Luxury ! what do thy vassals reap 
From a life's long debauch, but late to weep ! 
What the curs'd miser, who would fain ape thee, 
And wear thy livery. Great Poverty ! 

On Dr. Edward Browne's Travels.'] Edward Browne, Sir Thomas's eldest son, 
returned in 1673 from five years' wandering, and Flatman must have written on some 
of his papers. His Travels were first printed in 1682. 

On Poverty.] 14 Charles] Of course Charles the Fifth. Casimire] John Casimir of 
PoJand, who had abdicated in 1668 and died in 1672. 

18 ' Reformadoes '] Lit. officers of a disbanded company, who retained their rank and 
received half-pay. 

( 363 ) 

Thomas Flatmait 

The prudent wretch for future ages cares, 
And hoards up sins for his impatient heirs ! 
Full little does he think the time will come 

When he is gone to his long home, 
The prodigal youth for whom he took such pains 
Shall be thy slave, and wear thy loathi;d chains. 30 


Fair handmaid to Devotion, by whose aid 
Our souls are all disrob'd, all naked laid, 
In thy true mirror men themselves do see 
Just what they are, not what they seem to be. 
The flattering world misrepresents our face, 
And cheats us with a magnifying-glass ; 
Our meanness nothing else does truly show. 

But only Death, but only thou. 
Who teach our minds above this Earth to fly. 
And pant, and breathe for immortality. 40 

Urania to her Friend Partkenissa. 


In a soft vision of the night, 

My Fancy represented to my sight 

A goodly gentle shade; 
Methought it mov'd with a majestic grace, 
But the surprising sweetness of its face 

Made me amaz'd, made me afraid : 
I found a secret shivering in my heart, 
Such as friends feel that meet or part : 
Approaching nearer with a timorous eye. 

Is then my Parthenissa dead, said I ? 10 

Ah Parthenissa ! if thou yet are kind. 
As kind as when, like me, thou mortal wert, 
When thou and I had equal share in cither's heart. 
How canst thou bear that I am left behind ! 
Dear Parthenissa ! O those pleasant hours, 

That blest our innocent amours ! 
When in the common treasury of one breast, 

All that was thine or mine did rest. 
Dear Parthenissa ! — Friend ! what shall I say ? 

Ah speak to thy Urania ! so 

Oh envious Death ! nothing but thee I fear'd. 

No other rival could estrange 

Her soul from mine or make a change. 

Scarce had I spoke my passionate fears. 

And overwhelm'd myself in tears : 
But Parthenissa smil'd, and then she disappear'd. 

31-40 A stanza added in 1686. 

( 364 ) 

As on his death-bed gaspiiig St7'epho7i lay 

On the Death of the Earl of Rochester. 



As on his death-bed gasping Strephon lay, 

Strephon the wonder of the plains, 

The noblest of th' Arcadian swains ; 
Strephon the bold, the witty, and the gay : 
With many a sigh and many a tear he said, 
Remember me, ye Shepherds, when I'm dead. 


Ye trifling glories of this world, adieu, 

And vain applauses of the age ; 

For when we quit this earthly stage. 
Believe me, shepherds, for I tell you true; jo 

Those pleasures which from virtuous deeds we have, 
Procure the sweetest slumbers in the grave. 


Then since your fatal hour must surely come, 

Surely your heads lie low as mine, 

Your bright meridian sun decline; 
Beseech the mighty Pan to guard you home. 
If to Elysium you would happy fly, 
Live not like Strephon, but like Strephon die. 

In obitum illustrisswii ingeniosissimique Joanni's, 

Comitis Roffensis, 

Carmen Pastorale Versu Leonino redditum. 


Lecto prostratus Strephon moribundiis, 

Planitieriwi Strephon decus, 

Princeps cura?itium pecus, 
A udax, facetus, Strephon et Jucundus, 
Lugens pastoi'ibus sic est .affatus, 
Meminiini mei awi migratus. 

On the Death of the Earl of Rochester.'] Flatman, it will be observed, makes no 
relerence to Burnet's notorious publication as to Rochester's death-bed repentance. As 
to the Latin version, he strains the term 'leonine', which ought properly to be used 
onlv of lines correctly metred, or intended for metre, but rhymed at middle and end. 
(He had actually written such : v. sup., p. 353\ But these verses, added in 1686, are not 
uninteresting examples of Latin, metred on English principles and rhymed in stanza, 
of tlie same class as Sir F. Kynaston's Troilits, though in different form. 

MS. versions are in Bodley, in Aubrey MS. 6, fol. 56 (with the variant ' head ' in 1. 14, , 
and a worthless copy in MS. Add. B. 105, fol. 19. 

( 365 ) 

Thomas Flatman 

Honores mundi /utiles vakte, 

Plaiidife aevi et fucata, 

Mo7'iali scend nam tnntatd, 
Fidem veriloquo adhibete, lo 

Vohiptas profluens ex virtute 
Sola obdormiscit cum salute. 


Cu7n nulla in moi'te7n sit niedela, 

I?i terrain capita cuncta incurvabunt, 

Soles niicantes declinabunt^ 
Pan supplicetor pro tutela 
Beatorum ut recipiant chori : 
Strephon non doceat vivere sed mori. 

On Dr. WoodforcT s Paraphrase on the Canticles. 


Well ! since it must be, so let it be, 

For what do resolutions signify, - 

When we are urg'd to write by destiny? 


I had resolv'd, nay, and I almost swore, 

My bedrid Muse should walk abroad no more : 

Alas ! 'tis more than time that I give o'er. 


In the recesses of a private breast 

I thought to entertain your charming guest, 

And never to have boasted of my feast. 


But see, my friend, when through the world you go, lo 

My lackey-verse must shadow-like pursue, 
Thin and obscure, to make a foil for you. 

'Tis true, you cannot need my feeble praise, 
A lasting monument to your name to raise. 
Well known in Heav'n by your angelic lays. 


There in indelible characters they are writ, 
Where no pretended heights will easy sit, 
But those of serious consecrated wit. 

On Dr. Woodford' s Paraphrase.'] See above, p. 306. These lines appeared before 
A Paraphrase upon the Canticles, 1679, and were headed 'To my dear Old Friend, the 
Reverend Dr. Samuel Woodford, On his Sacred Poems '. 

( 366 ) 

Oil Dr, Woodfo7^d''s Paraphrase on the Caitticles 


By immaterial defecated Love, 

Your soul its heavenly origin does approve, 20 

And in least dangerous raptures soars above. 


How could I wish, dear friend ! unsaid agen 
(For once I rank'd myself with tuneful men) 
Whatever dropp'd from my unhallow'd pen ! 


The trifling rage of youthful heat once past, 
Who is not troubled for his wit misplac'd ! 
All pleasant follies breed regret at last. 


While reverend Donne's and noble Herbert's flame 

A glorious immortality shall claim, 

In the most durable records of Fame, 30 


Our modish rhymes, like culinary fire. 
Unctuous and earthy, shall in smoke expire ; 
In odorous clouds your incense shall aspire. 


Let th' Pagan-world your pious verse defy. 
Yet shall they envy when they come to die, 
Your wiser projects on eternity. 

Laodamia to Protesilaus. 


The Argument. 

Protesilaus lying windbound at Anlis in the Grecian fleet designed for the 
Trojan ivar, his wife Laodantia sends this following Epistle to him. 

Health to the gentle man of war, and may 

What Laodamia sends the Gods convey. 

The wind that still in Aulis holds my dear, 

Why was it not so cross to keep him here? 

Let the wind raise an hurricane at sea. 

Were he but safe and warm ashore with me. 

Ten thousand kisses I had more to give him. 

Ten thousand cautions, and soft words to leave him : 

In haste he left me, summon'd by the wind, 

(The wi^id to barbarous mariners only kind). 10 

The seaman's pleasure is the lover's pain, 

(Protesilaus from my bosom ta'en !) 

21 approve i6yp, 1682: prove j686. 

25-7 Referring to the comic touches noted above. 

( 367 ) 

Thomas Flatma7i 

As from my faltering tongue half speeches fell, 
Scarce could I speak that wounding word Fareivell, 
A merry gale (at sea they call it so) 
Fill'd every sail with joy, my breast with woe. 

There went my dear Protesilaus ■ 

While I could see thee, full of eager pain, 

My greedy eyes epicuris'd on thine, 

When thee no more, but thy spread sails I view, 20 

I look'd, and look'd, till I had lost them too; 

But when nor thee, nor them I could descry, 

And all was sea that came within my eye, 

They say (for 1 have quite forgot), they say 

I straight grew pale, and fainted quite away ; 

Compassionate Iphiclus, and the good old man, 

My mother too to my assistance ran ; 

In haste cold water on my face they threw, 

And brought me to myself with much ado. 

They meant it well, to me it seem'd not so, 30 

;Much kinder had they been to let me go; 

My anguish with my soul together came. 

And in my heart burst out the former flame : 

Since which, my uncomb'd locks unheeded flow, 

Undrest, forlorn, I care not how I go ; 

Inspir'd with wine, thus Bacchus' frolic rout 

Stagger'd of old, and straggled all about. 

Put on, put on, the happy ladies say, 

Thy royal robes, fair Laodamia. 

Alas ! before Troy's walls my dear does lie, 4° 

What pleasure can I take in Tyrian dye? 

Shall curls adorn my head, an helmet thine? 

I in bright tissues, thou in armour shine? 

Rather with studied negligence I'll be 

As ill, if not disguised worse than thee. 

O Paris ! rais'd by ruins ! mayst thou prove 
As fatal in thy war, as in thy love ! 
O that the Grecian Dame had been less fair. 
Or thou less lovely hadst appear'd to her ! 

Menelaus ! timely cease to strive, 5° 
With how much blood wilt thou thy loss retrieve? 

From me, ye Gods, avert your heavy doom, 
And bring my dear, laden with laurels, home : 
But my heart fails me, when I thjnk of war, 
The sad reflection costs me many a tear : 

1 tremble when I hear the very name 

Of every place where thou shalt fight for fame; 

Besides, th' adventurous ravisher well knew 

The safest arts his villany to pursue ; 

In noble dress he did her heart surprise, 60 

With gold he dazzled her unguarded eyes. 

He back'd his rape with ships and armed men, 

( 363 ) 

Laodamia to P?'otesiiaus 

Thus storm'd, thus took the beauteous fortress in. 
Against the power of Love and force of arms 
There's no security in the brightest charms. 

Hector I fear, much do I Hector fear, 
A man (they say) experienc'd in war, 
My dear, if thou hast any love for me, 
Of that same Hector prithee mindful be; 

Fly him be sure, and every other foe, 70 

Lest each of them should prove an Hector too. 
Remember, when for fight thou shalt prepare, 
Thy Laodamia charg'd thee. Have a care ; 
For what wounds thou receiv'st are giv'n to her. 
If by thy valour Troy must ruin'd be. 
May not the ruin leave one scar on thee ; 
Sharer in th' honour, from the danger free ! 
Let Menelaus fight, and force his way 
Through the false ravisher's troops t' his Helena. 
Great be his victory, as his cause is good. 80 

May he swim to her in his enemies' blood. 
Thy case is different. — Mayst thou live to see 
(Dearest) no other combatant but me! 

Ye generous Trojans, turn your swords away 
From his dear breast, find out a nobler prey ; 
Why should you harmless Laodamia slay ? 
My poor good-natur'd man did never know 
What 'tis to fight, or how to face a foe ; 
Yet in Love's field what wonders can he do ! 
Great is his prowess and his fortune too ; 90 

Let them go fight, who know not how to woo. 

Now I must own, I fear'd to let thee go, 
My trembling lips had almost told thee so. 
When from thy father's house thou didst withdraw, 
Thy fatal stumble at the door I saw, 
I saw it, sigh'd, and pray'd the sign might be 
Of thy return a happy prophecy ! 
I cannot but acquaint thee with my fear, 
Be not too brave,— Remember, — Have a care. 
And all my dreads will vanish into air. ico 

Among the Grecians some one must be found 
That first shall set his foot on Trojan ground ; 
Unhappy she that shall his loss bewail, 
Grant, O ye Gods, thy courage then may fail. 

Of all the ships be thine the very last. 
Thou the last man that lands; there needs no haste 
To meet a potent and a treacherous foe ; 
Thou'lt land I fear too soon, tho' ne'er so slow. 
At thy return ply every sail and oar, 
And nimbly leap on thy deserted shore. no 

All the day long, and all the lonely night, 
Black thoughts of thee my anxious soul affright : 
( 369 ) B b III 

Thomas Flatfnan 

Darkness, to other women's pleasures kind, 

Augments, like Hell, the torments of my mind. 

I court e'en dreams, on my forsaken bed 

False joys must serve, since all my true are fled. 

What 's that same airy phantom so like thee ! 

What wailings do I hear, what paleness see? 

I wake, and hug myself, 'tis but a dream. — 

The Grecian altars know I feed their flame, 120 

The want of hallow'd wine my tears supply, 

Which make the sacred fire burn bright and high. 

When shall I clasp thee in these arms of mine, 
These longing arms, and lie dissolv'd in thine ? 
When shall 1 have thee by thyself alone. 
To learn the wondrous actions thou hast done? 
Which when in rapturous words thou hast begun 
With many and many a kiss, prithee tell on, 
Such interruptions grateful pauses are, 
A kiss in story's but an halt in war. 130 

But, when I think of Troy, of winds and waves, 
I fear the pleasant dream my hope deceives : 
Contrary winds in port detain thee too, 
In spite of wind and tide why wouldst thou go? 
Thus, to thy country thou wouldst hardly come. 
In spite of wind and tide thou went'st from home. 
To his own city Neptune stops the way, 
Revere the omen, and the Gods obey. 
Return, ye furious Grecians, homeward fly. 
Your stay is not of Chance, but Destiny : 140 

How can your arms expect desir'd success, 
That thus contend for an adulteress? 
But, let not me forespeak you, no, — set sail. 
And Heav'n befriend you with a prosperous gale ! 

Ye Trojans ! with regret methinks I see 
Your first encounter with your enemy ; 
I see fair Helen put on all her charms. 
To buckle on her lusty bridegroom's arms ; 
She gives him arms, and kisses she receives, 
(I hate the transports each to other gives.) 150 

She leads him forth, and she commands him come 
Safely victorious, and triumphant home ; 
And he (no doubt) will make no nice delay, 
But diligently do whate'er she say. 
Now he returns ! — see with what amorous speed 
She takes the pond'rous helmet from his head, 
And courts the weary champion to her bed. 

We women, too too credulous, alas ! 

Think what ive fear will surely come to pass. 
Yet, while before the leaguer thou dost lie, 160 

Thy picture is some pleasure to my eye ; 
129 grateful] graceful 16S2. 

( 370 ) 

ILaodamia to Protesilaus 

That, I caress in words most kind and free, 
And lodge it on my breast, as I would thee. ^ 
There must be something in it more than Art, 
'Twere very thee, could it thy mind impart ; 
I kiss the pretty Idol, and complain, 
As if (like thee) 'twould answer me again. 

By thy return, by thy dear self, I swear, 
By our Love's vows, which most religious are. 
By thy beloved head, and those gray hairs 170 

Which time may on it snow in future years,- 
I come, where'er thy Fate shall bid thee go. 
Eternal partner of thy weal and woe. 
So thou but live, tho' all the Gods say No. 

Farewell, — but prithee very careful be 

Of thy beloved Self (I mean) of me. 

To the Excellent Master of Music, Signior Pietro 
Reggio, on His Book of Songs. 

Tho' to advance thy fame, full well I know 
How very little my dull pen can do ; 
Yet, with all deference, I gladly wait, 
Enthrong'd amongst th' attendants on thy state : 
Thus when Arion, by his friends betray'd. 
Upon his understanding-Dolphin play'd, 
The scaly people their resentments show'd 
By pleas'd levoltoes on the wond'ring flood. 

Great Artist ! thou deserv'st our loudest praise 
From th' garland to the meanest branch of bays;' 10 

For poets can but Say, thou mak'st them Sing, 
And th' embryo-words dost to perfection bring ; 
By us the Muse conceives, but when that's done. 
Thy midwif'ry makes fit to see the Sun ; 
Our naked lines, drest and adorn'd by thee, 
Assume a beauty, pomp, and bravery; 
So awful and majestic they appear, 
They need not blush to reach a Prince's ear. 
Princes, tho' to poor poets seldom kind. 

Their numbers turn'd to air with pleasure mind. 20 

Studied and labour'd tho' our poems be, 
Alas ! they die unheeded without thee, 
Whose art can make our breathless labours live. 
Spirit and everlasting vigour give. 
Whether we write of Heroes and of Kings, 
In Mighty Numbers, Mighty Things, 

To Signior Pietro Reggio.'] First printed in Songs of Signior Pietro Reggio, Tolio 
undated (but issued in 1680) ; Sliadwell and Ayres also contributed to it. It had an 
engraved title-page of Arion on a Dolphin (cf. 1. 5), and was dedicated to the king 
(cf. 1. 18). 

8 Levoltoes 1682 : levaltoes 1686— hoih variants of the form Mavolta'. 

( 371 ) B b 2 . • 

Thomas Flat7?ia7t 

Or in a humble Ode express our sense 

Of th' happy state of ease and innocence ; 

A country life where the contented swain 

Hugs his dear peace, and does a crown disdain ; f,o 

Thy dext'rous notes with all our thoughts comply. 

Can creep on Earth, can up to Heaven fly ; 

In heights and cadences, so sweet, so strong, 

They suit a shepherd's reed, an angel's tongue. 

But who can comprehend 

The raptures of thy voice, and miracles of thy hand ? 

Epitaph on the Incomparable Sir John King- 
in the Temple-Church. 

Heic juxta jacet 

Johanties King. Miles, 
Serenissinio Carolo Seciindo 

In Legibus Angliae Consultus, 
Illustrissifno Jacobo Dud Eborace?isi 

Sollicitator Getieralis. 

Quaiis, Quanhisve sis, Lector, 

Profutidiwi obstupesce ; 
Labia digitis comprirne, 

Oculos lachrymis suffunde. ic 

En ! ad pedes iuos 
Artis et Naturae suprema Conamina, 

Fatorum Ludibria! 

Non ita pridem 
Erat Iste Pulvis omnifariam Docius, 

Afusarum Gazophylacium, 
Eloguetitiam calluit, daram, puram, innocuatJi, 
Legibus suae Patriae erat instruciissimns, 
Suis charus, Prindpibus gratus, Omnibus urbanuSt 

Sui saeculi 20 

Ornamentum illustre, Desiderium irreparabile. 

Hific disce Ledor, 
Quantilla Alortalitatis Gloria 
Splendidissimis decoratae Doiibus. 

Dulcem soporetn agite 

Diledi, Eruditi, Beati Cineres ! 

Obiit Junii sg, 1677. 
Aetat. 38. 

Epi'aph on the Incomparable Sir John King.'\ This 'incomparable' was an Etonian 
and a Cambridge (Queens' College) man. who became K.C. and Attorney-General to 
the Duke of York. 

A first draft is in the Ashmole MS. 826 (fol. 50) of the Bodleian. LI. 1-6 are at the 
end of the epitaph, and add a touch of bathos — ' Et Interioris Templi Socius ' — and the date 
— ' Obiit tercio Calendarum Julii, Anno .^rae Christiana;', 1677 ; ^tatis 38'. In 1.8 the 
reading is ^obmutesce'. The 1682 has tlie simple heading ' In the Temple Church', 
and reads ' decorata' in 1. 24. 

( 370 

Unhappy Muse ! employed so oft 

On the Death of my dear Brother Mr. Richard Flatman. 

Pindaric Ode. 

Stanza I. 

Unhappy Muse ! employ'd so oft 

On melancholy thoughts of Death, 
What hast thou left so tender, and so soft 

As thy poor master fain would breath 
O'er this lamented hearse? 
No usual flight of fancy can become 

My sorrows o'er a brother's tomb. 
O that I could be elegant in tears, 
That with conceptions, not unworthy thee, 
Great as thy merit, vigorous as thy years, ^ lo 

I might convey thy elegy 
To th' grief and envy of posterity ! 
A gentler youth ne'er crown'd his parents' cares. 
Or added ampler joy to their grey hairs : 
Kind to his friends, to his relations dear, 
Easy to all. — xA.las ! what is there here 
For man to set his heart upon, 
Since what we dote on most is soonest gone? 
Ai me ! I've lost a sweet companion, 

A friend, a brother all in one ! 20 


How did it chill my soul to see thee lie 
Struggling with pangs in thy last agony ! 
When with a manly courage thou didst brave 
Approaching Death, and with a steady mind 

(Ever averse to be confin'd) 

Didst triumph o'er the Grave. 

Thou mad'st no womanish moan. 

But scorn'dst to give one groan : 
He that begs pity is afraid to die. 

Only the brave despise their destiny. 30 

But, when I call to mind how thy kind eyes 

Were passionately fix'd on mine. 

How, when thy falt'ring tongue gave o'er 
And I could hear thy pleasing voice no more; 

How, when I laid my cheek to thine, 
Kiss'd thy pale lips, and press'd thy trembling hand. 
Thou, in return, smil'dst gently in my face, 

And hugg'dst me with a close embrace; 

I am amaz'd, I am unmann'd. 

On tJie death of Mr. Richard Flatman.'] I know nothing of Richard Flatman. He 
would seem to have been a j-ounger brother. 4 breath] Cf. p. 315, note. 

19 Ai 1682 — a form found on p. 313, 1. 32, and p. 315, 1. 41 : Ah 16S6 

( 373 ) 

Tfiomas Flat man 

Something extremely kind I fain would say, 40 

But through the tumult of my breast, 
With too ofificious love opprest, 
I find my feeble words can never force their way. 

Beloved youth ! What shall I do ! 
Once my delight, my torment now ! 
How immaturely art thou snatch'd away ! 
But Heaven shines on thee with many a glorious ray 
Of an unclouded and immortal day, 
Whilst 1 lie grovelling here below 

In a dark stormy night. 5c 

The blust'ring storm of Life with thee is o'er, 
For thou art landed on that happy shore. 

Where thou canst hope or fear no more ; 
Thence with compassion thou shalt see 
The plagues, the wars, the fires, the scarcity, 
The devastations of an enemy, 
From which thy early fate has set thee free ; 

For when thou went'st to thy long home, 
Thou wert exempt from all the ills to come, 

And shalt hereafter be 60 

Spectator only of the tragedy 
Acted on frail mortality. 
So some one lucky mariner 
From shipwreck sav'd by a propitious star, 
Advanc'd upon a neighb'ring rock looks down, 
And sees far off his old companions drown. 


There in a state of perfect ease, 
Of never interrupted happiness, 

Thy large illuminated mind 
Shall matter of eternal wonder find ; 7° 

There dost thou clearly see how, and from whence 
The stars communicate their influence, 
The methods of th' Almighty Architect, 
How He consulted with Himself alone 

To lay the wondrous corner-stone. 
When He this goodly fabric did erect. 

There, thou dost understand 

The motions of the secret hand. 

That guides th' invisible wheel. 
Which here, we ne'er shall know, but ever feel ; 80 

There Providence, the vain man's laughing-stock. 
The miserable good-man's stumbling-block, 
Unfolds the puzzling riddle to thy eyes, 
And its own wise contrivance justifies. 
What timorous man wouldn't be pleas'd to die. 
To make so noble a discovery? 

( 374 ) 

Ofi the Death oj my dear Brothe?^^ etc, 

And must I take my solemn leave 
Till time shall be no more ! 
Can neither sighs, nor tears, nor prayers retrieve 

One cheerful hour ! 9° 

Must one unlucky moment sever 
Us, and our hopes, us and our joys for ever ! — 
Is this cold clod of Earth that endear'd Thing 

I lately did my Brother call? 
Are these the artful fingers that might vie 
With all the sons of harmony 
And overpower them all ! 
Is this the studious comprehensive head 
With curious arts so richly furnished ! 

Alas ! thou, and thy glories all are gone, loo 

Buried in darkness, and oblivion. 

'Tis so — and I must follow thee, 
Yet but a little while, and I shall see thee, 
Yet but a little while I shall be with thee, 
Then some kind friend perhaps may drop one tear for me. 

Coridon on the death of his dear Alexis^ 
ob. Jan. 28, i68|. 

Pastoral Song. Set by Dr. Blow. 

Alexis ! dear Alexis ! lovely boy ! 

O my Damon ! O Palaemon ! snatch'd away, 
To some far distant region gone. 
Has left the miserable Coridon 
Bereft of all his comforts, all alone ! 
Have you not seen my gentle lad, 

Whom every swain did love, 
Cheerful, when every swain was sad, 
Beneath the melancholy grove ? 

Coridon Ifc.'] This and the following poems (pp. 375-407^ were added in the collected 
edition of 1686. Alexis is no doubt the Thomas Fiatman whose epitaph, by his father, 
is printed on p. 414.' This and the following poem were sent to Sancroft, with the 
accompanying letter, preserved in Tanner MS. xxxiv i^fol. 235) of the Bodleian : — 
My Lord 

The first Page of the enclosd Paper is the result of his Mai"''"% and yo'' Grace's 
Commaunds ; & the Second of my owne uneasy thoughts on the Death of my beloved 
Child, who carried yo"" Grace's blessing with him into the other World. The severity 
of the Wether ha's delay'd Both much longer than became the bounden Duty of 

My Lord 

Yo'' Grace's most obedient Servant 
Januarj' 9 & meanest Kinsman 

i68| Thomas Flatman. 

The autograph copies of the two poems are in Tanner MS. 306, folios 391 and 392. 
The variants in this poem are : — 11 Broke] Sprung. 13 Him {y&] 'Tis He. 19 shall] 
can. After the poem Flatman has quoted ' Immodicis brevis est aetas, & rara 
Senectus '. 

( 375 ) 

Thofnas Flat man 

His face was beauteous as the dawn of day, lo 

Broke through the gloomy shades of night : 

O my anguish ! my delight ! 
Him (ye kind shepherds) I bewail, 
Till my eyes and heart shall fail. 
*Tis He that 's landed on that distant shore. 
And you and I shall see him here no more. 
Return, Alexis ! O return ! 
Return, return^ in vain I cry ; 
Poor Coridon shall never cease to mourn 
Thy too untimely, cruel destiny. 20 

Farewell for ever, charming boy ! 
And with Thee, all the transports of my joy ! 
Ye powers above, why should I longer live, 
To waste a few uncomfortable years, 

To drown myself in tears. 
For what my sighs and pray'rs can ne'er retrieve? 

A Song on New-Year s-day before the King, Car. 2. 

Set by Dr. Blow i68|. 

My trembling song ! awake ! arise ! 

And early tell thy tuneful tale. 
Tell thy great Master, that the Night is gone; 

The feeble phantoms disappear. 

And now the New-Year's welcome Sun 
O'erspreads the eastern skies ; 
He smiles on every hill, he smiles on every vale. 

His glories fill our hemisphere ; 

Tell Him Apollo greets Him w^ell. 
And with his fellow Wanderers agrees 10 

To reward all His labours, and lengthen His days, 
In spite of the politic follies of Hell, 

And vain contrivance of the destinies. 
Tell Him, a Crown of Thorns no more 

Shall His sacred temples gore. 
For all the rigours of His life are o'er. 

Wondrous Prince ! design'd to show 
What noble minds can bravely undergo. 

You are our wonder, you our love ; 

Earth from beneath, Heaven from above, 20 

A Sotig.'] 10 'Wanderers' after 'Apollo' may give a moment's pause. Then one 
translates the English into Greek and the Greek into English, obtaining ' Planets' and 
' Sun '. 

13 Not in the early autograph copy sent to Sancroft (see previous poem\ 

14 A little risky in its loyalty. Expressions in the piece suggest the Rye-House 
Plot and its failure ; but this was in tiie March after New-Year's Day, i68§. 

16 air now MS. life] Fate MS. 

( 376) 

A Song on New-Year s-day before the King 

Call loud for songs of triumph and of praise, 
Their voices and their souls they raise; 

lo Paean do we sing, 
Long live, long live the King ! 
Rise, mighty Monarch, and ascend the Throne, 

'Tis yet, once more your own, 
P'or Lucifer and all his legions are o'erthrown : 
Son of the Morning, first-born Son of Light, 

How wert thou tumbled headlong down, 
Into the dungeons of eternal night ! 30 

\\'hile th' loyafl stars of the celestial quire 

Surrounded with immortal beams, 

Mingle their unpolluted flames, 

Their just Creator to admire. 

With awful reverence they adore Him, 
Cover their faces, and fall down before Him ; 

And night and day for ever sing 
Hosannah, Hallelujah to tK Abnighty King! 

071 the Kings return to White-hall, after his 
Summers Progress, 1684. 

SONG. Set by Mr. Henry Purcell. 

From those serene and rapturous joys 
A country life alone can give, 
Exempt from tumult and from noise, 
Where Kings forget the troubles of their reigns, 
And are almost as happy as their humble swains, 
By feeling that they live : 
Behold th' indulgent Prince is come 
To view the conquests of His mercy shown 
To the new Proselytes of His mighty town, 
And men and angels bid Him welcome home. 10 

Not with an helmet or a glitt'ring spear 

Does He appear ; 
He boast[s] no trophies of a cruel conqueror, 
Brought back in triumph from a bloody war; 
But with an olive-branch adorn'd, 
As once the long expected Dove return'd. 
Welcome as soft refreshing show'rs. 
That raise the sickly heads of drooping flow'rs : 
Welcome as early beams of Hght 

To the benighted traveller, 30 

When he descries bright Phosphorus from afar, 
And all his fears are put to flight. 
Welcome, more welcome does He come 
7'han life to Lazarus from his drowsy tomb, 

23 ' And lo Paean jointly sing ' MS. 32 immortal] augmented MS. 

( 377 ) 

Thomas Flat7nan 

When in his winding-sheet, at his new birth, 

The strange surprising word was said — Come forth ! 

Nor does the Sun more comfort bring, 

When he turns Winter into Spring, 
Than the blest advent of a peaceful King. 


With trumpets and shouts we receive the World's Wonder, 30 
And let the clouds echo His welcome with thunder, 
Such a thunder as applauded what mortals had done, 
When they fix'd on His brows His Imperial Crown. 

To Mr. Isaac Walton, on his Publication of Thcahua. 

Long had the bright Thealma lain obscure. 

Her beauteous charms that might the world allure, 

Lay like rough diamonds, in the mine, unknown, 

By all the sons of folly trampled on, 

Till your kind hand unveil'd her lovely face, 

And gave her vigour to exert her rays : 

Happy old man, whose worth all mankind knows. 

Except thyself, who charitably shows 

The ready road to Virtue and to Praise, 

The way to many long and happy days; 10 

The noble art of generous Piety, 

And how to compass an Euthanasy ! 

Hence did he learn the skill of living well. 

The bright Thealma was his oracle ; 

Lispir'd by Her, he knows no anxious cares 

In near a century of happy years ; 

Easy he lives, and easy shall he lie 

On the soft bosom of Eternity. 

As long as Spenser's noble flames shall burn, 

And deep devotion shall attend his urn ; 2c 

As long as Chalkhill's venerable name 

With humble emulation shall enflame 

Posterity, and fill the rolls of fame, 

Your memory shall ever be secure. 

And long beyond our short-liv'd praise endure ; 

As Phidias in Minerva's shield did live. 

And shar'd that immortality he alone could give. 

To Mr. Isaac Walton.'] For Thealma [and Clearclnts] itself, and the problems 
attending it, see vol. ii. 

7 Walton published the poem in his ninetieth year and died soon after. 
19 Chalkhill was, said Izaak, an ' acquaintant ' of Spenser. 

( 378) 

My dear Castara^ t'othe?^ day 

Pastoj^al Dialogue. 

Castara and Parthenia. 

My dear Castara, t'other day 
I heard an ancient shepherd say, 
Alas for me ! my time draws nigh, 
And shortly, shortly I must die ! 
What meant the man ? for lo ! apace 
Torrents of tears ran down his face. 

Poor harmless maid ! why wouldst thou know 
What, known, must needs create thee woe ? 
'Twill cloud the sunshine of thy days, 

And in thy soul such trouble raise, lo 

Thou'lt grieve, and tremble, and complain, 
And say that all thy beauty 's vain. 


Ah me ! sure 'tis some dreadful thing 
That can so great disorder bring. 
Yet tell me, prithee tell me, do. 
For 'tis some ease the worst to know. 


To die, Parthenia, is to quit 

The World, and the Sun's glorious light. 

To leave our flocks and fields for ever, 

To part, and never meet again, O never ! 20 

After that cruel hideous hour, 

Thou and I shall sing no more ; 

In the cold Earth they will thee lay. 

And what thou dot'st on shall be clay. 


Alas ! why will they use me so, 
A virgin that no evil do? 

Roses wither, turtles die. 
Fair, and kind as thou and I. 

Chorus amb. 
Then, since 'tis appointed to the dust we must go. 
Let us innocently live, and virtuously do ; 30 

Let us love, let us sing, 'tis no matter, 'tis all one, 
If our lamps be extinguish'd at midnight or noon. 

( 379 ) 

Thomas Flatman 

Castabella Going to Sea. 
SONG. Set by lA-i^. James Hart. 


Hark, hark ! methinks I hear the seamen call, 
The boist'rous seamen say, 
Bright Castabella, come away ! 
The wind sits fair, the vessel's stout and tall, 
Bright Castabella, come away ! 

For Time and Tide can never stay. 


Our mighty Master Neptune calls aloud, 
The Zephyrs gently blow. 

The Tritons cry, You are too slow, 
For every Sea-nymph of the glittering crowd ro 

Has garlands ready to throw down 

AVhen you ascend your wat'ry throne. 


See, see ! she comes, she comes, and now adieu ! 
Let 's bid adieu to shore. 

And to all we fear'd before; 
O Castabella ! we depend on you, 

On you our better fortunes lay, 
Whose eyes and voice the winds and seas obey. 

On the Death of my worthy friend Mr. John Oldhain. 

Pindaric Pastoral Ode. 
Stanza I. 

Undoubtedly 'tis thy peculiar fate, 

Ah miserable Astragon ! 

Thou art condemn'd alone 
To bear the burthen of a wretched life, ♦ 

Still in this howling wilderness to roam. 
Whilst all thy bosom friends unkindly go, 
And leave thee to lament them here below. 

Castabella Going to Sea.] There was a Philip Hart in the next generation who was 
a composer, and perhaps James was his father ; for the less reputed and more profes- . 
sional arts like music, painting, engraving, dancing, &c. tended to be hereditary in 
those days. 

17 Byron might have alleged Flatman's practice, in the same context of sea-piece, 
for the too-celebrated 'There let him lay'. But the correct use is possible. 

On the Death of Mr. John Oldham.'] Oldham died in 1683. 

Alexis seems to be Richard Flatman, Oldham Menalcas, the poet himself 
Astragon. It is curious that the printers— and perhaps even the writers — of this time 

( 380 ) 

07t the Death of Mr. yohn Olciha??t 

Thy dear Alexis wouldn't stay, 
Joy of thy life, and pleasure of thine eyes, 

Dear Alexis went away, lo 

With an invincible surprise ; 
Th' angelic youth early dislik'd this state, 
And innocently yielded to his fate; 
Never did soul of a celestial birth 
Inform a purer piece of earth : 
O ! that 'twere not in vain. 
To wish what 's past might be retriev'd again ! 
Thy dotage, thy Alexis then 
Had answer'd all thy vows and prayers, 
And crown'd with pregnant joys thy silver hairs, 20 

Lov'd to this day amongst the living sons of men. 


And thou, my friend, hast left me too, 

Menalcas ! poor Menalcas ! even thou ! 

Of whom so loudly Fame has spoke 
In the records of her eternal book, 
Whose disregarded worth ages to come 
Shall wail with indignation o'er thy tomb. 
Worthy wert thou to live, as long as Vice 
Should need a satire, that the frantic age 
Might tremble at the lash of thy poetic rage. 30 

Th' untutor'd world in after times 

May live uncensur'd for their crimes, 
Freed from the dreads of thy reforming pen, 

Turn to old Chaos once again. 
Of all th' instructive bards, whose more than Theban lyre 
Could salvage souls with manly thoughts inspire, 

Menalcas worthy was to live : 

Tell me, ye mournful swains, 
Say you his fellow-shepherds that survive, 
Has my ador'd Menalcas left behind 40 

On all these pensive plains 
A gentler shepherd with a braver mind ? 
Which of you all did more majestic show, 
Or wore the garland on a sweeter brow? 


But wayward Astragon resolves no more 
The death of his Menalcas to deplore. 
The place to which he wisely is withdrawn 
Is altogether blest. 

were so besotted with ' apostrophation ' as even to use it when the full value is 
metrically necessary, as here in ' wouldn't', which must be ' would nof to scan. 

These lines were first printed before Remains of Mr. John Oldham in Verse and 
Prose, 1684. The chief variants are : 

8 wouldn't] would not. 12 angelic] Angel-like. 13 innocently yielded] 

cheerfully submitted. 29 satire] In original, as often,' Satyr '. 

(381 ) 

Thomas Flatma7t 

There, no clouds o'erwhelm his breast, 

No midnight cares shall break his rest, 50 

For all is everlasting cheerful dawn. 
The Poets' charming bliss. 
Perfect ease and sweet recess, 
There shall he long possess. 
The treacherous world no more shall him deceive. 
Of hope and fortune he has taken leave; 
And now in mighty triumph does he reign 
O'er the unthinking rabble's spite 
(His head adorn'd with beams of light) 
And the dull wealthy fool's disdain. "^o 

Thrice happy he, that dies the Muses' friend ; 
He needs no obelisk, no pyramid 

His sacred dust to hide. 
He needs not for his memory to provide. 
For well he knows his praise can never end. 

On Sir John Micklethwaite's Monument 
in S. Botolphs-Aldersgate-Church, London. 

M. S. 
Heic jiixta spe plena resurgendi situm est 
Depositum mortale 


Seretiissimo Frincipi Carolo II. a Aledicind, 
Qui cum primis sokrtissimus, fidissinws, feitcissimus, 
In Collegio Medicorum Londinensium 
lustriun integrum et guod exciirrit 
Praesidis Proviiiciani dignissime ornavit : 

Et tandem emenso aetatis tranquillae studio^ lo 

Pietate sincerd, 
Inconcussa vitae integritate, 
Benignd morutn suavitate, 
Sparsa passim Philanthropid 
Spectabilis ; 
Miseroncm Asyhmi^ 
Maritus optimus, 

50 shall] can. 

Lines 52 and 54 form one long line, followed by 53, which reads 'soft recess' ; 
lines 58 and 59 are transposed. 

65 For well he knows] For he might well foresee. 

On Sir John Micklethwaite's Monument, C^c] Micklethwaite (1612-82) was President 
of the College of Physicians 1676-81 {liistrutn tntegruni). 

8 Et quod exciirrit is a technical Latin phrase in scientific post-classical writers for 
' and more ', ' above '. 

10 emenso . . . stadio.'] The exact threescore years and ten, 

( 382 ) 

0?! Sir yohn Micklethwaite s Mo?iume7it 

Parens mdulgentissimus, 
Siioritm hictus, 
Bonorum omnium Amor ei Deluiae, 20 

Septuagenariiis senex, 
Coelo maiurus, 
Fato non invitus cessit 

IV Kal. Augusti Anno salutis MDCLXXXII. 
Caetera loquantur 
Languentmm deploranda suspiria, 
Vidjiarum ac Orpha?ioru7n 
Propter amissum Fatrofium profundi gemitus, 
Nudoruni Jam, atque esurientium 30 

hnpot'tuna Viscera, 
Momimcnta, hoc marmore longe perenniora. 
Maerens -bosuit pientissinia Conjunx. 

M. S. 

Heic juxta jacet 

THOMAS ROCK Arnig. Salopiensis, 

Vita functus Januarii 3. Aetat. 62. 1678. 

Pn Lector! 

Cinerem 7ton vulgarem, 

Virum vere 7nagnum, 
Si prisca fides, pietasqiie primaeva, 
Si atnicitiae foedera strictissifua. 

Si pectus candidu?n, et sincerum, 10 

Ac integerrima Vita, 
Virum. vere magnum conflare poterint. 
Pn kominem Cordaturn ! 
Calamitosae Majestatis 
(^Purente ?mperd perduellium rabie) 
Stretiuum assertorem, 
Obstiuatutn Vindicem ! 
Pn attimae generosae quafitillum Prgastulum ! 
O charum Deo Depositum! 
Vestrum undequaquam hiopes, 20 

Vestrum quotcunque Viri praestantiores, 
Dolorem ificonsolabilein, 
Desiderium, in omne aevum, irreparabile ! 

33 pientissinia.'] The usual form for inscriptions, though piissimus (in spite of 
Cicero's condemnation") was used elsewhere. 

Thomas Rock.'] I know not Thomas Rock, Esq. His Royalism (II. 10-13) was 
befitting a Salopian. 

( 383 ) . , 

Tho7nas Flat 7n an 

On the Death of the Illustrious Prince Ritpe^-t, 

Pindaric Ode. 
Stanza I. 

Man surely is not what he seems to be ; 

Surely ourselves we overrate, 
Forgetting that like other creatures, we 

Must bend our heads to Fate. 
Lord of the whole Creation, Man 

(How big the title shows!) 
Trifles away a few uncertain years, 

Cheated with hopes, and rack'd with fears, 

Through all Life's little span, 
Then down to silence and to darkness goes ; lo 

And when we die, the crowd that trembling stood 
Erewhile struck with the terror of a nod, 
Shake off their wonted reverence with their chains. 
And at their pleasure use our poor remains. 

Ah, mighty Prince ! 
Whom lavish Nature and industrious Art 

Had fitted for immortal Fame, 
Their utmost bounty could no more impart ; 

How comes it that thy venerable name 

Should be submitted to my theme? 20 

Unkindly baulk'd by the prime skilful men, 
Abandon'd to be sullied by so mean a pen ! 
Tell me, ye skilful men, if you have read 
In all the fair memorials of the Dead, 

A name so formidably great. 
So full of wonders, and unenvi'd love. 
In which all virtues and all graces strove. 

So terrible, and yet so sweet ; 
Show me a star in Honour's firmament, 

(Of the first magnitude let it be) . 30 

That from the darkness of this World made free, 
A brighter lustre to this World has lent. 

Ye men of reading, show me one 

That shines with such a beam as His. 

Rupert 's a constellation 
Outvies Arcturus, and the Pleiades. 

On the Death of Prince Rupert.'] First printed in folio, 1683 ; there are two trivial 
changes in the text — ' Blest Martyr baptized', 1. 87, and 'Diadems', 1. 128. That both 
the English and the Latin of these poems are Flatman's, despite the Anthore AnonytHO 
of the latter, is a conclusion which I shall give up at once on production of any positive 
evidence to the contrary, but shall hold meanwhile. Rupert's love for the Arts would 
of itselt attract Flatman, and he hints at this in 11. 16 and 65. 

21 The 'prime skilfulness ' may glance at Dryden — there were few others who were 
primely skilful at funeral odes or any other in 1682. But Rupert had kept aloof from 
Court for years 

( 384 ) 

On the Death of Priitce Rupert 

And if the Julian Star of old outshone 

The lesser fires, as much as them the Moon, 

Posterity perhaps will wonder why 

An hero more divine than he 4° 

Should leave (after his Apotheosis) 
No gleam of light in all the Galaxy 
Bright as the Sun in the full blaze of noon. 


How shall my trembling Muse thy praise rehearse! 
Thy praise too lofty ev'n for Pindar's verse ! 

Whence shall she take her daring flight, 
That she may soar aloft 

In numbers masculine and soft, 
In numbers adequate 

To thy renown's celestial height! S'' 

If from thy noble pedigree 
The royal blood that sparkled in thy veins 
A low plebeian eulogy disdains, 
And he blasphemes that meanly writes of thee ; 
If from thy martial deeds she boldly rise, 

And sing thy valiant infancy, 

Rebellious Britain after felt full well, 
Thou from thy cradle wert a miracle. 
Swaddled in armour, drums appeas'd thy cries, 
And the shrill trumpet sung thy lullabies. 60 

The babe Alcides thus gave early proof 

In the first dawning of his youth, 
When with his tender hand the snakes he slew. 
What monsters in his riper years he would subdue. 


Great Prince, in whom Mars and Minerva join'd 
Their last efforts to frame a mighty mind, 
A pattern for brave men to come, design'd : 
How did the rebel troops before thee fly! 
How of thy genius stand in awe ! 

When from the sulphurous cloud 70 

Thou in thunder gav'st aloud 
Thy dreadful law 
To the presumptuous enemy. 
In vain their traitorous ensigns they display'd, 
In vain they fought, in vain they pray'd, 
At thy victorious arms dismay'd. 
Till Providence for causes yet unknown. 
Causes mysterious and deep, 
Conniv'd awhile, as if asleep, 
And seem'd its dear Anointed to disown ; 80 

74-6 Orig. * displaid ' and ' dismaid ' : but not ' praid '. 
C 385 ) C C HI 


Tho7nas Flatman 

The prosperous villany triumph'd o'er the Crown, 
And hurl'd the best of monarchs from his Throne. 

O tell it not in Gath, nor Ascalon ! 

The best of monarchs fell by impious power, 

Th' unspotted Victim for the guilty bled. 
He bow'd, he fell, there where he bow'd he fell down dead; 
Baptiz'd Blest Martyr in his sacred gore. 


Nor could those tempests in the giddy State, 

O mighty Prince, thy loyalty abate. 

Though put to flight, thou fought'st the Parthian way, ip 

And still the same appear'dst to be 

Among the beasts and scaly fry, 
A Behemoth on land and a Leviathan at sea; 

Still wert thou brave, still wert thou good. 

Still firm to thy allegiance stood 
Amidst the foamings of the popular flood. 
(Cato with such a constancy of mind, 
Espous'd that cause which all his Gods declin'd.) 

Till gentler stars amaz'd to see 
Thy matchless and undaunted bravery, 
Blush'd and brought back the murthered Father's Son, 
•Lest thou shouldst plant him in th' Imperial Throne, 

Thou with thy single hand alone. 
He that forgets the glories of -that day, 

When Charles the Merciful return'd. 
Ne'er felt the transports of glad Sion's Joy, 
When she had long in dust and ashes mourn'd : 
He never understood with what surprise 
She open'd her astonish'd eyes 
To see the goodly fabric of the second Temple rise. no 


When Charles the Merciful his entrance made 
The day was all around serene, 
Not one ill-boding cloud was seen 

To cast a gloomy shade 
On the triumphal cavalcade. 
In that, his first, and happy scene, 

90-4 A rather ingenious handling of those adventurous and ahTiosl heroic cruises of 
Rupert's with the remnant of the Royalist fleet which some have unkindly (and in strict- 
ness quite unjustifiably) called 'buccaneering' or 'piratical'. 

m-29 One would have expected, instead of the banal laudation of Charles, some- 
thing about Rupert's share in the Dutch wars, and his occupations in chemistry, 
engraving, &c. But there was perhaps some ox on Flatman's tongue (for the Prince 
had not been fortunate at the last in fight) ; and, besides, all these later poems show a 
want of the spirit and the verve which is by no means wanting in the earlier. The 
words to Woodford (t/. sm/., p. 367) were rather too well justified. 

( 386 ) 

On the Death of Prince Rupej't 

The Pow'rs above foretold his halcyon reign, 
In which, like them, he evermore should prove 
The kindest methods of Almighty Love : 

And when black crimes his justice should constrain, lao 

His pious breast should share the criminal's pain : 
Fierce as the Lion can he be, and gentle as the Dove. 
Here stop, my Muse, — the rest let Angels sing. 
Some of those Angels, who with constant care 
To His Pavilion, near attendants are, 
A life-guard giv'n him by th' Omnipotent King, 
Th' Omnipotent King, whose character he bears, 
Whose diadem on Earth he wears; 
And may he wear it long, for many, many years. 


And now (illustrious Ghost!) what shall we say? 130 

What tribute to thy precious memory pay? 

Thy death confounds, and strikes all sorrows dumb. 

Kingdoms and empires make their moan, 
Rescu'd by thee from desolation ; 
In pilgrimage hereafter shall they come, 
And make their offerings before thy tomb. 
Great Prince, so fear'd abroad, and so ador'd at home. 
Jove's Bird that durst of late confront the Sun, 
And in the wanton German banners play'd. 

Now hangs her wing and droops her head, 140 

Now recollects the battles thou hast won, 

And calls too late to thee for aid. 
All Christendom deplores the loss, 
Whilst bloody Mahomet like a whirlwind flieS, 
And insolently braves the ill-befriended cross. 
Europe in blood, and in confusion lies. 
Thou in an easy good old age, 

Remov'd from this tumultuous stage, 

Sleep'st unconcern'd at all its rage. 
Secure of Fame, and from Detraction free: 150 

He that to greater happiness would attain, 

Or towards Heav'n would swifter fly. 

Must be much more than mortal man, 

And never condescend to die. 

Die. 13, 1682. 

( 387 ) c c 2 

Thomas Flat man 

Poema in Obitum Illustrlssiml Princlpis Rupert! 

Latine Redditum 
Non carmine Pindarico (ut illud) sed, (ut vocatur,) 


(Quod est medium inter Oratoriam et Poesin) 

Vide sis Emanuelem Thesaurum, in Patriarchis. 



Proculdribio non sumns quod vtdemiir, 

Et nosmet ipsos aequo plus aesttmamus, 
Obliti quod, veluti Creaiis omnibus, 

Et nobis etiam Fato sucaanbendum. 
Homo, totius Terrarutn Orbis Dominiis, 

{Heu quam superbe, quam fastjtose sonat !) 
Paucos et incertos illudit afinos, 

Nunc spe deceptus, 7iunc 7netu cruciatus. 

Per angustufn Vitae curriculum, 
Tande?n ad taciturnas labitur Tenebras. \c 

Et quando morimur, quafn cito Ttirba tremula, 
Jaindudum Niitus terrore percita, 
Veneratiofiem solitam {cum Catenis) extiicnt 
Et ad libitum despectas tractant Reliquias. 

Potentissime Princeps ! 
Quern prodiga Natura, et Ars industria 

Ad celebritatem immortalem adaptdssent, 
Cui plus addere 7wn valuit ipsius ultima Benignitas ; 

Unde venit quod Na7nen tuum Venerandum 

Themati meo prostit2ieretur ? ao 

Per Viros Doctiores ingrate neglectum, 
Et indocta med Musd delineari relictum I 


Dicite mi hi, Viri pe rit lores, si legist is 
In pulchris Mortuorum Catalogis 

Nomen adeo for?nidate Magnu?n, 
Tantis Mirdclis et inaemulo a?nore refertufn ; 
hi quo omnes Charites er' Virtutes concertdrunt. 
Adeo terribile, et adeo dulce Nometi. 
Ostendife fnihi Stel/am in Pirmamettto Honoris 

{Sit etia7n^ Primae Mag7titudinis) 3c 

Quae a te7ieb7'is hujus Mundi erepta 
Majorem Mundo fulgore7n praestitit ; 

Poftna in Obitum, Ct'c] Heading: ' Vide sis' =vide, si vis. 

Emanuel, ^c] Pepys read his 'new Emanuel Thesaurus \_Tesaufro] Pairiarchae' 
on Jan. 23, 166J. It was a genealogy of Christ and a very popular book. 

22 delineari] deliniri in the text. ' Fidelitati ' in I. 95 should be the ablative. In 63 
' teneribus manibus ' was probably a printer's blunder, but the author must be credited 
with such erroneous forms as ' sentivit ' and ' lugisset '. 

( 388 ) 

Poema in Obitum^ etc. 

O Viri eruditi, ostendite mihi unam^ ' 

Quae iam spletidido Radio effulget. 

Rupertiis est Constellatio — 
Praelucens Ardurum et Pleiades. 
Et si olini Stella Juliana praefulsit 
Jgnes minores, quantum illos Luna, 
Posteritas forsitan tnirabitur, qtiare 

Hero illo multo Divinior, 40 

Nullum {post ejus Apotheosin) 
In Galaxid jubar relinqueret 
Sole clarius Meridionali. * 


Quo pacto Musa ?nea tremens laudes tuas recitabit 1 
Laudes tuas, etiam Pindari Carffiine excelsiores ! 

Unde volatum sumet audacem, 
Ut in altum sublevetur 

In Numeris Masculis et Blandis, 
In numeris adaequatis 

Coelesti Famae tuae sublimitati ? 50 

Si a Nobili tud Genealogid 
Sanguis Regalis in Venis ttiis scintillans 
Humilem et Plebeiam dedignatur Eulogiam, 
{Nam de Te modice loquens Blasphemat) 
Si a Claris Bellicis facinoribus incipiet, 

Et Virilia incunabula decantet, 

Rebellis jamdudum sentivit Britannia, 
Quantis Mirandis Cunae tuae claruere, 
Loricis fasciatus, Tympana lachrymas demulserunt, 
Et Tubarum clangores somnum allicierunt: 60 

Sic ohm Alcides praematurum dedit specimen 

In prima Infantiae Diluculo, 
Angues teneris collidens manibus 
Qualia in aetate provectd superaret Monstra. 


Auguste Princeps, in quo Mars et Minerva suas 
Vires contulen ingetitetn fortnare Animum 
Praeclaris Posteris in Exemplar designatum, 
Quoties Turmae Rebelles coram te profugemnt 
Genii tui Numine terrefactae ? 

Cum de Nube Sulphured 70 

Fulminibus dedisti sonoris 
Leges tuas tremendas 
Perduellibus insolentibus, 
Frustra vexilla explicdrunt perfida, 

Frustra pugndrunt, frustra fuderunt preces, 
Armis tuis Victricibus attonitae. 

( 389 ) 

Thomas Flaiman 

Donee Supert, causis adhuc incogfiitis, . 

Causis secretis et profundis 

Connivere paulisper, quasi' obdormientes, 
Et pera?natufn Christum suiim dereliquisse videbantur. So 

Jn Coronam triumphavit prosperian Nefas 
Et Regum optimum a Solio deturbavit, 

Ne a7inufitietis hoc iti Gath aut Ascalon^ 

Monarcharum optimus impia vi corruit, . 
Immaculata Victima pro Sontibus fudit sanguinem : 
Indinavit se, cecidit, ubi indinaverat ceddit mortuus 
Afariyr beaius in Sacro suo Cruore Baptisatus. 

Nee valuerunt Turbines in Anarchid istd vcrtiginosa, 
Invide Priftceps, fidelitatem tuatn vibrare^ 
Nam retrocedens pugnasti more Farthico, 90 

Et semper Idem remaftsisti, 

I?iter pecora, et pisces squamosas, 
hi terra Behemoth, in mari Leviathan : 

hifradus adhuc et adhuc Bonus 

Fidelitati firtniter perseverasti 
Inter fremitus Fluduum Poptilariicm. 
Sic olim Cato pari animi constantid 
Causam desponsavit, quam Dii onmes repudidrunt. 

Donee Pla7ietae benigniores, stupentes aspicere 
Imparilem et impavidam tuam fortituditiem, 100 

Erubuerunt, et Percussi Patris filiutn reduxerutit, 
Ne tu illu7n i7i Solio l77iperiali collocares, 

Tu imicd tud 77ia7tu solus. 
Qui Solis istius splendores oblitus fuerit 

Quo Cle7nentissi77ius redivit Carolus, 
Nunquam se7itivit laetae Sio7iis gaudia 
Cum diu pulvere et ci7ieribus lugisset ; 

Nu7iqua77i i7itellexit quali Raptu 
Oculos extollebat atto7iitos 
Templi Secioidi Struduram renasce7ite7/i videns. no 


Cum Carolus Cle7/ie7is introitu7n fecit 

Coelum erat undique serenum, 

Nilla 77iale-077ii7iosa Nubes apparuit 

Umbram dare tenebricosa7n, 

l7i Equitatum istu7n Triu77iphalem. 

In ilia primd et felici Sce7id 
Praedixere Supe7-i Regimen ejus IIalcyo7ieu77i 
I 71 quo sicut illi, i7i aeternum probaret 
Be)iig7iissi77ias Methodos praepote7itis A77ioris. 
Et cu7n 77iag7ia flagitia Vindida77i eius provoca7-ent , 120 

Pectus ejus hu77ia7iius Rei co77ipateretiir poenas. 
Ut Leo ferox, 7nitis tit Columba. 

( 390 ) 

Poema in Ohitum^ etc. 

Hie sileat Musa — quod reliquum est Angeli praedicent, 

Angeli isti qui assidud, curd, 
Tentorio ejus quam proxime inserviunt 
Somatophy laces a Rege Omnipotente delegati, 

A Rege Omfiipofente, cujus Majestatem praefert, 

Cujus in terra gerit Diadema 
Et diu gerat per mulios, mulios annos. 


Quid auiem, {Illustris Anima) quid dicemus? 130 

Quale Tributum Piae tuae Memoriae solvemus? 

Mors tua obtundit et rnutum reddit Dolorem. 

Regna et Imperia lugubres pla?ictus faciunt 
Ab extremd Ruina per te redcmpta. 
Posthac i lo?ige Pe7-egritiantes venient, 
Et ad Tumulum tuum Oblatiofies tribuent, 
O Magfie Princeps foris verende, et dotni venerate ! 
Jovis Ales, qui dudum Solem tentare ausus est, 
Et in mollibus Germanorum lusit vexillis, 

Nunc alas demittit, et caput declinat, 140 

Nunc repetit Victorias a Te potitas, 

Et sero fiimis tuum implorat auxilium. 
Orbis Chrisiiajius deplorat Dam7mm, 
Dum truculentus Mahottiet Turbinis instar volat 
Et impotenter bacchatur in male-sustentatam Crucem. 
Sanguine et ruina volutafis Europa jacet. 

Tu in tranquilld et plena senectute 

Semotus a tumultuoso Mundi Theatre 

Rabiosd eius insanid intactus dormis, 
Famae securus et ab omni obtrectatione liber. 150 

Qui ampliorefn attineret felicitatem, 

Vel usque ad Coelos ocyus volaret, 

Oportet esse plusquam Mortakm, 

Nee unquam prorsus dignari mori. 

On the vmck lamented Death of ozir late Sovereign Lo7'd 
King Charles II. of Blessed Memory. 

• A Pindaric Ode. 

Stanza I. 

Alas ! Why are we tempted to complain, 
That Heav'n is deaf to all our cries ! 
Regardless of poor mortals' miseries ! 
And all our fervent pray'rs devoutly vain ! 

On the Death of King Charles II.] First printed in folio in 1685, 
( 391 ) 

Thomas F/atman 

'Tis hard to think th' immortal Powers attend 

Human affairs, who ravish from our sight 

The Man, on whom such blessings did depend, 

Heav'n's and mankind's delight ! 
The Man ! O that opprobrious word, The Man ! 
Whose measure of duration 's but a span, lo 

Some other name at Babel should have been contriy'd 
(By all the vulgar World t' have been receiv'd), 
A word as near as could be to Divinity, 
Appropriate to Crown'd Heads, who never ought to die; 
Some signal word that should imply 
All but the scandal of mortality. 
'Tis fit, we little lumps of crawling Earth, 
Deriv'd from a plebeian birth, 
Such as our frail forefathers were, 

Should to our primitive dust repair ; 20 

But Princes (like the wondrous Enoch) should be free 
From Death's unbounded tyranny, 
And when their godlike race is run, 
And nothing glorious left undone, 
Never submit to Fate, but only disappear. 


But, since th' eternal Law will have it so. 
That Monarchs prove at last but finer clay, 

What can their humble vassals do? 
What reverence, what devotion can we pay, 
When these, our earthly Gods, are snatch'd away? 30 

Yes, we can mourn. Yes, we can beat our breast, 
Yes, we can call to mind those happy days 

Of pleasure, and of rest, 
When Charles the Merciful did reign, 
That Golden Age, when void of cares. 

All the long summer's day. 
We atoms in his beams might sport and play : 
Yes, we can teach our children to bewail 
His fatal loss, when we shall fail. 

And make babes learn in after days 40 

The pretty way of stammering out his praise. 
His merited praise, which shall in every age 

With all advantage flame *• 

In spite of furies or infernal rage, 
And imp the wings, and stretch the lungs of Fame. 

25 Browning somewhere in a letter laughs at this line, in the form 'Kings do not 
die, they only disappear', which is neither Flatman's nor Waller's, from whom he 
borrowed the notion, nor Oldham's, who has it likewise, though both these have the 
' disappear'. The thought is not foolish : it means, ' their names and works live after 
them'. But Browning's knowledge of Flatman. as of other out-of-the-ways, is inter- 
esting. He might have made him a ' Person of Importance '. 

( 392 ) 

Oil the Death of Kmg Charles II 


Excellent Prince, whom every mouth did bless, 

And every bended knee adore, 
On whom we gaz'd with ecstasy of joy 
(A vision which did satisfy, but never cloy) 
From whom we dated all our happiness, 50 

And from above could ask no more, 
Our gladsome cup was fiU'd till it ran o'er. 
Our land (like Eden) flourish'd in his time, 

Defended by an Angel's Sword, 

A terror 'twas to those abroad, 
But all was Paradise to those within : 
Nor could th' Old Serpent's stratagem 
Ever supplant his well-watch'd diadem. 
Excellent Prince, of whom we once did say 

With a triumphant noise, 60 

In one united voice. 
On that stupendious day. 

Long live, Long live the King! 

And songs of lo Paean sing. 
How shall we bear this tragical surprise. 
Now we must change Long live, for Mere he lies! 


Have you forgot? (but who can him forget?) 
You watchful Spirits that preside 
O'er sublunary things, 
Who, when you look beneath, do oft deride, 70 

Not without cause, some other petty Kings; 
Have you forgot the greatness of his mind, 
The bravery of his elevated soul, 
(But he had still a Goshen there) 
When darkest cares around his Royal heart did wind, 
As waves about a steady rock do roll : 
With what disdain he view'd 
The fury of the giddy multitude. 
And bare the Cross, with more than manly fortitude, 

As he had learn'd in sacred lore, 80 

His mighty Master had done long before ? 
And you must ever own 
(Or else you very little know 
Of what we think below) 
That when the hurricanes of th' State were o'er, 
When in his noontide blaze he did appear. 

His gentle awful brow 
Added fresh lustre to th' Imperial Crown, 
By birthright, and by virtue, more than once his own. 

( 393 ) 

Thomas Flatma?^ 

He was ! but what he was, how great, how good, 90 

How just, how he deh'ghted not in blood, 

How full of pity, and how strangely kind, 

How hazardously constant to his friend, 

In Peace how glorious, and in War how brave, • 
Above the charms of life, and terrors of the grave — 
When late posterity shall tell : 

What he has done shall to a volume swell, 

And every line abound with miracle 
In that prodigious Chronicle. 

Forgive, unbodied Sovereign, forgive, 100 

And from your shining mansion cast an eye 

To pity our officious blasphemy. 

When we have said the best we can conceive. 

Here stop, presumptuous Muse ! thy daring flight, 
Here hide thy baffled head in shades of night, 
Thou too obscure, thy dazzling theme too bright, 

For what thou shouldst have said, with grief struck dumb, 

Will more emphatically be supplied 
By the joint groans of melancholy Christendom. 

To His Sacred Majesty King Ja7nes II. 

Dread Prince! whom all the world admires and fears, 

By Heav'n design'd to wipe away our tears. 

To heal our wounds, and drooping spirits raise. 

And to revive our former halcyon days, 

Permit us to assure ourselves, that you 

Your happy brother's fortune will pursue. 
For what great thing is that you dare not do ? 
W^hose long known, unexampled gallantry 
So oft has shaken th' Earth, and curb'd the haughty Sea, 

And may those Stars, that ever o'er you shone, 10 

Double their influence on your peaceful throne. 

May you in honourable deeds outshine 

The brightest heroes of your Royal line, 

That when your enemies shall the sceptre see 

Grasp'd in a hand enur'd to victory. 
The rebels may like Lucifer fall down. 
Or fly like phantoms from the rising Sun. 

Exiremum Hum Arelhusa mihi concede Laborem. 


( 394 ) 



Book 1 1. Ode XIX. 

Being half foxt he^praiseth Bacchu:^. 

In a blind corner jolly Bacchus taught 

The Nymphs and Satyrs poetry ; 
Myself (a thing scarce to be thought) 

Was at that time a stander by. 
And ever since the whim runs in my head, 

With heavenly frenzy I'm on fire ; 
Dear Bacchus, let me not be punished 

For raving, when thou didst inspire. 
Ecstatically drunk, I now dare sing 

Thy bigot Thyades, and the source ro 

Whence thy brisk wine, honey, and milk did spring, 

Enchannell'd by thy sceptre's force. 
Bold as I am, I dare yet higher fly, 

And sing bright Ariadne's Crown, 
Rejoice to see bold Pentheus' destiny, 

And grave Lycurgus tumbled down. 
Rivers and seas thine empire all obey, 

When thou thy standard dost advance. 
Wild mountaineers, thy vassals, trim and gay. 

In tune and time stagger and dance. ao 

Thou, when great Jove began to fear his throne 

(In no small danger then he was), 
The mighty Rhoecus thou didst piss upon, 

And of that lion mad'st an ass. 
'Tis true, thy talent is not war, but mirth ; 

The fiddle, not the trumpet, thine; 
Yet didst thou bravely lay about thee then, 

Great Moderator, God of Wine. 
And when to Hell in triumph thou didst ride 

O'er Cerberus thou didst prevail, 30 

The silly cur, thee for his Master own'd. 

And like a puppy wagg'd his tail. 

Odes of Horace.'] On Flatman's Horatian versions generally see Introduction. The 
notes they call for are few. 

14 Crown] Not in the usual vague poetic sense, but the star Corona Ariadnes. 

( 395 ) 

Thomas FlaUnan 

Book III. Ode VIII. To Maecenas. 

Learned Maecenas, wonder not that I 

(A Bachelor) invoke that Deity, 

Which at this feast the married rout adore, 

And yearly do implore. 
They pray the gods to make their burthen light, 
And that their yoke-fellows may never fight : 
I praise them, not for giving me a wife. 

But saving of my life. 
By heav'n redeem'd, I 'scap'd a falling tree, 
And yearly own that strange delivery, lo 

Yearly rejoice, and drink the briskest wine. 

Not spill it at their shrine. 
Come, my Maecenas, let us drink, and thus 
Cherish that life those Pow'rs have given us : 
A thousand cups to midwife this new birth. 

With inoffensive mirth. 
No State-affairs near my Maecenas come. 
Since all are fall'n that fought victorious Rome. 
By civil broils the Medes, our foes, will fall. 

The weakest to the wall. so 

Our fierce and ancient enemy of Spain 
Is now subdu'd, and tamely bears our chain. 
The savage Scythian too begins to yield, 

About to quit the field. 
Bear they the load of government that can ; 
Thou, since a private, and good-natur'd man, 
Enjoy th' advantage of the present hour. 

For why shouldst thou look sour? 

Book III. Ode IX. Horace and Lydia. 

Hor. While I was lovely in thine eye. 

And while no soft embrace but mine 
Encircled thy fair ivory neck, 

I did the Persian King outshine. 
Lyd. While Horace was an honest lad. 

And Chloe less than Lydia lov'd, 
Lydia was then a matchless Lass, 
And in a sphere 'bove Ilia mov'd. 
Hor. But Chloe now has vanquish'd me. 

That lute and voice who could deny ? . 30 

Methinks might I but save her life^ 
I could myself even dare to die. 
Lyd. Young Calais is my gallant. 

He burns me with his flaming eye ; 
To save the pretty villain's life, 

Twice over I could dare to die. 
( 31.6 ) 

Odes of Horace 

Nor. But say I Lydia lov'd again, 

And would new-braze Love's broken chain ? 
Say I should turn my Chloe off, 

And take poor Lydia home again ? 20 

Lyd. Why then though he a fixed star. 

Thou lighter than a cork shouldst be, 
Mad, and unquiet as the sea, 
Yet would I live, and die with thee. 

Book III. Ode XII. 

No more Love's subjects, but his slaves they be, 
That dare not o'er a glass of wine be free. 
But quit, for fear of friends, their liberty. 

Fond Neobule ! thou art lazy grown. 
Away thy needle, web, and distaff thrown. 
Thou hop'st thy work by Hebrus will be done. 

A sturdy youth, and a rank rider he. 
Can run a race, and box most manfully, 
Swim like a duck, and caper like a flea. 

He hunts the stag, and all the forest o'er xo 

With strength and craft pursues the savage boar : 
He minds the sport, and thou desir'st no more. 

Book III. Ode XV 1 1. To Aelius Lamia. 

Brave Aelius, sprung from an heroic line. 
Whose pedigree in long descents do shine. 
That add'st new glories to the Laniian name. 

And rear'st fresh trophies to their fame ! 
Descended from Prince Lamus, whose command 
Reach from the Formian walls, o'er sea and land ; 
Well was he known our ancestors among, 

Where gentle Liris slides along. 
Great as thou art, time will not thee obey: 
To-morrow 's like to be a blust'ring day, 10 

Some tempest too is threat'ned from the east. 

As by th' unlucky crow I guess'd : 
'Tis dry to-day ! Now lay thy fuel in. 
Ere the unwelcome season do begin. 
Good victuals get, and frolic friends together. 

Armour of proof against ill weather. 

xvii. a ' Do shine ' is probably a misprint, due to the contiguous s's. for ' does ' 
or ' do's shine '. So below in 1. 6, ' reach ' should probably be ' reach/.' An apparent 
but not real false concord between plural nouns and singular verb was common in the 
seventeenth century. 

( 397 ) 

Thomas Flatman 

Book III. Ode XIX. To Telephus. 


Thou por'st on Helvicus, and studiest in vain, 
How many years pass'd betwixt King and King's reign, 
To make an old woman ev'n twitter for joy 
At an eighty-eight story, or the scuffle at Troy : 
But where the good wine, and best fire is 
When the cruel North-wind does blow, 
And the trees do penance in snow ; 
Where the poet's delight and desire is, 
Thou, pitiful book-worm, ne'er troublest thy brain. 


Come, drawer, some claret, we'll drown this new Moon. lo 
More candles t' improve this dull night into noon : 
Let the healths, let the house, and the glasses turn round, 
But no tears, except those of the tankard, abound. 
Come ! here 's a good health to the Muses, 

Three brimmers to the three times three, 

And one to each grace let there be ; 
The triple-skuU'd dog bite him that refuses. 


Let's be mad as March-hares, call the minstrels and singers, 
Strike up there ! — kick that rogue — he has chilblains on 's 

Let that whoreson our neighbour, on his bags that lies 
thinking, 20 

Bear a part in the storm, but not the calm of our drinking. 
Come ! bring us a wench, or two, prithee ; 
Thou Telephus look'st pretty fair, 
And hast a good thick head of hair, 
Fetch him Chloe, she's buxom, and loves to trade with 
thee ; 
Call Glycera to me, for I am one of her swingers. 

Book III. Ode XX. To Py^^rhus. 

Dry Pyrrhus, little dost thou know. 
What 'tis to make a whelp forgo 
His lioness, — faith 'twill not do! 

It will be so. 

Nearchus understands his game. 
If he resolves to quit his fame. 
What's that to you? To save his name 

You'll purchase shame. 

xix. A good example of the curious ' skimble skamble ' anapaests before Dryden and 

4 an eighty-eight story] Of the Armada. 

( 398 ) 

Odes of Horace 

If before peace you war prefer, 

Shoot at his butt — you'll find from her lo 

A Rowland for your Oliver, 

That I dare swear. 

He is a gay, and sanguine man, 

His periwig the wind does fan, 

And she will hug him, now and than. 

Do what you can. 

Book III. Ode XXI. To his Wine- Vessels. 

Kind Brother Butt ! as old, and brisk, as I 

(For we had both the same nativity). 
Whether to mirth, to brawls, or desperate love, 

Or sleep, thy gentle power does move ; 
By what, or name, or title dignifi'd; 
Thou need'st not fear the nicest test to 'bide : 
Corvinus' health since we may not refuse. 

Give down amain thy generous juice. 
Corvinus, tho' a Stoic, will not balk 

Thy charms, for he can drink, as well as talk. jo 

Old Cato, tho' he often were morose. 

Yet he would sometimes take a dose. 
O Wine ! thou mak'st the thick-skuU'd fellow soft ; 
Basest the Statesman, vex'd with cares full oft ; 
Unriddlest all intrigues with a free bowl. 

Thou arrant pick-lock of the Soul ! 
Thou dost our gasping, dying hopes revive ; 
To peasants, souls as big as princes' give ; 
Inspired by thee they scorn their slavish fears, 

And bid their rulers shake their ears. ao 

All this, and more (great Bacchus) thou canst do. 
But if kind Venus be assistant too. 
Then bring more candles to expel the night, 

Till Phoebus puts the stars to flight. 

Book III. Ode XXII. Upon Diana. 

Gentle Diana, Goddess bright, 
Who midwiv'st infants into light, 
The mountain's Deity tripartite, 

And Queen of Night, 
To thee I consecrate my Pine, 
Henceforth it shall be ever thine, 
Yearly I'll offer at this shrine 

The blood of swine. 

( 399 ) 

Thomas Flatman 
Book III. Ode III. To Vemts. 

'Tis true, I was a sturdy soldier once, 
And bravely under Cupid's banners fought: 
Disbanded now, his service 1 renounce, 
My warlike weapons serve for nought. 

Here ! take my helmet, sword, and shield, 
My bow, my quiver, my artillery ; 
Chloe has beaten me quite out of th' field. 
And leads me in captivity. 

Great Venus ! thou that know'st what I have been. 
How able, and how true a friend to smocks ! lo 

Revenge my quarrel on th' imperious quean, 
And pay her with a pox ! 

Book IV. Ode I. To Vemts. 

No more of War:— Dread Cytherea, cease; 

Thy feeble soldier sues for peace. 
Alas ! I am not now that man of might, 

As when fair Cynara bade me fight. 
Leave, Venus, leave ! consider my gray hairs 

Snow'd on by fifty tedious years. 
My forts are slighted, and my bulwarks down : 

Go, and beleaguer some strong town. 
Make thy attempts on Maximus ; there 's game 

To entertain thy sword and flame. lo 

There Peace and Plenty dwell : He 's of the Court, 

Ignorant what 'tis to storm a fort : 
There sound a charge ; he 's generous and young, 

He 's unconcern'd, lusty, and strong : 
He of thy silken banners will be proud. 

And of thy conquests talk aloud. 
His bags are full : the lad thou mayst prefer 

To be thy treasurer in war. 
He may erect gold statues to thy name, 

And be the trumpet of thy fame : 20 

Thy Deity the zealous youth will then invoke. 

And make thy beauteous altars smoke. 
With voice and instruments thy praise shall sound, 

Division he, and Love the ground ; 
There, twice a day the gamesome company 

Of lads and lasses in debvoir to thee, 

IV. i. 7 ' slighted ' = ' razed,' the original sense of ' to make level '. 

24 I confess this line beat me at first. But no doubt it has a musical sense, for in 
music both 'division' (notes run together) and 'ground' (a recurrent motive) have 
technical meanings. The punctuation above, Mr. Simpson's, makes this clearer. 

26 ' Deftvoir ' is worth keeping. 

( 40^ ) 

Odes of Horace 

Like Mars's priests their numbers shall advance, 

And sweetly sing, and nimbly dance. 
But as for me ! I'm quite dispirited, 

I court nor maid, nor boy to bed ! 30 

I cannot drink, nor bind a garland on, 

Alas ! my dancing days are done ! 
But hold — Why do these tears steal from my eyes ? 

My lovely Ligurinus, why? 
Why does my falt'ring tongue disguise my voice 

With rude and inarticulate noise? 
O Ligurin ! 'tis thou that break'st my rest, 

Methinks I grasp thee in my breast : 
Then I pursue thee in my passionate dreams 

O'er pleasant fields and purling streams. 40 

Book IV. Ode X. To Ligurinus, a beauteous Youth. 

'Tis true, thou yet art fair, my Ligurine, 

No down as yet environs cheek or chin : 

But when those hairs which now do flow, shall fall, 

And when thy rosy cheeks turn wan and pale : 

When in thy glass another Ligurine thou 

Shalt spy, and scarce thy bearded self shalt know ; 

Then thou (despis'd) shalt sing this piteous song ; 

Why am I old? or why was ever young? 

Book IV. Ode XI. To Phyllis. 

Come, Phyllis, gentle Phyllis ! prithee come, 
I have a glass of rich old wine at home, 
And in my garden curious flowers do grow, 

That languish to adorn thy brow. 
The ivy and the yellow crowfoot there 
With verdant chaplets wait to braid thy hair; 
With silver goblets all my house does shine, 

And vervain round my altar twine, 
On which the best of all my flock shall bleed; 
Come, and observe with what officious speed 10 

Each lad and lass of all my house attends 

Till to my roof the smoke ascends. 
If thou wouldst know why thou must be my guest, 
I tell thee 'tis to celebrate a Feast, 
The Ides of April, which have ever been 

Devoted to the Cyprian Queen. 
A day more sacred, and more fit for mirth 
Than that which gave me (worthless mortal) birth : 
For on that day Maecenas first saw light, 

Born for our wonder and delight. 20 

(401) D d III 

Thomas Flatman 

My Phyllis, since thy years come on apace, 

Substitute me in Telephus his place, 

He 's now employ'd by one more rich, more fair, 

And proudly does her shackles wear. 
Remember what became of Phaeton ; 
Remember what befell Bellerophon ; 
That by ambition from his Father's throne, 

And this, by Pegasus thrown down. 
Content thyself with what is fit for thee, 

Happy that couple that in years agree ! =o 

Shun others, and accept my parity, 

And I will end my loves with thee. 
Thou art the last whom I intend to court, 
Come then ; and (to prepare thee for the sport) 
Learn prick-song, and my merry odes rehearse : 

Many a care is charm'd by verse. 

Epode III. To Maecenas. 

In time to come, if such a crime should be 

As Parricide, (foul villany !) 
A clove of garlic would revenge that evil; 

(Rare dish for ploughmen, or the Devil !) 
Accursed root ! how does it jounce and claw ! 

It works like ratsbane in my maw. 
What witch contriv'd this strat'gem for my breath ! 

Poison'd at once, and stunk to death ; 
With this vile juice Medea sure did 'noint 

Jason, her love, in every joint ; lo 

When untam'd bulls in yokes he led along, 

This made his manhood smell so strong : 
This gave her dragon venom to his sting. 

And set the hag upon the wing. 
I burn, I parch, as dry as dust I am. 

Such drought on Puglia never came. 
Alcides could not bear so much as I, 

He oft was wet, but never dry. 
Maecenas ! do but taste of your own treat. 

And what you gave your poet, eat ; so 

Then go to bed, and court your mistress there, 

She'll never kiss you I dare swear. 

Ill, 5 'Jounce', a word worth restoring, is the same as Shakespeare's 'jaunce' and 
as 'jaunt*. It seems to be still provincial, especially in East Anglia (Flatman 
had property there), and is equivalent to 'jolt', * bob up and down ', 'wamble in the 
innerds '. 

( 402 ) 

Odes of Horace 

Epode VI. 
Against Cassius Severus, a revilefid and zuanton Poet. 

Thou village-cur ! why dost thou bark at me ? 

A wolf might come, and go, for thee. 
At me thou open'st wide, and think'st that I 

Will bark with thee for company. 
I'm of another kind, and bravely dare 

(Like th' mastiff) watch my flock with care : 
Dare hunt through snow, and seize that savage beast 

That might my darling folds molest : 
Thou (only in the noise thou mak'st) robust 

Leav'st off the chase; leap'st at a crust, lo 

But have a care ! for if I vent my spleen, 

I (for a shift) can make thee grin : 
I'll make thee (if iambics once I sing) 

To die, like Bupalus, in a string. 
When any man insults o'er me, shall I 

Put finger in mine eye and cry? 

Epode X. Against Maevius, a Poet. 

And art thou shipp'd, friend Doggerel ! — get thee gonC; 

Thou pest of Helicon. 
Now for an hurricane to bang thy sides, 

Curst wood, in which he rides ! 
An east-wind tear thy cables, crack thy oars. 

While every billow roars. 
With such a wind let all the Ocean swell 

As wafted Noll to Hell: 
No friendly star o'er all the Sea appear 

While thou be'st there ; lo 

Nor kinder destiny there mayst thou meet 

Than the proud Grecian Fleet, 
When Pallas did their Admiral destroy 

Return'd from ruin'd Troy. 
Methinks I see the mariners faint, and thee 

Look somewhat scurvily : 
Thou call'st on Jove, as if great Jove had time 

To mind thy Grub-street Rhyme, 
When the proud waves their heads to Heav'n do rear 

Himself scarce free from fear : 20 

Well ! If the Gods should thy wreck'd carcase share 

To beasts or fowls of th' air, 
I'll sacrifice to them, that they may know 

I can be civil too. 

X. 7 The great storm of September 2, 1658, the day before Cromwell's death. 

18 Marvellin 1678, and Otway in The Atheist, 1684, first mentioned the vicus wfaustits 
which humour (or the want of it) renamed ' Milton ' Street, from the proximity ol" 
Bunhill Fields. 

( 403 ) D d 2 

Thomas Flat man 

Epode XI. To Pettius his Chamber-fellow. 

Ah, Pettius ! I have done with Poetry, 
I've parted with my liberty 
For Cupid's slavery. 
Cupid, that peevish God, has singled out 
Me, from among the rhyming rout, 
For boys and girls to flout : 
December now has thrice stript every tree, 
Since bright Inachia's tyranny 
Has laid its chains on me. 
Now fie upon me ! all about the town lo 

My Miss I treated up and down, 
I for a squire was known. 
Lord, what a whelp was I ! to pule and whine, 
To sigh, to sob, and to repine ! 
For thy sake. Mistress mine ! 
Thou didst my verse, and thou my Muse despise, 
My want debas'd me in thine eyes. 
Thou wealth, not wit, didst prize. 
Fuddled with wine and love my secrets flew, 

Stretch'd on those racks, I told thee true 2c 

What did myself undo. 
Well ! — plague me not too much, imperious dame, 
Lest I blaspheme thy charming name, 
And quench my former flame. 
I can give others place, and see thee die 
Damn'd with their prodigality. 
If I set on 't, so stout am I. 
Thou know'st, my friend, thus have I often said, 
When, by her sorceries misled, 

Thou bad'st me home to bed : 3° 

Ev'n then my practice gave my tongue the lie, 
I could not her curst house pass by : 
I fear'd, but could not fly. 
Since that, for young Lyciscus I'm grown mad ; 
Inachia such a face ne'er had. 
It is a lovely lad. 
From his embraces I shall ne'er get free. 
Nor friends' advice, nor infamy 
Can disentangle me : 
Yet if some brighter object I should spy, 40 

That might perhaps debauch my eye, 
And shake my constancy. 


Odes of Horace 

Epode XV, To his Sweetheart Neaera. 

It was a lovely melancholy night; 

The Moon, and every star shone bright; 
When thou didst swear thou wouldst to me be true, 

And do as I would have thee do : 
False woman ! round my neck thy arms did twine, 

Inseparable as the elm and vine : 
Then didst thou swear thy passion should endure 

To me alone sincere and pure, 
Till sheep and wolves should quit their enmity, 

And not a wave disturb the sea. lo 

Treacherous Neaera ! I have been too kind, 

But Flaccus can draw off, thou'lt find ; 
He can that face (as thou dost him) forswear, 

And find (it may be) one as fair : 
And let me tell thee, when my fury's mov'd, 

I hate devoutly, as I lov'd. 
But thou, blest gamester, whosoe'er thou be 

That proudly dost my drudgery. 
Didst thou abound in numerous flocks, and land, 

Wert heir to all Pactolus' sand ; ao 

Though in thy brain thou bor'st Pythagoras, 

And carried'st Nereus in thy face, 
She'd pick another up, and shab thee off, 

And then 'twill be my turn to laugh. 

Epode XVII. To Canidia. 

I YIELD, Canidia, to thy art. 

Take pity on a penitent heart : 

By Proserpine, Queen of the Night, 

And by Diana's glimmering light, 

By the mysterious volumes all. 

That can the stars from Heaven call ; 

By all that's sacred I implore 

Thou to my wits wouldst me restore. 

The brave Achilles did forgive 

King Telephus, and let him live, lo 

Though in the field the King appear'd. 

And war with Mysian bands prepar'd. 

When on the ground dead Hector lay, 

Expos'd, to birds and beasts a prey ; 

The Trojan Dames in pity gave 

Hector an honourable grave. 

XV. 23 ' Shab off' seems to be still provincially used both in the intransitive sense 
'^ sneak off' and in the transitive as here '■bundle off.' 

( 405 ) 

Thomas Flat man 

Ulysses's manners were turn'd to swine, 

Transform'd by Circe's charms divine ; 

Yet Circe did their doom revoke, 

And straight the grunting mortals spoke : ao 

Each in his pristine shape appears, 

Fearless of dogs to lug their ears. 

Oh ! do not my affliction scorn ! 

Enough in conscience I have borne ! 

My youth and fresh complexion 's gone, 

Dwindled away to skin and bone. 

My hair is powd'red by thy care. 

And all my minutes busy are. 

Day Night, and Night the Day does chase, 

Yet have not I a breathing space ! 30 

Wretch that I am ! I now believe. 
No pow'r can from thy charms reprieve : 
Now I confess thy magic can 
Reach head and heart, and unman man. 
What wouldst thou have me say ? what more ? 
O Seas ! O Earth ! I scorch all o'er ! 
Hercules himself ne'er burnt like me, 
Nor th' flaming Mount in Sicily : 
O cease thy spells, lest I be soon 

Calcin'd into a pumice-stone ! 40 

When wilt th' ha' done ? What must I pay ? 
But name the sum, and I obey : 
Say : Wilt thou for my ransom take 
An hecatomb? or shall I make 
A bawdy song t' advance thy trade. 
Or court thee with a serenade ? 
Wouldst thou to Heav'n, and be a star? 
I'll hire thee Cassiopeia's Chair. 
Castor, to Helen a true friend. 

Struck her defaming poet blind ; 50 

Yet he, good-natur'd gentleman. 
Gave the blind bard his eyes again. 
Since this, and much more thou canst do, 
O rid me of my madness too ! 
From noble ancestors thy race. 
No vulgar blood purples thy face : 
Thou searchest not the graves of th' poor, 
But necromancy dost abhor : 
Gen'rous thy breast, and pure thy hands, 

Whose fruitful womb shall people lands, 60 

And ere thy childbed- linen 's clean, 
Thou shalt be up and to 't again. 

( 406 ) 

Odes of Horace 

Canidids Answer. 

Go — hang thyself: — I will not hear, 

The rocks as soon shall lend an ear 

To naked mariners that be 

Left to the mercy of the Sea. 

Marry come up !— Shall thy bold pride 

The mysteries of the Gods deride? 

Presumptuous fool ! commit a rape 

On my repute, and think to 'scape ! 

Make me a town-talk ? Well ! ere thou die 

Cupid shall vengeance take ; or I. lo 

Go, get some ratsbane ! — 'twill not do. 

Nay, drink some aqua-fortis too : 

No witch shall take thy life away ; 

Who dares say, Go, when I bid Stay? 

No ! I'll prolong thy loathed breath, 

And make thee wish in vain for death. 

In vain does Tantalus espy 

Fruits, he may taste but with his eye. 

In vain does poor Prometheus groan. 

And Sisyphus stop his rolling stone : 20 

Long may they sigh, long may they cry, 

But not control their destiny. 

And thou in vain from some high wall 

Or on thy naked sword mayst fall, 

In vain (to terminate thy woes) 

Thy hands shall knit the fatal noose: 

For on thy shoulders then I'll ride, 

And make the Earth shake with my pride. 

Think'st thou that I, who when I please 

Can kill by waxen images, 30 

Can force the Moon down from her sphere, 

And make departed ghosts appear, 

And mix love-potions ! — thinks thy vanity, 

I cannot deal with such a worm as thee? 


( 407 ) 

Thojnas Flatman 

EDITIONS OF i68x AND 1686. 

The sources from -which these miscellaneous poems are taken are noted separateh'. 
Twoj at the time of going to press, have not been printed — the Song ' Oh no, oh no ! 
(p. 414) and the Paraphrase of the 27th Chapter of Job (p. 420). 

There is evidence that Flatman contemplated one more Pindaric, but perhaps it was 
not written, and certainly not printed. The subject was to be Admiral Myngs. The 
Familiar Letters of Love, Gallantry, and Several Occasions, 1718, vol. i, pp. 249 foil., 
include a letter of consolation to Flatman's ' Honoured Master ', in which he writes, 
after some preliminary comments : ' Not to hold you any longer in suspense, my 
Noble, my Generous Friend, the Glory of the Sea, the Astonishment of all the World, 
is dead. When I have told you this, you cannot be ignorant of the Person I mean ; 
he has a Name too big to be concealed from any body that ever heard of Wonder on 
the Deep, or understands what 'tis to be brave, to be valiant, to be loyal, to be kind 
and honourable, more than all this is too little to describe Sir Christopher Myngs. 
Guess, my Dearest Master, the Disturbance so irreparable a Loss must create in one 
often honour'd with his Conversation, and many Ways oblig'd by him. We have 
nothing left of him now but poor sorrowful Syl. Taylonr, that other Half of his Soul, 
\vho is now resolv'd for Retirement, and will run no more Hazards at Sea. Many more 
Things I might misemploy j'ou with, but this great load must be first removed, which, 
I think, will not be, till I have vented my Grief in a Pindarique, and done the last 
Office of Kindness for the Dead. If I can make my Sorrows any thing legible, expect 
to bear a Part in them.' The letter is dated from London on June 15, 1666. 

Another lost poem — doubtless a Pindaric — on the theme of London is thus referred 
to in an autograph letter to Sancroft written from St. Catharine Hall, Cambridge, 
on May 13, 1667 (^Tanner MS. xlv, fol. 188) : 

'When I was last with you you were pleasd to take away from me a paper of 
imperfect Verses, the first desseign wherof was to comply with your injunction in 
saying something on that subject, whose beuty (it may be) had it continued in that 
flourishing condition 'twas in at the time of the imposition of yo"" commaunds, might 
haue heightned my thoughts as much as it's ruin has now dejected them ; or to 
speak in my owne way. The Coppy had bin much livelier if th' Originall hadnt bin so 
much defaced ; and he must be a better Architect then I that can reare a structure any 
thing magnificent in so bare an Ichnography, Thus much S'' to let you know how 
much I am beholding to yo' forgetfulness in returning my Ode, wherby 3'ou haue 
cover'd many imperfections, & kept me from being any longer angry with my self for 
not finishing what had better never bin begun.' 

One poem, sometimes assigned to Flatman has not been reprinted here — A Pane- 
gyric to his Renowned Majesty^ Charles the Second, King of Great Britain, ^c, a folio 
sheet issued in 1660, with the initials ' T. F.', and beginning 'Return, return, strange 
prodigy of fate!' Flatman, if it had been his, would not have failed to reprint it in 
his own Poems Similarly with an anon3'mous poem on the coronation of James H — 
To the King, a Congratulatory Poem, printed for R. Bentley in 1685 — which Mr. W. C. 
Hazlitt in his Collections and Notes, ii, p. 694, ascribes to Flatman. It begins : 

Dread Sir, since it has pleas'd the Pow'rs above 
To take the other Object of our love. 

This has a faint verbal resemblance to the opening of Flatman's genuine poem on 
James (see p. 394), and the misattribution may be due to this. 

( 408 ) 

yl Chine of Beef God save us all 

Up07i a Chine of Beef. 


A CHINE of beef, God save us all, 
Far larger than the butcher's stall, 
And sturdier than the City-wall. 


For this held out until the foe, 
By dint of blade and potent blow, 
Fell in pell mell ; that did not so. 


With stomachs sharper than their knives. 
They laid about them for their lives ; 
Well, Eastcheap men, beware your wives. 


Enraged weapons storm it round, lo 

Each seeking for a gaping wound, 
That in its gravy it seems drown'd. 


Magnanimous flesh, that didst not fall 
At first assault, or second maul. 
But a third time defied'st them all ! 


What strength can fate's decree revoke ? 
It was ordain'd thou shouldst be broke ; 
Alas ! time fells the sturdy oak. 


What goodly monuments still appear, 

What spondyl-bulwarks are there there, 20 

What palisaded ribs are here ! 


This bold monument death defies, 
Inscribed thus, 'To mirth here lies 
A trophy and a sacrifice '. 

Upon a Chine of Beef.] Of doubtful authenticity. The Horatian adaptation on 
pp. 356-9 perhaps confirms it, and we may note the oath (of Flatman's own coinage ~) 
at 1. 138 of that poem, 'By sturdy Chine of Beef, and mighty Jove '. The text is taken 
from the anonymous version in IVifs Interpreter, 1655, collected by John Cotgrave ; it 
appears on pp. 268-9 of the Love-Songs, Epigrams, ifc. An inferior text in IVit and 
Mirth. An Antidote to Melancholy, 3rd edition, 1682, p. 102, is headed ' On a Chine 
of Beef. By Mr. Tho. Flatman.' If genuine, this is therefore an early effort ; it might 
be an undergraduate flight, lii<e the parody on Austin. 

The chief variants in Wit and Mirth are : — 

2 'Far longer'. 10 'storm'd'. 12 'seem'd'. 18 ' Alas, in time 

the sturdy oak'. 19 'What goodly mince did appear'. 

( 409 ) 

Thomas Flatman 

On the Death of the Emijiently E?mobled 
Charles Capell, Esq. ; 

Who, after he had honour'd Winton College with his Education, afid 

accomplisht hif7iself with a voyage into Fra?ice, died of the small-pox 

at Londo7i last Christmas, 1656. 

Shower down your ponderous tears, whoe'er you be 

Dare write, or read, a Capell's elegy ; 

Spangle his hearse with pearls, such as were born 

'IVixt the blear'd eyelids of an o'ercast morn ; 

And (but 'tis vain t' expostulate with Death 

Or vilify the Fates with frustrate breath) 

Pose Destiny with why's— why such a sun 

Should set before his noontide stage were run? 

Why this fair volume should be bound so fast 

In wooden covers, clasp'd-up in such haste? 10 

Was Nature fond of its large character 

And those divine impressions graven there ? 

Did she, lest we should spoil't (to waive that sin), 

'Cause 'twas the best edition, call it in? 

Or would our vaunting Isle, that saints should see 

Th' utmost of all our prodigality, 

Fearing some detriment by long delay, 

Send Heav'n a new-year's-gift before the day? 

No : th' empyrean Philomels could sing, 

Without his voice, no carols to their King. 20 

England's Metropolis (for 'twas in thee 
He died) we re-baptize thee Calvary, 
The Charnel-house of Gallantry; henceforth 
We brand thy front with — Golgotha of Worth. 

Had he been swallow'd in that courteous deep 
He travell'd o'er, he had been lull'd asleep 
In th' amorous Sea-nymphs' stately arms at ease ; 
His great name would imposthumate the seas, 
That, when the waves should swell and tempests rise 
(Strong waters challenging the dastard skies), 30 

Poor shipwrackt mariners, remembering him. 
Should court his asterism, and cease to swim ; 
Abjure the Fatal Brothers' glow-worm fires, 
And dart at him their languishing desires. 

Had France intomb'd him (what our land forbids) 
Nature had rear'd him stately pyramids 
The lofty Alps, where it had been most meet 
Their harmless snow should be his winding-sheet ; 

On the Death, CtT.] From Affectuum Dea'dna, or Due Expressions In honour of the 
truly noble Charles Capell, Esq. {Son to the right honourable Arthur, Lord Capell, 
Baron of Hadhani), deceased on Christmas Day 16^6. Quis desiderio sit pudor, ant 
modus Tant Chart Capitis ? — Oxford, Printed Anno Dom. i6j6. 

( 410 ) 

On the Death of Charles Capell^ Esq. 

That alablaster-coverture might be 

An emblem of his native purity : 40 

Had he fal'n there, it had been true perchance, 

Wtckham's Third College might be found in France. 

But he return'd from thence, curb'd Neptune's pride, 
And, to our fame and grief, came home, and died. 
Thus, when the Heav'n has wheel'd its daily race 
About our earth, at night its glorious face 
Is pox'd with stars, yet Heaven admits no blot. 
And every pimple there's a beauty-spot. 
Short-liv'd disease, that canst be cured and gone 
By one sweet morning's resurrection ! 50 

Adieu, great sir, whose total he that will 
Describe in folio needs a cherub's quill. 
Zealous posterity your tomb shall stir, 
Hoard up your dust, rifle your sepulchre. 
And (as the Turks did Scanderbeg's of old) 
Shall wear your bones in amulets of gold. 
— But my blasphemous pen profanes his glory ; 
I'll say but this to all his tragic story : 

Were not the world well-nigh its funeral 

I'd ne'er believe so bright a star could fall. 60 

Tho. Flatman, 

Fellow of New College. 

On the Pictitre of the Azithor, Mr. Sanderson. 

Let others style this page a chronicle ; 
Others Art's mystery ; let a third sort dwell 
Upon the curious neat artifice, and swear 
The sun ne'er saw a shadow half so rare. 
He outsays all who lets you understand 
The head is Sanderson's, Fathern's the hand. 

Tho. Flatman, 

Imi. Temp. Land. 

On the noble Art of Painting. 

Strike a bold stroke, my Muse, and let me see 
Thou fear'st no colours in thy poetry. 
For pictures are dumb poems ; they that write 
Best poems do but paint in black and white. 

The pencil's amulets forbid to die. 
And vest us with a fair eternitv. 

Oit the Picture. Ifc.'] This and the foliowing poem are taken from WiHiam Sanderson's 
Graphice. Or, The Use of the Pen and Pensil, Or, the most Excellent Art of Painting. 
1658. With portrait by Souse, engraved by Faithoine. 

(411 ) 

Thomas Flatinan 

What think ye of the gods, to whose huge name 

The pagans bow'd their humble knees? Whence came 

Their immortaUties but from a shade, 

But from those portraitures the painter made ? lo 

They saddled Jove's fierce eagle like a colt 

And made him grasp in 's fist a thunderbolt. 

Painters did all : Jove had, at their command, 

Spurr'd a jackdaw and held a switch in 's hand. 

The demigods, and all their glories, be 

Apelles' debtors, for their deity. 

Oh how the catholics cross themselves and throng 
Around a crucifix, when all along 
That 's but a picture ! How the spruce trim lass 
Doats on a picture in the looking-glass ! 20 

And how ineffable 's the peasant's joy 
When he has drawn his picture in his boy ! 
Bright angels condescend to share a part 
And borrow glorious plumes from our rare art. 
Kings triumph in our sackcloth, monarchs bear 
Reverence t' our canvass 'bove the robes they wear. 
Great fortunes, large estates, for all their noise, 
Are nothing in the world but painted toys. 
Th' Egyptian hieroglyphics pictures be, 

And painting taught them all their A. B.C. 3° 

The Presbyterian, th' Independent too, 
All would a colour have for what they do. 
And who so just that does not sometimes try 
To turn pure painter and deceive the eye ? 

Our honest sleight of hand prevails with all ; 
Hence springs an emulation general. 
Mark how the pretty female-artists try 
To shame poor Nature with an Indian dye. 
Mark how the snail with 's grave majestic pace 
Paints earth's green waistcoat with a silver lace. 40 

But — since all rhythms are dark, and seldom go 
Without the Sun — the Sun 's a painter too ; 
Heaven's famed Vandyke, the Sun, he paints — 'tis clear — 
Twelve signs throughout the zodiac every year : 
'Tis he, that at the spicy spring's gay birth 
Makes pencils of his beams and paints the Earth ; 
He limns the rainbow when it struts so proud 
Upon the dusky surface of a cloud ; 
He daubs the Moors, and, when they sweat with toil, 
'Tis then he paints them all at length in oil; 50 

The blushing fruits, the gloss of flowers so pure, 
Owe their varieties to his miniature. 

Yet, what 's the Sun ? each thing, where'er we go, 
Would be a RubenSj or an Angelo ; 
Gaze up, some winter night, and you'll confess 
Heaven 's a large gallery of images. 

( 412 ) 

On the noble Art of Painting 

Then stoop down to the Earth, wonder, and scan 

The Master-piece of th' whole creation, Man : 

Man, that exact original in each limb, 

And Woman, that fair copy drawn from him. 60 

Whate'er we see 's one bracelet, whose each bead 

Is cemented and hangs by painting's thread. 

Thus, like the soul o' th' world, our subtle art 

Insinuates itself through every part. 

Strange rarity ! which canst the body save 

From the coarse usage in a sullen grave. 

Yet never make it mummy ! Strange, that hand. 

That spans and circumscribes the sea and land — 

That draws from death to th' life, without a spell, 

As Orpheus did Eurydice from hell. 70 

But all my Hnes are rude, and all such praise 
Dead-colour'd nonsense. Painters scorn slight bays. 
Let the great art commend itself, and then 
You'll praise the pencil and deride the pen. 

T. Flatman, lately Fellow of 

New Coll. Oxon ; now Inn. 

Temp. Lond. 

On Mistress S, W., who cured my hand by a plaster 
applied to the knife which hurt me. 

Wounded and weary of my life, 

I to my fair one sent my knife ; 

The point had pierced my hand as far 

As foe would foe in open war. 

Cruel, but yet compassionate, she 

Spread plasters for my enemy ; 

She hugg'd the wretch had done me harm, 

And in her bosom kept it warm, 

When suddenly I found the cure was done, 

The pain and all the anguish gone, 10 

Those nerves which stiff and tender were 

Now very free and active are : 

Not help'd by any power above, 

But a true miracle of Love. 

Henceforth, physicians, burn your bills, 
Prescribe no more uncertain pills : 
She can at distance vanquish pain. 
She makes the grave to gape in vain : 

On Mistress S. W.'] The above was printed in Notes and Queries for September 25, 
1869; it was contributed by Mr. F. W. Cosens from a manuscript in his possession, 
Miscellanies by Tho. Flatman. ex Interiori Templo, Londini, Nov. g, 1661. These poems 
are autograph. This poem is in the Firth MS., which clearly is a transcript of the 
preceding. See p. 278. 

( 413 ) 

Thomas Flatman 

'Mongst all the arts that saving be 

None so sublime as sympathy, 20 

Oh could it help a wounded breast, 

I'd send my soul to have it dress'd. 

Yet, rather, let herself apply 

The sovereign med'cine to her eye : 

There lurks the weapon wounds me deep, 

There, that which stabs me in my sleep ; 

For still I feel, within, a mortall smart, 

The salve that heal'd my hand can't cure my heart. 

October 19, 1661. 



Oh no, oh no ! it cannot be that I 

So long condemn'd to die 
Should fool myself with hopes of a reprieve 

From her that read my destiny ; 
She with her basilisk eyes denounc'd my doom. 

Why then should I in vain presume, 

In vain, fond man, to live 
My disappointments poorly to survive ? 


Oh no, oh no ! I know the worst on 't now, 

My sentence pass'd I know, 10 

And I no further expectations have 

My wither'd hopes again should grow. 
Yet 'tis a satisfaction to be sure 

I feel the worst I can endure. 

Oh that she yet would save 
By her miraculous kindness from the grave. 

Epitaph on his eldest Son, Thomas^ 1682. 

Whoe'er thou art, that look'st upon, 
And read'st what lies beneath this stone ; 
What Beauty, Goodness, Innocence, 
In a sad hour was snatch'd from hence. 

Oh no, ^c] From the Firth MS., which dates the poem 1671, and notes that it was 
set by Roger Hill. 

Epitaph on his Son.'] From Strype's Stow. 1720, Book III, p. 266. describing the 
monuments on the north wall of St. Bride's, Fleet Street. Strype adds, ' These Verses 
are almost worn out and gone, and therefore I have preserved them here; being 
undoubtedly the easy natural Strain of the Poet, the Father'. 

This Epitaph is in Hackett, A Collection of Epitaphs, \']Sli ii. 31, introduced thus — 

' St. Bride's, London. 
Here lies the Body of Thomas Flatman, eldest son of Thomas Flatman, and Hannah 
his wife, who resigned his beloved soul the 28th oi December 1682.' 

Strype records that the boy was ten years old. The pastoral elegy on p. 375 in all 


Epitaph on his eldest So7i^ Thomas 

What reason canst thou have to prize 
The dearest object of thine eyes? 
Believe this, mortal, what thou valuest most, 
And set'st thy soul upon, is soonest lost. 

Lines to John NortJileigh. 

Though we that write in rhyme (it is confess'd) 

Are wont to praise them most that need it least, 

So far from doing what we had design'd 

That we become impertinently kind ; 

Though I'm convinced of this, and right well know 

I can add nothing to your Book, or You : 

Yet am I forced th' old beaten road to go 

And tell my friend what wonders he has done, 

Where loyal labours could oblige a Crown — 

A Crown asserted by the hand of heaven, \o 

By which triumphant laurels now are given ; 

And may they never, never blasted be 

By any Boanerges of Democracy. 

Compassionate friend ! whose arguments do prove 
The force of reason and the power of love ; 
Taught by your generous and good-natured pen, 
The salvage beasts may once more turn to men, 
Be reconciled to the ill-treated Throne, 
And shun those rocks their fellows split upon : 
Your call to th' unconverted may do more 20 

Than Orpheus' charms did in the woods before, 
Convince the stubborn, and th' unwary lead 
By benign arts those blessed steps to tread 
In which our glorious Master led the way 
To realms of peace and everlasting day. 

Farewell, dear friend ! and for this once excuse 
The last efforts of an expiring Muse. 

Thomas Flatman. 

probability refers to the same child, though the date of his death is there given as 
January 28, i68§. Aubrey records (in Aubrey MS. 7, fol. 8 verso) that Flatman him- 
self was buried in the same grave. 

Lines to John NoythUigh.'] From The Triumph of our Monarchy, Over the Plots and 
Principles of our Rebels and Republicans, Being Remarks on their most eminent Libels. 
Bv John Norlhleigh, 1685; the lines are headed 'To my worthy Friend, J. North- 
leigh, Esq., Author of this Book and the ParalleV. Dryden also contributed a poem. 

(415 ) 

Thomas Flatma7t 

Lines to ArchbisJiop Saner oft. 

My Lord 

When I Your unsought Glories view'd, 
And prest (a meane Spectator in the Croud;) 
Where every Ey, with sparkling Joy did gaze, 
All hearts brimmfull of Blessing, & of Praise ; 
Extatick with the mighty Theme I went, 
And something, some great thing to Write, I meant : 
This, sure, said I, must set me all on fire. 
This must my dull, unhallow'd Muse inspire : 
I try'd in wary words my Verse to dress. 

And throng'd my thoughts with awfull Images ; lo 

For the bold Work, Materialls I desseign'd 
High as Your Station, Humble as Your Minde : 
Alas ! in vaine ! my owne Confusion 
Strait tumbled th' ill-attempted Babel downe. 

Much I desir'd to tell in artfuU Rhymes, 
Your Magnanimity through the worst of Times 
How, like a Rock, amidst the Sea, You stood. 
Surrounded with a foaming Popular-Floud ; 
In that black Night, how You still kept Your way. 
When all despair'd the dawning of This Day : 20 

With what true Christian Stoicisme, You durst Owne 
The slighted Miter, and abandon'd Crowne; 
As Cato for the baffled Side declar'd, 
Tho' all the Gods, the Conquering Cause preferr'd. 

Next, I would have describ'd the Happy Place 
Of Your soft minutes in a sweet Recess ; 
Where all things were in Your Possession, 
All You need Wish, for You were all Your Ovvne[.] 
Here Emperours, & Kings, receiv'd at last 
The noblest Guerdon for their labours past : 3° 

Less splendid were those daies, but more secure, 
Their last & best were gloriously Obscure. 
O those gay Vallies ! o those lofty Hills ! 
Those silent Rivers ! & those murmuring Rills ! 
The melancholy Grove ! & peacefuU Shade ! 
For Ease, & Angells-Conversation made ! 
The Morning's Breath ! the sight o' th' rising Sun, 
W^hen he starts forth, his Giant-Race to runn ! 

Lines to Archbishop SaMcroft.'] Exactly reproduced from the poet's autograph in 
Tanner MS. 306, of the Bodleian, where it appears in a group of Sancroft papers at 
folio 389. and is endorsed on the outer leaf — 'These For his Grace, my Lord Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, with mj' humblest Duty.' 

The poem must have been written in the last year of Flatman's life, and have reference 
to the trial of the Seven Bishops. With 1. 50, ' An Atome in the beams of Your bright 
Sun ', compare the Pindaric On the Death of Charles II, 1. 37, 'We atoms in his beams 
might sport and play' (p. 392). 

( 4>(5 ) 

Lines to Archbhhop Saner oft 

Faine wou'd I have said, what cannot be express't 

But in the sentiments of a wellpleas'd Breast. 40 

And now (my Lord!) on Your triumphant Day, 
What can Your poor unlettred Beadsman say ? 
Who know's that Praise, at the Poetique rate. 
Swell's to a Vice, & must deserve Your hate. 
When Heav'n vouchsafe's a Miracle to mankinde. 
Silence, & Wonder best express our minde. 

Durst I Presume, or could Despaire (my Lord !) 
I would add Here, for my owne self, one word. 
That I might be (whome the World frown's uppon) 
An Atome in the beams of Your bright Sun, 50 

Almost Invisible ; but still shin'd-uppon. 

My Lord 

Your Grace's most obedient 
Servant, & poore Kinsman. 

Thomas Flatman. 

On the Death of His Grace, James, Duke of Or^nond : 

A Pindai'ic Ode. 


Had not the deathless name of Ossory 

Pow'r to preserve, as well as to create, 

And over-rule the dullness of my fate, 
A pen so meanly qualified as mine 

Might well this mighty task decline. 

Too ponderous for feeble Me, 
Me so obscure, my glorious theme so bright, 

Where all is overpow'ring light 

Which never can submit to night. 
But sense of deepest gratitude should control 10 

All the despondencies of a trembling soul 
And force a modest confidence to inspire 
The coldest breast with an uncommon fire. 

Since then, for aught we know, 
The separated happy spirits above 

Sometimes regard our pious love. 
And are not much disturb'd at what we kindly do. 

Let Ormond's gentle ghost look down 
Full of kind compassion, 
And pity what my duty prompts me to. 20 

0» the Death of James, Duke of Ormond.'\ Printed in folio, 1688, with the title. On 
the Death of the Right Honorable the Duke of Ormond : a Pindaric Ode. In Letters from 
the Dead to the Living, 1702, vol. ii, pp. 24-5, Flatman, with his pipe in his mouth, is in- 
troduced complaining that this ode has been vamped up for the death of King William. 

( 417 ) E e III 

Thomas Flatma7t 

Fain would I pay my tribute ever due 

To his immortal memory : 
But what immortal methods to pursue 

Is understood by very few ; 
The noblest bard that ever wore the bays 
^Vould here fall short in sorrow, and in praise. 


Our stock of tears would soon exhausted be 

Were every eye a sea, 
And grief would swell to prodigality ; 

Th' irreparable loss, if duly weigh'd, 30 

Would make posterity afraid, 
For Ormond in his radiant course has done 
What did amaze, what durst abide the sun, 
And struck with terror all the envious lookers on : 
Whether with ecstasy we think upon 
His goodly person or his matchless mind. 

Where shall the most inquisitive mortal find 

A more accomplish'd hero left behind ? 

As he were sent from heaven, design'dly great, 
To dote on still, but not presume to imitate, 40 

Or whether with regret we cast an eye 

On his unbounded liberalityj 
His unaffected piety, 
Or more than human magnanimity 

(Virtues inimitable all), 
The joyful beadsman and the Church will tell 
The story, scarce hereafter credible, 
And call his life one long-continued miracle. 


Say, all you younger sons of Honour, say, 

You that in peace appear so brisk and gay, 50 

Is it a little thing to forfeit all 

At Loyalty's tremendous call. 
And stand with resolution in defence 

Of a despised calamitous Prince, 
To fight against our stars, and to defy 
■"I'he last efforts of prosperous villainy. 
And — when the hurricane of the state grew high — 
To brave the thunder and the lightning scorn, 
The beauteous fabric into pieces torn, 
Imprisonment and exile to disdain 60 

For a neglected Sovereign ; 
Still to espouse a crazy, tottering crown ? 

'J'his, mighty Ormond, was thy own. 
This glory thou deserv'dst to have. 
This bravery thou hast carried with thee to thy grave. 

( 418 ) 

Ofi the Death of the Duke of Ormond 

Let other lesser Great ones live, to try 

Thy arduous paths to fame ; 
I^et them bid fair for immortality, 
And to procure an everlasting name ; 
And may thy eacred ashes smile to see 
Their vain^ their frivolous attempts to rival Mighty Thee. 


O noble, fortunate old Man ! 

Though thou hadst still lived on 
To Nestor's centuries, thou hadst died too soon ; 
Too soon alas ! for heav'n could never be 
Or weary or ashamed to find fresh toils for thee : 
What wiser head, or braver arm than thine 
Could heav'n contrive to manage heav'n's design ! 
And what Herculean labour is too hard 

For such a mind, so well prepared, 80 

Ever above the prospect of Regard, 
And that unfashionable thing. Reward ! 

Many have been thy gloomy days, 
Yet ever happy hast thou been ; 
In every state thou merit'dst praise, 
And thou hast never wanted it within. 
All after fourscore years is grief and pain ; 

Those honourably pass'd, thou didst resign 

Thy empire over every heart ; 
From thine this sceptre never shall depart, 90 

But the succession evermore remain : 
'Twas time for thee to die, and let a second Ormond reign. 


How shall I mention thy lamented death, 

Thy only blemish — thy mortality ! 
For 'tis too much disparagement for thee 

To be involved in common destiny 
And like inglorious men give up thy precious breath. 
A fiery chariot should have snatch'd thee hence. 
And all the host of heav'n convened to see 

Th' assumption of a godlike Prince 100 

Into th' ineffable society : 
Half-way at least part of th' immaculate train 

With palms should have attended thee, 
Thy harbingers to the triumphant hierarchy, 

Then big with wonder mounted up again; 

What can the tongues of men or angels say. 
What Boanerges ne'er so loud, 

If they would speak of thy prodigious day, 

Of which an emperor's history would be proud 

( 419 ) E e 2 

Thomas Flatman 

Farewell, dead Prince — oh might it not be said, no 

Though a desirable euthanasy 

Prepared the way for deifying thee, 

Ormond like other men must die, 
For he with a fatigue of victory oppress'd 

Laid himself only down to rest. 


Job^ Chaptej' xxvii. Paraphrased. 

Verse 8. 
Poor Hypocrite (though ne'er so rich), when God shall call 
His double, his dissembling soul, how small, 
• ■ How beggarly his biggest hopes will show ! 
Riches command no further than below. 

Verse 9. 
When griefs like waves o'er one another roll 
And overwhelm his quite-dejected soul. 
When he lies groaning on a restless bed, 
With a sad bleeding heart, and aching head 
Krimfull of anguish and repeated pain. 

He weeps and frames his parch'd lips to complain, ' 10 

Breathes up to heaven a very earnest prayer — 
Scarce dare he hope, yet dares he not despair — 
But all his supplications mount in vain, 
God will not hear, nor answer him again. 

Verse 10. 
How can he turn religious, and adore 
That God he so devoutly mock'd before ? 

Verse ii. 
I will the depths of Providence reveal ; 
Th' Almighty's methods will I not conceal. 

Verse 12. 
Yet why should I suggest what your own heart, 
Were it not vain, might, better far, impart ? 30 

Verse 13. 

On th' wicked's head this heavy fate shall come. 
And this shall be from God th' oppressor's doom. 

/oi.] The text is taken from the Firth MS. The ingenious paraphrase of the last 
verse — 'Men shall clap their hands at him, and shall hiss him out of his place '— echoes 
Tilt Review, 11. 33-5 (p. 30a). 

( 430 ) 

yoh^ Chapter xxvii, Paj^aphrased 

Verse 14. 

His sons, though more and loveher they are 

Than their decrepit father's silver hair, 

Strong as the sons of Anak, bright and brave, 

Shall shroud their pride in an untimely grave ; 

His daughters, though more beauteous every one 

Than the seraphic spouse of Solomon^ 

A sisterhood as numerous and bright 

As are the glorious stars that gild the night, — 30 

A bloody cloud their glories shall eclipse ; 

Death shuts their killing eyes, their charming lips. 

Though like a golden harvest they appear, 

And every one a full, a laden ear, 

Like olive plants amidst their friends be grown. 

The sword shall reap, the sword shall hew them down. 

The sword and eager famine shall devour 

All they enjoy in one unhappy hour. 

Verse 15, 
His progeny shall unlamented die, 

Buried in black oblivion shall they lie, 40 

Unpitied to the dust they shall return, 
Nor shall one pious tear bedew their urn. 

Verse 16. 

If he have silver plentiful as dust, 

Gold pure as that of Ophir, both shall rust 

Verse 17. 

Let him have caskets whose each orient gem 

Vies with the walls o' th' new Jerusalem, 

Raiment more gorgeous than the lily's hue 

When every snowy fold is pearl'd with dew, 

He's but the just man's steward all the while; 

The just shall wear the raiment, part the spoil. 50 

Verse 18. 

The house he builds, like that o' th' moth, shall be 
Too weak against the wind's least battery ; 
Or, if it stand the brunt of wind and rain, 
'Twill stagger at a thund'ring hurricane ; 
As tents, it may remove from land to land. 
But on a solid basis cannot stand. 

Verse 19. 
The rich man shall depart, but not in peace ; 
When he lies down, his horror shall increase 
Just when he 's ripe for vengeance and heaven's frown 
Death, ah too irksome Death, shall shake him down. 60 

( 421 ) 

Tho7nas Flat ma ji 

(".ather'd he shall not be by that kind hand 

A\'hich plucks the righteous to blest Can,aan's land : 

He opes his lids and surfeiteth his eyes 

With gazing over all his vanities^ 

Till some ill chance o' th' sudden dims his sight 

And leaves him lost in an eternal night. 

Verses 20, 21. 

As mighty waters shall his terrors roar; 

He's stolen away and shall be seen no more, 

Hurried from his beloved home, and tost 

By th' East wind, fierce as that drown'd Pharaoh's host. 

Verse 22. 
Jehovah, from whose hand he fain would flee, 
Shall add more sting to his calamity : 

Verse 23, 
And where his glass has but few sands to run, 
His tragicomic life now almost done, 
At the last act his deadliest shame shall be 
To find an hissing for a Platdite. 

( 4" ) 

Le hore di recreatione: 



Mbin 02LndBellama, 

Dif covering the feverall changes of 

Fortune, in Cu P i d s journey 

to H Y M E N s joyes. 

To which is annexed 

// Injonio Injonadado^ or a lleeping- 
waking Dreame, vindicating the 

divine breath of Poefie from the ton^ue- 

laflies of fome Cynical Poet-qu/ppers, 

and Stoicall Philo-profers 

ByN.W.Mafter in Arts, ofQueenes 
Co II edge in Cambiiage. 

Seinel in anno Apollo. 

AV me a metra tibi Miifa compoflajocofd^ 
Helibata pr'tus quamjnit contempt a relivauas^ 


Printed hy^.D. for C6^.andaretobefold 
atthe Princes A r mcs in Pau/s churchyard . 


In the case of most of the constituents of these volumes, there was Uttle 
need of * dehberating and pondering ' hke the excellent Sir Thomas Bertram, 
when he had to settle such weighty questions as whether his niece should 
or should not go out to dinner, and if so whether she should walk or drive. 
But it was not quite the same in regard to Albino and Bellama. The first 
claim ot entrants here — rarity and novelty to the general, it has without 
question : for the book (though it seems to have been issued in two forms, or 
at least with two title-pages) is very uncommon, and the author has escaped 
the wide-encroaching net of the D.N.B. Nor could I allow this to be 
balanced by the dull, clumsy, philistine, hackneyed ribaldry of the nunnery 
scenes in the middle, or by a page of sheer nastiness at the end, which is 
a sort of concentration of Herrick's foulest epigrams. These things will 
happen : and they can he skipped. It gave one more serious pause that 
' N. W." seldom ^ displays anything like the poetry which far more than com- 
pensates for much milder blots in Leoline and Sydanis, and that his book is 
written in a singular jargon almost as much out of the common way as the 
wildest freaks of Benlowes, but without their excuse oi furor poeticus. What 
turned the scale in his favour, after more than one reading, was the increasing 
con\'iction that the book, in spite or perhaps to some extent because of its 
defects, is a really valuable document for the history of English Literature 
from the special point of view which was marked out in the General Intro- 
duction. It is noteworthy as a member, graceless and slatternly, but still 
a member, of that class of Heroic Poem which it has been one of my main 
objects to bring before the student. It is still more noteworthy in connexion 
with the history of English fiction as presenting a special variety of that kind. 
It was not till, for the purposes of this collection, and by the kindness of 
Professor Firth, who lent me his copy, I read the volume (I knew it before 
only by name and from the Censura Literaria) that a gap in my mind's 
atlas of that fiction was filled in satisfactorily. 

I said, in speaking of Leoline and Sydanis, that we m.ust take not merely 
the Heroic but the Mock-Heroic poem into consideration as origins for our 
English examples ; and this is very much more the case with Albino and 

* I had written * nowhere ', but hastily. The opening has not a little which convicts 
the haste, and I have noted other passages m/ra, 

( 4-!4 ) 


Bellama. \\'hiting almost parades his knowledge of Italian ; and I should 
think, from some of the worst as well as the oddest parts of his poem, that he 
had pushed his researches as far as Macaronic. In fact you must go beyond 
Folengo — to Tifi Odassi and Fossa Cremonese ^ — to supply a ' further ' to 
his excursions, into the unsavoury now and then. But turning willingly 
enough from this, it will be evident to any instructed reader — and his 
perlusive panegyrists point it out — that his purp>ose is largely satiric. Indeed, 
his uncouth lingo ' has a close connexion with that of Marston and the 
other early Elizabethan satirists forty years before him : while he gives one 
odd reminders, at the same time, of the prose pamphlet which was con- 
temporar)- with these very* satirists, and was actually written by some of 
them. Now all these links are links with the history of the Novel back- 
wards ; and there are others forward. Change the romance apparatus into 
that of common life, of which our examples are French and Spanish 
rather than Italian, and you will get out of parts of Albino and Bellama 
something by no means unlike the singular farrago which goes under the 
name of The English Rogue. Besides connncing the author that prose is 
much better for such work than verse (which Head himself saw '), present 
him with m.ore wits, better taste, and a more advanced state of society and 
manners, and you will probably find him some way on the road which leads, 
however far away, and after whatever rise, over the hills beyond his dirty 
marsh, to Tom Jones itself. While, to make a less 'kangaroo' transition 
in quality though a farther one in time, much smaller alteration would 
make Albino and Bellama into ven.- fair Mrs. Radcliffe. 

The curious addition II Insonio lusonadado or ' Waking-Dream Undreamt ' 
(whether the title is invented or borrowed, some one with greater knowledge 
of Spanish than I possess must decide) may supply some greater interest 
than Whiting's escapade in the Heroic Romance. It is not continuously 
paged ^vith the rest of the volume, but merely ' signatured ' H, H 2, &c. as 
far as a (misprinted) 5. On the whole, however, it is much less carelessly 
put to press than Albino and Bellama, and it is also (in parts at least) much 
more soberly written. The opening does not promise much, except an 
example of the loose, would-be satirical academic commonplaces of the 

1 These oddities of the fifteenth century, with others, were conveniently republished, 
in Idaccheroiue di Citique Poeie Italiani (Milan : D li, 1864 . 

- He would almost be wortli republishing for this alcne. and I say this despite the 
trouble it has given me. Tnose who are curious in rare words and autoschtdiasiic 
forms ought to prize Whiting highly^ 

3 As an instance here, take the incident where the false Phaeliche, coming to the 
nunnerv, sees the masons mending the breaches that Rivelezzo"s cannon had made. 
It is a mere touch, awkward and only half intelligible in the verse. Less than two cen- 
turies later Scott would have given a lively page and a half of prose description of the 
scene, with dialogue thrown in. On the other hand, in prose, the extravagances of the 
phrase and the incoherences of the story would have had a belter chanwC of being 

( 4:5 ) 

Nathaniel Whiting 

time ; but it afterwards takes on some critical substance, and if I had read it 
(as I had not yet) twenty years ago I should have given it a small corner 
in an otherwise very scantily occupied chapter of my History of Criticism, 
Whether the personages introduced before the Heavenly Court aim at 
individuals it would be very hard to say : but the certification of the 
poetess ^ might have some interest. ' Tenth Muses ', as was said in rela 
tion to Anne King (v. step., p. 2 10), were not unknown, and Katharine Philips 
was alive, though as yet but a child. But women had, before her, made little 
figure in English literature. The evidences of popular taste are not quite 
worthless, and while the absence of Ben Jonson is noteworthy, the presence 
of Drummond is almost equally so, as well as the mention of that * testiness ' 
which certainly does appear in the poet of Hawthornden. But the chief 
critical utterance is the quatrain, solid and judicial if not very poetical, on 

Of Whiting himself I have been able to find out very little.'^ He was of 
Queens' College, Cambridge ; Brydges erroneously says ' King's ', having 
misread the misprinted ' Regnalis ' of James Bernard's commendatory poem. 
And he must have settled down twenty years later sufficiently to print in 
1659, according to Hazlitt, The Saififs Triangle of Duties, Deliverances, 
afid Dangers. The first edition of Albino and Bellama appeared in 
1637, with the title Le hore di recreatione : Or, The Pleasant of 
Albijio and Bellama. . . . By N. IV., Master of Arts, of Queenes Colledge in 
Cambridge. The British Museum also has a copy with an engraved 
frontispiece as well, adding to which is annexed il insonio insonodado or the 
vifidication of Foesye. These title-pages are also dated 1638, and the 
engraved title-page was also issued in 1639. 

In 1633 the birth of the Duke of York was commemorated at Cam- 
bridge in Duels Eboracensis Fasciae a Afusis Cantabrigiensibus raptim 
contextae. ' N. Whyting, Coll. Regin. Art. Baccal' contributes two copies of 
verse, Latin and Greek, both markedly royalist in tone. 

It was not, however, for some time after I had been working on Whiting 

' ' Marget ' is used in Albino and Bellama as a g:eneric name. But Whiting's 
irritable and restless fancy may have put together ' Mag-pie'' and Persius's />of/m /■«<:«. 

* By the great kindness of the Rev. J. H. Gray, Tutor and Dean of Queens' College, 
assisted by the President of that Society and by the Registrar of the University of 
Cambridge, 1 am enabled to give more than I had found in any book. Nathaniel Whiting 
(who seems also to have spelt his name ' Whiteing^ ' and ' Whitinge') matriculated as 
Pensioner on March 30, 1629; proceeded B.A. 1631 and M.A. in 1635. He had been 
entered at his college on July i, 1628, and his tutor's name was Stubbins. In the 
College accounts from September 1630, and for four years onwards, Whiting appears as 
a Scholar, receiving in the respective years 12s. 6d. ; i6s. sa'. ; 195. 'jd. ; and 15s. loi^. 
The first payment seems to have been for part of the year only : but in no year does he 
come anywhere near the full income of a Scholar; which, Mr. Gray tells me, seems to 
have been £2. There appears to be no subsequent mention of him in the College 
records either as Scholar or Fellow. 

( 426 ) 


that I found considerable new light thrown on him by his prose work, 
which is in the British Museum, under his name, though Albino and 
B e llama \s not. The title of it is abbreviated by Hazlitt, and is in the 
original very long, beginning with the Hebrew /X . . . n'"3 . . . /S Old Jacob's 
Altar neivly rej>ai?-ed ; or The Saints' Triangle of Dangers, Deliverances 
and Duties. It is a solid little quarto of some 260 pages, dedicated to 
Sir William Fleetwood, Sir George Fleetwood, ' Baron of Swonholm in 
Sweadland ', and ' his Excellency Charles Lord Fleetwood '. Whiting was 
now 'Minister' of Aldwinckle (All Saints, as the registers show') 
by the patronage of Sir W^illiam, to whom he refers as his ' ancient ' and 
' affectionate Mecaenas ' in his Cambridge days. He is certainly by this 
time a full-blown Puritan. He uses that word itself frequently, and 
with pride ; refers to ' my reverend grandfather ', minister of Elton, 
Northants, who was apparently a ' pilgrim father ' ; speaks of the time 
when 'the Episcopal monopoly lasted', and eulogizes 'the faithful 
Peters to whom is committed the Word of Reconciliation ' (Reconcilia- 
tion a la Peters is good !) ; but also calls Herbert ' divine ' and quotes 
St. Anselm, though of course without the 'Saint'. Allowing for its standpoint 
the book is not virulent, and is a respectable piece of hortatory divinity on 
its own side. Besides, the thought that in a few months ' the Episcopal 
monopoly ' came back again, and that 'the faithful Peters' received the 
deferred pay for his various ' commissions ', mitigates judgement not a little; 
while, to crown all, the contrast with Albino and Bellaina is irresistibly 
comic. Perhaps, indeed, some of the ribaldry of the convent scenes in 
the verse may be due to the Puritanism which is so distinct in the prose. 
But it would be an odd Saint who could construct himself a 'triangle' of 
any kind of sanctities or pious experiences out of Whiting's romance. And 
this, which is so characteristic of the time, and yet not so uncharacteristic 
of all times, adds to my satisfaction in presenting Mr. Nathaniel Whiting 
with some little more detail than even Brydges has given. (It may be 
added that he was deprived of the living at the Restoration. Edward 
Price succeeded him on February 20, 1662-3. According to a brief 
notice in Notes and Queries"' he then migrated to the village of Cranford, 
near Kettering, and got together a congregation there. There is no trace 
of him in the registers of either of the Cranford churches.^ The same 
authority states that he died childless and was a benefactor of the free 
school of Aldwinckle, of which he was master during the period of his 

^ Canon Hodgson, Rector of Aldwincle, kindly allowed Mr. Simpson to examine 
the registers. Ihe date of Whiting's institution is March 20, 1653, but already in 
1650, on May 4, he signs the accounts as ' Minister '. 

■^ By C. H. and T. Cooper, in the third series, vol. v, p. 420. 

* The Rev. C. R. Thursfield kindly allowed Mr. Simpson to examine the registers. 

( 427 ) 

Nathaniel Whiting 

To the right honourable, right worthy, and 
truly ennobled hero, John, Lord Lovelace, 
Baron of Hurley, N.W. S.P.O. 

The law-enactors, whilst time fear'd 

the rod, 
Feign'd in their laws the presence of a 

Whose awful nod and wisdom grave 

should be 
As hand and signet unto their decree ; 
And such commanding awe that sacred 

Struck in the vulgar breasts, it teen'd 

a flame 
Of love and duty to their pious bests. 
Thus Rhadamanthus in his laws in- 
Him whom profaner times styl'd 

heaven's king. 
i\Iinos and others strike the selfsame 

string. lo 

The moral 's mine : for, in this quirking 

When pride and envy steer the helm 

of reason. 
It is, has with press-taskers been, in use 
To press the issue of their prose and 

Under the ensigns of some worthy 

Whose very name unsatire can a jeer, 
And lock detraction up in beds of clay. 
To sleep their suns as rearmice do the 

Then do they bravely march, with 

honour arm'd, 
Which, as the gods the people, charm- 

eth charm'd. 20 

On this known privilege feet I these 

In which, though dimmer than your 

native, shines 
Your worth, enfired by my kne^d quili. 
Which claims the scale not of deserts, 

but will, 
In your acceptance and the world's 

Then, cynics, bark, and, critics, beam 

your eyes ! 
My quill 's no pencil to emblazon forth 
Your stainless honour and your match- 
less worth. 
As dust-born flies, which 'bout the 

candle play, 
Glide through its arch, encircle, fan, 

survey, 50 

Wink at the presence of day's beamy 

Purr on the glass, or on herb-pillows 

Just so my downy muse in distichs dare 
Feet the perfection of a silkless fair, 
Pumex each part so trimly that her 

Swears her cheeks roses and her 

bosom snow ; 
Nay, has strew'd flowers of desertless 

T' adorn the tomb of good sir Worthy 

Under this fah me !) stone is laid (alas!) 
A man- a knight— the best that ever 

was. 4° 

Title. S. P. O.) = it maj' be just desirable to say, Salutem plurintatn optat. The 
object of the wish was, I suppose, the second Lord Lovelace. The better known third, 
prominent at the Revolution and also a John, was born in the same year with this poem. 

6 'teen'd' or ' lined ' = ' kindled ', as in 'tinder'. The forms ' tened ' and ' tind ' 
also exist, and // Insonio, 1. 368, has ' re-teined '. 

ai 'feet', orig. 'fate', seems at first to equal 'foot', i.e. I 'base', 'establish'. 
But of. 1. 34 and Albino, 3558, which give it the sense of ' metre ', ' versify '. 

23 my kneed quilll — paying homage, as if on bent knee. 

32 The verb to 'laze', revived in late nineteenth century as slang, is as old a.s 
Robert Greene's Alphonsus. 

35 ' Pumex ' = pumice. Greene used this Latin form as a noun. part] misprinted 
' parr' in orig. 

( 428 ) 

Commenclafory Poems 

His prowess war, his wisdom state 

did prove, 
His kindness kindred, and the world 

his love; 
But when she should with her weak 

feathers soar 
To court a star, or with her feeble oar 
Strike such a sea of worth, ride 

honour's ring, 
She dares not touch or snaffle, sail, 

or wing. 
Only as he which limn'd those tears 

and sighs 
Which Iphigenia's death from hearts 

and eyes 
Of kindred drew, but o'er her father's 

/^Telling the world he moum'd without 

an how) 50 

He drew a veil spake sorrow in excess. 
So with a — — must my muse ex- 
Your sacred worth, concluding it to be 
Too high for any bard, if not, for me. 

Beside, the world of late has nicknam'd 

Calls it an elbow-claw and scraping 

Then pardon, sir, this dearth, and 

judge the why 
Is ycur worth soar'd above Pamasse's 

Let not your slights or nescio's (though 

most justj 
Condemn my muse to be enseil'd with 

dust, 60 

Nor let presumption hoist to your 

But rather let your honour bate its place 
And stoop unto my measures, since 

the name 
Of patron awes oft times the breath of 

farne ; 
And by this honour shall youe'erengage 
The knee, hand, duty, air, and thrivmg 


Of your honour's ever 
humbly devoted, 
N. W. 

To the Reader. 

Courteous Reader— for to such I 

write — 
With native candour view this 

chequered white, 
i]e truly candid to a candidate 
Whom importunings force to ante- 
The travails of his quill, and, like a 

Ere ripened, press it. Yet if I escape 
The censure of these times, this critic 

My muse Hike parrots • in a wire cage 
Shall not do penance ; but I'll not 

promise it, 
'Cause 't doth too much o'th' lips of 

Ueatness sit. 10 

And 'tis a fault for me to sympathize, 
I bring no antic mask in strange dis- 
No sharp invective, nor no comic mirth 
Which may to laughter give an easy 

Though 'tis in use with them that seek 

to please 
These humorous times (it being a 

Half epidemical to keep a phrase 
Or fancy at stave's end ; nought merits 

Unless with quibbles every staff does 

end — 
Conceited jests which unto lightness 

tend; 20 

47 Orig., ' limb'd ', a lax seventeenth-century spelling. 

48 'Iphigenia' will scan with the proper pronunciation. But, as all students of 
literature have always known, though some editors of it seem to have thought it an 
esoteric discovery, classical names were very loosely accented, not merely by men of 
whose education we know nothing, like Shakespeare, but by University wits like 
Spenser and Dryden. 

60 enseil'd] Same as ' ens^'aled ', 'stamped ', ' marked ', or perhaps ' closed up'. 
66 age] ' agre ' in orig. must be wrong. 

( 429 ) 

Nathaniel WhiWig 

Though every page swells with ingenu- 
ous plots, 
Yet, cry our carps, the authors are but 

An elbow-pillow or a motley coat 
With them are now the chiefest men 

of note. 
But I nor am, nor hope that name to 

Of pantomimic : yet did nature deign 
The optic-glass of humours to descry 
Each man's rank humour only by the 

I would have tun'd my muse, that 

every page 
Might swell with humours suiting to 

this age ; 30 

This leaf should talk of love and that 

of state, 
This of alarums, that of wonders prate, 
This of knights errant, of enchantment 

This to the itching ears of novels chat. 
But . . . since my starv'd Fortunes 

missed that, I have drawn 
A picture shadowed o'er with double 

Lest some quick Lyneist with a piercing 

Should the young footsteps of a truth 

Yet something, I confess, was born of 

Which makes me age it with an 

ancient date, 40 

But let no antic-hunter post to Stow, 
To trace out truth upon his even snow. 
Annals are dumb of such and such a 

Nor of our amorous pair speak half a 


Monastic writs do not Bellama limn. 
Nor abbey-rolls do teem a line of him, 
This story has no sires (as 'tis the use) 
But weak invention and a feeble muse. 
These are the parents that abortive 
birth 49 

Give to this embryon of desired mirth, 
Which in' the author's name does 

humbly crave 
A charitable censure or a grave. 
The purest-bolted flour that is has bran, 
Venus her naeve, Helen her stain, nor 

I think these lines are censure-free, 

By th' muses and 'gainst envy's jave- 
lins mail'd. 
Yet where the faults but whisper, use 

thy pen 
With the quod non vis of the heathen 

men ; 
And, if the crimes do in loud echoes 

Thy sponge ; but not with lashing 
satires break 60 

That sacred bond of friendship, for 't 

may be 
I may hereafter do as much for thee. 
Nor do thou think to trample on my 

muse ; 
Nor in thy lofty third-air braves accuse 
My breast of faintness, or the ballad- 
For know my heart is full as big as 

And as pure fire heats my octavo bulk 
As the grand-folio, orthe Reamishhulk, 
If but oppos'd with envy, but unless 
I truly am what these few words ex- 
press. 70 
Thy ready friend, 
N. W. 

22 ' carp ' for ' carper' seems to be much rarer than for ' carp/«^'. Cf. In Insonio, 218. 

41 Stow] The famous antiquary had been dead long enough (since 1605) to ' become 
a name '. 

55 ' impal'd ', orig. ' impalde ', is clearly ' paled-in ', ' palisaded ', * fortified '. 

64 third-air] =' third /m«rf', or what ? 

68 Reamish] 'N.W.'s' Protestantism would naturally have a fling at anything 
connected with Rheims. 

( 430 ) 

Com7?iendatory Poems 

To the right virtuous and equally beautiful, 
S""^ Inconstanza Bellarizza. 

When, by much gazing on those 

ghttering beams 
Which (if unmask'd) from day's bright 

henchman streams, 
The Rascians eyes do gain the curse of 

The loadstone's swarfy hue their 

tapers clears. 
When unicorns have gluts or surfeits 

By browsing liquorice, they to regain 
Their stomachs and a cure crash biuer 

I leave the application : 'tis a glass 
Wherein the dimmest eye may plainly 

Vx'hat 's due to me from you, to you 

from me. lo 

Ikit— I'll only tell the world that for 

your sake, 
My willing muse this task did under- 
At hours of recreation, when a thought 
Of your choice worth this and this 

fancy brought. 
Some to the bar will call the truth 

Some wonder why, some pass it by, 

some scoff, 
rsecause, in this full harvest of your sex, 
I 'moiigst such thousands glean your 

name t' annex 
Unto, and usher in, these wanton 


Some will be apt to think my pen 
Rehearses 20 

Love passions 'twixt yourself and some 
choice he 

(The world I know will not suspect 'tis 

And that I age it lest quick eyes should 

But in this thought I'm silent; thoughts 
are free. 

Indeed your woi-th doth just propor- 
tion hold 

With this high worth which of Bella- 
ma's told. 

And well my knowledge can inform my 

To raise a spite in women, love in men. 

.\nd if the Fates befriend me that my 

Outmeasures yours (your worth asleep, 
not dead, 30 

For such worth cannot die) I then will 

You equall'd her and was— (but, truth, 

If these dull melancholy, grief, or sleep. 

From any prone thereto at distance 
keep ; 

Let unto you their tribute thanks be 

For my invention by your worth was 

My fancy rais'd, enliv'ned, and inspir'd, 
That my quick muse my agile hand 
has tir d. 

To S^"^ hiconstansa Bellarissa.] Who she was is a question much less answerable 
than 'Whose song the Sirens sang? ' 

3 seq. ' C//;natural History ' was getting past its greatest vogue, and only eight 
years later Pseudodoxia Epidetnica was to deal it blows all the more deadly because not 
unsympathetic. But it was still popular, and a grand set-off to many poetic ' Rascians '. 
Whiting is here pilfering from Greene's Pandosto ; a passage in the dedication runs, 
'The Rascians fright honourable) when by long gazing against the sun, they become 
half-blind, recover their sights by looking at the black loadstone. Unicorns, being 
glutted, by browsing on roots of liquorice, sharpen their stomachs with crashing 
bitter grass '. 

4 'swarfy' = swarthy. 

7 That * bitter ' would be hateful to others besides unicorns after a surfeit of liquorice 
may be easily admitted. ' Crash ' for ' crush ' or ' crunch ' in this sense is good, 

ir The book is badly printed — in hardly any of my texts have I had to alter more 
trivial misspellings. Here intelligent 'setting' would of course have made 'But' 
& separate line or fragment of line. 

23 age it] = ' throw it back in date '. 

( 43O 

Natha?iiel Whit'mg 

Nay, more, methinks I might unchidden 

You subject-object of this poem all ; 
And all in this acknowledgement may 

trim 41 

You pros'd this poem but 'twas vcrs'd 
by him 
Who styles himself your servant, 

N. \V. 

The Author's Apology. 

Our brains do travail with the selfsame 

We're Chaldces, Hebrews, Latins, 

Greeks, and yet 
But few pure Eiigiislnnen arc hipped 

in jet. 
We scorn our mother language and had 

Say Filter nostcr twice than once Our 

This makes our pulpits linsey-woolsey 

When buskined stages in stifT satin 

strut. 50 

Nay closvns can say, 'This parson knows 

enough ', 
But that his language does his know- 
ledge bloiii;h. 
Is it not time to polish then our Welsh 
When hinds ard peasants such invec- 
tives belch .'' 
Then English bravely study : 'tis no 

For grave divines to win an Plnglish 

I've heard a worthy man, approv'd for 

Say that in plays and rhymes we may 

be earning 
Both wit and knowledge : and that 

Outmusics Tully, if it 'scape the nose. 
Then purg'd from gall (ingenuous 

friends) peruse, 41 

And though you chide the author, spare 

the muse. 

N. W. 

42 Not bad for 'You gave the subject ' &c. 

The Authors Apology.^ 9 * Fragowr' for ' fragraftce^ is rare, and of course wrong — 
all the more so because it is right for 'crash '. But it had somehow got into Italian 
before it came thence into English. 

II This wonderful Whitingism is, I suppose, to be interpreted 'screws' ('scrues' 
in original), ' stamps for minting' ; obs and sols, oboli and solidi. 

14 ermine] =' parti-coloured '. 

20 ' Skew', orig. 'scue', is vivid for the great grand-paternal revulsion. 

33 ' N. W.' is not likely to have been ignorant of W. S. 

24-8 Browne, with a curious self-irony, had not long before said the same thing in 
Religio Medici. 

3a blough] =' hood-wink', 'muffle', as in Blount. Cf. Albino, 1. 309. 

40 the nose] The nasus aduiicus. 

( 433 ) 

Some rigid stoic will (I doubt not) 

A quipping censure at this wanton fruit. 
And say 1 better might have us'd my 

Than t' humour ladies and perfumed 

Know such that pamphlets, writ in 

metre, measure 
As much invention, judgement, wit, as 

All learning's not lock'd up in si's, and 

Roses, pinks, violets, as well as gums. 
Some native fragourhave to equal civet. 
Minerva does not all her treasures rivet 
Into the screws of obs and sols: but we 
Are sea-born birds, and as our pedigree 
Came sailing o'er from Normandy and 

Troy, 13 

So we must have our pretty ermine joy. 
One part Italian and of French the 

other ; 
Stout Belgia be her sire, and Spain her 

So our apparel is so strange and antic 
That our great grandsires sure would 

call us frantic. 
And, should they see us on our knees 

for blessing, 
They'd skew aside as frighted at our 

dressing. 20 

We pack so many nations up that we 
Wear Spain in waist, and France below 

the knee. 
Thus are our backs affected and indeed 

Commendatory Poems 

The Author to his Book. 

Go gall-less infant of my teeming quill, 

Not yet bedew'd in Syracusa's rill, 

And like a forward plover gadd'st abroad, 

Ere shell-free or before full age has strow'd 

On thy smooth back a coat of feathers, 

To arm thee 'gainst the force of weathers, 

Doom'd to the censure of aJl ages. 

Ere mail'd against the youngest rages. 

Perchance some nobles will thee view, 

Smile at thee, on thee, like thee new, 

Hut when white age has wrinkled thee, 

Will slight thy measures, laugh at me. 

At first view called pretty, 

And perchance styled witty, 

By some ladies, until thou 

VVearesr furrows on thy brow. 

Some plumed gallants may 

Unclasp thy leaves and say, 

Th'art mirthful, but ere long 

Give place unto a song. 

Some courteous scholar, 

Purg'd from all choler, 

May like, but at last, 

Say thou spoil'st his taste. 

First, lawyers will 

Commend thy skill, 

Last, throw thy wit 

With Trinit's writ. 


On their knee 

will thee praise, 

and tby bays. 

At first, 

till thirst 

of new 

death you, 

then all 

men shall 








This is thy doom, I by prophetic spirit 
Presage will be the guerdon of my 

merit : 
Vet be no burr, no trencher-fly, nor 

To fawn on them whose tongues thy 

measures wound. 

Nor beg those niggardb' eyes, who 

grudge to see 
A watch unwinded in perusing thee. 
And if state-scratchers do condemn thy 

For ruffling satins, and bespangled 

vests, 50 

Tht Atilhor to his Book."] Most of this wedge-shaped address is clear enough. But 
the reader must fit his own sense to '■Bee me' (11. 41-2). Whiting's fantastic wit was 
f|i!itc Plabakkukian in its possibilities. 

( 433 ) F f in 

Nathaniel Whiting 

Tell them they're cozen'd and in vain 

they puff, 
Thou neither aim'st at half-ell band or 

And if thy lines perchance some 

ermines gash, 
'Tis not thy fault, 'twas no intended 

Thy pencil limns Don Fuco's portrait- 
And only dost his native worth immure 
Within these ti.ic rinds : nor is thy rage 
Against the Cowlists of this youngest 

Thy rhymes cry Pax to all, nor dost 

thou scatter 
Abuses on their shrines, their saints, or 

water, 60 

And if some civil satire lash thee back, 
Because he reads my title, sees my 

Answer i' th' poet's phrase, and tell 

them more, 
My tale of years had scarce outsummed 

a score 
When my young fancy these light 

measures meant 
The press : but Fate since cancell'd 

that intent, 
Nor claim'd the Church as then a 

greater part 
In me than others, bate my title Art — 
But now the scene is changed? con- 

fess'd it is. 
Must we abjure all youth, bom, bury 

this .' 70 

Such closet death's desertless, in this 

Read not what now I am but then I 

was : 
In this reflection may the gravest see 
How true we suit— I this, and this with 

These thorns pick'd out whose venom 

might have bred 
A gangrene in thy reader, struck thee 


Thou mayst perhaps invited be to 

And have a brace of smiles t' approve 

thy sport. 
Those whose grave wisdoms wise do 

them entitle 
(Whose learned nods loud ignorance 

can stifle), 80 

Some of time's numbers on thy lines 

will scatter, 
If not call'd from thee by some higher 

Laugh out a rubber, like, and say 'tis 

For pleasure, youth, and leisure, whole- 
some food. 
Some jigging silk-canary, newly 

When he is crisped, bathed, oiled, per- 
(Which till the second chime will 

scarce be done). 
Upon thy feet will make his crystals 

Commend the author, vow him service 

But from such things his genius him 

deliver ! 90 

Some sleeked Nymphs of country, city, 

Will, next their dogs and monkeys, like 

thy sport ; 
Smile, and admire, and, wearied, will 

Lay thee to sleep encurtained in their 

Oh, happy thou ! who would not wish 

to be 
(To gain such dainty lodging) such, or 

Say, to please them, the poet under- 
To make thee, from a sheet, thrive to 

a book. 
And if he has to beauty giv'n a gem, 
He challengeth a deck of thanks from 

them: 100 

53 ' ermines ' here = ' peers or other persons of distinction '. 

57 ' tilic[k] ' = ' linden ', from the use of lime-tree baric for paper. 

58 Cowlists] Nothing to do (as I at first thought) with Cowley's early vogue, but 
one of Whiting's coinages, and frequently repeated infra, for ' monk'. Cf. 1. 1945. 

79-80 entitle— stifle] One of those assonances which we have seen frequently in 
Marmion, and which were among the rather too numerous licences of mid-seventeenth 
century prosody. 

88 ' crystals ' = eyes. 

100 deck] «=' pack ' as with cards. 

( 434 ) 

Com7nendatQry Poems 

And if some winning creature smile on 

She shall his L. and his Bellama be. 
Betwixt eleven and one some pro and 

Will snatch a fancy from thee and put 

A glove or ring of thine to court his 

'Twixt term and term when they are 

turn'd to grass. 
Some Titius will lay by his wax and 

And nim a phrase to bait his amorous 

But stay, I shall be chid, methinks I 

A censure spread its wings to reach my 

ear, 1 1 o 

Tell me I am conceited : then no more, 
Go take thy chance, I turn thee out o' 
th' door. 

Mart, ad lib. suum. Epig. 4 

Aetherias lascive cupis volt tare per 
/, fu^e, sed pater as iutior esse domi. 

Mart. lib. 4. 

Si vis auribus Aulicis probari, 
Exhortor moneoque te, libelle, 
Ut dodo placeas Apollinari, 
Nam si.pectore te ienebit ore. 
Nee ronchos ineiues matigniorum. 
Nee scombris tunicas dabis ?nolestas, 
Et cum carmina fioridis Catnoenis, 
Litesque gloriam canas poetum 
Nan est pollicevi capitis veraris. 

To his loving friend the Author. 

To laud thy muse, or thee to crown 
with praise. 

Is but to light my tapers to the rays 

Of gold-locked Phoebus : since the 

Of fabled truth, thy waking seeming 

Thy ever-living-loving fame in arts — 

Of arts, to us in whole and part imparts. 

In arts, thy judgement, phraSe, inven- 

Of arts, thy poet's vindication. 

In mourning elegies I admired thy skill, 

In mirthful lays we now admire thy 

quill. 10 

Let Albine, Bellame, by thee live in 

fame ; 
Riv'lezzo, Beldame Pazza, live in shame. 
Lash on and slash the vice of shaved 

In thy Bardino, nuns, and sylvan 

Give virtue beauty, beauty desert and 

And that thy monument of brass shall 


102 Whether * L.' stands merely for ' Love ', or whether the ' Signora Inconstanza' 
&c. bore the initial, or what else it means, one cannot say. Let us hope that Whiting's 
' L.' wore better than Sterne's. 

Mart. Lib. 4] This epigram, the 86th of the Book, is partly compressed, and the 
three final lines are different from those of the usual texts, which run : 

Si damnaverit, ad salariorum 
Curras scrinia protinus licebit, 
Inversa pueris arande charta. 

But I suppose Whiting did not choose to use evil words. 

To his Loving Friend?^ This anonymous commendator has dropped (hardly by 
intention) a foot in his third line. 

( 435 ) 

F f 2 

Nathaniel Whiting 

To the Reader. 

Reader take heed, complain not of 

the sting, 
Lest others of thy galled sores do sing. 
No faulty person, party, here is meant, 
Only the vice o' th' age and place is 

He that expounds it of himself doth 


Some guilty fault or vice from him doth 

If touch'd to th' quick, conceal and 

them amend, 
So 'gainst thee shall all scourging 
satires end. 

William Purifey, Rector 
Ecclesiae de Markejield, 

To his loving kinsman the Author. 

When first I view'd the travails of thy 

I lik'd, approv'd, admir'd thy nimble 

In sudden raptures, fancies, judgement, 

Invention, quickness, life, detraction, 
praise — 

So that I favour'd their conceit which 

The soul to be an harmony, and reign'd 

Amongst the senses with accounts and 

All which thy lofty poesy entreasures. 

That quaintest warblers cannot with 

Outworth the poet in his lyric height. 

As those which with quick eyes where 
judgement sits. 

Thy vindication of poetic wits 

Do read, may see, whose swelling 
metres teach 

Ail aliens such high English that to 

Is harder than to like or belch forth 

Witness thy journey, Somnus, Mor- 
pheus, sandals, 

The orbs, gods, muses, critics, accusa- 

The poet's names, employments, vin- 

These silenced my pen, it dared no 
more ; 

Till, voic'd by thy Bellame again, her 

Of suitors, one approv'd by friends, not 

her : 
Rivelezzo's wrath (wherein most 

parents err). 
Her grief, encloist'ring, entertainment 

Albino's heart and hers met in their 

Their whisp'ring dalliance, Piazzella's 

Bardino's falsehood, their affections 

Her disencloist'ring, and his nunning 

The nuns' thick bellies, his repentant 

His freedom, flight, encount'ring with 

his saint. 
His conjuration, prodigies, and plaint, 
The shepherd lout, Bellama's second 

His ghosting, coming from th' Elysian 

Their paries, his dis-enghosting, her 

His rage, her kindness, both their loves 

and trials, 
Conrad's immuring, Piazzella's fury. 
His freedom, Foppo and his monkish 

The lovers' ale-house cheer, bed, coarse 

The monks' strict quest, their finding, 

mirth, and quarrel. 
Their scape, fear, raddle, kinsman, and 

at length 

To the Reader."] 'William Purifey' at this date has an uncomfortable resemblance to 
William Pwr^/oy (1580- 1659) the regicide, who escaped meet guerdon by dying just 
h'^torc the Restoration. But he was a toyman and a Member of Parliament. 

( 436 ) 

Commendatory Poems 

Their nuptial tede, when malice lost its 
strength. 20 

How thou hast shown (dear coz) thy 
art in arts, 

Let them express who brag of abler 

Than I, which have a bigger part in 

Thy love, and blood, till being cease to 


John Whiting, 

Master of Arts, Clare Hall, Camb. 

Amico suo carissimo N. W. huius Poematis 
authori Collegii Reg[i]nalis Canta. in artibus 

Pan petat Arcadiam : Druides effun- 
dite cantus, 
Et iuvenes flores spargite, Bardus 
Tu qui struxisti memoranda trophaea 
Dicere multa tibi nescio, nolo nihil. 
Vota, preces, calamus, cor, carmen, 
singula, laudes 
An decus, ingenium, tua laus, tua facta, 
peribunt t 

Dignum laude virum musa perire 
Corpore defuncto te Candida musa 
Admiratur opus, primitiasque tuas. 
Fata, precor, faustae plectant tua 
stamina vitae 1 1 

Ut scribas opera plurima digna tua. 
Jacobus Bernard sacrosanctae 
& individuae Trinitatis Collegii 
in artibus magister. 

In Authorem, amicissimum suum, 

The privilege that pen and paper find 
'Mongst men falls short, reflecting to 

the mind. 
Virtue herself no other worth displays 
Than cank'red censure leaves behind, 

as rays. 
But mental cabonets are they that yield 
No forfeiture to batt'ring critics' shield. 
If thoughts might character deserts, I 

Challenge my pencil for the largest 

But when the vultures of our age must 

I'll cease for modesty, and say, 'tis law. 
It 's safer far to fail of debt than t' be 
Soaring in terms that badge of flattery. 
1 hate the name, and therefore freely 

give 1 3 

My verdict thus as may have power to 


'Gainst calumny. If wit and learniug 

Pass with applause, the author hath 

the day. 
Crown'd be those brows with ever- 
lasting bays, 
Whose worth a pattern is to future days. 
'Tis not a poem dropp'd from strength 

of grape. 
That's debtor to the wine's inspiring sap. 
He to himself alone. Cease urging, 

earth, 21 

The father w^U des'erve[s] so fair a 

And, if a witness may be lawful, then 
I'll undertake 't shall fear no vote of 

But wherein Art is bold itself to glor)' 
Is that which crowns the verge of 

Whiting's story. 


In Autliorem.'] 5 cabonets] Sic in orig. It is a possible form of ' cabinets ' (for v,^e 
have 'cabon'l, but in which particular sense of that word the reader must judge. 
That of a 'locked up', 'jealously guarded ' receptacle might do. 

22 ' Deserve' in orig. John Rosse, though less eccentric in phrase, is rather more 
obscure in sense than even his amicissimus. 

(437 ) 

Nathaniel Whiting 

To his Friend, a Panegyric upon his lovers, 
Albino and Bellama. 

Though I have vow'd a silence, and as 

ResolvM not to travel out in jet, 

Chiefly in print, yet your intending 

^Takes me my thoughts with courage, 
language, dress, 

With smooth-strain'd metre, that the 
world may know 

My strict engagements, and how much 
I owe 

To you your worth, which may com- 
mand a line 

From him which swears 'gainst all but 
what 's divine. 

The highness of your style, the quick- 
ness, life, 

Will in judicious readers raise a strife, 

( More than the ball amongst th' engod- 
dess'd three) 1 1 

Which gains the best, but all are best 

by me. 
Matchless in my conceit : add then to 

The neatness of your plots, and swear 

a please 
To the grim stoic and the satir'd brow 
Forceth delight, through strictness, 

neatness, vow, 
Grow abler still in fancy, imp thy quill. 
Write anything, if something, fear not 

If poesy be thus revenged by thy dream, 
How will it flourish when 'ts thy morn- 

ing theme 


Sleeping or waking, let us have thy 

And sleep and vigils shall admire thy 


I. Pickering. 


Sa. Baker. 

June 22, 1637. 

To his Friend.'] The extraordinary badness of the orthography in the original may be 
judged from its form for panegyric—' Panagericke ', which is, of course, mere ignorant 
setting from dictation, with no * reading' to correct. 

ir Does ' engoddeased ' occur elsewhere? If not, I think I. Pickering should score 
for it, though it does not apply very well to three actual goddesses. 

Imprimaiur.] Samuel Baker. Fellow of Christ's, Prebendary of St. Paul's, and 
Canon of Windsor and Canterbury, who was deprived of his preferments in the 
Rebellion, and seems not to have lived quite long enough to recover them. The reverse 
of the imprimatur leaf bears, in Professor Firth's copy, the inscription ' Ro' Tebbutt 
His Book 1779' — a date at which the Carolines were not usually appreciated, though 
their turn was coming. 

( 438 ) 




When British Isles — begirt with moist'ned sand, 
Neptune's blue palace, and the Triton's walk — 
Albania hight, her name who first did land 
Of all the sisters, or from rocks of chalk ; 

From sad oppression had unyok'd their necks, 

And paid obedience unto Adell's becks. 

Then, in those halcyon days of peace and joy, 

A virtuous lady, most transcendent creature, 

Fairer than her whose beauty cinder'd Troy — 

Grace deck'd her mind, her mind grace['d] her feature; lo 

So that each part made Helen out of date, 

And every grace a goddess could create. 

Virtue and beauty both in her did strive 
Which should in worth and grace surpass the other, 
Nor age of consistency, both did thrive 
Till this Dian' out-ray'd that Cupid's mother. 
Nay men, by beams of her clear beauty, might 
Scale Titan's chariot, and out-ray his light. 

'Mongst Nature's precious things we find a gem. 

Blushed and purpled o'er with amethysts, ao 

Which fiery carbuncles with sparkles hem. 

And which the em'ralds purest vert entwists. 

Meeting so well that lapidaries wist 

'Twas em'rald, carbuncle, and amethyst. 

So in this precious pair, pure Agathite, 

Aurora's purpling blush was clearly seen, 

Saba's bright rose, and Leda's swan-like white, — 

The true proportion of Adonis' queen — 
Blended so well, that in this curious frame 
Aurora, Saba, Leda, Venus came. 30 

6 In which of the various fancy Bruts ' Adell ' occurs I am not at the moment certain. 
Brydges, I suppose, deceived by Don Fuco, &c., oddly ' places the scene in Spain '. 

15 age of consistency] ='grow tired of existing together' — a Whitingism almost 
Brownist in character. 

35 ' Agathite '] ' Agath ' is a form of ' agate ' : is * agathite ' a coinage suggested by 
the blending of colours in the agate ? 

27 Saba] The Queen of Sheba. 

( 439 ) 

Nathaniel Whiting 

And as the honey-making waxen-thigh'd 
Inhabitants of Hybla's fragrant' vales, 
Whom only Nature's dim instinct does guide, 
Choose their commander with their tuneful hails, 
Pay homage, honour him, and fear his frowns, 
With same observance as the people crowns, — 

So, by the same instinct, the blushing rose 

Veil'd bonnet to her cheeks admired red, 

'I'he lilies to her bosom, brow, and nose. 

The Phoenix stripp'd herself to crown her head, , ^o 

The chirping choristers with willing choice 

Sat silent to admire her warbling voice. 
Perfum'd Arabia with her spice and gums 
Paid homage to the odours of her lips ; 
To her with fawning postures, licks, and hums 
The yellow lion and the tiger skips; 

Fire dares not scorch her face, nor winter chill her, 

And death himself looked pale when called to kill her. 

The amorous Sun, if she walk'd out by day, 

Would rein his jennets to behold her face; 50 

And, wrapt in admiration, by his stay 

Had rather melt the orbs than mend his pace; 

And if the middle air in walls of jet 

Enjail'd his beams, he thawed into wet. 

If in the reign of silent night abroad 
She rang'd, the Empress of the lowest sphere, 
Amazed at her perfections, left her road, 
And rang'd about where she appeared t' appear ; 
Nay, mourned in darkness if denied her sight, 
As when day's henchman does deny her light. 60 

The curled tapers of the firmament 

Did cease to twink, but gazed with fix^d eyes, 

In their own orb refusing to be pent, 

And strove to leap upon the lower skies ; 
Nay, did o' th' second air like comets hang. 
To dart their crisps at beauty's only spang. 

The sea-born planet popped out her lamp. 

And t' see herself outshin'd by her, did rage ; 

The marching war-god did remove his camp. 

With I this] fair lady curtain-war to wage ; 70 

Hermes by Jove being of an errand sent 

Stay'd on her face, in her embraces pent. 

50 rein] Orig. *veine'. But it must, as the little Errata paragraph at the end 
admits, be * rein '. All this may be extravagant, but it is poetry. 

61 ' The curled tapers of the firmament ' is not exactly contemptible, I fancy. 

66 Whiting must certainly have known his Shakespeare. ' Crisp' appears there 
nowhere as a noun, but its use here must almost certainly have been suggested by the 
• irisp heaven ' of Timon, iv. iii. 183. ' Spang ' is Baconian, and not uncommon. 

70 Orig. has * Lady Curtain ' and no ' tliis ' — a state of things which led me quite 
wrong at first. 

( 440 ) 

Albino and Bellama 

DuU-ag^d Saturn (on whose sullen brow 
Ne'er dwelt a smile since Jove usurp'd his crown) 
To gaze on her his weighty head did bow, 
And with a smile unplaited every frown : 

Nay, Jove himself descended from his chair 

To take a full survey of this — this fair. 

And more, her winning looks dispersed such charms, 

All eyes commanding and all hearts surprising, 80 

That Venus bade her son provide him arms, 

Fearing his setting by this bright star's rising : 

For, though men say Love's eyes are more than dim, 

Yet her fair beauty did enlighten him. 

But with entreaties he had beat the air, 

And on the tawny moor his waters cast. 

For having pow'r to conquer,, being fair, 

Sh'ad pow'r not to be conquer'd, being chaste ; 
So that his amorous sleights and winged arrow 
Could not have oped her breast or pierced her marrow. 90 

This Phoenix was Bellama called (a word 
Well suiting her deserts), she daughter was 
And heir-apparent to a wealthy lord, 
Who had more acres than an acre grass : 

He loved his lands, and hugg-ed his minted treasure, 

Yet his Bellama was his soul of pleasure. 

His place of residence was in a chase 

Chequered with thick-grown thorns and sturdy oaks, 

Wherein majestic stags and bucks did pace 

That scorned the hounds, and dared the barbed strokes; 100 

'Twas called Rivelount, not distant far 

From Starley, of that shire the metro-star. 

The neighbouring swains were palled with coaches' thunder, 

And loud curvettings of their foaming steeds, 

Whose ironed hoofs did crash the rocks in sunder; 

Happy was he, who (sheathed in costly weeds) 
Could win admission to this happy place, 
Where Nature's wealth was locked up in a face. 

Each glance she sent the object did engem. 

And he that won a smile possessed a mine; no 

A hair was prized at a diadem, 

A ribbon made the[m] tread the ecliptic line; 

A ring outface a thunder, but a kiss 

Was the elixir, heart, and soul of bliss. 

Some of their lands, some of their valours spoke, 

Some, of their falcons and their merry bells ; 

Some read the price of such a suit and cloak, 

And one of hounds and running horses tells ; 
All speak of something, yet but few with wit, 
All aimed at wise, yet few could purchase it. 12c 

( 441 ) 

Nathaniel Whiting 

Some spake in oaths, as if they thought the earth 

Was peopled o'er with faithless infidels ; 

Another swore, because he feared a dearth 

Of other language, yet in oaths excels : 
All swear enough, and he that did it least 
Might be grand swearer at Ven-Bacchus feast. 

Others there were that could not bigly prate, 

Who did their evidences bring with them ; 

One brought his halls to plead, one his estate, 

This brought a watch to court, and that a gem ; 13C5 

One brought a large descent [in] white and black, 
Which [he] derived from old Pergam's sack. 

One brought a reverent sire, whom he called father, 

To be