M
W ( i[ JLIAM BRUMMO I
ofHawthornden .
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'
T H
'POEMS
O Jf
WILLIAM DRUMMOND,
O F
H A W T H O R N D E N.
-Dignum laude •virum Mufa vet at inor',
Caf/o Mufa beat.
HOR. lib. iv, od. X,
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR J. JEFFERT, PALL-MALL.
M. DCC.XC.
SHORT ACCOUNT
OF THE
LIFE AND WRITINGS
OF
THE AUTHOR.
%* The following account of DRUMMOND has lately-
appeared, in a work privately printed, intitled,
" Curfory Remarks on fome of the Ancient Englifli
Poets, particularly MILTON ;" and is here inferted by
permiflion of the Author.
AMONG all the writers, at the beginning of the
lad century, who flourifhed after the death of
Shakefpeare, there is not one whom a general reader
of the Englifh poetry of that age will regard with
fo much, and fo deferred attention, as WILLIAM
DRUMMOND. He was born at Hawthornden in
Scotland, in 1585 ; and was the fon of Sir John
Drummond, who, for ten or twelve years, was
A 2 ufher,
E '» 3
ufher, and afterwards knight of the black-rod, to
James VI.
His family became firil diflinguifhed by the mar
riage of Robert III. whofe queen was filter to
William Drummond of Carnock, their anceftor, as
appears by the patents of that king, and James I.; the
one calling him " our brother," the other, " our
uncle."
Drummond was educated at Edinburgh, where he
took the degree of A. M. In 1 606 he was fent by
his father to ftudy civil law, at Bourges in France ;
but, having no tafte for the profeffion of a lawyer,
he returned to Hawthornden, and there applied
himfelf with great affiduity to claflical learning and
poetry.
Having propofed to marry a lady, to whom retire
ment and her own accomplishments had entirely at
tached him, and who died after the day of marriage
was, appointed, he again quitted his native country,
and refided eight years on the Continent, chiefly at
Rome and Paris.
In 1620 he married Margaret Logan, a grand
daughter of Sir Robert Logan, by whom he had
feveral children ; the eldeft of whom, William, was
knighted by Charles II.
He fpent very little time in England, though he
correfponded frequently with Dray ton and Ben Jon-
fon ; the latter of. whom had fo great refpeft for his
abilities, and fo ardent a defire to fee him, that, at
the age of forty-five, he walked to Hawthornden to
him.
Having
Having been grafted, as it were, on the royal
family of Scotland, and upheld by them, he was j.
fteady royalift in the troubles of Charles I. but does
not appear ever to have armed for him. As he had
always been a laborious ftudent, and had applied
himfelf equally to hiftory and politics as to claflical
learning, his ferviccs were better rendered by occa-
fional publications, in which he feveral times dillin-
guifhed himfelf.
His attachment to that king and his caufe was fo
ftrong, that, when he heard of the fentence being
executed on him, he was overwhelmed with grief,
and lifted his head no more.
He died in 1649.
In a furvey of Drummond's poetry, two confidera-
tions mud be had, viz. — the nation of which he was,
and the time when he wrote. Yet will thefe be
found not offered to extenuate faults, but to increafe
admiration. His thoughts are often, nay generally,
bold and highly poetical ; he follows nature ; and his
verfes are delicately harmonious.
On the death of Henry prince of Wales, in 1612,
Drummond wrote an elegy intitled, " Tears on the
Death of MocKadcs ;" a name which that prince had
ufed in all his challenges of martial fport, as the ana
gram of " Miles a Deo." In this poem are lines, ac
cording to Denham's terms, as ftrong, as deep, as
gentle, and as full, as any of his or Waller's. The
poet laments the fate of the prince, that he died not
in fome glorious caufe of war. " Againft the Turk/'
2 he
he fays, " thou hadft ended thy life and the Chriftian
*' war together :
Or, as brave Bourbon, thou hadft made old Rome,
Queen of the world, thy triumph and thy tomb.
Of the lamentation of the river Forth,
And, as (he rufti'd her Cyclades among,
She fccm'd to plain that heav'n had done her wrong.
Further,
Tagus did court his love with golden ftreams,
Rhine with her towns, fair Seine with all (he claims ;
But ah, poor lovers ! death did them betray,
And) unfufpedled, made their hopes his prey.
And concludes,
The virgins to thy tomb will garlands bear
Of flow'rs, and with each flow'r let fall a tear.
Moeliades fweet courtly nymphs deplore,
From Thule to Hydafpes' pearly fhorc.
Perhaps there are no lines in Pope, of which the eafy
flow may be more juftly admired than of thofe in hii
third paftoral :
Not bubbling fountains to the thirfty fwain»
Not balmy deep to lab'rers faint with painj
Not (how'rs to larks, or funfhinc to the bee*
Are half fo charming as thy fight to me.
When king James, firft after his acceffion to the
Englim throne, returned to Scotland in 1617, his
at rival was celebrated by every effort of poetical con-
3 gratulatioM*
[ vii ]
gratulation. Upon this occafion Drummond com-
pofed a panegyric, intitled The Wandering Mufes,
or The River of Forth Feafling, in which are found
four lines apparently imitated by Pope in the above
paflagc, and which do not, in point of harmony,
fall much fhort of that imitation. He fays,
To virgins, flow'rs ; to funburnt carthi the rain ;
To mariners, fair winds amidft the main ;
Cool (hades to pilgrims whom hot glances burn,
Are not fo pleafing as thy bleft return.
Of thefe two poems of Drummond, it is obfervable,
that the firil was written in 1612, the lafl in 1617;
The earlieft piece of Waller is that to the King on
his navy, in 162$. The piece in which Sir John
Denham's greateft force lies, Cooper's Hill, was not
written till 1640. The harmony of Drummond,
therefore, at a time when thofe, who are ufually called
the firft introducers of a fmooth and polifhed veriifica-
tion, had not yet begun to write, is an honour to
him that mould never be forgotten. Nor is his ex
cellence half enough praifed or acknowledged.
DRUMMOND and PETRARCA had this in common,
that each lamented, firft the cruelty, and then the
lofs of his miftrefs: fo that their Sonnets are alike
naturally divided into two parts ; thofe before, and
thofe after, their feveral miftrefTes deaths. It may
Jttftly be doubted that, among all the fonneteers in
the Englifh language, any one is to be preferred to
Drummond. He has (hewn, in fome of thefe com-
pofitions, nearly the fpirit of Petrarca himfelf.
The
[ viii ]
The feventli fonnet, of the firft part, has much rc-
femblance to Sir Henry Wotton's elegant little poem,
on the Queen of Bohemia, Te meaner beauties, £ffr.
Among Drummond's Flowers of Sion, the poem
which begins, Amuijl the azure clear — Of Jordan's
f acred Jtreams, eminently diftinguifhes him, whether
he be confidered as a philofopher, or a poet.
THE
POEMS
O F
WILLIAM DRUMMOND.
B
OEMS.
THE FIRST PART.
SONNET.
TN my firft prime, when chtldifh humours fed
*- My wanton wit, ere J did know the blifs
Lies in a loving eye, or amorous kifs,
tOr with what fighs a lover warms his bed ;
By the fweet Thefpian fitters' error led,
I had more mind to read, than lov'd to write,
And fo to praife a perfeft red and white ;
But (God wot) knew not what was in my head.
Love fmil'd to fee me take fo great delight,
To turn thofe antiques of the age of gold,
And that I might more myfteries behold,
He fet fo fair a volume to my fight,
That I Ephemerides laid afide,
Glad on this blufhing book my death to read.
B2 SONNET.
THE POEMS OF
SONNET.
I KNOW that all beneath the moon decays,
And what by mortals in this world is brought
In time's great periods fliall return to nought ;
That faireft ftates have fatal nights and days.
I know that all the Mufes' heavenly lays,
With toil of fprite, which are fo dearly bought,
As idle founds, of few, or none are fought,
That there is nothing lighter than vain praife.
I know frail beauty's like the purple flow'r,
To which one morn oft birth and death affords,
That love a jarring is of mind's accords,
Where fenfe and will bring under reafon's power :
Know what I lift, this all cannot me move,
But that, alas, I both muft write and love.
SONNET.
YE who fo curioufly do paint your thoughts,
Enlightening ev'ry line in fuch a guife,
That they feem rather to have fall'n from fkies,
Than of a human hand by mortal draughts :
In one part Sorrow fo tormented lies,
As if his life at ev'ry figh would part ;
Love here blindfolded flands with bow and dart,
There Hope looks pale, Defpair with flaming eyes :
Of
JOHN DRUMMOND. 5
Of my rude pencil look not for fuch art,
My wit I find too little to devife
So high conceptions to exprefs my fmart ;
And fome fay love is feign'd that's too too wife.
Thefe troubled words and lines confus'd you find
Are like unto their model, my fick mind.
SONNET.
AH me, and I am now the man whofe mufe
In happier times was wont to laugh at Lore,
And thofe who fuffer'd that blind boy's abufe,
The noble gifts were given them from above.
What metamorphofe flrange is this I prove ?
Myfclf now fcarce I find myfelf to be,
And think no fable Circe's tyranny,
And all the tales are told of changed Jove :
Virtue hath taught with her philofophy
My mind unto a better courfe to move :
Reafon may chide her full, and oft reprove
Affection's power ; but what is that to me,
Who ever think, and never think on aught
But that bright cherubin which thralls my thought:
SONNET.
HOW that vaft heaven intitlcd Firft is roll'tf,
If any glancing towers beyond it be,
And people living in eternity,
Or Effencc pure that doth this All uphold :
What motion have thofe fixed fparks of gold,
B 3 The
$ THE POEMS OP
The wandering carbuncles which mine from high,
By fprites, or bodies crofs-ways in the fky,
If they be turn'd, and mortal things behold :
How fun pofts heaven about, how night's pale
queen
With borrow'd beams looks on this hanging round ;
What caufe fair Iris hath, and monfters feen
In air's large fields of light, and feas profound,
Did hold my wand'ring thoughts ; when thy
fweet eye
Bade me leave all, and only think on thee.
SONNET.
TV* AIR is my yoke, though grievous be my pains,
•*• Sweet are my wounds, although they deeply
fmart,
My bit is gold, though fhorten'd be the reins,
My bondage brave, though I may not depart ;
Although I burn, the fire which doth impart
Thofe flames, fo fweet reviving force contains,
That like Arabia's bird my walled heart,
Made quick by death, more lively {till remains.
I joy, though oft my waking eyes fpend teajs,
I never want delight, even when I groan,
Beft 'companied when moil I am. alone,
A heaven of hopes I have midft hells of fears :
Thus every way contentment ftrange I find,
But moil in her rare beauty, my rare mind.
SONNET.
JOHN DRUMMOND.
SONNET.
TTAUNT not, fair heavens, of your two glo
rious lights,
Which though mod bright, yet fee not when they
mine,
And fhining, cannot fhow their beams divine
Both in one place, but part by days and nights.
Earth vaunt not of thofe treafures ye enfhrine,
Held only dear, becaufe hid from our fights,
Your pure and burnifh'd gold, your diamonds fine,
Snow-palling ivory that the eye delights.
Nor feas, of thofe dear wares are in you found
Vaunt not, rich pearl, red coral, which do flir
A fond defire in fools to plunge your ground ;
Thefe all more fair are to be had in her :
Pearl, ivory, coral, diamond, funs, gold,
Teeth, neck, lips, heart, eyes, hair are to behold.
SONNET.
TXT HEN Nature now had wonderfully wrought
All Auriflclla's parts, except her eyes,
To make thofe twins two lamps in beauty's fkies,
She counfel of her ftarry fenate fought.
Mars and Apollo firft did her advife,
To wrap in colour black thofe comets bright,
That Love him fo might foberly difguife,
And unperceived wound at every fight.
B 4 Chafte
i THE POEMS OF
Chaile Phoebe fpake for purefl azure dyes ;
But Jove and Venus green about the light,
To frame thought beft, as bringing moft delight,
That to pin'd hearts hope might for aye arife :
Nature, all faid, a paradife of green
There plac'd, to make all love which have them
feen.
SONNET.
NOW while the Night her fable veil hath fpread,
And filently her refty coach doth roll,
Rouzing with her from Thetis' azure bed,
Thofe ftarry nymphs which dance about the pole ;
While Cynthia, in pureft cyprefs clad,
The Latmian ihepherd in a trance defcries,
And looking pale from height of all the lkies>
•She dyes her beauties in a bluming red ;
While fleep, in triumph, clofed hath all eyes,
And birds and beafts a filence fweet do keep,
And Proteus' monftrous people in the deep,
The winds and waves, hufh'd up, to reft entice ;
I wake, I turn, I weep opprefs'd with pain,
Perplex'd in the meanders of my brain.
SONNET.
OLEEP, Silence' child, fweet father of foft reft,
^ Prince vvhofe approach peace to all mortal^
brings,
Indifferent hoil to fhepherds and to kings,
Sole
JOHN DRUMMOND. 9
Sole comforter of minds which are opprefs'd ;
Lo, by thy charming rod, all breathing things
Lie flumb'ring, with forgetfulnefs pofiefs'd,
And yet o'er me to fpread thy drowfy wings
Thou fpar'ft, alas ! who cannot be thy gueft.
Since I am thine, O come, but with that face
To inward light, which thou art wont to mew,
With feigned folace eafe a true felt woe ;
Or if, deaf god, thou do deny that grace,
Come as thou wilt, and what thou wilt bequeath,
I long to kifs the image of my death.
SONNET.
T^AIR Moon, who with thy cold and filver mine
Mak'ft fweet the horror of the dreadful night,
Delighting the weak eye with fmiles divine,
Which Phoebus dazzles with his too much light ;
Bright queen of the firft heaven, if in thy fhrine
By turning oft, and Heaven's eternal might,
Thou haft, not yet that once fweet fire of thine,
Endemion, forgot, and lovers' plight ;
If caufe-like thine may pity breed in thee,
And pity fomewhat elfe to it obtain,
Since thou haft power of dreams as well as he
That holds the golden rod and moral chain ;
Now while (he fleeps, in doleful guife her mow
Thefe tears, and the black map of all my woe.
SONNET.
10 THE POEMS OF
SONNET.
T AMP of heaven's cryftal hall that brings the
•" hours,
Eye-dazzler, who makes the ugly night
At thy approach fly to her flumb'ry bowers,
And fills the world with wonder and delight ;
Life of all lives, death-giver by thy flight
To the fouth pole from thefe fix figns of ours,
Goldfmith of all the ftars, with filver bright
Who moon enamels, Apelles of the flowers :
Ah from thofe wat'ry plains thy golden head
Raife up, and bring the fo long ling'ring morn ;
A grave, nay hell, I find become this bed,
This bed fo grievoufly where I am torn :
But wo is me though thou now brought the day,
Day mail but ferve more forrows to difplay.
SONG.
TT was the time when to our northern pole
The brighteft lamp of heaven begins to roll,
When Earth more wanton in ftew robes appeareth,
And fcorning ikies her flowers in rainbows beareth,
On
JOHN DRUMMOND. ,,
On which the air moift diamonds doth bequeath,
Which quake to feel the kifiing Zephyrs breath ;
When birds from fhady groves their love forth
warble,
And fea-like heaven looks like fmootheft marble.
When I in fimple courfe, free from all cares
Far from the muddy world's enflaving fnares,
By Ora's flow'ry banks alone did wander ;
Ora, that fports her like to old Meander,
A flood more worthy fame and lafting praife
Than that fo high which Phaeton's fall did raife ;
By whofe pure moving glafs the milk-white lilies
Do drefs their trefles and the daffodilies ;
Where Ora with a wood is crown'd about,
And (feems) forgets the way how to come out,
A place there is, where a delicious fountain
Springs from the fwelling breaft of a proud mountain,
Whofe falling ftreams the quiet caverns wound,
And make the echoes fhrill refound that found.
The laurel there the mining channel graces,
The palm her love with long ftretch'd arms embraces,
The poplar fpreads her branches to the fky,
And hides from fight that azure canopy.
The ftreams the trees, the trees their leaves ilill
nourifh,
That place grave Winter finds not without flourim.
If living eyes Elyfian fields could fee,
This little Arden might Elyfium be.
Oft did Diana there herfelf repofe,
And Mars the Acidalian queen enclofe.
The
tz THE POEMS OF
The nyfnphs oft here their bafkets bring with
flow'rs,
And anadems weave for their paramours ;
The fatyrs in thofe (hades are heard to languifh,
And make the fhepherds partners of their anguifh,
The fhepherds who in barks of tender trees
Do grave their loves, difdains, and jealoufies ;
Which Phillis, when thereby her flocks (he feedeth,
With pity now, anon with laughter readeth.
Near to this place when Sun in midft of day
In higheft top of heaven his coach did flay,
And (as advifing) on his career glanced
As all along, that morn he had advanced,
His panting fteeds along thofe fields of light,
Moil princely looking from that glorious height :
When moil the grafhoppers are heard in meadows,
And loftieft pines or fmall, or have no ihadows :
It was my hap, O woful hap ! to bide
Where thickeil fhades me from all rays did hide,
In a fair arbour, 'twas fome fylvan's chamber,
Whofe ceiling fpread was with the locks of amber
Of new bloom'd fycamores, floor wrought with
flow'rs,
More fweet and rich than thofe in princes' bow'rs.
Here Adon bluih'd, and Clitia all amazed
Look'd pale, with him who in the fountain gazed ;
The amaranthus fmil'd, and that fweet boy
Which fometime was the god of Delos' joy :
The brave carnation, fpeckled pink here fhin'd,
The violet her fainting head declined
Beneath
JOHN DRUMMOND. 13
Beneath a fleepy chafbow, all of gold
The marigold her leaves did here unfold.
Now while that, raviuYd with delight and bonder,
Half in a trance I lay thofe arches under,
The feafon, filence, place, began t' entice,
Eyes' drowfy lids to bring night on their ikies,
Which foftly having flolen themfelves together
(Like evening clouds) me placM I wot not whi
ther.
As cowards leave the fort which they mould keep,
My fenfes one by one gave place to Sleep,
Who followed with a troop of golden (lumbers,
Thruft from my quiet brain all bafe encumbers,
And thrice me touching with his rod of gold,
A heaven of vifions in my temples roll'd,
To countervail thofe pleafures were bereft me,
Thus in his filent prifon clos'd he left me.
Methought through all the neighbour woods a
noife
Of chorifters, more fweet than lute or voice,
( For thofe harmonious founds to Jove are given
By the fwift touches of the nine-ftring'd heaven,
Such airs, and nothing elfe) did wound mine ear,
No foul but would become all ear to hear :
And whilft I lift'ning lay, O lovely wonder !
I faw a plcafant myrtle cleave afunder ;
A myrtle great with birth, from whofe rent womb
Three naked nymphs more white than fnow forth
come.
FOP
i4 THE POEMS OF
For nymphs they feem'd ; about their heavenly faces
In waves of gold floated their curling trefies ;
About their arms, their arms more white than milk,
They blufhing armlets wore of crimfon filk.
The goddefTes were fuch that by Scamander
Appeared to the Phrygian Alexander :
Aglaia and her fitters fuch perchance
Be when about fome facred fpring they dance,
But fcarce the grove their naked beauties graced,
And on the verdure had each other traced,
When to the flood they ran, the flood in robes
Of curling cryftal their breafts' ivory globes
Did all about encircle, yet took pleafure
To fhew white fnows throughout her liquid azure.
Look how Prometheus' man, when heavenly fire
Firft gave him breath, day's Brandon did admire,
And wonder'd at this world's amph'theatre :
;So gaz'd I on thofe new gueils of the water.
All three were fair, yet one excell'd as far
The reft as Phoebus doth the Cyprian ftar,
Or diamonds, fmall gems, or gems do other,
Or pearls that mining fhell is call'd their mother.
Her hair, moie bright than are the morning's
beams,
Hung in a golden mower above the ftreams,
And dangling fought her forehead for to cover,
Which feen did flraight a fky of milk difcover,
With two fair brows, Love's bows, which never
bend
But that a gojden arrow forth they fend ;
Beneath
JOHN DRUMMOND. iS
Beneath the which two burning planets glancing
Flafh'd flames of love, for Love there ftill is
dancing.
Her either cheek refembled blufhing morn,
Or rofes gules in field of lilies borne ;
'Twixt which an ivory wall fo fair is raifed,
That it is but abafed when it's praifed.
Her lips like rows of coral foft did fwell,
And th' one like th* other only doth excel :
The Tyrian fifh looks pale, pale look the rofes,
The rubies pale, when mouth fweet cherry clofes.
Her chin like filver Phoebe did appear
Dark in the midfl to make the reft more clear :
Her neck feem'd fram'd by curious Phidias mailer*
Moil fmooth, moil white, a piece of alabailer.
Two foaming billows flow'd upon her breaft,
Which did their tops with coral red increfl :
There all about as brooks them fport at leifure,
With circling branches veins did fwell in azure :
Within thofe crooks are only found thofe ifles
Which fortunate the dreaming old world ililes.
The reft the ilreams did hide, but as a lily
Sunk in a cryftal's fair tranfparent belly.
I who yet human weaknefs did not know,
(For yet I had not felt that archer's bow,
Nor could F think that from the coldeft water
The winged youngling burning flames could fcatter)
On every part my vagabonding fight
Did caft, and drown mine eyes in fweet delight.
O wondrous
i6 THE POEMS OF
O wondrous thing (faid I) that beauty 's nam'd !
Now I perceive I heretofore have dream'd,
And never found in all my flying days
Joy unto this, which only merits praife.
My pleafures have been pains, my comforts croJTes,
My treafure poverty, my gains but lofTes.
0 precious fight ! which none doth elfe defcry
Except the burning fun, and quivering I.
And yet, O dear-bought fight ! O would for ever
1 might enjoy you, or had joy'd you never !
O happy flood ! if fo ye might abide,
Yet ever glory of this moment's pride,
Adjure your rillets all for to behold her,
And in their cryflal arms to come and fold her :
And fince ye may not long this blifs embrace,
Draw thoufand portraits of her on your face,
Portraits which in my heart be more apparent,
If like to yours my breaft but were tranfparent.
O that I were, while me doth in you play,
A dolphin to tranfport her to the fea !
To none of all thofe gods I would her render,
From Thule to Inde though I ihould with her
wander.
Oh ! what is this ? the more I fix mine eye,
Mine eye the more new wonders doth efpy,
The more I fpy, the more in uncouth fafhion
My foul is ravifli'd in a pleafant paflion.
But look not eyes — As more I would have faid,
A found of rattling wheels me all difmay'd,
And
JOHN DRUMMOND* 17
And with the found forth from the trembling bufhes,
With florin-like courfe a fumptuous chariot rufhcs,
A chariot all of gold, the wheels were gold,
The nails, and axle gold on which it roll'd :
The upmoft part a fcarlet veil did cover,
More rich than Danae's lap fpread with her lover.
In midft of it in a triumphant chair,
A lady fate miraculoufly fair,
Whofe penfive countenance, and looks of honour,
Do more allure the mind that thinketh on her,
Than the moil wanton face, and amorous eyes,
That Amathus or flow'ry Paphos fees ;
A crew of virgins made a ring about her,
The diamond me, they feem the gold without her.
Such Thetis is, when to the billows roar
With mermaids nice (he danceth on the more :
So in a fable night, the fun's bright fifter
Among the leffer twinkling lights doth glitter.
I«':iir yokes of ermilines, whofe colours pafs
Thf whiteft fnows on aged Grampius' face,
More i'wift than Venus' birds this chariot guided
To the attoniuYd bank, where as it bided :
But long it did not bide, when poor thofe ftreams
( Ah me ! ) it made, tranfporting thofe rich gems,
And by that burthen lighter, fwiftly drived
Till (as me thought) it at a tow'r arrived :
Upon a rock of cryftal mining clear
With diamonds wrought this cattle did appear,
Whofe riling fpJres of gold fo high them reared,
That, Atlas-like, it feem'd the heaven they beared.
C Amdft.
jS THE POEMS OF
Amidft which heights on arches did arife
(Arches which gilt flames brandifh to the ikies)
Of fparkling topazes, proud, gorgeous, ample,
(Like to a little heaven) a facred temple.
The walls no windows have, nay all the wall
Is but one window, night there doth not fall
More when the fun to weftern worlds declineth,
Than in our zenith when at noon he mineth.
Two flaming hills the paflage itrait defend
Which to this radiant building doth afcend,
Upon whofe arching tops on a pilafler
A port Hands open, rais'd in love's difafter ;
For none that narrow bridge and gate can pafs,
Who have their faces feen in Venus' glafs.
If thofe within but to come forth do venture,
That ftately place again they never enter.
The precincYs ftrengthen'd with a ditch of fears,
In which doth fwell a lake of inky years
Of madding lovers, who abide their moaning,
And thicken e'en the air with piteous groaning.
This hold to brave the flues the Deft'nies fram'd,
And then the fort of chaftity is nam'd.
The queen of the third heaven once, to appal it,
The god of Thrace here brought, who could not
thrall it ;
For which he vow'd ne'er arms more to put on,
And on Riphean hills was heard to groan.
Here Pfyche's lover hurls his darts at randon,
Which all for nought him ferve, as doth his brandon.
What
JOHN DRUMMOND. «*
What grievous agony did invade my mind,
When in that place my hope I faw confin'd,
Where with high tow 'ring thoughts I only reach'd
her!
Which did burn up their wings when they approach'd
her.
Methought I fat me by a cyprefs made,
And night and day the hyacinth there read ;
And that bewailing nightingales did borrow
Plaints of my plaint, and forrows of my forrow.
My food was wormwood, mine own tears my drink,
My reft, on death and fad mimaps to think.
And for fuch thoughts to have my heart enlarged,
And eafe mine eyes with briny tribute charged,
Over a brook I laid my pining face :
But then the brook, as griev'd at my difgrace,
A face me fliew'd fo pin'd, fad, overclouded,
That at the fight afraid mine eyes them fhrouded.
This is thy guerdon, Love, this is the game,
In end which to thy fervants doth remain.
More would I fay ; when fear made fleep to leave m<r,
And of thofe fatal fhadows did bereave me ;
But ah, alas ! inftead to dream of love,
And woes, I now them in effect did prove :
For what into my troubled brain was painted,
Awak'd I found that time and place prefented.
Cz SONNET.
THE POEMS OF
SONNET.
A H burning thoughts, now let me take fome reft,
And your tumultuous broils awhile appeafe :
Is't not enough, ftars, fortune, love moleft
Me all at once, but ye muft too difpleafe ?
Let hope (though falfej yet lodge within my breaft,
My high attempt (though dangerous) yet praife :
What though I trace not right heaven's fteepy ways,
It doth fuffice my fall mail make me bleft.
I do not doat on days, I fear not death,
So that my life be good, I wifh't not long ;
Let me renown'd live from the worldly throng,
And when Heaven lifts, recal this borrow'd breath.
Men but like vifions are, time all doth claim,
He lives who dies to win a lafting name.
SONNET.
HPHAT learned Grecian who did fo excel
In knowledge paffing fenfe, that he is nam'd
Of all the after world Divine, doth tell
That all the time when firft our fouls are fram'd,
Ere in thefe manfions blind they come to dwell,
They live bright rays of that Eternal Light,
And others fee, know, love, in heaven's great height,
Not toil'd with aught 'gainft reafon to rebel.
It
JOHN DRUMMOND. 2,
It is moft tnic, for flraight at the firft fight
My mind me told that in fome other place
It elfewhere faw th' idea of that face,
And lov'd a love of heavenly pure delight.
What wonder now I feel fo fair a flame,
Since I her lov'd ere on this earth me came ?
SONNET.
R Arne, nor Mincius, nor {lately Tiber,
Sebethus, nor the flood into whofe ftreams
He fell who burnt the world with borrowed beams,
Gold-rolling Tagus, Munda, famous Iber,
Sorgue, Rhone, Loire, Garron, nor proud-banked
Seine,
Peneus, Phafis, Xanthus, humble Ladon,
Nor fhe whofe nymphs excel her loved Adon,
Fair Tamefis, nor Ifler large, nor Rhine,
Euphrates, Tigris, Indus, Hermus, Gange,
Pearly Hydafpes, ferpent-like Meander,
The flood which robbed Hero of Leander,
Nile that fo far his hidden head doth range,
Have ever had fo rare a caufe of praife,
As Ora where this northern phoenix flays.
C 3 SONNET.
THE POEMS OF
SON N E T.
PO bear my plaints, fair river cryftallinef
•*• Thou in a filent /lumber feem'ft to ftay ;
Delicious flowers, lily and columbine,
Ye bow your heads when I my woes difplay ;
Forefts, in you the myrtle, palm and bay,
Have had companion, lift'ning to my groans j
The winds with fighs have folemniz'd my moans
JMong leaves, which whifper'd what they could not
fay ;
The caves, the rocks, the hills, the fylvans*
thrones,
(As if even pity did in them appear)
Have at my forrow rent their ruthlefs ftones :
Each thing I find hath fenfe except my dear,
Who doth not think I love, or will not know
My grief, perchance delighting in my woe.
SONNET.
WEET brcok, in whofe clear cryftal I my eyes
Have oft feen great in labour of their tears ;
Enamell'd bank, whofe mining gravel bears
Thefe fad chara&ers of my miferies ;
High woods, whofe mountain-tops menace the fpheres>
Wild citizens, Amphions of the trees,
You gloomy groves at hotteft noons which freeze,
Elyfian fhades which Phcebus never clears ;
Vafl
JOHN DRUMMOND. *j
Vaft folitary mountains, pleafant plains,
Embroider'd meads that ocean-ways you reach ;
Hills, dales, fprings, all whom my fad cry con-
ftrains
To take part of my plaints, and learn woe's fpeech,
Will that remorfelefs fair e'er pity mow ?
Of grace now anfwer if ye aught know : No.
SONNET.
\7J7ITH flaming horns the bull now brings the
year,
Melt do the mountains, rolling floods of fnow,
The filver rivers in fmooth channels flow,
The late bare woods green anadems do wear ;
The nightingale, forgetting winter's woe,
Calls up the la/y morn her notes to hear ;
Spread are thofe flow'rs which names of princes bear.
Some red, fome azure, white, and golden grow,
Here lows a heifer, there bewailing ftrays
A harmlefs lamb, not far a Hag rebounds ;
The fhepherds fing to grazing flocks fweet lays,
And all about the echoing air refounds.
Hills, dales, woods, floods, ev'ry thing dc/th
change,
But me in rigour, Tin love am ilrange.
SON'XET.
z4 THE POEMS OF
SONNET.
I fa flenderly fet forth my mind,
Writing I know not what in ragged rhymes,:
O'ercharg'd with brafs in thefe fo golden times,
When others tow'r fo high, I'm left behind :
I crave not Phoebus leave his facred cell,
To bind my brows with frefh Aonian bays ;
But leav 't to thofe who tuning fweeteft lays
By Tempe iit, or Aganippe's well ;
Nor yet to Venus' tree do I afpire,
Since me for whom I might affe6t that praife,
My beft attempte with cmel words gainfays,
And I feek not that others me admire.
Of weeping myrrh the crown is which I crave,
• With a fad cyprefs to adorn my grave.
M A D R I G A L..
HEN as (he fmiles I find
More light before mine eyes,
Than when the fun from Inde
Brings to our world a flow'ry paradife :-
But when me gently weeps,
And pours forth pearly mowers,
On cheeks fair blufhing flowers,
A fweet melancholy my fenfes keeps ;
Both
JOHNDRUMMOND. a
Both feed fo my difeafe,
So mucli both do me pleafe,
That oft 1 doubt, which more my heart doth burn,
Love to behold her fmile, or pity mourn.
M
i
SONNET.
Y tears may well Numidian lions tame,
And pity breed into the hardefl heart
That ever Pyrrha did to maid impart,
When (he them firfl of blufhing rocks did frame.
All, eyes which only ferve to 'wail my fmart,
How long will you my inward woes proclaim ?
May 't not fuffice you bear a weeping part
All night, at day but you mull do the fame ?
Ceafe, idle fighs, to fpend your ftorms in vain,
And thefe fweet filent thickets to moleft,
Contain you in the prifon of my breaft,
You do not eafe but aggravate my pain ;
Or if burft forth you muft, that tempeil move
In fight of her whom I fo dearly love.
SONNET.
"VT^OU refllefs feas appeafe your roaring waves,
And you who raife huge mountains in that
plain,
Air's trumpeters, your hideous founds contain,
And liften to the plaints my grief doth caufe.
Eternal
z6 THEPOEMSOF
Eternal lights ! though adamantine laws
Of deftinies to move ftill you ordain,
Turn hither, all your eyes, your axlf s paufe,
And wonder at the torments I fuftain,
Sad earth, if thou, made dull by my difgrace,
Be not as fenfelefs, afk thofe powers above
Why they fo croft a wretch brought on thy fact,
Fram'd for mimap, the anchorite of love ;
And bid them (that no more ^Etnas may burn)
To Erimanth* or Rhodope me turn.
SONNET.
IF croft with all mifhaps be my poor life,
If one fhort day I never fpent in mirth,
If my fp'rit with itfelf holds lafting ftrife,
If forrows death is but new forrows birth ;
If this vain world be but a mournful ftage,
Where flave-born man plays to the laughing ftars,
If youth be tofs'd with love, with weaknefs age,
IF knowledge ferves to hold our thoughts in wars,
If time can clofe the hundred mouths of Fame,
And make what's long fmce paft, like that's to be,
If virtue only be an idle name,
If being born I was but born to die ;
Why feek I to prolong theft loathfome days ?
The faireft rofe in fhorteft time decays.
SONNET.
JOHN DRUMMOND.
'-'I
SONNET.
A LL other beauties howfoe'er they fliine
•**• In hairs more bright than is the golden ore,
Or cheeks more fair than faireft eglantine,
Or hands like hers that comes the fun before :
Match'd with that heavenly hue, and mape divine,
With thofe dear flars which my weak thoughts adore,
Look but as fhadows, or if they be more,
It is in this, that they are like to thine.
Who fees thofe eyes, their force that doth not prove ;
Who gazeth on the dimple of that chin,
And finds not Venus' fon entrench'd therein,
Or hath not fenfe, or knows not what is love.
To fee thee had Narciflus had the grace,
He would have died with wond'ring on thy face.
SEXTAIN.
' I 5HE heaven doth not contain fo many flars,
Nor levell'd lie fo many leaves in Woods,
When Autumn and cold Boreas found their wars ;
So many waves have not the ocean floods,
As my torn mind hath torments all the night,
And heart fpends fighs, when Phoebus brings the
light.
Why
tg THE POEMS OF
Why was I made a partner of the light,
Who croft in birth, by bad afpedl of liars,
Have never fince had happy day or night?
Why was not I a liver in the woods,
Or citizen of Thetis' cryftal floods,
But fram'd a man for Love and Fortune's wars ?
I look each day when death fhould end the wars,
Uncivil wars 'twixt fenfe and reafon's light ;
My pains I count to mountains, meads and floods,
And of my forrow partners make the ftars ;
All defolate I haunt the fearful woods,
When I mould give myfelf to reft at night.
With watchful eyes I ne'er behold the night,
Mother of peace, (but ah to me of wars)
And Cynthia queen-like mining through the woods,
But ftraight thofe lamps come in my thought whofc
light
My judgment dazzled, palling brighteft ftars,
And then my eyes in-ifle themfelves with floods.
Turn to the fprings again firft fhall the floods,
Clear fhall the fun the fad and gloomy night,
To dance about the pole ceafe fhall the ftars,
The elements renew their ancient wars
Shall firft, and be depriv'd of place and light,
Ere I find reft in city, fields, or woods.
End
JOHN DRUMMOND. 2*
End thefe my days ye inmates of the woods,
Take this my life ye deep and raging floods ;
Sun never rile to clear me with thy light,
Horror and darknefs keep a lulling night,
Confume me, care, with thy inteltine wars,
And flay your influence o'er me ye bright ftars.
In vain the ftars, th* inhabitants o'th' woods,
Care, horror, wars I call, and raging floods,
Tor all have fworn no night fhall dim my fight.
SONNET.
SACRED blufh empurpling cheeks, pure fkies
With crimfon wings which fpread thee like the
morn ;
O bafhful look fent from thofe mining eyes,
Which though flid down on earth doth heaven adorn ;
O tongue, in which moft lufcious ne&ar lies,
That can at once both blefs and make forlorn ;
Dear coral lip which beauty beautifies,
That trembling ftood before her words were borne ;
And you her words ; words ? no, but golden chains
Which did inflave my ears, enfnare my foul,
Wife image of her mind, mind that contains
power all power of fenfes to controul :
So fweetly you from love difluade do me,
That I love more, if more my love can be.
SONNET.
3o THEPOEMSOF
SONNET.
OUND hoarfe, fad lute, true witnefs of my woe,
And ftrive no more to eafe felf-chofen pain
With foul-enchanting founds, your accents ftrain
Unto thofe tears incelTantly which flow.
Sad treble weep, and you dull bafles mew
Your mailer's forrow in a doleful ftrain ;
.Let never joyful hand upon you go,
Nor concert keep but when you do complain.
Fly Phoebus' fays, abhor the irkfome light ;
Woods' folitary fhades for thee are beft,
Or the black horrors of the blacken; night,
When all the world fave thou and I do reft :
Then found, fad lute, and bear a mourning part,
Thou hell canft move, though not a woman's heart.
SONNET.
TN vain I haunt the cold and filver fprings,
To quench the fever burning in my veins,
In vain (love's pilgrim) mountains, dales and plains
I over-run, vain help long abfence brings.
In vain, my friends, your counfel me conftrains
To fly, and place my thoughts on other things ;
Ah, like the bird that fir'd hath her wings,
The more I move the greater are my pains.
Dcfire
JOHN D R U M M O N D. 3-j
Dcfirc, (alas) defire, a Zeuxis new,
From th' oricMit borrowing gold, from weflern fldes
Heavenly cinnabar fets before my eyes
In eveiy place, her hair, fweet look, and hue :
That fly, run, reft I, all doth prove but vain,
My life lies in thofe eyes which have me (lain.
SONNET.
O LIDE foft, fair Forth, and make a cryftal plain,
^ Cut your white locks, and on your foamy face
Let not a wrinkle be, when you embrace
The boat that earth's perfections doth contain.
Winds wonder, and through wond'ring hold your
pace ;
Or if that ye your hearts cannot reftrain
From fending fighs, feeling a lover's cafe,
Sigh, and in her fair hair yourfelves enchain.
Or take thefe fighs which abfence makes arife
From my opprefied breaft, and fill the fails,
Or fome fweet breath new brought from paradife :
The floods do fmile, love o'er the winds prevails,
And yet huge waves arife ; the caufe is this,
The ocean iirives with Forth the boat to kifs.
SONNET.
TRUST not, fweet foul, thofe curled waves of gold
With gentle tides that on your temples flow,
Nor temples fpread with flakes of virgin fnow,
Nor fnow of cheeks with Tyrian grain enroll'd ;
4 * Truft
3i THE POEMS OF
Truft not tliofe mining lights which wrought my wce»
When firft I did their azure rays behold,
Nor voice, whofe founds more ftrange effects do mow
Than of the Thracian harper have been told :
Look to this dying lily, fading rofe,
Dark hyacinth, of late whofe blufhing beams
Made all the neighbouring herbs and grafs rejoice,
And think how little is ''twixt life's extremes ;
The cruel tyrant that did kill thofe flow'rs
Shall once, ah me ! not fpare that fpring of yours.
SONNET.
IN Mind's pure glafs when I myfelf behold,
And lively fee how my beft days are fpent,
What clouds of care above my head are roll'd,
What coming ill, which I cannot prevent ;
My courfe begun I wearied do repent,
And would embrace what reafon oft hath told,
But fcarce thus think I, when love hath controll'd
All the beft reafons reafon could invent.
Though fure I know my labour's end is grief,
The more I ftrive that I the more (hall pine,
That only death mail be my laft relief :
Yet when I think upon that face divine,
Like one with arrow (hot, in laughter's place,
Maugre my heart, I joy in my difgrace.
SONNET.
JOHN DRUMMOND.
33
SONNET.
T^\EAR chorifter, who from thofe madows fends,
•*^ Ere that the blufhing morn dare (hew her '
Such fad lamenting ftrains, that night attends
(Become all ear), ftars Hay to hear thy plight ;
If one whofe grief even reach of thought tranfcends,
Who ne'er (not in a dream) did tafte delight,
May thee importune who like cafe pretends,
And feems to joy in woe, in woe's defpite.;
Tell me (fo may thou fortune milder try,
And long long fmg !) for what thou thus complains,
Since winter's gone, and fun in dappled fky
Enamour'd fmiles on woods and flow'ry plains ?
The bird, as if my queitions did her move,
With trembling wings figh'd forth, I love, I love.
SONNET.
/"\ CRUEL beauty, fweetnefs inhumane,
That night and day contends with my defire,
And feeks my hope to kill, not quench my fire,
PJV death, not balm to eafe my pleafant pain !
Though ye my thoughts tread down which woull
afpire*,
And bound my blifs, do not, ilas ! difdain
That I your matchlefs worth and grace admire,
And for their caufe thefe torments (harp fuilam.
D Let
«4 THE POEMS OF
Let great Empedocles vaunt of his death
Found in the midil of thofe Sicilian flames,
And Phaeton that Heaven him reft of breath,
And DaedaPs fon who nam'd the Samian ftreams :
Their haps I not envy ; my praife fhall be,
That the moft fair that lives mov'd me to die.
SONNET.
E Hyperborean hills, Ceraunus* fnow,
Or Arimafpus (cruel) firft thee bred ;
The Cafpian tigers with their milk thee fed,
And Fauns did human blood on thee bellow.
Fierce Orithyas' lover in thy bed
Thee lull'd afkep, where he enrag'd doth blow ;
Thou didft not drink the floods which here do flow,
But tears, or thofe by icy TanaiV head.
Sith thou difdains my love, neglects my grief,
Laughs at my groans, and ft ill affe&s my death :
Of thee nor Heaven I'll feek no more relief,
Nor longer entertain this loathfome breath ;
But yield unto my ftars, that thou may 'ft prove
What lofs thou hadft in lofing fuch a love.
SONG.
HOE BUS, arife,
And paint the fable fides
With azure, white, and red :
Roufe Memnoii'* mother from her Tython's bed,
Thai
JOHN DRUMMOKD. 35
That flie thy career may with rofes fpread,
The nightingales thy coming each where fing,
Make an eternal fpring.
Give life to this dark world which licth dead.
Spread forth thy golden hair
In larger locks than thou waft wont before,.
And emperor-like decore
With diadem of pearl thy temples fair :
Chafe hence the ugly night,
Which ferves but to make dear thy glorious liglit.
This is that happy morn,
That day, long-wifhed day,
Of all my life fo dark,
(if cruel flars have not ray ruin fworn,
And Fates my hopes betray)
Which (purely white) deferves
An everlafting diamond mould it mark.
This is the morn mould bring unto this grove
My love, to hear, and recompenfe my love.
Fair king, who all preferves,
But (hew thy blufhing beams,
And thou two fweeter eyes
Shalt fee than thofe which by Peneus* ftreams
Did once thy heart furprife :
Nay, funs which mine as clear
As thou when two thou didtl to Rome appear.
Now, Flora, deck thyfeif in faireft guife.
If that ye winds would hear
A voice furpafiing far Amphion's lyre,
D 2 You*
36 THE POEMS OF
Your furious chiding flay,
Let Zephyr only breathe,
And with her treffes play,
Rifling fometimes thofe purple ports of death.
The winds all filent are,
And Phoebus in his chair -
Enfaffroning fea and air,
Makes vanifh every ftar :
Night like a drunkard reels
Beyond the hills, to fhun his flaming wheels.
The fields with flow'rs are deck'd in every hue,
The clouds with orient gold fpangle their blue :
Here is the pleafant place,
And nothing wanting is,' fave {lie, alas !
SONNET.
"T TT HO hath not feen into her faffron bed
* * The morning's goddefs mildly her repofe,
Or her of whofe pure blood firft fprang the rofe
Lull'd in a (lumber by a myrtle Jhade ?
Who hath not feen that fleeping white and red
Makes Phoebe look fo pale, which me did clofe
In that Ionian hill, to eafe her woes,
Which only lives by her dear kiffes fed ?
Come but and fee my lady fweetly fleep,
The fighing rubies of thofe heavenly lips,
The Cupids which breads golden apples keep,
Thofe eyes which Aitne in midft of their eclipfe :
And he them all (hall fee, perhaps and prove
She waking but perfuades, now forceth love.
SONNET.
JOHN DRUMMOND.
SONNET.
QEE Cytherea's birds, that milk-white pair
^ On yonder leafy myrtle-tree which groan,
And waken with their kiffes in the air
Th'enamour'd zephyrs murmuring one by one ;
If them but fenfe hadil like Pygmalion's ilone,
Or hadll not feen Medufa's fnaky hair,
Love's leflbns thou might'ft learn ; and learn, fwect
fair,
To fummer's heat ere that thy fpring be grown.
And if thofe kifiing lovers feem but cold,
Look how that elm this ivy doth embrace,
And binds and clafps with many a wanton told,
And, courting fleep, o'erfhadows all the place ;
Nay, feems to fay, Dear tree, we fliall not part,
In fign whereof, lo, in each leaf a heart !
SONNET.
'T^HE fun is fair when he with crimfon crown,
•*- And flaming rubies, leaves his eaftern bed ;
Fair is Thaumantias in her cryftal gown,
When clouds engcmm'd mew a/ure, green, and red.
To weftern worlds when weaned d.ty goes down,
And from heaven's windows each ftar (hews her laud,
Earth's filent daughter, Night, is fair though brown ;
Fair is the moon, though in love's livery clad.
D 3 The
38 THE POEMS OF
The fpring is fair when it doth paint April,
Fair are the meads, the woods, the floods are fair f
Fair looketh Ceres with her yellow hair,
And apple's-queen when rofe-cheek'd fhe doth fsnile.
That heaven, and earth, and feas are fair, is true,,
Yet true, that all not pleafe fo much as you.
MADRIGAL.
IKE the Idalian queen
•*-* Her hair about her eyne,
And neck, on breads ripe apples to be fe*n>
At firit glance of the morn
In Cyprus' gardens gathering thofe fair flowers
Which of her blood were borne,
I faw, but fainting faw my paramours.
The Graces naked danc'd about the place,
The winds and trees amaz'd
With filence on her gaz'd,
The flowers did fmile like thofe upon her lace f
And as their afpin ftalks thofe fingers bind,
That fhe might read my cafe,
I wi(h'd to be a hyacinth in her hand.
SONNET.
HEN is me gone ? O fool and coward I !
O good occafion loft, ne'er to be found !
What fatal chains have my dull fenfes bound,
When beft they might, that did not fortune try ?
Here
JOHN DRUMMOND. 39
Here is the fainting grafs where me did lie,
With rofes here (he fteilified the ground ;
She fix'd her eyes on this yet fmiling pond,
Nor time, nor place feem'd aught for to deny.
Too long, too long, Refpe& I do embrace
Your counfel full of threats and fliarp difdain.
Difdain in her fweet heart can have no place,
And though come there, muft flraight retire again :
Henceforth, Refpeft, farewel ! I've heard it told,
Who lives in love can never be too bold.
SONNET.
X 117 HAT cruel ilar into this world me brought ?
What gloomy day did dawn to give me light ?
What unkind hand to nurfe me (orphan) fought,
And would not leave me in eternal night ?
What thing fo dear as I hath efTence bought ?
The elements dry, humid, heavy, light,
The fmalleft living things which Nature wrought
Be freed of woe if they have fmall delight.
Ah only I nbandon'd to defpair,
Nail'd to my torments in pale Horror's (hade,
Like wand'ring clouds fee all my comforts fled,
And ill on ill with hours my life impair :
The Heavens and Fortune, which were wont to
turn,
Stay in one manflon fix'd to caufe me mourn.
D4 SONNET.
THE POEMS Of
SONNET.
T^\EAR eye, which deign'fl on this fad monument,
•*-' The fable fcroll of my mifhaps to view,
Though- it with mourning Mufes' tears be fpent,
And darkly drawn, which is not feign'd, but true ;
If thou not dazzled with a heavenly hue,
And comely feature, didfl not yet lament,
But happy lives unto thyfelf content,
O let not Love thee to his laws fubdue ;
Look on the woeful fhipwreck of my youth,
And let my ruins thee for beacon ferve,
To fhun this rock Capharean of untruth,
And ferve no God which doth his churchmen flarve :
His kingdom's but of plaints, his guerdon tears ;
What he gives more is jealoufies and fears.
MADRIGAL.
r!P O the delightful green
•*• Of you, fair radiant eine,
Let each black yield beneath the ftarry arch.
Eyes burninVd heavens of love,
Sinople lamps of Jove,
Save all thofe hearts which with your flames you
parch
Twa burning funs you prove 5
AH other eyes, compar'd with you, dear lights,
Are hells, or if not hells, yet dumpiih nights.
The
JOHN DRUMMOND. 41
The heavens (if we their glafs
The fea believe) are green, not perfect blue ;
They all make fair whatever fair yet was,
And they are fair becaufe they look like you.
SONNET.
^"YMPHS, fitter nymphs which haunt this
-^ cryftal brook,
And happy in thefe floating bowers abide,
Where trembling roofs of trees from fun you hide,
Which make Id.uan woods in every crook ;
Whether ye garlands for your locks provide,
Or pearly letters feek in fandy book,
Or count your loves when Thetis was a bride,
Lift up your golden heads and on me look.
Read in mine eyes my agonizing cares,
And what ye read, recount to her again :
Fair nymphs, fay all thefe ftreams are but my tears ;
And, if (he afk you how they fweet remain,
Tell, that the bitt'reft tears which eyes can pour,
When died for her, can be no longer four.
SONNET.
H E whofe fair flowers no autumn makes decay,
Whofe hue coeleftial, earthly hues doth ftain,
Into a pleafant odoriferous plain
Did walk alone to brave the pride of May.
And
42 THE POEMS OF
And whilft through flow'ry lifts me made her way,
That proudly fmil'd her light to entertain,
Lo, unawares where Love did hid remain
She fpied, and fought to make of him her prey :
For which of golden locks a faireft hair
To bind the boy me took, but he afraid
At her approach fprang fwiftly in the air,
And, mounting far from reach, look'd back and faid,
Why fliouldft thou (fweet) me feek in chains to
bind,
Sith in thy eyes I daily am confm'd-?
MADRIGAL.
SWEET Rofe, whence is this hue
Which doth all hues excel ?
Whence this moft fragrant fmell ?
And whence this form and gracing grace in you ?
In fair Padlana's fields perhaps you grew,
Or Hybla's hills you bred,
Or odoriferous Enna's plains you fed,
Or Tmolus, or where boar young Adon flew ;
Or hath the queen of love you dyed of new
In that dear blood, which makes you look fo red ?
No, none of thofe, but caufe more high you blifs'd,
My lady's breaft you bore, her lips you kifs'd.
MADRIGAL.
JOHN DRUMMOND.
MADRIGAL.
N this cold world of ours,
Flow'r of the feafons, feafon of the flow'rs,
Sun of the fun, fweet Spring,
Such hot and burning days why doft thou bring ?
Is it bccaufe thofe high eternal pow'rs
Flafh down that fire this world environing ?
Or that now Phoebus keeps his filler's fphere ?
Or doth fome Phaeton
En flame the fea and air ?
Or rather, is* t not ufher of the year,
Or that lail day among the flow'rs alone
Unmafk'd thou faw'ft my fair ?
And wliilft thou on her gaz'd me did thcc burn.
And to thy brother Summer doth thee turn.
SONNET.
P\EAR wood, and you fweet folitary place,
^"^ Where I eftranged from the vulgar live»
Contented more with what your (hades me give,
Than if I had what Thetis doth embrace :
WUat fnaky eye, grown jealous of my pace,
Now from your filent horrors would me drive,
When fun advancing in his glorious race
Beyond the Twins, doth near our pole arrive ?
What
44 THE POEMS OF
What fweet delight a quiet life affords,
And what it is to be from bondage free,
Far from the madding worldling's hoarfe difcords,
Sweet flow'ry place, I firft did learn of thee.
Ah ! if I were mine own, your dear reforts
I would not change with princes' ftatelieft courts.
SONNET.
AH ! who can fee thofe fruits of paradife,
Cceleilial cherries which fo fweetly fvvell,
That fweetnefs* felf confin'd there feems to dwell,
And all thofe fweeteft parts about defpife ?
Ah ! who can fee, and feel no flame furprife
His harden'd heart ? For me, alas, too well
I know their force, and how they do excel :
Now through delire I burn, and now I freeze ;
I die (dear life) unlefs to me be given
As many kifTes as the fpring hath fiow'rs,
Or there be filver drops in Iris' Ihow'rs,
Or flars there be in all-embracing heaven ;
And if difpleas'd ye of the match complain,
Ye (hall have leave to take them back again.
S O N N E T. '
TS'T not enough (ah me !) me thus to fee
Like fome heaven-baniuYd ghoft ft ill wailing go,
A fhadow which your rays do only mew ;
To vex me more, unlefs ye bid me die,
What
JOHN DRUM MONO. 45
Vvliut could ye worfe allot unto your foe ?
But die will I, fo ye will not deny
That grace to me which mortal foes ev'n try,
To choofc what fort of death (hall end my woe.
Once .did I find, that whiles you did me kifs,
Ye gave my printing foul fo fweet a touch,
That half I fwoon'd in midtt of all my blifs ;
I do but crave my death's wound may be fuch :
For though by grief I die not and annoy,
Is't not enough to die through too much joy ?
MADRIGAL.
TTNHAPPY light,
^ Do not approach to bring the woeful day,
When I muft bid for aye
Farewel to her, and live in endlefs plight.
Fair moon with gentle beams,
The iight who never mars,
Clear long-heaven's fable vault, and you bright ftars,
Your golden locks long view in earth's pure ftreams ;
Let Phoebus never rife
To dim your watchful eyes.
Prolong, alas, prolong my fhort delight ;
And if ye can, make an eternal night.
SONNET.
46 THE POEMS OF
SONNET.
ITH grief in heart, and tears in fvvelling eyes,
When I to her had given a fad farewel,
Clofe fealed with a kifs, and dew which fell
On my elfe moiften'd face from beauty's fkies ;
So ftrange amazement did my mind furprife,
That at eacli pace I fainting turn'd again,
Like one whom a torpedo ilupefics,
Not feeling honour's bit, nor reafon's rein :
But when fierce ftars to part me did conitrain,
With back-caft looks, I both envy'd and bleiVd
The happy walls and place did her contain,
Until my eyes that flying object mifs'd :
So wailing parted Ganymede the fair,
When eagle's talons bore him through the air.
SEXTAIN.
0 ITH gone is my delight and only pleafure,
The laft of all my hopes, the cheerful fun
That clear'd my life's dark fphere, nature's fweet
treafure,
More dear to me than all beneath the moon ;
What refteth now, but that upon this mountain '
1 weep, till Heaven transform roe to a fountain ?
Frcfti,
JOHN DRUMMON7U. 47
Frcfli, fair, delicious, cryftal, pearly fountain,
On whofe fmooth face to look me oft took plcafure,
Tell me (fo may thy ftreams long cheer this moun
tain,
So ferpent ne'er thee ftain, nor fcorch thee fun,
So may with wat'ry beams thee kifs the moon ! )
Doll thou not mourn to want fo fair a treafurc
While (lie here gazM on thee, rich Tagus* treafurc
Thou neededfl not envy, nor yet the fountain,
In which that hunter faw the naked moon ;
Abfence hath robb'd thee of thy wealth and pleafure,
And I remain, like marigold, of fun
Depriv'd, that die? by fhadow of fome mountain.
Nymphs of the foreils, nymphs who on this
mountain
Are wont to dance, mewing your beauty's treafare
To goat-feet fylvans, and the wond'ring fun,
When as you gather flow'rs about this fountain,
Bid her farewel who placed here her pleafure,
Ano^img her praifes to the ftars and moon.
Among the leflcr lights as is the moon,
Blufhing through muffling cloiids on Latmos' moun
tain ;
Or when {he views her filver locks for plcafure
In Thetis' flreams, proud of fo gay a treafure :
Such was my fair, when (he fate by this fountain
With other nymphs, to fhun the amorous fun.
Ag
4g THE POEMS OF
As is our earth in abfence of the fun,
Or when of fun deprived is the moon ;
As is without a verdant fhade a fountain,
Or, wanting grafs, a mead, a vale, a mountain ;
Such is my ftate, bereft of my dear treafure,
To know whofe only worth, was all my pleafure.
Ne'er think of pleafure, heart ; eyes, fhun the fun
Tears be your treafure, which the wand'ring moon
Shall fee you fhed by mountain, vale and fountain.
SONNET.
TX7 INDOW fome time which ferved for a fphere
To that dear planet of my heart, whofe light
Made often blufh the glorious queen of night,
While me in thee more beauteous did appear ;
What mourning weeds, alas, doft thou now wear ?
How loathfome to my eyes is thy fad fight!
How poorly look'ft thou, with what heavy cheer,
Since-fets that fun which made thee mine fo bright ?
Unhappy now ihee clofe ; for, as of late
To wondering eyes thou wert a paradife,
Bereft of her who made thee fortunate,
A gulph thou art, whence clouds of fighs arife :
But unto none fo noifome as to me,
Who hourly fees my murder'd joys in thee.
SONNET.
JOHN DRUMMOND.
49
SONNET.
T TOW many times night's filent queen her face
•*• *• Hath hid, how oft with ftars in filver mafic,
In heaven's great hall, me hath begun her tafk,
And cheer'd the waking eye in lower place ;
How oft the fun hath made, by heaven's fwift race,
The happy lover to forfake the breaft
Of his dear lady, wifhing in the weft
His golden coach to run had larger fpace ;
I ever count and tell, fince I, alas !
Did bid farewel to my heart's deareft gueft ;
The miles I number, and in mind I chafe,
The floods and mountains hold me from my reft.
But wo is me, long count and count may I,
Ere I fee her whofe abfence makes me die.
SONNET.
death fome tell, fomeofthe cruel pain
Which that bad craftfman in his work did try,
When (a new monfter) flames once did conftrain
A human corpfe to yield a bellowing cry.
Some tell of thofe in burning beds who lie,
Ikcaufe they durft in the Phlegrean plain
The might y Ruler of the fkies defy,
And liege thofe cryftal tow'rs which all contain.
E Another
5o THE POEMS OF
Another counts of Phlegethon's hot floods,
The fouls which drink Ixion's endlefs fmart,
And his who feeds a vulture with his heart.
One tells of fpedres in enchanted woods :
Of all thofe pains th' extremeft who would prove,
Let him be abfent and but burn in love.
SONNET.
HAIR, precious hair, which Midas' hand did
ftrain,
Part of the wreath of gold that, crowns thofe brows
Which winter's whiteft white in whitenefs ftain,
And lily by Eri dan's bank that grows :
Hair (fatal prefent !) which firil caus'd my woes,
When loofe ye hang like Danae's golden rain,
Sweet nets which fweetly do all hearts enchain,
Strings, deadly firings, with which Love bends his
bows :
How are ye hither come .? Tell me, O hair !
Dear armelet, for what thus were ye given ?
I know, a badge of bondage I you wear,
Yet, hair, for you O that I were a heaven !
Like Berenice's locks, that ye might mine
(But brighter far) about this arm of mine.
SONNET^
JOHN DRUMMOND.
SONNET.
ARE thefe the flow'ry banks ? Is this the mead
•**- Where ftie was wont to pafs the pleafant hours ?
\Vas't here her eyes exhal'd mine eyes* fait fhow'rs,
And on her lap did lay my wearied head ?
Is this the goodly elm did us o'erfpread,
Whofe tender rind, cut forth in curious fiow'rs
By that white hand, contains thofe flames of ours ?
Is this the murmuring fpring us mufick made ?
DeflourifiVd mead, where is your heavenly hue ?
And bank, that Arras did you late adorn ?
How look'ft thou elm all withered and forlorn !
Only, fweet Spring, nought alter'd feems in you.
But while here chang'd each other thing appears,
To fait your ftreams take of mine eyes thefe tears.
SONNET.
A LEXIS, here fhe ftay'd, among thefe pines,
^ Sweet hermitrefs, (he did all alone repair ;
Here did flie fpread the treafure of her hair,
More rich than that brought from the Colchian mines :
litre fate ftie by thefe mufked eglantines ;
The happy flow'rs feem yet the print to bear ;
Her voice did fweeten here thy fugar'd lines,
To which winds, trees, beads, birds, did lend an car.
E 2 She
5a THE POEMS OF
She here me firft perceiv'd, and here a morn
Of bright carnations did o'erfpread her face ;
Here did me figh, here firft my hopes; were born,
Here firft I got a pledge of promised grace :
But ah ! what ferves 't t' have been made happy fo,
Sith pafled pleafures double but new woe ?
SONNET.
T)LACE me where angry Titan burns the Moor,
•*• And thirfty Africk fiery monfters brings,
Or where the new-born phoenix fpreads her wings,
And troops of wond'ring birds her flight adore :
Place me by Gange or Inde's enamell'd more,
Where fmiling heavens on earth caufe double fprings ;
Place me where Neptune's choir of fyrens fings,
Or where made hoarfe through cold he leaves to roar :
Place me where Fortune doth her darlings crown,
A wonder or a fpark in Envy's eye ;
Or you outrageous Fates upon me frown,
Till Pity wailing fee difafter'd me ;
Affection's pririt my mind fo deep doth prove,
I may forget myfelf— but not my love.
MADRIGAL.
E ivory, coral, gold,
Ofbreaft, of lip, of hair,
So lively Sleep doth mew to inward fight,
That 'wake I think I hold
N0
JOHN DRUMMOND. 35
No fhadow, but my fair :
Myfelf fo to deceive
With long-mut eyes I Hum the irkfome light.
Such pleafure here I have
Delighting in falfe gleams,
If Death Sleep's brother b.',
And fouls bereft of fenfe have fo fvvcct dreams,
How could I wifh thus flill to dream and die !
SONNET.
TJ^ A ME, who with golden wings abroad doth
Where Phrcbus leaves the night or brings the
day;
Fame, in one place who reftlefs do ft not Hay
Till tliou hail flow'd from Atlas unto Gange :
Fame, enemy to Time, that ilill doth change,
And in his changing courfe would make decay
What here below he fmdeth in his way,
Even making virtue to herfelf look ftrange :
Daughter of heaven ! now all thy trumpets found,
Raife up thy head unto the higheft (Icy,
With wonder blaze the gifts in her are found ;
And when me from this mortal globe (hall fly,
In thy wide mouth keep long, keep long her name ;
So thou by her, (he by thee live mall Fame.
o
M
THE SECOND PART.
SONNET.
mortal glory O foon darkened ray !
O winged joys of man, more fwift than wind !
O fond defires, which in our fancies ftray !
O traitorous hopes, which do our judgments blind !
Lo, in a flam that light is gone away,
Which dazzle did each eyer delight each mind,
And with that fun, from whence it came, combin'd,
Now makes more radiant heaven's eternal day»
Let Beauty now bedew her cheeks with tears>
Let widow'd Mufick only roar and groan,
Poor Virtue get thee wings and mount the fpheres,
For dwelling place on earth for thee is none :
Death hath thy temple raz'd, Love's empire foil'd,
The world of honour, worth, and fweetnefs fpoil'd.
£4 SONNET.
THE POEMS OF
S 0 N N E T.
HpHOSE eyes, thofe fparkling fapphires of delight,
-"• Which thoufand thoufand hearts did fet on fire,
Of which that eye of heaven which brings the light
Oft jealous, ftaid amaz'd them to admire :
That living fnow, thofe crimfon rofes bright,
Thofe pearls, thofe rubies which enfiam'd defire,
Thofe locks of gold, that purple fair of Tyre,
Are wrapt (ah me !) up in eternal night.
What haft thou more to vaunt of, wretched world,
Sith me who caufed all thy blifs is gone ?
Thy ever-burning lamps, rounds ever whorl'd,
Cannot unto thee model fuch a one :
Or if they would fuch beauty bring on earth,
They mould be forc'd again to give her birth.
SONNET.
FATE, conjur'd to pour your worft on me !
O rigorous rigour which doth all confound !
With cruel hands ye have cut down the tree,
And fruit with leaves have fcatter'd on the ground.
A little fpace of earth my love doth bound ;
That beauty which did raife it to the fky,
Turn'd in qifdained duft, now low doth lie,
Deaf to my plaints, and fenfelefs of my wound.
Ah !
JOHNDRUMMOND. 57
Ah ! did I live for this ? Ah ! did I love ?
And was't for this (fierce powers) fhe did excel,
That ere fhe well the fvveets of life did prove,
She fliould (too dear a gueit) with darknefs dwell ?
Weak influence of Heaven ! what fair is wrought,
Falls in the prime, and pafleth like a thought.
SONNET.
WOFUL life ! Life ? No, but living death,
Frail boat of cryital in a rocky fea,
A gem expos'd to fortune's ftormy breath,
Which kept with pain, with terror doth decay :
The falfe delights, true woes thou doft bequeath
My all-appalled mind fo do affray,
That I thofe envy who are laid in earth,
And pity thofe who run thy dreadful way.
When did mine eyes behold one cheerful morn ?
When had my toffed foul one night of reft ?
When did not angry liars my defigns fcorn ?
O ! now I find what is for mortals beft :
Even, fince our voyage ihameful is, and fhort,
Soon to ilrike fail, and perifh in the port.
SONNET.
ISSOLVE, my eyes, your globes in briny
ftreams,
And witli a cloud of forrow dim your fight,
The fun's bright fun is fet, of late whofe beams
Gave luftre to your day, day to your night.
My
58 THE POEMS OF
My voice, now cleave the earth with anathems,
Roar forth a challenge in the world's defpite,
Till that difguifed grief is her delight,
That life a flumber is of fearful dreams ;
And .woful mind abhor to think of joy ;
My fenfes all from comforts all you hide,
Accept no obje£t but of black annoy,
Tears, plaints, fighs, mourning weeds, graves gaping
wide :
I have nought left to wifh ; my hopes are dead,
And all with her beneath a marble laid.
SONNET.
SWEET foul, which in the April of thy years,
For to enrich the heaven mad'ft poor this round,
And now, with flaming rays of glory crown'd,
Moft bleft abides above the fphere of fpheres j
If heavenly laws, alas ! have not thee bound
From looking to this globe that all up-bears,
If ruth and pity there-above be found,
O deign to lend a look unto thefe tears :
Do not difdain (dear ghoit) this facrifice ;
And though I raife not pillars to thy praife,
My ofPrings take, let this for me fuffice,
My heart a living pyramid I'll raife :
And whilfl kings* tombs with laurels flourifh green,
Thine fhall with myrtles and thefe flow'rs be feen.
SONNET.
JOHNDRUMMOND. 59
SONNET.
C WEET Spring, thou com'ft with all thy goodly
^ train,
Thy head with flames, thy mantle bright with flow'rs,
The zephyrs curl the green locks of the plain,
The clouds for joy in pearls weep down their fhow'rs.
Sweet Spring, thou com'ft — but, ah ! my pleafant hours,
And happy days, with thee come not again ;
The fad memorials only of my pain
Do with thee come, which turn my fweets to fours.
Thou art the fame which ftill thou wert before,
Delicious, lufty, amiable, fair ;
But me whofe breath embalm M thy wholefome air
Is gone ; nor gold, nor gems can her reftore.
Neglected virtue, feafons go and come,
When thine forgot lie clofed in a tomb.
SONNET.
WHAT doth it ferve to fee the fun's bright
face,
And fkies enamell'd with the Indian gold ?
Or the moon in a fierce chariot roll'd,
And all the glory of that ftarry place ?
What doth it ferve earth's beauty to behold,
The mountain's pride, the meadow's flow'ry grace>
The ftately comelinefs of forefts old,
The fport of floods which would themfelves embrace ?
What
go THE POEMS OF
What doth it ferve to hear the fylvans* fongs,
The cheerful thrufh, the nightingale's fad ftrains,
Which in dark fhades feems to deplore my wrongs ?
For what doth ferve all that this world contains,
Since me, for whom thofe once to me were dear,
Can have no part of them now with me here ?
MADRIGAL,
THIS life, which feems fo fair,
Is like a bubble blown up in the air,
By fporting children's breath,
Who chafe it every where,
And ftrive who can moil motion it bequeath.
And though it fometimes feem of its own might
Like to an eye of gold to be fix'd there,
And firm to hover in that empty height,
That only is becaufe it is fo light.
But in that pomp it doth not long appear ;
For when 'tis moil admired, in a thought,
Becaufe it erfl was nought, it turns to nought.
SONNET.
A/TY lute, be as thou wert when thou didft grow
-LYX ^vith thy green mother in fome fhady grove,
When immelodious winds but made thee move,
And birds their ramage did on thee beftow.
Since that dear voice which did thy founds approve.
Which wont in fuch harmonious llrains to flow,
Is reft from earth to tune thofe fpheres above,
What art thou but a harbinger of woe ?
Thy
JOHN DRUMMOND. <
Thy pleafmg notes be pleafmg notes no more,
But orphans' wailings to the fainting ear,
Each flroke a figh, each found draws forth a tear,
For which be filent as in woods before :
Or if that any hand to touch thee deign,
Like widow'd turtle ftill her lofs complain.
SONNET.
A H ! handkerchief, fad prefent of my dear,
^^ Gift miferable, which doth now remain
The only guerdon of my helplefs pain ;
When I thee got thou mewd'ft my ftate too clear.
I never fince have ceafed to complain ;
I iince the badge of grief did ever wear ;
Joy in my face durft never fince appear ;
Care was the food which did me entertain.
But fince that thou art mine, O do not grieve,
That I this tribute pay thee for mine eine,
And that I (this fhort time I am to live)
Launder thy Jilken figures in this brine ;
No, I mufl yet ev'n beg of thee the grace,
That in my grave thou deign to fhroud my face.
MADRIGAL.
happier far than I,
Which have the grace ,to heave your heads fo
high,
And
6t THE POEMS OF
And overlook thofe plains ;
Grow till your branches kifs that lofty iky
Which her fweet felf contains.
There make her know my endlefs love, and pains,
And how thefe tears which from mine eyes do fall,
Help'd you to rife fo tall :
Tell her, as once I for her fake lov'd breath,
So for her fake I now court ling'ring death.
SONG,
SAD Damon being come
To that for-ever lamentable tonib,
Which thofe eternal powers that all controul,
Unto his living foul
A melancholy prifon had prefcrib'd ;
Of colour, heat, and motion depriv'd,
In arms weak, fainting, cold,
A marble, he the marble did infold :
And having warm it made with many a mow'r
Which dimmed eyes did pour,
When grief had given him leave, and fighs them
ftaid,
Thus with a fad alas at lad he faid :
Who would have thought to me
The place where thou didft lie could grievous be ?
And that (dear body) long thee having fought,
(O me!) who would have thought
Thee once to find it mould my foul confound,
And give my heart than death a deeper wound ?
Thou
JOHN DRUMMOND. 63
Thou didft difdain my tears,
But grieve not that this ruthful ftone them bears ;
Mine eyes for nothing ferve, but thee to weep,
And let that courfe them keep ;
Although thou never wouldft them comfort fliew,
Do not repine, they have part of thy woe.
Ah wretch ! too late I find
How virtue's glorious titles prove but wind ;
For if that virtue could releafe from death,
Thou yet enjoy'd hadft breath :
For if (he ere appeared to mortal eine,
It was in thy fair fhape that (he was feen.
But O ! if I was made
For thee, with thee why too am I not dead ?
Why do outrageous Fates, which dimm'd thy fight,
Let me fee hateful light ?
They without me made Death thee furprife,
Tyrants (no doubt) that they might kill me twice.
O grief ! And could one day
Have force fuch excellence to take away ?
Could a fwift-flying moment, ah ! deface
Thole matchlefs gifts, that grace,
Which art and nature had in thee combin'd
To make thy body paragon thy mind ?
Hath all pafs'd like a cloud,
And doth eternal iilcnce now them fliroud ?
Is that, fo much admir'd, now nought but duft,
Of which a ftone hath truft ?
O change ! O cruel change ! Thou to our fight
Shew'ft the Fates' rigour equal to their might !
When
6+ THE POEMS OF
When thou from earth didft pafs,
Sweet nymph, perfection's mirror broken was,
And this of late fo glorious world of ours,
Like the meadows without flowers,
Or ring of a rich gem which blind appear'd,
Or ftarlefs night, or Cynthia nothing clear'd.
JLove when he faw thee die
Entomb'd him in the lid of either eye,
And left his torch within thy facred urn,
There for a lamp to burn :
Worth, honour, pleafure, with thy life expiVd,
Death, fmce grown fweet, begins to be defir'd.
Whilft thou to us wert given,
The earth her Venus had as well as heaven :
Nay, and her funs, which burnt as many hearts,
As he the eaftern parts ;
Bright funs which, forc'd to leave thefe hemifpheres,
Benighted fet into a fea of tears.
Ah ! Death, who mail thee flee,
Since the moft mighty are o'erthrown by thee ?
Thou fpar'ft the crow, and nightingale doft kill,
And triumph'ft at thy will :
But give thou cannot fuch another blow,
Becaufe earth cannot fuch another mew.
O bitter fweets of love !
How better is't at all you not to prove,
Than when we do your pleafures moft pofiefs
To find them thus made lefs !
O ! that the caufe which doth confume our joy
Would the remembrance of it too deftroy !
What
JOHN DRUMMOND. 65
What doth this life beflow,
But flow'rs on thorns which grow ?
Which though they fometimes blandifh foft delight,
Yet afterwards us fmite :
And if the rifing fun them fair doth fee,
That planet fetting doth behold them die.
This world is made a hell,
Depriv'd of all that in it did excel.
O Pan ! O Pan ! winter is fall'n in May,
Turn'd is to night our day.
Forfake thy pipe, a fceptre take to" thee,
Thy locks difgarland, thou black Jove (halt be.
The flocks do leave the meads,
And, loathing three-leav'd grafa, hold up their heads ;
The dreams not glide now with a gentle roar,
Nor birds fing as before ;
Hills (land with clouds like mourners veil'd in black,
And owls upon our roofs foretel our wreck.
That zephyr every year
So foon was heard to figh in forefts here,
It was for her that, wrapt in gowns of green,
Meads were fo early feen :
That in the faddeft months oft fang the mearls,
It was for her : for her trees dropt forth pearls.
That proud and {lately courts
Did envy thefe our fhades and calm reforts,
It was for her ; and (he is gone, O woe !
Woods cut again do grow,
Bud doth the rofe, and daify, winter done,
But we otice dead do no more fee the fun.
F Whofe
66 THE POEMS O *
Whofe name (hall now make ring
The echoes ? of whom mail the nymphets fing ?
Whbfe heavenly voice, whofe foul-invading ftrains,
Shall fill with joy the plains ?
What hair, what eyes, can make the morn in eaft
Weep that a fairer rifeth in the weft ?
Fair fun poft ftill away,
No mufick here is left thy courfe to flay.
Sweet Hybla fwarms, with wormwood fill your bow'rs,
Gone is the flower of flow'rs :
Blum no more rofe, nor lily pale remain,
Dead is that beauty which yours late did ftain.
Ah me ! to wail my plight
Why have not 1 as many eyes as night ;
Or as that fliepherd which Jove's love did keep,
That I ftill, ftill may weep ? .
But though I had, my tears unto my crofs
Were not yet equal, nor grief to my lofs.
Yet of you briny fhow'rs
Which I here pour, may fpring as many flowers,
As come of thofe which fell from Helen's eyes ;
And when ye do arife,
May every leaf in fable letters bear
The doleful caufe for which ye fpring up here.
MADRIGAL.
HE beauty and the life
Of life's and beauty's faireft paragon,
0 tears ! O grief ! hung at a feeble thread
To which pale Atropos had fet her knife.
The
JOHN DRUMMOND. 6;
The foul with many a groan
Had left each outward part,
And now did take his laft leave of the heart ;
Nought elfe did want lave death for to be dead :
When the fad company about her bed
Seeing death invade her lips, her cheeks, her eyes'.
Cried ah ! and can death enter Paradife ?
SONNET.
/"\ ! It is not to me, bright lamp of day,
That in the eaft thou fhcw'ft tfcy golden face ;
O ! it is not to me thou leav'fl that fea,
And in thofe azure lifts beginn'il thy race.
Thou fluVft not to the dead in any place ;
And I dead from tin's world am paft away,
Or if I feem (a fhadow) yet to ftay,
It is a while but to bewail my cafe.
My mirth is loft, my comforts are difirny'd,
And unto fad mimaps their place do yield ;
My knowledge reprefents a bloody field,
Where I my hopes and helps fee proftrate laid.
So plaintful is life's courfe which I have run,
That I do wifh. it never had begun.
M A D R I G A L.
T^VEAR night, the eafe of care,
^~^ Untroubled feat of peace,
Time's eldeft child, which oft the blind do fee,
Fz Oi
*g THE POEMS OF
On this our hemifphere
What makes thee now fo (adly dark to be ?
Com'ft thou in funeral pomp her grave to grace ?
Or do thofe ftars which fhould thy horror clear,
In Jove's high hall advife,
In what part of the Ikies,
With them, , or Cynthia me (hall appear?
Or, ah, alas ! becaufe thofe matchlefs eyes,
Which fhone fo fair, below thou doft not find,
Striv'ft thou to make all others' eyes look blind ?
SONNET.
C INCE it hath pleas'd.that firfl and fupreme Fair
To take that beauty to himfelf again,
Which in this world of fenfe not to remain,
But to amaze was fent, and home repair ;
The love which to that beauty I did bear,
Made pure of mortal fpots which did it flain,
And endlefs, which even death cannot impair,
I place on him who will it not difdain.
No mining eyes, no locks of curling gold,
No blufhing rofes on a virgin face,
No outward mow, no, nor no inward grace,
Shall power have my thoughts henceforth to hold:
Love here on earth huge ftorms of care doth tofs,
But plac'd above exempted is from lofs.
SONG.
JOHN DRUMMOND; 69
SONG.
TT autumn was, and on our hemifphere
•*• Fair Erkine began bright to appear,
Night weftward did her gemmy world decline,
And hide her lights, that greater light might mine .
The crefted bird had given alarum twice
To lazy mortals to unlock their eyes,
The owl had left to plain, and from each throne
The wtng'd muficians did falute the Morn,
Who (.while ihe drefs'd her locks in Ganges' dreams)
Set open wide the cryftal port of dreams :
When I, whofe eyes no drowfy night could clofe,
In Sleep's foft arms did quietly repofe,
And, for that heavens to die did me deny,
Death's image kitted, and as dead did lie.
I lay as dead, but fcarce charm'd were my cares,
And flaked fcarce my fighs, fcarce dried my tears, -
Sleep fcarce the ugly figures of the day
Had with his fable pencil put away,
And left me in a ftill and calmy mood,-
When by my bed methought a virgin flood,
A virgin in the blooming of her prime,
If fuch rare beauty meafur'd be by time.
Her head a garland wore of opals bright,
About her flow'd a gown like pureft light ;
Pure amber locks gave umbrage to her face,
Where modefly high majefty did grace ;
F 5 Her
7o THE POEMS OF
Her eyes fuch beams fent forth, that but with pain
My weaker fight their fparklings could fuftain.
No feigned deity which haunts the woods
Is like to her, nor fyren of the floods :
Such is the golden planet of the year,
When bluming in the eaft he doth appear.
Her grace did beauty, voice yet grace did pafs,
Which thus through pearls and rubies broken was.
How long wilt thoii (faid (he), eftrang'd from joy,
Paint fhadows to thyfelf of falfe annoy ;
How long thy mind with horrid fhapes affright,
And in imaginary evils delight ;
Efteem that lofs which (well when view'd) is gain,
Or if a lofs, yet not a lofs too plain ?
O leave thy plain tful foul more to moleft,
And think that woe when morteft then is be{L
If flie for whom thou thus dofl deaf the fky
Be dead, what then ? was me not born to die ?
Was me not mortal born ? If thou doft grieve
That times mould be in which me fhould not live,,
Ere e'er fhe was weep that day's wheel was rolFd,
Weep that me liv'd not in the age of gold.
For that fhe was not then thou may'ft deplore,
As well as that fhe now can be no more.
If only fhe had died, thou fure hadfl caufe
To blame the Fates, and their too iron laws.
But look how many millions her advance,
What numbers with her enter in this dance,
With thofe which are to come : fhall Heavens them flay.
And th' univerfe diflblve thee to obey ?
As
JOHN DRUMMOND. 7*
As birth, death, which fo much thee doth appal,
A piece is of the life of this great All.
Strong cities die, die do high palmy reigns,
And fondling thou thus to be us'd complains !
If (he be dead, then (he of loathfome days
Hath pafs'd the line whofe length but lofs bewrays*
Then me hath left this filthy ftage of care,
Where pleafure feldom, woe doth ftill repair.
lror all the pleafures which it doth contain
Not countervail the fmalleft minute's pain.
And tell me, thou who doll fo much admire
This little vapour, this poor fpark of fire,
Which life is call'd, what doth it thee bequeath
But fome few years which birth draws out to death ?
Which if thou parallel with luftres run,
Or thofe whofe courfes are but now begun,
In days' great numbers they mail lefs appear,
Than with the fea when matched is a tear.
But why fhould'ft thou here longer wifh to be ?
One year doth ferve all Nature's pomp to fee.
Nay, even one day, and night : this moon, that 6m,
Thofe leffer fires about this round which run,
Be but the fame which under Saturn's reign
Did the ferpenting feafons interchain.
How oft doth life grow lefs by living long t
And what excelleth but what dieth young ?
For age, which all abhor, yet would embrace,
Doth make the mind as wrinkled as the face.
Then leave laments, and think thou didft not live,
Laws to that firfl eternal Caufe to give j
F 4 But
T» THE POEMS OF
But to obey thofe laws which he hath given*
And bow unto the juft decrees of Heaven,
Which cannot err, whatever foggy mills
Do blind men in thefe fublunary lifts.
But what if (he for whom thou fpend'ft thofe groans,-
And wades thy life's dear torch in ruthfui moans,
She for whofe fake thou hat'ft the joyful light,
Courts folitary (hades and irkfome night,
Doth live ? Ah ! (if thou canfl) through tears, a
fpace,
Lift thy dimm'd lights, and look upon this face ;
Look if thofe eyes which, fool ! thou didft adore,
Shine not more bright than they were wont before.
Look if thofe rofrj death could aught impair,
Thofe rofes which thou once faidft were fajfair ;
And if thefe locks have loft aught of that gold,
Which once they had when thou them didft behold.
T live, and liappy live, but thou art dead,
And ftili ihalt be till thou be like me made.
Alas ! while we are wrapt in gowns of earth,
And, blind, here fack the air of woe beneath ;
Each thing in fenfe's balances we weigh,
And but with toil and pain the truth defcry.
Above this vaft and admirable frame,
This temple vifible, which world we name,
Within whofe walls fo many lamps do burn,
So many arches with crofs motions turn,
Where th' elemental brothers nurfe their ftrife,
And by inteitme wars maintain their life ;
There
JOHN DRUMMOND. 73
There is a world, a world of perfeft blifs,
Pure, immaterial, as brighter far from this,
As that high circle whii:h the reft enfpheres
Is from this dull, ignoble vale of tears:
A world where all is found, that here is found,
But further difcrepant than heaven and ground :
It hath an earth, as hath this world of yours,
With creatures peopled, and adorn'd with flow'rs
It hath a fea, like fapphire girdle cafl,
Which decks of the harmonious fhores the wafte ;
It hath pure fire, it hath delicious air,
Moon, fun, and ftars, heavens wonderfully fair :
Flow'rs never there do fade, trees grow not old,
No creature dieth there through heat or cold ;
Sea there not tofied is, nor air made black,
Fire doth not greedy feed on others' wrack :
There heavens be not conftrain'd about to range,
For this world hath no need of any change :
Minutes mount not to hours, nor hours to days,
Days make no months, but ever-blooming Mays.
Here I remain, and hitherward do tend
All who their fpan of days in virtue fpeud :
Whatever pleafant this low place contains,
Is but a glance of what above remains.
Thofe who (perchance) think there can nothing be
Beyond this wide expanfion which they fee,
And that nought elfe mounts ftars' circumference,
For that nought elfe is fubjed to their fenfe,
Feel fuch a cafe, as one whom fome abifme
la the deep ocean kept had all his time :
Who
74 THE POEMS OF
Who, born and nourrfh'd there, cannot believe
That elfewhere aught without thofe waves can live "
Cannot believe that there be temples, tow'rs,
Which go beyond his caves and dampim bow'rs :
Or there be other people, manners, laws,
Than what he finds within the churlifh waves :
That fweeter flow'rs do fpring than grow on rocks,
Or beafts there are excel the fkaly flocks :
That other elements are to be found,
Than is the water and this ball of ground.
But think that man from this abifme being brought,
Did fee what curious Nature here hath 'wrought,
Did view the meads, the tall and fhady woods,
And mark'd the hills, and the clear rolling floods ;
And all the beafts which Nature forth doth bring,.
The feather'd troops that fly and fweetly fmg :
Obferv'd the palaces, and cities fair,
Men's fafhion of life, the fire, the airr
The brightnefs of the fun that dims his fight,
The moon, and'fplendors of the painted night :
What fudden rapture would his -mind furprife !
How would he his late-dear refort defpife !
How would he mufe how fbolifh he had been,
To think all nothing but what there was feen !
Why do we get this high and vail defire,
Unto immortal things iiJll to afpire ?
Why doth our mind extend it beyond time,
And to that higheil happinefs even climb ?
For we are more than what to fenfe we feem,
And more than dull us worldlings do eileem ;
We
JOHNDRUMMOND. 75
We be not made for eaith though here we come,
More than the embryo for the mother's womb :
It weqjs to l>e mack free, and we complain
To Icuve this loathfome gaol of care and pain.
But thou who vulgar footfteps doft not trace,
Learn to roufe up thy mind to vie\v this place,
And what earth-creeping mortals moft affe&,
If not at all to (corn, yet to neglect :
Seek not vain fliadows, which when once obtained
Arc belter loll than with fuch travel gain'd.
Think that on earth what worldlings greatnefs call,
Is but a glorious title to live thrall :
That fceptres, diadems, and chairs of flate,
Not in themfelves, but to fmall minds are great :
That thofe who loftieft mount do hardeft light,
A nd deepeft falls be from the higheft height :
That fame an echo is, and all renown
Like to a blafted rofe, ere night falls down :
And though it fomething were, think how this round
Is but a little point which doth it bound.
O leave that love which reacheth but to duft,
And in that love eternal only truft,
And beauty, which when once it is pofTeft
Can only fill the foul, and make it bleft.
Pale envy, jealous emulations, fears,
Sighs, plaints, remorfe, here have no place, nor tears :
Falfe joys, vain hopes, here be not, hate nor wrath.
What ends all love here mofl augments it, Death.
If fuch force had the dim glance of an eye,
Which but fomc few days afterwards did die,
That
76 THE POEMS OF
That it could make thee leave all other things,.
And like a taper-fly there burn thy wings ;
And if a voice, of late which could but wail,
Such power had, as through ears thy foul to fleal ;
If once thou on that poorly fair couldfl gaze,
What flames of love would this within thee raife ?'
In what a mufing maze would it thee bring,,
To hear but once that choir celeflial fing ?
The faireft fhapes on which thy love did feize,
Which eril did breed delight,, then would difpleafe f.
But difcords hoarfe were earth's enticing founds,
All mufic but a noife, which feafe confounds.
This great and burning glafs which clears all eyes,.
And muilers with fuch glory in the -Ikies ;
That filver flar, which with her purer light
Makes day oft envy the eye-pleafing night j
Thofe golden letters which fo brightly ihine
In heaven's great volume gorgeoufly divine ;
All wonders in the fea, the earth, the air,
Be but dark pictures of that fov'reign fair,
And tongues, which Hill thus cry into your ear
"Could ye amidil world's cataracts them hear) :
From fading things, fond men, lift your defire,
fVnd in our beauty, his us made admire :
if we feem fair, O think how fair is He,
Of whofe great fairnefs, fhadows, fleps we be.
No fhadow can compare unto the face,
No ftep with that dear foot which did it trace ;
Your fouls immortal are, then place them hence, .
And do not drown them in the mift of fenfe :
Do
JOHN DRUM MONO.
77
Do not, O do not by falfe pleafure's might
Deprive them of that true and fole delight,
That happinefs ye feek is not below,
Earth's fweeteft joy is but difguifed woe.
Here did (he paufe, and with a mild afpeft
Did towards me thofe lamping twins direct.
The wonted rays I knew, and thrice eflay'd
To airfwer make, thrice fault'ring tongue it ftay'd.
And while upon that face I fed my fight,
Methought me vanifh'd up to Titan's light ;
Who gilding with hi* rays each hill and plain,
Seem'd to have brought the golden world again.
URANIA,
rpRIUMPHING chariots, ftatues, crowns of
bays,
Sky-threat'ning arches, the rewards of worth,
Books heavenly-wife in fweet harmonious lays,
Which men divine unto the world fet forth :
States which ambitious minds, in blood, do raife,
From frozen Tanais unto fun-burnt Gange,
Gigantic frames held wonders rarely ftrange,
Like fpiders* webs, are made the fport of days.
Nothing is conftant but in conftant change,
What's done ftill is undone, and when undone
Into fome other fafhion doth it range ;
Thus goes the floating world beneath the moon :
Wherefore my mind above time, motion, place.
Rife up, and fteps unknown to nature trace.
TOO
78 THE POEMS OF
*T"^ 0 O long I followed have my fond defire,
•*- And too long painted on the ocean ilreams,
Too long refrefhment fought amidft the fire,
Purfu'd thofe joys which to my foul are blames.
Ah when I had what moil I did admire,
And feen of life's delights the laft extremes,
I found all but a rofe hedg'd with a brier,
A nought, a thought, a mafquerad^ of dreams.
Henceforth on thee, my only good, I'll think,
For only thou canft grant what I do crave :
Thy nail my pen mail be ; thy blood mine ink ;
Thy winding-meet my paper ; ftudy, grave :
And till my foul forth of this body fly,
No hope I'll have, but only only thee.
fpread the azure canopy of heaven,
And fpangle it all with fparks of burning gold,
To place this ponderous globe of earth fq even,
That it mould all, and nought mould it uphold ; .
With motions ftrange t' indue the planets feven,
And Jove to make fo mild, and Mars fo bold ;
To temper what is morft, dry, hot, -and cold,
Of all their jars that fweet accords are given ; —
- Lord,
JOHN DRUM Af ON D. 79
Lord, to thy wifdom's nought, nought to thy might :
But that tihon fhould'ft, thy glory laid afide,
Come bafcly in mortality to bide,
And die for thofe deferv'd an endlefs night ;
A wonder is fo far above our wit,
That angels ftand aroa^'d to think on it.
HAT haplefs hap had I for to be born
In thefe unhappy times, and dying days
Of this now doting world, when good decays,
Love's quite extinft, and virtue's held a fcorn I
When fuch are only priz'd by wretched ways
Who with a golden fleece them can adorn !
When avarice and lull are counted praife,
And braveft minds live, orphan-like, forlorn !
Why was not I born in that golden age,
When gold yet was not known ? and thofe black arti
By which bafe worldlings vilely play their parts,
With horrid acls llaining earth's ftately flage ?
To have been then, O heaven ! 't had been my
blifs,
But blefa me now,, and take me fooa from this*
OM THE PORTRAIT OF THE COUNTESS. OF PERTH.
SONNET.
T
HE goddefs that in Amathus doth reign
With filver trammels, and fapphire-colour'd eyes,
When
8o THE POEMS OF
When naked from her mother's cryftal plain,
She firft appear'd unto the wond'ring fkks ;
Or when the golden apple to obtain,
Her blufhing fnow amazed Ida's trees,
Did never look in half fo fair a guife,
As (he here drawn all other ages ftain.
O God, what beauties to inflame the foul,
And hold the hardeft hearts in chains of gold !
Fair locks, fweet face, love's ftately capitol,
Pure neck, which doth that heavenly frame uphold !
If virtue would to mortal eyes appear,
To ravifh fenfe, me would your beauty wear.
SONNET.
T F heaven, the ftars, and nature did her grace
•*• With all perfections found the moon above,
And what excelleth in this lower place,
Found place in her to breed a world of love :
If angels' gleams mine on her faireft face,
Which makes heaven's joy on earth the gazer prove,
And her bright eyes (the orbs which beauty move)
As Phoebus dazzle in his glorious race; •
What pencil paint, what colour to the fight
So fweet a fhape can mew ? The blufhing Morn
The red muft lend, the Milky-way the white,
And Night, the ftars which her rich crown adorn j
To draw her right then, and make all agree.
The heaven the ttable, Zeuxis Joye muft be.
;
rr:
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 81
Fair foul, in this black age fo ftiin'd thou bright,
nd made all eyes with wonder thee behold,
Till ugly Death., depriving us of light,
In his grim mitly arms thee did enfold.
Who more mail vaunt true beauty here to fee ?
What hope doth more in any heart remain,
That fuch perfections mail his reafon rein,
If beauty with thee born, too died with thee ?
World plain no more of Love, nor count his harms J
With his pale trophies Death has hung his arms.
MADRIGAL.
mortal ftrife,
A /TY thoughts hold mor
^A I do deleft my life,
And with lamenting cries,
Peace to my foul to bring,
Oft call that prince which here doth monarchize :
But he grim grinning king,
Who caitiffs fcorns, and doth the bleft furprife,
Late having deckt with beauty's rofe his tomb,
Difdains to crop a weed, and will not come.
THE POEMS OF
A N
UPON THE
VICTORIOUS KING OF SWEDEN,
GUST4VUS ADOLPHUS.
LI K E a cold fatal fweat which uftiers death,
My thoughts hang on me ; and by labouring
breath,
Stopt up with fighs, my fancy big with woes
Feels two twin mountains ftruggle in her throws,
Of boundlefs furrow thj one, th' other of fin ;
For lefs let no man call it, to begin
Where honour ends in great Guftavus' flame,
That ftill burnt out and wafted to a name,
Does barely live with us ; and when the fluff
Which fed it fails, the taper turns to fnuff :
With this poor fnuff, this airy madow, we
Of fame and honour muft contented be,
Since from the vain grafp of our wifhes fled
Their glorious fubilances, now he is dead.
Speak it again, and louder, louder yet,
Elfe whilft we hear the found, we fhall forget
What
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 85
it delivers ; let hoarfe Rumour cry
Till fhc fo many echoes multiply,
That may like numerous witnefles confute
Our unbelieving fouls, that would difpute
And doubt this truth for ever, this one way
Is left our incredulity to fway,
T* awaken our deaf fenfc, and make our ears
.As open and dilated as our tears ;
That we may feel the blow, and feeling grieve
At what we would not fain, but mufl believe,
And in that horrid faith behold the world
From her proud height of expectation hurl'd ;
Stooping with him, as if me ilrove to have
No lower center now, than Sweden's grave*
O ! could not all the purchas'd victories
Like to thy fame thy flefh immortalize ?
Were not thy virtue nor thy valour charms
To guard thy body from thofe outward harms
Which could not reach thy foul ? Could not thy fpirit
Lend fomewhat which thy frailty could inherit,
From thy diviner part that death nor heat,
Nor envy's bullets e'er could penetrate ?
Could not thy early trophies in ftern fight
Turn from the Pole, the Dane, the Mufcovite ?
Which were thy triumphs, feeds as pledges fown,
That, when thy honour's harveft was ripe grown,
With full plum'd wing thou faulcon-like could fly,
And cuff the eagle in the German fky,
Forcing his iron beak, and feathers feel
They were not proof 'gainft thy victorious fleel.
G 2 Could
84 THE POEMS OF
Could not all thefe 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 ; Deftiny gives place
To none : nor is it feen that princes' lives
Can faved be by their prerogatives :
No more was thine ; who clos'd in thy cold lead
Dofl from thyfelf a mournful lecture read
Of man's fhort-dated glory. Learn you kings,
You are like him but penetrable things ;
Though you from demi-gods derive your birth,
You are at beft but honourable earth :
And howe'er lifted from that coarfer bran
Which doth compound, and knead the common man ;
Nothing immortal, or from earth refin'd
About you, but your office and your mind.
Hear then, break your falfe glafles, which prefent
You greater than your Maker ever meant.
Make truth your mirror now, fince you find all
That flatter you, confuted by his fall.
Yet fmcc it was decreed thy life's bright fun
Muft be eclips'd ere thy full courfe was run,
Be proud thou didft in thy black obfequies
With greater glory fet than others rife :
For in thy death, as life, thou holdeft one
Moft juft and regular proportion.
Look how the circles drawn by compafs meet
Indivifibly, joined head to feet ;
And by continued points which them unite
Grow at once circular, and infinite :
So
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. $5
So did thy fate and honour both contend
To match thy brave beginning with thine end.
Therefore thou hadit, inflead of pafilng-bells,
The drums and cannons thunder for thy knells ;
And in the field thou didft triumphing die,
Clofing thy eyelids with a victory ;
That fo by thoufands that there loll their breath,
King-like thou might'il be waited on in death.
Liv'd Plutarch now, and would of Caefar tell,
He could make none but thee his parallel,
Whofe tide of glory , fwelling to the brim,
Needs borrow no addition from him :
When did great Julius in any cl^me
Achieve fo much, and in fo ihort a time ?
Or if he did, yet malt thou in that land
Single for him, and unexampled (land.
When o'er the Germans firft his eagle tow'r'd,
What fa\v the legions which on them he pour'd,
But mafly bodies made their fwords to try,
Subjects, not for his fight, but flavery ?
In that fo vaft expanded piece of ground
(Now Sweden's theatre and fcom) he found
Nothing worth Crefar's valour, or his fear,
No conquering army, nor a Tilly there,
Whofe ftrength nor wiles, nor practice in the war
Might the fierce torrent of his triumphs bar ;
But that thy winged fword twice made him yield,
Both from his trenches beat, and from the field.
Befides, the Roman thought he had done much,
Did he the banks of Rhenus only touch :
G 3 But
£6 THE POEMS OF
But though his march was bounded by the Rhiner
Not Oder nor the Danube thee confine.
And but thy frailty did thy fame prevent,
Thou hadft thy conquefl ftretch'd to fuch extent
Thou might'ft Vienna reach, and after Spain ;
From Mulda to the Baltic ocean.
But death hath fpann'd thee, nor muft we divine
What here thou hadft to finifh thy defign f
Or who mail thee fucceed as champion
For liberty, and for religion.
Thy tafk is done : as in a watch the fpring,
Wound to the height, relaxes with the firing ;
So thy fteel nerves of conqueft, from their fteep
Afcent deelin'd, lie fiackt in thy laft fleep.
Reft then, triumphant foul, for ever reft,
And, like the phoenix in her fpicy neft,
Embalm'd with- thine own merit, upward fly,
Borne in a cloud of perfume to the fky ;
Whilft, as in deathlefs urns, each noble mind
Treafures thine afhes which are left behind.
And if perhaps no Caffiopeian fpark
(Which in the North did thy firft rifing mark)
Shine o'er thy hearfe, the breath of our juft praife
Shall to the firmament thy virtues raife ;
There fix and kindle them into a ftar,
Whofe influence may crown thy glorious war.
TEARS
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 276
TEARS
ON THE
DEATH
O F
M CE L I A D E S.*
HEAVENS ! then is it true that thou art gone,
And left this woful ifle her lofs to moan ;
Mocliades, bright day-flar of the weft,
A comet blazing terror to the eaft ;
And neither that thy fpirit fo heavenly vvifey
Nor body (though of earth), more pure than ikies,
Nor royal ftem, nor thy fweet tender age,.
Of cruel deflinies could quench the rage ?
O fading hopes ! O fhort-while lailing joy
Of earth-born man, that one hour can deftroy f
Then even of virtue's fpoils death trophies rears,
As if he gloried mod in many tears.
Forc'd by hard fates, do heavens neglect our cries ?
Are ftars fet only to act tragedies ?
* The name which in thefe verfes is given unto prince Henrv,
is that which he himfelf, in the challenges of his martial fportt
and mafquerades, was wont to ufe ; MCELIADES, Prince of the
Ifles, which in anagram maketh a word moft worthy of fuch a
knight as he was, a knight (if time had fuffered his actions to
anfwer the world's expectation), only worthy of fuch a word,.
Miles a Dee.
G4 Then
88 THE POEMS OF
Then let them do their woril, fmcc them art gone,
Raife whom thou lift to thrones, enthron'd dethrone ?
Stain princely bow'rs with blood, and even to Gange,.
In cyprefs fad, glad Hymen *s torches change*
Ah ! thou haft left to live ; and in the time
When fcarce thou bloffom'dft in thy pleafant prime ::
So falls by northern blaft a virgin rofe,
At half that doth her bafhful bofom clofc ;
So a fweet flower languifhing decays,
That late did blufh when kifs'd by Phoebus' rays ;
So Phoebus mounting the meridian's height,
Choak'd by pale Phoebe, faints unto our fight ;
Aftonifh'd nature fullen Hands to fee
The life of all this all fo chang'd to be ;
In gloomy gowns the ftars this lofs deplore,
The fea with murmuring mountains beats the more*
Black darknefs reels o'er all, in thoufand mow'rs
The weeping air on earth her forrow pours,
That, in a palfy, quakes to fee fo foon
Her lover fet, and night burft forth ere noon*
If heaven, alas ! ordain'd thee young to die,
Why was't not where thou might'ft thy valour try 5.
And to the wondering world at leaft fet forth
Some little fpark of thy expe&ed worth ?
Moeliades, O that by Ifter's ftreams,
'Mong founding trumpets, fiery twinkling gleam*
Of warm vermilion fwords, and cannons' roar,
Balls thick as rain pour'd on the Cafpian more,
'Mongft broken fpears, 'mongft ringing helms and
fliields,
Hug.e heaps of flaughter'd bodies 'long the fields,
2 Ift
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. S,
In Turkish blood made red like Mars's ftar,
Thou ciuicdit had thy life, and chriftian war ;
Or as brave Bourbon, thou hadft made old Rome,
Queen of the world, thy triumph, and thy tomb !
So heaven's fair face, to th' unborn world, which
reads,
A book had been of thy illuftrious deeds r
So to their nephews, aged fires had told
The high exploits performed by thee of old ;
Towns ras'd, and rais'd, victorious, vanquim'd bands,
Fierce tyrants flying, foil'd, kill'd by thy hands :
And in rich arras virgins fair had wrought
The bays and trophies to thy country brought :
While fome new Homer, imping wings to Fame,
Deaf Nilus' dwellers had made hear thy name.
That thou didit not attain thefe honour's fpheres,
Through want of worth it was not, but of years.
A youth more brave, pale Troy with trembling walls
Did never fee, nor me whofe name appals
Both Titan's golden bow'rs, in bloody fights,
Muft'ring on Mars his field, fuch Mars-like knights*
The heavens had brought thee fo the higheit height
Of wit and courage, mewing all their might
When they thee frara'd. Ah me ! that what is brave
On earth, they as their own fo foon mould cratfe !
Moeliades fweet courtly nymphs deplore,
From Thule to Hydafpes* pearly more.
When Forth, thy nurfe, Forth where thou iirft
didft pafs
Thy tender days (who fmil'd oft on her glafs,
To
go THE POEMS OF
To fee thee gaze), meand'ring with her ftreams,
Heard thou hadil left this round, from Phoebus' beams
She fought to fly, but forced to return
By neighbouring brooks, (he fet herfelf to mourn :
And as fhe rum'd her Cyclades among,
She feem'd to plain that heaven had done her
wrong.
With a hoarfe plaint, Clyde down her fteepy rocks,
And Tweed through her green mountains clad with
flocks,
Did wound the ocean murmuring thy death ;
The ocean it roar'd about the earth,
And to the Mauritanian Atlas told,
Who fhrunk through grief, and down his white hairs
roll'd
Huge ftreams of tears, which changed were to floods,
Wherewith he drown'd the neighbour plains and
woods.
The lefifer brooks, as they did bubbling go,
Did keep a confort to the public woe.
The mepherds left their flocks with downcaft eyes,.
'Sdaining to look up to the angry flues :
Some brake their pipes, and fome in fweet-fad lays
Made fenfelefs things amazed at thy praife.
His reed Alexis hung upon a tree,
And with his tears made Doven great to be.
Mceliades fweet courtly nymphs deplore,
From Thule to Hydafpes' pearly fhore»
Chafte maids which haunt fair Aganippe's well,
you in Tempe's facred (hade who dwell,
Let
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. <ji
fall your harps, ceafc tunes of joy to fing,
Diflievelled make all Pnrnaflus ring
With anthems fad ; thy mufick Phoebus turn
To doleful plaints, vvhilll joy itfelf doth mourn.
Dead is thy darling who adorn'd thy bays,
Who oft was wont to cherifh thy fweet lays,
And to a trumpet raife thy amorous ftyle,
That floating Delos envy might this ifle.
You Acidalian archers break your bows,
Your torches quench, with tears blot beauty's fnows,
And bid your weeping mother yet again
A fecond Aden's death, nay Mars his plain.
His eyes once were your darts ; nay, even his name,
Wherever heard, did every heart inflame.
Tagus did court his love with golden ftreams,
Rhine with his towns, fair Seme with all (he claims.
But ah J (poor lovers) death did them betray,
And, not fufpe&ed, made their hopes his prey I
Tagus bewails his lofs in golden ftreams,
Rhine with his towns, fair Seine with all me claims.
Moeliades fweet courtly nymphs deplore,
From Thule to Hydafpes' pearly more.
Eye-pleafing meads, whofe painted plain forth
brings
White, golden, azure flow'rs, which once were kings,
To mourning black their fhining colours dye,
Bow down their heads, while fighing zephyrs fly.
Queen of the fields, whofe blufh makes blufh the
mom,
Sweet rofe, a prince's death in purple mourn ;
Ohya-
?, THE POEMS OF
O hyacinths, for aye your AI keep full,
Nay, with more marks of woe your leaves now fillt
And you, O flow'r, of Helen's tears that's born,
Into thefe liquid pearls again you turn :
Your green locks, forefts, cut ; to weeping myrrhs,
To deadly cyprefs, and ink-dropping firs,
Your palms and myrtles change ; from fhadows dark
Wing'd fyrens wail, and you fad echoes mark
The lamentable accents of their moan,
And plain that brave Moeliades is gone.
Stay, fky, thy turning courfe, and now become
A ftately arch, unto the earth his tomb :
And over it ftill wat'ry Iris keep,
And fad Ele&ra's fitters, who ftill weep :
Mreliades fweet courtly nymphs deplore,
From Thules to Hydafpes' pearly more.
Dear ghoft, forgive thefe our untimely tears,
By which our loving mind, though w.eak, appears :
Our lofs, not thine (when we complain), we weep,
For thee the glittering walls of heaven do keep,
Beyond the planet's wheels, 'bove higheft fource
Of fpheres, that turns the lower in his ,cour£e :
Where fun doth never fet, nor ugly night
Ever appears in mourning garments dight :
Where Boreas' ftormy trumpet doth not found,
Nor clouds, in lightnings. tmriling, minds ailound.
From cares, cold climates far, and hot defire,
Where time's exil'd, and ages ne'er expire ;
'Mong pureft fpirits environed with beams,
Thou thiiik'ft all things beldw t' have been but dreams j
And
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 43
And joy'ft to look down to the azur'd bars
heaven powder'd with troops of ftreaming ftars ;
And in their turning temples to behold,
In filver robe the moon, the fun in gold ;
Like young eye-fpcaking lovers in a dance.
With majeily by turns retire, advance :
Thou wonder'ft earth to fee hang like a ball,
Clos'd in the mighty cloifter of this all ;
And that poor men fhould prove fo madly fond,
To tofs themfelves for a fmall fpot of ground :
Nay, that they ev'n dare brave the powers above,
From this bafe ftage of change that cannot move.
All worldly pomp and pride thou feeft arife,
Like fmoak that's fcatter'd in the empty ikies.
Other high hills and forefts, other tow'rs,
Amaz'd thou find'ft excelling our poor bow'rs ;
Courts void of flattery, of malice minds,
Pleafure which lafts, not fuch as reafon blind*.
Thou fweeter fongs doft hear, and carollings,
Whilfl heavens do dance, and choirs of angels fmgs,
Than muddy minds could feign ; even our annoy
•(If it approach that place) is chang'd to joy.
Reft, blefled foul, reft fatiate with the fight
Of him whofe beams (though dazzling) do delight ;~
Life of all lives, caufe of each other caufe ;
The fphere and centre where the mind doth paufe ;
Narciflus of himfelf, himfelf the well,
Lover, and beauty that doth all excel.
Reft, happy foul, and wonder in that glafrj
Where feen is all that fhall be, is, or was,
While
94. THE POEMS OF
While fhall be, is, or was, do pafs away,
And nothing be, but an eternal day.
For ever relt ; thy praife Fame will enrol
In golden annals, while about the pole
The flow Bootes turns, or fun doth rife
With fcarlet fcarf to cheer the mourning fides.
The virgins to thy tomb will garlands bear
Of flow'rs, and with each flow'r let fall a tear,
Mceliades fweet courtly nymphs deplore,
From Thule to Hydafpes' pearly more.
OF jet,
Or porphyry,
Or that white ftone
Paros affords alone,
Or thcfe in azure dye,
Which feem to fcorn the fky ;
Here Memphis' wonders do not fet,
Nor Artemifia's huge frame,
That keeps fo long her lover's name,
Make no great marble Atlas ftoop with gold,
To pleafe the vulgar eye fhall it behold.
The Mufes, Phoebus, Love, have raifed of their tears
A cryftal tomb to him, through which his worth
appears.
EPITAPH.
O TAY, paffenger, fee where enclofed lies
The paragon of princes, fairefl frame,
Time, nature, place, could mew to mortal eyes,
In worth, wit, virtue, miracle of fame :
At
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 95
At lead that part the earth of him could claim
This marble holds (hard like the deftinies) :
For as to his brave fpirit, and glorious name,
The one the world, the other fills the floes.
Th' immortal amaranthus, princely rofe,
Sad violet, and that fweet flow'r that bears
In fanguine fpots the tenor of our woes,
Spread on this (lone, and warn it with your tears ;
Then go and tell from Gades unto Inde,
You faw where earth's perfections were confin'd.
ANOTHER.
A PASSING glance, a lightning long the fkies,
•*•*- Which, umering thunder, dies ftraight to our
fight ;
A fpark that doth from jarring mixtures rife,
Thus drown 'd is in th' huge depths of day and night :
Is this fmall trifle, life, held in fuch price
Of blinded wights, who ne'er judge aught aright ?
Of Parthian (haft fo fwift is not the flight,
As life, that waftes Jtfelf, and living dies.
Ah ! what is human greatnefs, valour, wit ?
What fading beauty, riches, honour, praife?
To what doth ferve in golden thrones to fit,
Thrall earth's vaft round, triumphal arches raife ?
That all's a dream, learn in this prince's fall,
In whom, fave death, nought mortal was at alL
A TRANS-
g6 THE POEMS, &a
A
TRANSLATION
O F
SIR JOHN SCOT'S VERSES,
BEGINNING
Quod vita feftabor Iter ?
WHAT courfe of life fhould wretched mortals
take ?
In books hard queftions large contention make.
Care dwells in houfes, labour in the field ;
Tumultuous feas affrighting dangers yield.
In foreign lands thou never canil be bleil :
If rich, thou art in fear ; if poor, diftrefs'd.
In wedlock frequent difcontentments fwell ;
Unmarried perfons as in defarts dwell.
How many troubles are with children born !
Yet he that wants them counts himfelf forlorn.
Young men are wanton, and of wifdom void ;
Grey hairs are cold, unfit to be employ'd.
Who would not one of thefe two offers try,
..Not to be born ; or, being born, to die ?
MADRIGALS
MADRIGALS
AN 9
EPIGRAMS.
H
MADRIGALS
AND
P I G R A M S,
THE
•STATUE OF MEDUSA.
that Medufa ftrange,
Who thofe that did her fee in rocks did change,
No image caiVd is this ;
Medufa's felf it is :
For while at heat of day
To quench her thirft (he by this fpring did flay,
Her hideous head beholding in this glafs,
Her fenfee faiPd, and thus transform'd (he was.
H 2 THE
ioo THE POEMS OF
THE
PORTRAIT OF MARS AND VENUS.
T7AIR Paphos' wanton queen
•*• (Not drawn in white and red)
Is truly here, as when in Vulcan's bed
She was of all heaven's laughing fenate feen.
Gaze on her hair, and eine,
Her brows, the bows of Love,
Her back with lilies fpread :
Ye alfo might perceive her turn and move,
But that me neither fo will do, nor dare,
For fear to wake the angry god of war.
NARCISSUS.
FLOODS cannot quench my flames, ah ! in this
well
I burn, not drown, for what I cannot tell.
DAMETA's DREAM.
AMETA dream'd he faw his wife at fport,
And found that fight was through the horny-
port.
CHERRIES.
"JV/TY wanton, weep no more
A The loiing of your cherries;
Thofe, and far Aveeter berries,
Your fi'tcr, in (rood ftc.:\ ,
ITath
\V f I. LI AM Dtt T M M n N D.
uli in her lips and face ;
glad, kifs her with me, and hold your peace.
ICARUS.
HILE with audacious wings
I cleav'd thofe airy ways,
And fill'd (a monfter new) with dread and fears,
The feather'd people and their eagle kings :
Da 7 /.led with Phoebus' rays,
And charm'd with the raufick of the fpheres,
When quills could move no more, and force did fail,
Though down I fell from heaven's high azure
bounds ;
Yet doth renown my lofles countervail,
For ftill the more my brave attempt refounds.
A fen, an element doth bear my name ;
What mortal's tomb's fo great in place or fame ?
ON HIS LADY BEHOLDING HERSELF IN A MARBI E. -
"\)I7ORLD wonder not, that I
* Keep in my bread engraven
That angel's face hath me of reft bereaven.
Ste dead and fcnfelefs things cannot deny
To lodge fo dear a gueft :
Ev'n this hard marble (lone
Receives the fame, and loves, but cannot groan.
TO
THE POEMS OF
TO SLEEP.
T TOW comes it, Sleep, that thou
Even kiffes me affords
Of her, dear her, fo far who's abfent now ?
How did I hear thofe words,
Which rocks might move, and move the pines to bow ?
Ah me ! before half day
Why didft thou fteal away ?
Return, I thine for ever will remain,
If thou wilt bring with thee that gueft again.
A PLEASANT DECEIT,
VER a cryftal fouree
lolas laid his face,
Of purling ftreams to fee the reftlefs courfe.
But fcarce he had o'erfhadowed the place,
When in the water he a child efpies,
So like himfelf in ftature, face and eyes,
That glad he rofe, and cried,
Dear mates approach, fee whom I have defer Jed,
The boy of whom ftrange ft ories fhepherds tell,
Oft called Hylas, dwelleth in this well.
THE CANNON.
HEN firft the cannon from her gaping throat
Againil the heaven her roaring fulphur mot,
Jove, waken'd with the noife, did aik with wonder,
What mortal wight had iloPu from him his thunder :
His
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 103
[is cryftal tow'rs he fear'd, but fire and air
high did Hay the ball from mounting there.
THAIS' METAMORPHOSIS.
NTO Briareushuge
Thais wifh'd me might change
Her man, and pray'd him not thereat to grudge,
Nor fondly think it ftrange ;
For if, faid me, I might the parts difpofe,
I wifli you not a hundred arms nor hands,
But hundred things like thofe
With which Priapus in our garden ftands.
THE QUALITY OF A KISS.
TH E kifs with fo much ftrife
Which I late got, fweet heart,
Was it a fign of death, or was it life ?
Of life it could not be,
For I by it did figh my foul in thee :
Nor was it death, death doth no joy impart.
Thou filent ftand'ft, ah ! what didft thou bequeath,
A dying life to me, or living death ?
w
HIS LADY's DOG.
HEN her dear bofom clips
That little cur which fawns to touch her
lips,
H 4 O
,o4 THEPOEMSOF
Or when it is his hap
To lie lapp'd in her lap,
0 it grows noon with me ;
With hotter-pointed beams
1 burn, than thofe are which the fun forth flreams,
When piercing lightning his rays call'd may be ;
And as I mufe how I to thofe extremes
Am brought, I find no caufe, except that me
In Love's bright zodiack having trac'd each room,
To the hot dog:ftar now at laft is come.
AN ALMANACK.
THIS ftrange eclipfe one fays
Strange wonders doth foretel ;
But you whofe wives excel,
And love to count their praife,
Shut all your gates, your hedges plant with thorns,
The fun did threat the world this time with horns.
THE SILK -WORM OF LOVE.
A D^EDALE of my death
Ji\_ Now I refemble that fly worm on earth,
Which prone to its own harm doth take no reft :
For day and night oppreft,
I feed on fading leaves
Of hope, which me deceives,
And thoufand webs do warp within my breafl :
And thus in end unto myfelf I weave
A faft-fhut prifon, or a clofer grave.
DEEP
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 10 =
DLEP IMPRESSION OF LOVE TO HIS MISTRESS.
T7HOM a mad dog doth bite,
' * He doth in water Hill
it mad dog's image fee :
>ve, mad, perhaps, when he my heart did fmite,
More to difTemble his ill,
Transform'd himfelf to thee :
For thou art prefent ever fince to me.
No fpring there is, no flood, nor other place
Where I, alas ! not fee thy heavenly face.
A CHAIN OF GOLD.
ARE not thofe locks of gold
'f^ Sufficient chains the wildeft hearts to hold ?
Is not that ivory hand
A diamantine band,
Moft fure to keep the mod untamed mind,
But ye muft others find ?
O yes ! why is that golden one then worn ?
Thus free in chains, perhaps, love's chains to fcorn.
Os THE DEATH OF A LINNET.
•
IF cruel Death had ears,
Or could be pleas'd by fongs,
This wing'd mufician had liv'd many years,
And Nifa mine had never wept thcfc wrongs :
For
106 THE POEMS OF
For when it firft took breath,
The heavens their notes did unto it bequeath :
And if that Samian's fentences be true,
Amphion in this body liv'd anew.
But Death, who nothing fpares, and nothing hears,
As he doth kings, kill'd it, O grief ! O tears !
L I L L A's PRAYER.
LOVE, ifthou wilt once more
That I to thee return,
Sweet god ! make me not burn
For quivering age, that doth fpent days deplore.
Nor do thou wound my heart
For fome inconftant boy
Who joys to love, yet makes of love a toy.
But, ah ! if I muft prove thy golden dart,
Of grace, O let me find
A fweet young lover with an aged mind.
Thus Lilla pray'd, and Idas did reply,
(Who heard) Dear, have thy wifh, for fuch am I.
ARMELIN's EPITAPH.
to this eglantine
Enclofed lies the milk-white Armeline ;
Once Cloris* only joy,
Now only her annoy ;
Who envied was of the mod happy fwains
That keep their flocks in mountains, daks, or plains :
For
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 107
for oft (he bore the wanton in her arm,
ind oft her bed and bofom did he warm ;
low when unkinder Fates did him deftroy,
Heft dog, he had the grace,
That Cloris for him wet with tears her face.
EPITAPH.
lrT^ HE bawd of juftice, he who laws controll'd,
•*• And made them fawn and frown as he got gold,
That Proteus of our flate, whofe heart and mouth
Were farther diflant than is north from Couth,
That cormorant who made himfelf fo grofs
On people's ruin, and the prince's lofs,
Is gone to hell ; and though he here did evil,
He there perchance may prove an honefl devil.
A TRANSLATION.
VjMERCE robbers were of old
Exil'd the champaign ground,
From hamlets chas'd, in cities kill'd, or bound,
And only woods, caves, mountains, did them hold :
But no\v, when all is fold,
Woods, mountains, caves, to good men be refuge,
And do the guiltlefs lodge,
And clad in purple gowns
The greateft thieves command within the towns.
EPITAPH.
I0g THE POEMS OF
EPITAPH.
Death thee hath beguil'd,
Aleao's firft born child ;
Then thou who thrall'd all laws,
Now againft worms cannot maintain thy caufe :
Yet worms (more juft than thou) now do no wrong,
Since all do wonder they thee fpar'd fo long ;
For though from life thou didft but lately pafs,
Twelve fprings are gone fince thou corrupted was.
Come, citizens, erecl: to Death an altar,
Who keeps you from axe, fuel, timber, halter.
A J.E S T.
IN a moft hcly church, a holy man,
Unto a holy faint with vifage wan,
And eyes like fountains, mumbled forth a prayer,
And with ftrange words and fighs made black the air.
And having long fo ftay'd, and long long pray'd,
A thoufand crofies on himfelf he laid ;
And with fome facred beads hung on his arm,
His eyes, his mouth, his temples, bread did charm.
Thus not content (ftrange worfhip hath no end)
To kifs the earth at laft he did pretend,
And bowing down befought, with humble grace,
An aged woman near to give fome place :
She turn'd, and turning up her hole beneath,
Said, Sir, kifs here, foi it is all but earth.
PROTEUS
\V I L-L I A M D R U M M O N D. 109
PROTEUS OF MARBLE.
•r-p HIS is no work of ftone,
JL Though it fccms breathlefs, cold, and fcnfc
hath none,
But that falfe god which keeps
'The monftrous people of the raging deeps :
Now that he doth not change his fhape this vvhile^
It is thus conilant more -you to 'beguile.
P A M P H I L U S.
SOME Ladies wed, Tome love, and Tome adore
them,
I like their wanton fport, then care not for them.
APELLES ENAMOURED OFCAMPASPE, ALEXANDER'S
MISTRESS.
T)OOR painter, while I fought
A To counterfeit by art
The faireil frame which Nature ever wrought,
And having limn'd each part,
Except her matchlefs eyes :
Scarce on thofe funs I gaz'd,
As lightning falls from ikies,
When ftraight my hand grew weak, my mind amazM,
And ere that pencil half them had exprefs'd,
Love had them drawn, no, grav'd them in my breaft.
CAMP \
JIS THE POEMS OF
CAMPASPE.
ON ftars (hall I exclaim,
Which thus my fortune change,
Or (hall I elfe revenge
Upon myfelf this fhame,
Inconftant monarch, or fliall I thee blame
Who lets Apelles prove
The fweet delights of Alexander's love ?
No, flars, myfelf, and thee, I all forgive,
And joy that thus I live ;
Of thee, blind king, my beauty was defpis'd,
Thou didft not know it, now being known 'tis prized.
CORNUCOPIA.
IF for one only horn,
Which Nature to him gave,
So famous is the noble unicorn ;
What praife mould that man have,
Whofe head a lady brave
Doth with a goodly pair at once adorn ?
LOVE SUFFERS NO PARASOJ.
eyes, dear eyes, be fpheres
Where two bright funs are roll'd,
That fair hand to behold,
Of whiteft fnow appears :
4 Then
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. i
Then while ye coyly (land
To hide from me thofe eyes,
Sweet, I would you advife
To choofe fome other fan than that white hand :
For if ye do, for truth mofl true this know,
Thofe funs ere long muft needs confume warm fnovr.
UNPLEASANT MUSICK.
TN fields Ribaldo ftray'd,
May's tapeftry to fee,
And hearing on a tree
A cuckow fing, figh'd to himfclf, and faid,
Lo ! how, alas ! even birds fit mocking me !
SLEEPING BEAUTY.
/~\ SIGHT, too dearly bought !
She fleeps, and though thofe eyes,
Which lighten Cupid's fkies,
Be clos'd, yet fuch a grace
Environeth that place,
That I, through wonder, to grow faint am brought
Suns, if cclips'd you have fuch power divine,
What power have I t' endure you when you mine ?
w
ALCON's KISS.
HAT others at their ear,
Two pearls, Camilla at her nofe did wear,
Which
Iia THE POEMS OF
Which Alcon, who nought favv,
(For Love is blind) robb'd with a pretty kifs ;
But having known his mifs,
And felt what ore he from that mine did draw,
When me to come again did him defire,
He fled, and faid, foul water quenched fire.
THE
STATUE OF VENUS SLEEPING.
"DASSENGER, vex not thy mind,
•*• To make me mine eyes unfold ;
For if thou mouldeft them behold,
Thine, perhaps, they will make blind.
LAURA TO PETRARCH.
T RATHER love a youth, and childim rhyme,
•*• Than thee, whofe verfe and head are wife through
time.
THE ROSE.
"C*LQW'R, which of Adon's blood
Sprang, when of that clear flood,
Which Venus wept, another white was borne,
The fweet Cynarean youth thou lively (hews ;
But this fharp-pointed thorn,
So proud about thy crimfpn fold that grows,
What
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. nj
What doth it reprefent ?
Boar's teeth, perhaps, his milk-white flank which
rent.
O (hew, in one of unefteemed worth,
That both the kiU'd and killer fetteth forth !
A LOVER's PRAYER.
1VTEAR to a cryftal fpring,
-*"^ With thirft and heat oppreft,
Narcifia fair doth rett,
Trees, pleafant trees, which thofe green plains forth
bring,
Now interlace your trembling tops above,
And make a canopy unto my love ;
So in heaven's higheft houfe, when fun appears,
Aurora may you cherifh with her tears.
IO.LAS' EPITAPH.
TTERE dear lolas lies,
Who whilft he liv'd in beauty did furpafs
That boy, whofe heavenly eyes
Brought Cypris from above,
Or him to death who look'd in wat'ry glafs,
Even judge the god of love.
And if the nymph, once held of him fo dear,
Dorine fhe fair, would here but fhed one tear,
Thou mould* it, in nature's fcorn,
A purple flow'r fee of this marble bom.
I THE
x,4 THE POEMS OF
THE TROJAN HORSE.
AHORSE lam, who bit,
Rein, rod, fpur, do not fear ;
When I my riders bear,
Within my womb, not on my back they fit.
No ftreams I drmk, nor care for grafs or corn ;
Art me a monfter wrought,
All nature's works to fcorn ;
A mother I was without mother born,
In end all arm'd my father I forth brought :
What thoufand mips and champions of renown
Could not do free, captiv'd I raz'd Troy's town.
FOR DORUS.
H Y, Nais, ftand ye nice,
Like to a well-wrought Hone,
When Dorus would you kifs ?
Deny him not that blifs,
He's but a child (old men be children twice),
And even a toothlefs one :
And when his lips yours touch in that delight,
Ye need not fear he will thofe cherries bite.
LOVE VAGABONDING.
O WEET nymphs, if as ye ftray
^ Ve find the froth-born goddefs of the fea,
All
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 115
All blubber'd, pale, undone,
Who feeks her giddy fon,
That little god of love,
Whofe golden (hafts your charted bofoms prove ;
Who leaving all the heavens hath run away :
If aught to him that finds him (he'll impart,
*f ell her he nightly lodgeth in my heart.
T O A RIVER.
ITH (he will not that I
Shew to the world my joy,
Thou, who oft mine annoy
Haft heard, dear flood, tell Thetis if thou ca«
That not a happier man
Doth breathe beneath the flcy.
More fweet, more white, more fair,
Lips, hands, and amber hair,
Ttll none did ever touch ;
A fmaUer, daintier waift
Tell never was embrac'd ; *"
But peace, fince (he forbids thec tell too much. •
L I D A.
C UGH Lida is, that who her fees,
Through envy, or through love, flraight dice.
I * PHR-ENE.
,i6 THE POEMS OF
P H R JE N E.
A ONI AN fillers, help my Phrxne's praife to
" tell,
Phraene, heart of my heart, with whom the Graces
dwell ;
For I furcharged am fo fore that I not know
What firft to praife of her, her breaft, or neck of
fnow,
Her cheeks with rofes fpread, or her two fun-like
eyes,
Her teeth of brighteft pearl, her lips where fweetnefs
lies :
But thofe fo praife themfelves, being to all eyes fet
forth,
That, Mufes, ye need not to fay aught of their worth ;
Then her white dwelling paps effay for to make
known,
But her white fwelling paps through fmalleft veil
are (hewn ;
Yet me hath fomething elfe, more worthy than the
reft,
Not feen ; go fing of that which lies beneath her breaft,
And mounts like fair Parnaffe, where Pegafe well
doth run
Here Phrasne ftay'd my mufe ere the had well begun.
KISSES
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 117
KISSES DESIRED.
npHOUGH I with ftrange defire
•*" To kifs thofe rofy lips am fet on fire,
Yet will I ceafe to crave
Sweet kiffes in fuch ftore,
As he who long before
In thoufands them from Lefbia did receive :
^weetheart,, but once me kifs,
And I by that fweet blifs
Even fwear to ceafe you to importune more ;
Poor one no number is ;
Another word of me ye mall not hear
After one kifs, but dill one kifs, my dear.
DESIRED DEATH.
DEAR life, while I do touch
Thefe coral ports of blifs,
Which ftill themfelves do kifs,
And fweetly me invite to do as much,
All panting in my lips,
My heart my life doth leave,
No fenfe my fenfes have,
And inward powers do find a ftrange eclipfe t
This death fo heavenly well
Doth fo me pleafe, that I
Would never longer feek in fenfe to dwell,,
If that even thus I only could but die.
I 3 FHCEBE.
THE POEMS OF
PHOEBE.
' F for to be alone, and all the night to wander,
* Maids can prove chafte, then chafte is Phoebe
without flander.
ANS WE R.
Tj^OOL, ftifl to be alone, all-night in heaven to-
wander,
Would make the wanton chafte, then (he's chafte
without flander.
THE CRUELTY or RORA.
WHILST fighing forth his wrongs,
In fweet, though doleful fongs,
Alexis fought to charm his Rora's ears,
The hills were heard to moan,
To figh each fpring appear' d,
Trees, hardeft trees, through rifle diftilTd their tears,.
And foft grew every ftone :
But tears, nor fighs, nor fongs could Rora move,
For (he rejoiced at his plaint and love.
A KISS.
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 119
A KISS.
TTARK, happy lovers, hark,
•"• This firft and laft of joys,
This fweet'ner of annoys^
This neftar of the gods,
You call a kits, is with itfelf at odds j
And half £b fweet is net
In equal meafure got,
At light of fun, as it is in the dark ;.
Hark, happy lovers, hark.
K A L A ' s COMPLAINT;
KALA, old Mopfus' wife,
Kala with faireft face,
For whom the neighbour fwains oft were at lirifc,
As (he to milk herfnowy flock did tend,
Sigh'd with a heavy grace,
And faid, What wretch like me doth lead her life £
I fee not how my taik mail have an end :
All day I draw thefe dreaming dugs in fold,,
All night mine empty hufband's foft and cold..
P H I L L I S.
N petticoat of green,
Her hair about her eine>
1 4, Birilis>
t,l0 THE POEMS OF
Phillis, beneath an oak,
Sat milking her fair flock :
'Mongtt that fweet-ftrained moifture (rare delight)
Her hand feem'd milk, in milk it was fo white.
A WISH.
HP O forge to mighty Jove
"•" The thunderbolts above,
Nor on this round below
Rich Midas' fkill to know,
And make all gold I touch,
Do I defire ; it is for me too much :
Of all the arts pra&is'd beneath the fky,
I would but Phillis' lapidary be.
N I S A.
1VTISA, Palemon's wife, him weeping told
He kept not grammar rules, now being old ;
For why, quoth (he, pofition falfe make ye,
Putting a fhort thing where a long mould be.
A LOVER's HEAVEN.
nPHOSE ftars, nay funs, which turn
So flately in their fpheres,
And dazzling do not burn,
The beauty of the morn
Which on thefe cheeks appears,
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 121
(The harmony which to that voice is given,
Makes me think you are heaven.
I If heaven you be, O ! that by powerful charms
'I Atlas were, infolded in your arms 1
EPITAPH.
THIS dear, though not refpe&ed earth doth
hold
One, for his worth, whofe tomb mould be of gold*
BEAUTY'S IDEA.
"\\T H O would perfection's fair idea fee,
On pretty Cloris let him look with me ;
White is her hair, her teeth white, white her (kin,
Black be her eyes, her eye-brows Cupid's inn :
Her locks, her body, hands do long appear,
But teeth fhort, fhort her womb, and either ear,
The fpace 'twixt moulders ; eyes are wide, brow wid£,
Strait waift, the mouth ftrait, and her virgin pride.
Thick are her lips, thighs, with banks fwelling there,
Her nofe is fmall, fmall fingers, and her hair :
Her fugar'd .mouth, her cheeks, her nails be red.
Little her foot, breaft little, and her head.
Such Venus was, fuch was that flame of Troy,
Such Cloris is, mine hope, and only joy.
LALUS'
THE POEMS, &c.
LALUS' DEATH.
AMIDST the waves profound,
Far, far from all relief,
The honeft fifher Lalus, ah ! is drown'd,
Shut in this little fkiff ;
The boards of which did ferve him for a bier,
So that when he to the black world came near,,
Of him no filver greedy Charon got ;
For he in his own boat
Did pafs that flood, by which the gods do fwear,
FLOWERS
FLOWERS OF SION:
OR,
SPIRITUAL POEMS.
npRIUMPHANT arches, ftatues crown'd with
bays,
Proud obelifks, tombs of the vafteft frame,
Brazen Colofles, Atlafes of fame,
And temples builded to vain deities' praife ;
States which uhfatiate minds in blood do raife^
From fouthern pole unto the arctic team,
And even what we write to keep our name,
Like fpiders* cauls, are made the fport of days £
All only conftant is in eonflant change ;
What done is, is undone, and when undone,
Into fome other figure doth it range ;
Thus rolls the refllefs world beneath the moon :
Wherefore, my mind, above time, motion, placef
Afpire, and Heps, not reach'd by nature, trace.
A GOOD that never fatisfies the mind,
•"• A beauty fading like the April flow'rs,
A fweet with floods of gall that runs combined,
A pleafure palfing ere in thought made ours,
A honour
JJ4. THE POEMS OF
A honour that more fickle is than wind*
A glory at opinion's frown that low'rs,
A treafury which bankrupt time devours,
A knowledge than grave ignorance more blind,
A vain delight our equals to command,
A flyle of greatnefs, in effect a dream,.
A fwelling thought of holding fea and land,
A fervile lot, deck'd with a pompous name ;
Are the flrange ends we toil for here below,
Till wifeft death make us our errors know..
T I F E a right fhadow is ;
-L-' For if it long appear,
Then is it fpent, and death's long night draws near %
Shadows are moving, light,
And is there aught fo moving as is this ?
When it is moft in fight,
It fteals away, and none knows how or where,
So near our cradles to our coffins are.
T OOK as the flow'r, which ling'ringly doth fade,,
"*— ' The morning's darling late, the fummer's queen>
Spoil'd of that juice which kept it frefh and green,
As high as it did raife, bows low the head :
Juft fo the pleafures of my life being dead,
Or in their contraries but only feen,
With fwifter fpeed declines than erft it fpread,
And, blafted, fcarce now fhews what it hath been.
Therefore,
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 115
Therefore, as doth the pilgrim, whom the night
Haftes darkly to imprifon on his way,
Think on thy home, my foul, and think aright
Of what's yet left thee of life's wafting day :
Thy fun pofts weftward, parted is thy morn,
And twice it is not given thee to be born. '
npHE weary mariner fo far not flies
•*• An howling tempeft, harbour to attain ;
Nor fhepherd haftes, when frays of wolves arife,
So faft to fold to fave his bleating train,
As I (wing'd with contempt and juft difdain)
Now fly the world, and what it mofl doth prize,
And fanctuary feek, free to remain
From wounds of abjeft times, and Envy's eyes :
To me this world did once feem fweet and fair,
While fenfe's light mind's perfpe&ive kept blind ;
Now like-imagin'd landfcap« in the air,
And weeping rainbows her beft joys 1 find :
Or if aught here is had that praife mould have,
It is an obfcure life and filent grave.
this fair volume which we world do name,
If we the ftieets and leaves cpuld turn with
care,
Of him who it corrects, and did it frame,
We clear might read the art and wifdom rare,
Find
,i6 THE POEMS OF
Find out his power which wildeft powers doth tam«,
His providence extending every where,
His juftice, which proud rebels doth not fpare,
In every page, no period of the fame :
But filly we, like foolifii children, reft
Well pleas'd with colour'd vellum, leaves of gold,
Fair dangling ribbands, leaving what is beft,
On the great writer's fenfe ne'er taking hold ;
Or if by chance we ftay our minds on aught,
It is fome picture on the margin wrought.
grief was common, common were the cries,
•*• Tears, fobs, and groans of that gffli&ed train,
Which of God's chofen did the fum contain,
.And earth rebounded with them, pierc'd were fkiesj
All good had left the world, each vice did reiga
In the moft monftrous forts hell could devife,
And all degrees and each eft ate did ftain,
Nor further had to go whom to furprjfe .;
The world beneath, the prince of darknefs la}-,
And in each temple had himfelf inftall'd,
Was facrific'd unto, by prayers call'd,
Refponfes gave, which, fools, they did obey;
When, pitying man, God of a virgin's womb
Was born, and thofe falfc deities ftmck dumb.
RUN,
WILLIAM DRUMMOND.
UN, fhepherds, run, where Bethlem bled ap-
pears ;
We bring the befl of news, be not difmay'd,
A Saviour there is born, more old than years,
Amidil the rolling lieavcn this earth who ilay'd ;
In a poor cottage inn'd, a virgin maid
A weakling did him bear who all upbears ;
There he in clothes is wrapp'd, in manger laid.
To whom too narrow fwadlings arc our fphcres.
Run, fhepherds, run, and folemnize his birth ;
This is that night, no day, grown great with
In which the power of Satan broken is ;
In heaven be glory ; peace unto the earth S
Thus fmging through the air the angels fvrajn,
And all the ftars re-echoed the fame.
THAN the faireft day, thrice fairer night,
Night to beft days, in which a fun doth rife,
Of which the golden eye which clears the fkies
Is but a fparkling ray, a (hadow light ;
And bleffed ye, in filly paftors* fight,
Mild creatures, in whofe warm crib now lies
That heaven-fent youngling, holy-maid-born wight,
'Midft, end, beginning of our prophecies :
Bleft cottage, that hath flow'rs in winter fpread ;
Though withered blcfled grafs, tliat hath the grace
To deck and be a carpet to that place.
ThiA
nS THE POEMS OF
Thus finging to the founds of oaten reed,
Before the babe the fhepherds bow'd their knees,
And fprings ran neftar, honey dropp'd from trees.
rlpHE laft and greateft herald of heaven's king,
•*• Girt with rough fkins, hies to the defarts wild,
Among that favage brood the woods forth bring,
Which he more harmlefs found than man, and mild.
His food was locufts, and what there doth fpring,
With honey that from virgin hives diftill'd :
Parch'd body, hollow eyes, fome uncouth thing
Made him appear, long fince from earth exil'd.
There burft he forth. All ye whofe hopes rely-
On God, with me amidft thefe defarts mourn,
Repect, repent, and from old errors turn.
Who liilenM to his voice, obey'd his cry ?
Only the Echoes, which he made relent,
Rung from their flinty caves, Repent, repent.
eyes, dear Lord, once tapers of defire,
•*• Frail fcouts betraying what they had to keep,
Which their own heart, then others fet on fire,
Their traitorous black before thee here out-weep ;
Thefe locks of bluftiing deeds, the gilt attire,
Waves curling, wreckful fhelves to fhadow deep,
Rings, wedding fouls to fin's lethargic fleep,
To touch thy facred feet do now afpire.
I*
WILLIAM DRUMMOND.
In feas of care behold a finking bark,
By winds of fharp remorfe unto thee driven :
O let me not be ruin's aim'd-at mark ;
My faults confefs'd, Lord, fay they are forgiven.
Thus figh'd to Jefus the Bethanian fair,
His tear-wet feet Hill drying with her hair.
I* Changed countries new delights to find,
•*• But, ah ! for pleafure I did find new pain ;
Enchanting pleafure fo did reafon blind,
That father's love and words I fcorn'd as vain.
For tables rich, for bed, for following train
Of careful fervants to obferve my mind ;
Thefe herds I keep my fellows are affign'd,
My bed's a rock, and herbs my life fuftain.
Now while I famine feel, fear worfer harms,
Father and Lord, I turn, thy love, yet great,
My faults will pardon, pity mine eflate.
This, where an aged oak had fpread its arms,
Thought the loft child, while as the herds he led,
And pin'd \vith hunger on wild acorns fed.
,3o THE POEMS OF
T F that the world doth in amaze remain,
-*- To hear in what a fad, deploring mood,
The pelican pours from her breaft her blood,
To bring to life her younglings back again ;
How mould we wonder at that fovereign good,
Who from that ferpent's fting that had us (lain,
To fave our lives, med his life's purple flood,
And turn'd to endlefs joy our endlefs pain !
Ungrateful foul, that charm'd with falfe delight,
Haft long, long wander'd in fin's flow'ry path,
And didft not think at all, or thought'ft not right
On this thy Pelican's great love and death.
Here paufe, and let (though earth it fcorn) heaven
fee
Thee pour forth tears to him pour'd blood for thee.
TF in the caft when you do there behold
•*• Forth from his cryftal bed the fun to rife,
With rofy robes and crown of flaming gold ;
If gazing on that emprefs of the Ikies
That takes fo many forms, and thofe fair brands
Which blaze in heaven's high vault, night's watch
ful eyes ;
If feeing how the fea's tumultuous bands
Of
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 131
Of bellowing billows have their courfe confin'd ;
How unfullain'd the earth ftill lledfaft ftands ;
Poor mortal wights, you e'er found in your mind
A thought that fome great king did fit above,
Who had fuch laws and rites to them afiign'd ;
A king who fix'd the poles, made fpheres to move,
Allwifdom, purenefs, excellency, might,
All goodnefs, greatnefs, juftice, beauty, love ; —
With fear and wonder hither turn your fight,
See, fee, alas ! him now, not in that ftate
Thought could forecall him into reafon's light.
Now eyes with tears, now hearts with grief make
great,
Bemoan this cruel death and ruthful cafe,
If ever plaints juft woe could aggravates
From fin and hell to fave us human race,
See this great king nail'd to an abject tree,
An object of reproach and fad difgrace.
O unheard pity ! love in ftrange degree !
He his own life doth give, his blood doth fhed,
For wormlings bafe fuch worthinefs to fee.
Poor wights ! behold his vifage pale as lead,
His head bow'd to his breaft, locks fadly rent,
Like a cropp'd rofe, that languishing doth fade.
Weak nature, weep ! aftonifh'd world, lament !
Lament, you winds ! you heaven, that all con
tains !
And thou, my foul, let nought thy griefs relent
Thofe hands, thofe facred hands, which hold the reins
Kz Of
i3i THE POEMS OF
Of this great all, and kept from mutual wars
The elements, bare rent for thee their veins :
Thofe feet, which once muft tread on golden ftars,
For thee with nails would be pierc'd through and
torn ;
.For thee, heaven's king, from heaven himfelf de
bars :
This great heart-quaking dolour wail and mourn,
Ye that long fince him faw by might of faith,
Ye now that are, and ye yet to be born.
Not to behold his great Creator's death,
- The fun from finful eyes hath veil'd his light,
And faintly journies up heaven's fapphire path ;
And cutting from her prows her trefTes bright
The moon doth keep her Lord's fad obfequies,
Impearling with her tears her robe of night ;
All daggering and lazy lour the fides ;
The earth and elemental ilages quake ;
The long-fmce dead from burfted graves arife.
And can things, wanting fenfe, yet forrow take,
And bear a part with him who all them wrought,
And man (though born with cries) (hall pity lack ?
Think what had been your ftate, had he not brought
To thefe fharp pangs himfelf, and priz'd fo high
Your fouls, that with his life them life he bought !
What woes do you attend ,. if ftill ye lie
Plung'd in your wonted ordures ! Wretched brood !
Shall for your fake again God ever die ?
O leave deluding (hews, embrace true good,
He
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 13*
He on you calls, forego fin's fhameful trade ;
With prayers now fe*;k heaven, and not with blood.
Let not the Iambs more from their dams be had,
Nor altars blufli for fin ; live every thing ;
That long time long'd-for facrifice is made.
All that is from you crav'd by this great king
Is to beliere i a pure heart incenfe is.
What gift, alas ! can we him meaner bring ?
Hafte, fin-fick fouls? this feafon do not mifs,
Now while remorfclcfs time doth grant you fpace,
And God invites you to your only blifs :
lie who you calls will not deny you grace,
But low-deep bury faults, (b ye repent ;
His arms, lo ! ftretched are, you to embrace ».
; When days are done, and life's finall fpark is fp
So you accept what freely here is given,
Like brood of angels deathlefs, all-content,
j; Ye fhall for ever live with him in heaven.
/"^OME forth, conae forth, ye blefl triumphing
bands,
Fair citizens of that immortal town ;
Come fee that king which all this all commands,
Now, overcharged with love, die for his own :
Look on thofe nails which pierce his feet and hmuU ;
What a fharp diadem his brows doth crown !
Behold his pallid face, his heavy frown,
And what a throng of thieves him mocking (la:
K 3 Come
134 THE POEMS OF
Come forth ye empyrean troops, come forth,
Preferve this facred blood that earth adorns,
Gather thofe liquid rofes off his thorns ;
O ! to be loft they be of too much worth :
For ftreams, juice, balm, they are, which quench,
kills, charms,
Of God, death, hell, the wrath, the life, the harms.
O OUL, whom hell did once inthral,
He, he for thine offence
Did fuffer death, who could not die at all.
O fovereign excellence !
O life of all that lives !
Eternal bounty which each good thing gives 1
How could Death mount fo high ?
No wit this point can reach,
Faith only doth us teach,
He died for us at all who could not die.
IFE, to give life, deprived is of life,
•*— ' And Death difplay'd hath enfign againft death ;
So violent the rigour was of Death,
That nought could daunt it but the Life of life :
No power had power to thrall Life's powers to death,
But willingly Life down hath laid his life.
Love
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 135
Love gave the wound which wrought this work of
Death ;
His bow and (hafts were of the tree of life.
Now quakes the author of eternal death,
To find that they whom late he reft of life,
Shall fill his room above the lifts of death ;
Now all rejoice in death who hope for life.
Dead Jcfus lives, who Death hath kill'd by death ;
No tomb his tomb is, but new fource of life.
"O ISE from thofe fragrant climes, thee now em-
A^- brace ;
Unto this world of ours O haftc thy race,
Fair fun, and though contrary ways all year
Thou hold thy courfe, now with the highell fhare,
Join thy blue wheels to haften time that low'rs,
And lazy minutes turn to perfect hours ;
The Night and Death too long a league have made,
To ftow the worlct in horror's ugly made.
Shake from thy locks a day with fafFron rays
So fair, that ft outfhine all other days ;
And yet do not prefume, great Eye of Light,
To be that which this day muft make fo bright.
See an Eternal Sun haftes to arife ;
Not from the eaftern bluming feas or fkies,,
Or any ftranger worlds heaven's concaves have,
But from the darkntfs of an hollow grave.
K4 And!
i36 THE POEMS OF
And this is that all-powerful Sun above,
That crown'd thy brows with rays, firft made thee
move.
Light's trumpeters, ye need not from your bow'rs
Proclaim this day ; this the angeliek powr's
Have done for you : but now an opal hue
Bepaints heaven's cryftal to the longing view :
Earth's late-hid colours fliine, light doth adorn
The world, and, weeping joy, forth comes the Morn j
And with her, as from a lethargic trance
The breath returned, that bodies doth advance.
Which two fad nights in rock lay coffin'd dead,
And with an iron guard environed :
Life out of death, light out of darknefs fprings,
From a bafe gaol forth comes the King of Kings ;
What late was mortal, thrallM to every woe
That lackeys life, or upon fenfe doth grow,
Immortal is, of an eternal ftamp,
Far brighter beaming than the morning lamp*
So from a black eclipfe out-peers the fun :
Such (when her courfe of days have on her run,
Jn a far foreft in the pearly eaft,
And fiie herfelf hath burnt, and fpicy neft,)
The lovely bird, with youthful pens and comb,
Doth foar from out her cradle and her tomb :
So a fmall feed that in the earth lies hid,
And dies, reviving burfts her cloddy fide,
Adorn'd with yellow locks anew is born,
And doth become a mother great with corn. ;
4 Of
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 137
Of grains brings hundreds with it, which when old
Enrich the furrows, which do float with gold.
Hail, holy Vidor ! greateft ViAor, hail !
That hell doth raufack, againft death prevail :
O ! how thou long'd for com'il ! With joyful cries,
The all-triumphing palatines of fkies
Salute thy riling ; earth would joys no more
Bear, if thou riling didft them not reilore.
A iilly tomb mould not his fiefh enclofe,
Who did heaven's trembling terrafles difpofe ;
kNo monument mould fuch a jewel hold,
No rock, though ruby, diamond, and gold.
Thou didft lament and pity human race,
Bellowing on us of thy free-given grace
More than we forfeited and lofed firft,
In Eden rebels when we were accurft.
Then earth our portion was, earth's joys but given,
Earth, and earth's blifs, thou hail exchanged with
heaven.
O ! what a height of good upon us ftreams
From the great fplendour of thy bounty's beams !
When we deferv'd fhame, horror, flames of wrath,
Thou bled'ft our wounds, and fuffer didft our death :
But Father's juftice pleas'd, Hell, Death, o'ercome,
In triumph now thou rifcft from thy tomb,
With glories, which paft forrows countervail ;
Hail, holy Viftor ! greateft Vidor, hail !
Hence, humble fenfe, and hence ye guides of fenfe !
We now reach heaven ; your weak intelligence
And
X38 THE POEMS OF
And fearching pow'rs were in a flam made dim,
To learn from all eternity, that him
The Father bred, then that he here did come
(His bearer's parent) in a virgin's womb :
jBut then when fold, betray'd, crownM, fcourg'd with
thorn,
NaiPd to a tree, all breathlefs, bloodlefs, torn,
Entomb'd, him rifen from a grave to find,
Confounds your cunning, turns, like moles, you blind*
Death, thou that heretofore {till barren waft,
Nay, didft each other birth eat up and wafte,
Imperious, hateful, pitilefs, uojuft,.
Unpartial equaller of all with duft,
Stern executioner of heavenly doom,
Made fruitful, now Life's mother art become j
A fweet relief of cares the foul moleft ;
An harbinger to glory, peace and reft :
Put off thy mourning weeds, yield all thy gall
To daily linning life, proud of thy fall ;
AfTemble all thy captives, hafte to rife,
And every corfe, in earthquakes where it lies,
Sound from each flowry grave and rocky gaol :
Hail, holy Vidor ! greateft Vidor, hail !
The world, that wanning late and faint did lie,.
Applauding to our joys, thy victory,.
To a young prime efTays to turn again,
And as ere foii'd with fin yet to remain ;
Her chilling agues me begins to mifs ;
All blifs returning with the Lord of blifs..
With
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. ,39
With greater light, heaven's temples opened fhiiie ;
Morns fmiling riff, evens blufhing do decline,
Clouds dappled glider, boift'rous winds arfe calm,
Soft zephyrs do the fields with fighs embalm,
In filent calms the fea hath hufh'd his roars,
And with enamourM curls doth kifs the mores ;
All-bearing Earth, like a new-married queen,
Her beauties heightens, in a gown of green
Perfumes the air, her meads are wrought with flow'rs,
In colours various, figures, fmelling, powers ;
Trees wanton in the groves with leavy locks,
Here hills enamelPd ftand, the vales, the rocks,
Ring peals of joy, here floods and prattling brooks,
(Stars' liquid mirrors) with ferpenting crooks,
And whifpering murmurs, found unto the main,
The golden age returned is again.
The honey people leave their golden bow'rs,
And innocently prey on budding flow'rs ;
In gloomy fhades perch'd on the tender fprays,
The painted fingers fill the air with lays :
Seas, floods, earth, air, all diverfely do found,
Yet all their diverfe notes hath but one ground,
Re-echo'd here down from heaven's azure vail ;
Hail, holy Vidor ! greatefl Vidor, hail !
O day, on which Death's adamantine chain
The Lord did break, did ranfack Satan's reign,
And in triumphing pomp his trophies rear'd,
Be thou bleft ever, henceforth flill endear'd
With name of his own day, the law to grace,
Types to their fubltance yield, to thee give place
The
14o THE POEMS OF
The old new-moons, with all feflival days ;
And, what above the reft deferveth praife,
The reverend fabbath : What could elfe they be
Than golden heralds, telling what by tliee
We fhould enjoy ? Shades paft, now fliine thou clear,.
And henceforth be thou emprefs of the year,
This glory of thy fitter's fex to win,
From work on thee, as other days from fin,
That mankind mail forbear, in every place
The prince of planets warmeth in his race,
And far beyond his paths in frozen climes :
And may thou be fo blell to out-date times,
That when heaven's choir (hall blaze in accents loud
The many mercies of their fovereign good,
How he on thee did iin, death, heft deftroy^
It may be Hill the burthen of their joy.
"DENEATH a fable veil, and fhadows deep,,
•^^^ Of inacceflible and dimming light,,
In filence eborr clouds more black than night,
The world's great Mind his fecrets hid doth keep r
Through thofe thick mifts when any mortal wight
Afpires, with halting pace, and eyes that weep
To pry, and in his myfteries to creep,
With thunders he and lightnings blafis their fight.
O Sun invifiblc, that doft abide
Within thy bright abyfmes, moft fair, moft dark,
Where with thy proper rays thou doll thee hide,
O ever-mining, never full-feen mark,
Ta
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. ,4»
To guide me in life's night, thy light me (hew ;
The more I fcarch of thee the lefs I know.
T F with fucli paffing beauty, choice delights,
* The Architect of this great round did frame
kThis palace vifible, fhort lifts of fame,
.And filly manfion but of dying wights ;
How many wonders, what amazing lights
Mufl that triumphing feat of glory claim,
That doth tranfcend all this all's vafty heights,
Of whofe bright fun, ours here is but a beam !
O bled abode ! O happy dwelling-place !
Where vifibly th' Invilible doth reign ;
Bleft people, which do fee true Beauty's face,
With whofe far fhadows fcarce he earth doth deign :
All joy is but annoy, all concord ftrife,
Match'd with your endlefs blifs and happy life.
L
OVE which is here a care,
That wit and will doth mar,
Uncertain truce, and a moft certain war ;
A flirill tempefluous wind,
Which doth diilurb the mind,
And like wild waves all our defigns commovc ;
Among thofe powers above,
Wluck
14* THE POEMS OF
Which fee their maker's face,
It a contentment is, a quiet peace,
A pleafure void of grief, a conftant reft,
Eternal joy, which nothing can moleft.
THAT fpace where curled waves do now divide
From the great continent our happy ifle,
Was fometime land ; and now where mips do glide,
Once with laborious art the plough did toil :
Once thofe fair bounds ftretch'd out fo far and wide,
Where towns, no mires enwall'd, endear each mile,
Were all ignoble fea and marifli vile,
Where Proteus' flocks danc'd meafures to the tide :
So age transforming all, Hill forward runs ;
No wonder though the earth doth change her face,
New manners, pleafures new, turn with new funs,
Locks now like gold grow to an hoary grace ;
Nay, mind's rare fhape doth change, that lies
defpis'd
Which was fo dear of late, and highly priz'd.
f^ H I S world a hunting 13,
The prey, poor man ; the Nimrod fierce, is
Death ;
His fpeedy greyhounds are,
, Sicknefs, Envy, Care ;
Strife
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. i4J
Strife that ne'er falls amifs,
With all thofe ills which haunt us whjle we breathe.
Sow, if by chance we fly
Df thefe the eager chace,
Age with Healing pace
Hafts on his nets, and there we panting die.
HY, worldlings, do ye truft frail honowr'i
dreams,
And lean to gilded glories which decay ?
Why do ye toil to regiftrate your names
On icy pillars, which foon melt away ?
True honour is not here, that place it claims
Where black-brow'd night doth not exile the day,
Nor no far-fhining lamp dives in the fea,
But an eternal fun fpreads lading beams ;
There it attendeth you, where fpotlefs bands
Of fp'rits ftand gazing on their fovereign blifs,
Where years not hold it in their cankering hands,
But who once noble, ever noble is.
Look home, left he your weaken'd wit make thral^
Who Eden's foolifh gard'ner erft made fall.
\ S are thofe apples, pleafant to the eye,
-*•** But full of fmoke within, which ufe to grow
Near that ftrange lake where God pour'd from the fky
Huge mowers of flames, worfe flames to overthrow :
Such
344 THE POEMS OF
Such are their works that with a glaring fhovt
Of humble holinefs in virtue's dye
Would colour mifchief, while within they glow
With coals of fin, though none the fmoke defcry.
Bad is that angel that erft fell from heaven ;
But not fo bad as he, nor in worfe cafe,
Who hides a trait'Tous mind with fmiling face,
And with a dove's white feathers clothes a raven.
Each lin fome colour hath it to adorn,
• Hypocrify Almighty God doth fcorn.
doth the fun appear,
The mountains fnows decay,
Crown'd with frail flow'rs forth comes the infant
year ;
My foul, time polls away,
And thou, yet in that froft
Which flow'r and fruit hath loft,
As if all here immortal were, doft ftay :
For mame ! thy powers awake,
JLook to that heaven which never night makes black,
And there at that immortal fun's bright rays,
Deck thee with flow'rs, which fear not rage of days.
T^HRICE happy he who by fome fhady grove,
"*• Far from the clamorous world, doth live his
Though folitary, who is not alone,
•But doth converfe with that eternal love.
O how
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 145
O how more f\veet is bird's harmonious moan,
Or the hoarfe fobb'ngs of the widow'd dove,
Than thofe fmooth whifp'rings near a prince's throne.
Which good make doubtful, do the evil approve !
O ! how more fweet is zephyrs' wholefome breath,
And fighs embalm'd, which new-born flow'rs unfold,
Than that applaufe vain honour doth bequeath !
How fweet are ilreams to poifon drank in golc !
The world is full of horrors, troubles, flights :
Woods' harmlefs fhades have only* true delights.
C WEET bird, that fmg'ft away the early hour*
Of winters paft, or coming, void of care,
Well pleafed with delights which, prefent are,
Pair feafons, budding fprays, fweet-fmclling flow'is ;
To rocks, to fprings, to rills, from leavy bow'rs
Thou thy Creator's goodnefs doll declare,
And what dear gifts on thee he did not fparc,
A {lain to human fenfe in fin that low'rs.
What foul can be fo lick, which by thy fongs
• (Attir'd in fweetnefs) fweetly is not driven
Quite to forget earth's turmoils, fpites, and wrongs,
And lift a reverend eye and thought to heaven ?
Sweet, artlefs fongilcr, thou my mind doft raifc
To airs of fphercs, yes, and to angels' lays.
I46 THE POEMS OF
AS when it happeneth that fome lovely town
Unto a barbarous befieger falls,
Who both by fword and flame himfelf inftals,
And fhamelefs it in tears and blood doth drown ;
Her beauty fpoil'd, her citizens made thralls,
His fpite yet cannot fo her all throw down,
But that fome ftatue, pillar of renown,
Yet lurks unmaim'd within her weeping walls :
So after all the fpoJl, difgrace and wreck,
That time, the world, and death, could bring coi
bin'cl,
Amidft that mafs- cf ruins they did make,
Safe and all fcarlefs yet remains my mind :
From this fo high tranfcendent rapture fprings,
That I, all elfe defac'd, not envy kings.
T ET us each day inure ourfetves to die,
If this, and not cur fears, be truly death,
Above the circles both of hope and faith
With fair immortal pinions to fly ;
If this be death, our bcft part to untie,
By ruining the gaol, from lull and wrath,
And every drowfy languor here beneath,
To be made deniz'd citizen of fky j
To
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 147
To have more knowledge than all books contain,
All pleafurca even furmounting wifhing pow'r,
The fellowlhip of God's immortal train,
And thefe that time nor force (hall e'er devour :
If this be death, what joy, what golden cart
Of life, can with death's uglinefs compare ?
AMIDST the azure clear
F* Of Jordan'sTacred ftreams,
Jordan, of Lebanon the offspring dear,
When zephyrs flow'rs unciofe,
And fun mines with new beams,
With grave and llatcly grace a nymph arofe.
Upon her head fhe wear
Of amaranths a crown ;
J ler left hand palms, her right a torch did bear j
Unvtil'd ikin's whitenefs lay,
Gold haiis in curls hung down,
Eyes fparkled joy, more bright than ftar of day.
The flood a throne her rear'd
Of waves, moil like that heaven
Where beaming ftar s in glory turn enfpher'd :
The air ilood calm and clear,
No iigh by winds was given,
Birds left to fmg, herds feed, her TOICC to hear.,
World-wand'ring forry wights,
Whom nothing can content
Within thefe varying lifts- of days and n'ghts,.
L 2 Whofe
,4.g THE POEMS OF
Whofe life, ere known amifs,
In glitt'ring griefs is fpent,
Come learn, faid (he, what is your choiceft blifi :
Yrom toil and prefiing cares
How ye may refpite find,
A fan£tuary from foul-thralling fnares ;
A port to harbour fure,
In fpite of waves and wind,
Which fhall when time's fwift glafs is run endure.
Not happy is that life
Which you as happy hold,
No, but a fea of fears, a field of ftrife,
Charg'd on a throne to fit
With diadems of gold,
Preferv'd by force, and ftill obferv'd by wit*
Huge treafures to enjoy,
Of all her gems fpoil Inde,
All Seres' filk in garments to employ,
Delicioufly to feed,
The phoenix' plumes to find
To reft upon, or deck your purple bed.
Frail beauty to abufe,
And, wanton Sybarites,
On pail or prefent touch of fenfe to mufe ;
Never to hear of noife
But what the ear delights,
Sweet mufick's charms, or charming flatterers voice.
Nor can it blifs you bring,
Hid nature's depths to know,
Why matter changcth, whence each form doth
Nor
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 14*
Nor that your fame ftiould range,
And after-worlds it blow
From Tanais to Nile, from Nile to Gange.
All thefe have not the pow'r
To free the mind from fears,
Nor hideous horror can allay one hour,
When Death in ftealth doth glance,
In ficknefs lurks or years,
And wakes the foul from out her mortal tramce.
No, but bleft life is this,
With chafle and pure defire
To turn unto the load-ftar of all blifa,
On God the mind to reft,
Burnt up with facred fire,
Poflefiing him to be by him pofiefl :
When to the balmy eaft
Sun doth his light impart,
Or when he diveth in the lowly weft,
And ravifhcth the day,
With fpotlefs hand and heart,
Him cheerfully to praiic, and to hint pray t
To heed each adion fo
As ever in his fight,
More fearing doing ill than paflire woe ;
Not to feem other thing
Than what ye are aright ;
Never to do what may repentance bring :
•N'ot to be blown with pride,
Nor mov'd at glory's breath,
W-hick Aiadow-like on wings of time doth glide ;
L 3 S*
i5o THE POEMS OF
So malice to difarm,
And conquer hafty wrath,
As to do good to thofe that work your harm :
To hatch no bafe defires,
Or gold or land to gain,
Well pleas'd with that which virtue fair acquires ;
To have the wit and will
Conforting in one ftrain,
Than what is good to have no higher fkill :
Never on neighbour's goods,
With cockatrice's eye
To look, nor make another's heaven your hell ;
Nor to be beauty's thrall ;
All fruitlefs love to fly,
Yet loving ftill a love tranfcendent all ;
A love, which while it burns
The foul with faireft beams,
To that increated fun the foul it turns,
And makes fuch beauty prove,
That, if fenfe faw her gleams,
All lookers on would pine and die for love.
Who fuch a life doth live
You happy even may call,
Ere ruthlefs Death a wifhed end him give ;
And after then when given,
More happy by his fall,
For humanes, earth, enjoying angels, heaven.
Swift is your mortal race,
And glafly is the field ;
Va:1 are defires not limited by grace :
Lifc
Y/ILLIAM DRUMMOND. 15*
LiYj a weak taper f« ;
Then while it light doth yield,
Leave flying joys, embrace this lafting blifs.
This when the nymph had faid,
She div'd within the flood,
Whofe face with fmiling curls long after (laid ;
Then fighs did zephyrs prefs,
Birds fang from every wood,
And echoes rang, This was true happincfs.
A N
HYMN ON THE FAIREST FAIR.
f FEEL my bofom glow with wontlefs fires,
Rais'd from the vulgar prefs my mind afpires,
Wing'd with high thoughts, unto his praife to climb,
From deep eternity, who call'd forth time ;
That EfTence which, not mov'd, makes each thing1
move,
Uncreate beauty all-creating love^
But by fo great an object, radiant light,
My heart apall'd, enfeebled rolls my fight,
Thick clouds benight my labouring engine,
And at my high attempts my wits repine.
If tliou in me this facred heat hail wrought,
My knowledge fharpen, farcels lend my thought :
Grant me, Time's Father, world-containing King,
A pow'r of thee in pow'rful lays to fing ;
i That as thy beauty in earth lives, heaven flunes,
It dawning may or fliadow in my lines,
L A»
i5s THE POEMS OF
As far beyond the ftarry walls of heaven,
As is the loftieft of the planets feven,
Sequefter'd from this earth in pureft light,
Out-mining ours, as ours doth fable night,
Thou All-fufficient, Omnipotent,
Thou Ever Glorious, Moft Excellent,
God various in names, in eflence one,
High art Jnftalled on a golden throne,
Out-ftretching heaven's wide befpangled vault,
Tranfcending all the circles of our thought ;
With diamantine fceptre in thy hand,
There thou giv'il laws, and doft this world command,
This world of concords rais'd unlikely fweet,
Which like a ball lies proftrate at thy feet.
If fo we may well fay (and what we fay
Here wrapp'd in flefli, led by dim Reafon's ray,
To (hew, by earthly beauties which we fee,
That fpiritual excellence that mines in thee,
Good Lord forgive), not far from thy right fide,
With curled locks Youth ever doth abide ;
Rofe -cheeked Youth, who garlanded with flow'rs,
Still blooming, ce.afelefsly unto thee pours
Immortal nedar in a cup of gold,
That by no darts of ages thou grow old ;
And as ends and beginnings thee not claim,
Succeffionlefs that thou be Hill the fame.
Near to thy other fide refiftlefs Might,
From head to foot in burnifh'd armour dight,
That rings about him, with a waving brand,
And watchful eye, great centinel doth ftand ;
4 That
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 153
That neither time nor force in aught impair
Thy workmanfhip, nor harm thine empire fair;
Soon to give death to all again that would
Stern Difcord raife, which thou deftroy'd of old ;
Difcord, that foe to order, nurfe of war,
By which the nobleft things demolifh'd are :
But, caitiff ! fhe no treafon doth devife,
When Might to nought doth bring her enterprize t
Thy all-upholding Might her malice reins,
And her to hell throws, bound in iron chains.
With locks in waves of gold, that ebb and flow
On ivory neck, in robes more white than fnow,
Truth ftedfaflly before thee holds a glafs,
Indent with gems, where (hineth all that was,
That is, or (hall be, here ere aught was wrought.
Thou knew all that thy pow'r with time forth brought.
And more, things numberlefs which thou couldft make,
That actually (hall never being take ;
Here thou behold'il thyfelf, and, ftrange ! doll prove
At once the beauty, lover, and the love.
With faces two, like fillers, fweetly fair,
Whofe bloflbms no rough autumn can impair,
Stands Providence, and doth her looks difperfc
Through every corner of this univerfe ;
Thy Providence, at once which general thinga
And fingular doth rule, as empires kings ;
Without whofe care this world loft would remain,
As (hip without a mailer in the main,
As chariot alone, as bodies prove
Depriv'd of fouls, whereby they be, live, move.
But
1 54. THEPOEMSOF
But who are they which mine thy throne fo near,
With facred countenance and look fevere ?
This in one hand a ponderous fword doth hold,
Her left ftays charg'd with balances of gold ;
That, with. brows girt with bays, fweet-fmiling face,
Doth bear a brandon with a babifli grace :
Two milk-white wings him eafily do move ;
O ! (he thy Juftice is, and this thy Love !
By this tliou brought'ft this engine great to light ;
By that it fram'd in number, meafure, weight,
That deftine doth reward to ill and good :
But fway of Juftice is by Love withftood,
Which did it not relent, and mildly flay,
This world ere now had found its funeral day.
What bands, encluftei'd, near to thefe abide,
Which into vail infinity them hide !
Infinity that neither doth admit
Place, time, nor number to encroach on it.
Here bounty fparkleth, here doth beauty Ihine,
Simplicity, more white than gelfomine,
Mercy with open wings, aye-varied blifs,
Glory, and joy, that blifs's darling is.
Ineffable, all-pow'rful God, all free,
Thou only liv'fl, and each thing lives by thce ;
No joy, no, nor perfection to thee came
By the contriving of this world's great frame :
Ere fun, moon, flars began their reftlefs race,
Ere painted was with light heaven's pure face,
Ere air had clouds, ere clouds wept down their fhow'rs,
Ere fea embraced earth, ere earth bare flow'rs,
Thou
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 155
Thou happy liv'dft ; world nought to thet fupply'd,
All in thyfclf, thyfelf thou fatisfy'd :
Of good no (lender fhadow doth appear,
No age-worn track, which fhi'n'd in thee not clear,
Perfection's fum, prime cauie of every caufe,
Midft, end, beginning where all good doth paufe :
Hence of thy fubftance, differing in nought,
Thou in eternity thy fon forth brought ;
The only birth of thy unchanging mind,
Thine image, pattern-like that ever fhin'd ;
Light oat of light, begotten not by will,
But nature, all and that fame efience ftill
Which thou thyfelf, for thou doft nought pofTefs
Which he hath not, in aught nor is he lefs
Than thee his great begetter ; of this light,
Eternal, double-kindled was thy fpright
Eternally, who is with thee the fame,
All-holy Girt, AmbafTador, Knot, Flame :
Mod facred Triad, O moft holy One !
Unprocreate Father, ever procreate Son,
Ghoft breath'd from both, you were, are ftill, fhall be,
(Moft blefled) Three in One, and One in Three,
Incomprehenfible by reachlefs height,
And unperceived by exceflive light.
So in our fouls three and yet one are ftill,
The underftanding, memory, and will ;
So (though unlike) the planet of the days,
So foon as he was made, begat his rays,
Which are his offspring, and from both was hurl'd
The rofy light which conlblates the world,
And
555 THE POEMS OF
And none forewent another : fo the fpring,
The well-head, and the ftream which they forth bring,
Are but one felf-fame efience, nor in aught
Do differ, fave in order ; and our thought
No chime of time difcerns in them to fall,
But three diftin&ly 'bide one eflence all.
But thefe exprefs not thee : who can declare
Thy being ? Men and angels dazzled are.
Who would this Eden force wkh wit or fenfe,
A cherubin (hall find to bar him thence,
Great Architect, Lord of this imiverfe,
That light is blinded would thy greatnefs pierce.
Ah ! as a pilgrim who the Alps doth pafs,
Or Atlas' tempks crown'd with winter glafs,
The airy Caucafus, the Apennine,
Pyrenees' clifts where fun doth never mine,
When he fome craggy hills hath overwent,
Begins to think on reft, his journey fpent,
Till mounting fome tall mountain, he do find
More heights before him than he left behind :
With halting pace fo while I would me raifc
To the unbounded limits of thy praife,
Some part of way I thought to have o'er-run,
But now I fee how fcarce I have begun ;
With wonders new my fpirits range pofleft,
And wandering waylefs in a maze them reft.
In thefe vaft fields of light, ethereal plains,
Thou art attended by immortal trains
Of intellectual pow'rs, which thou brought'ft foitk
To praife thy goodoefs, and -admire thy worth,
I*
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 157
Tn numbers pafling other creatures far,
Since creatures mod noble manyeit are,
Which do in knowledge us not lefs outrun
Than moon in light doth itars, or moon the fun ;
Unlike, in orders rang'd and many a band,
(If beauty in difparity doth (land)
Archangels, angels, cherubs, feraphines,
And what with name of thrones amongft them /nines,
Large-ruling princes, dominations, powers,
All-acting virtues of thofe flaming tow'rs :
Thefe freed of umbrage, theie of labour free,
Reft ravifhed with itill beholding thee ;
InflamM with beams which fparkle from thy face,
They can no more defire, far lefs embrace.
Low under them, with flow and ftaggering pace
Thy hand-maid Nature thy great fteps doth trace,
The fource of fecond caufe's golden chain
That links this frame as thou it doth ordain.
Nature gaz'd on with fuch a curious eye,
That carthlings oft her deena'd a deity.
By Nature led, thofe bodies fair and great,
Which faint not in their courfc, nor change their flate,
UnintermiVd, which no diforder prove,
Though aye and contrary they always move,,
The organs of thy providence divine,
Books ever open, figns that clearly mine ;
Time's purpled mafkers then do them advance,.
As by fweet mufick in a meafur'd dance ;
Stars, hoil of heaven, ye firmaments, bright flow'rs,
Clear lamps which overhang this flage of ours,
,58 THE POEMS OF
Ye turn not there to deck the weeds of night,
Nor, pageant like, to pleafe the vulgar fight :
Great caufes, fure ye muft bring great effects ;
But who can defcant right your grave afpe&s ?
He only who you made decypher can
Your notes ; heaven's eyes, ye blind the eyes of man.
Amidft thefe fapphire far-extending heights,
The never-twinkling, ever wand'ring lights
Their fixed motions keep ; one dry and cold,
Deep-leaden coloured, jflowly there is roll'd,
With rule and line for time's Heps meting even,
In twice three luftres he but turns his heaven.
With temperate qualities and countenance fair,
Still mildly fmiling, fweetly debonnaire,
Another cheers the world, and way doth make
In twice fix autumns through the zodiack.
But hot and dry with flaming locks and browt
Enrag'd, this in his red pavilion glows :
Together running with like fpeed, if fpace,
Two equally in hands atchieve their race ;
With blufhing face this oft doth bring the. day,
And u filers oft to {lately flars the way ;
That various in virtue, changing, light,
With his fmall flame impearls the vail of night.
Prince of this court, the fun in triumph rides,
With the year fnake-like in herfelf that glides,
Time's difpenfator, fair life-giving fource,
Through fkies twelve polls as he doth run his courfe ;
Heart of this all, of what is know A to fenfe,
The likeft to his Maker's excellence ;
In
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 15^
In whofc diurnal motion doth appear
A ihadow, no true portrait of the year.
The inoon moves loweft, filver fun of night,
Difperling through the world her borrou 'd light ;
Who in three forms her head abroad doth range,
And only con (hint is in conftant change.
r* Sad queen of filence, I ne'er fee thy face
To wax, or wane, or mine with a full grace,
But ih-aight, amaz'd, on man I think, each day
Irlis ftate who changeth, or if he find itay,
It is in doleful angmfh, cares, and pains,
And of his labours death is all the gains.
Immortal Monarch, can fo fond a thought
JLodge in my breaft, as to truft thou firil brought
Here in earth's fhady cloifter, wretched man,
To fuck the air of woe, to fpend life's fpan
'Midil iighs and plaints, a ftranger unto mirth,
To give himfelf his death rebucking birth ?
By fenfe and wit of creatures made king,
I>y fcnfe and wit to live their underling ?
And what is word, have eaglets eyes to fee
His own difgrace, and know an high degree
Of blifs, the place, if he might thereto climb,
And not live thralled to imperious time ?
Or, dotard ! (hall I fo from reafon fwerve,
To dim thofe lights, which to our ufe do ferve,
For thou doft not them need, more nobly fram'd
Than us, that know their courfe, and have them
narn'd ?
No,
^0 THE POEMS OF
No, I ne'er think but we did them furpafs
As far as they do afterifms of glafs.
When thou us made, by treafon high defil'd,
Thrufl from our firft eftate, we live exil'd,
Wand'ring this earth, which is of Death the lot,
Where he doth ufe the power which he hath got,
Indifferent umpire unto clowns and kings,
The fupreme monarch of all mortal things.
When firft this flow'ry orb was to us given,
It but a place difvalu'd was to heaven :
Thefe creatures which now our fovereigns are,
And as to rebels do denounce us war,
Then were our vafTals ; no tumultuous ftorm,
No thunders, earthquakes, did her form deform ;
The feas in tumbling mountains did not roar,
But like moift cryftal whifptr'd on the more ;
No fnake did trace her meads, nor ambuih'd low'r
In azure curls beneath the fweet fpring fiow'r ;
The nightfhade, henbane, napel, aconite,
Her bowels then not bear, with death to finite
Her guiltlefs brood : thy mefFengers of grace,
As their high rounds, did haunt this lower place.
O joy of joys ! with our firft parents thou
To commune then didft deign, as friends do now ;
Againil thee we rebell'd, and juftly thus
Each creature rebelled againit us ;
Earth, reft of what did chief in her excel,
To all became a gaol, to moft a hell :
In time's full term, until thy Son was given,
Who man with thee, earth reconcil'd with Heaven.
Whole
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. i6t
Whole and entire, all in thyfelf thou art ;
Ail-where diffus'd, yet of this all no part :
Tor infinite, in making this fair frame,
Great without quantity, in all thou came ;
And filling all, how can thy ilate admit,
Or place or fubftance to be void of it ?
Were worlds as many as the rays which ftream
From day's bright lamp, or madding wits do dream,
They would not reel in aught, nor wand'ring ftray,
But draw to thee, who could their centres flay ;
Were but one hour this world disjoined from thcc,
It in one hour to nought reduc'd mould be.
For it thy fhadow is ; and can they laft,
If fever'd from the fubftances them caft ?
O ! only blefs'd, and Author of all blifs !
.No, Blifs itfelf, that ail-where wifhed is ;
Efficient, exemplary, final Good,
Of thine own felf but only underftood :
Light is thy curtain : thou art Light of light -j
An ever-waking eye ftill mining bright.
In-looking all, exempt of pafTive pow'r,
And change, in change fmce Death's pale fhadc doth
low'r :
All times to thee are one ; that which hath run,
And that which is not brought yet by the fun,
To thee are prefent, who dolt always fee
In prefent acl, what pafl is, or to be.
Day-livers, we rememberance do lofe
Of ages worn, fo miferies us tofc,
M (Bliird
i6* THE POEMS OF
(Blind and lethargick of thy heavenly grace,
Which fin in our firft parents did deface ;
And even while erabrions curft by jufteft doom)
That we neglecl what gone is, or to come ;
But thou in thy great archives fcrolled haft,
In parts and whole, whatever yet hath paft,
Since firfl the marble wheels of time were roll'd,
As ever living, never waxing old,
Still is the fame thy day and yefterday,
An undivided now, a conftant aye.
O ! King, whofe greatnefs none can comprehend,
Whofe boundlefs goodnefs doth to all extend ;
Light of all beauty, Ocean without ground,
That {landing, floweft ; giving, doft abound ;
Rich Palace, and In-dweller, ever bleft,
Never not working, ever yet in reft :
What wit cannot conceive, words fay of thee,
Here where we as but in a mirror fee,
Shadows of fhadows, atoms of thy might,
Still owly-eyed when flaring on thy light ;
Grant, that, releafed from this earthly jail,
And freed from clouds, which here our knowledge
veil,
In heaven's high temples where thy praifes ring,
In fweeter notes I may hear angels fmg.
GREAT
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 163
RE AT God, whom we with humbled thoughtt
adore,
Eternal, infinite, almighty King,
Whofe dwellings heaven tranfcend, whofe throne before
Archangels fcrve, and feraphim do fing •
Of nought who wrought all that with wond'ring eye*
We do behold within this various round ;
Who makes the rocks to rock, to (land the fkies ;
At whofe command clouds peals of thunder found :
Ah ! fpare us worms, weigh not how we, alas !
Evil to ourfelves, againil thy laws rebel ;
Wafh off thofe fpots, which {till in conference* glafs,
Though we be loath to look, we fee too well.
Delerv'd revenge, Oh ! do not, do not take :
If thou revenge, who fliall abide thy blow ?
Pafs mail this world, this world which thou didft
make,
Which mould not perifli till thy trumpet blow.
What foul is found whofe parent's crime not ilains ?
Or what with its own fins defil'd is not ?
.Though Juflice rigour threaten, yet her reins
Let Mercy guide, and never be forgot.
L,efs are our faults, far, far than is thy love :
O ! what can better feem thy grace divine,
Than they, who plagues deferve, thy bounty prove ?
And where thou ihow'r may*!! vengeance, there to
mine!
M 2 Them
164. THE POEMS OF
Then look and pity ; pitying, forgive
Us guilty flavcs, or fervants now in thrall ;
Slaves, if, alas ! thou look how we do live,
Or doing ill, or doing nought at all ;
Of an ungrateful mind the foul effe&.
But if thy gifts, which largely heretofore
Thou haft upon us pour'd, thou doft refpeft,
We are thy fervants, nay, than fervants more,
Thy children ; yes, and children dearly bought :
But what flrange chance us of this lot bereaves ?
Poor, worthlefs wights, how lowly are we brought]
Whom grace once children made, fin hath made flaves.
Sin hath made Haves, but let thofe bands grace break,
That in our wrongs thy mercies may appear :
Thy wifdom not fo mean is, pow'r fo weak,
But thoufand ways they can make worlds thee fear.
O wifdom boundlefs ! O miraculous grace !
Grace, wifdom which make wink dim Reafon's eye !
And could heaven's King bring from his placelefs
place,
On this ignoble ftage of care to die ;
To die our death, and with the facred ftream
Of blood and water guming from his fide,
To make us clean of that contagious blame,
Firft on us brought by our firft parent's pride !
Thus thy great love and pity, heavenly King.!
Love, pity, Avhich fo well our lofs prevent,
Of evil itielf, lo ! could all goodnefs bring,
.And fad beginning cheer with glad event.
Olovc
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 165
0 love and pity ! ill known of thefc times !
O love and pity ! careful of our need !
O bounties ! which our horrid ads and crimes,
Grown numberlefs, contend near to exceed.
Make this exceffive ardour of thy love
So warm our coldnefs, fo our lives renew,
That we from fin, fin may from us remove,
Wifdom our will, faith may our wit fubdue,
Let thy pure love burn up all worldly luft,
Hell's candid poifon killing our beft part,
Which makes us joy in toys, adore frail dull
Inftead of thee, in temple of our heart.
Grant, when at laft our fouls thefe bodies leave,
Their loathfome (hops of fin and manfions blind,
And doom before thy royal feat receive,
A. Saviour more than Judge they thee may find. ,
THE
THE
i
WANDERING MUSES:
OR, THE
RIVER OF FORTH FEASTING.
BEING
A PANEGYRICK
TO THE
HIGH AND MIGHTY PRINCE JAMES,
King of Great Britain, France and Ireland*
r o
HIS SACRED MAJESTY.
TF in this dorm of joy and pompous throng,
•*• This nymph, great King, doth come to thee !"•
near,
That thy harmonious ears her accents hear,
Give pardon to her hoarfe and lowly fong.
Fain would (he trophies to thy virtues rear :
But for this (lately ta(k (he is not ftrong,
And her defects her high attempts do wrong :
Yet as (he could (he makes thy worth appear.
So in a map is (hewn this flow'ry place ;
So wrought in arras by a virgin's hand,.
With heaven and blazing ftars doth Atlas (land ;
So drawn by charcoal is Narciflus* face :
She like the morn may be to fome bright
The day to perfect that's by her begun.
TH B
THE
RIVER OF FORTH FEASTING,
HAT bluft'ring noife now interrupts my fleeps ?
What echoing fhouts thus cleave my cryftal
deeps ?
And feem to call me from my watr'ry court ?
What melody, what founds of joy and fport,
Are conveyM hither from each night-born fpring ?
With what loud rumours do the mountains ring,
Which in unufual pomp on tip-toes ftand,
And} full of wonder, overlook the land ?
Whence come thefe glitt'ring throngs, thcfe meteors
bright,
This golden people glancing in my fight ?
Whence doth this praife, applaufe, and lore arife ?
What load-ftar eaft ward draweth thus all eyes ?
Am I awake ? Or have fome dreams confpir'd
To mock my fcnfe with what I moft defir'd ?
View
I72 THE POEMS OF
View I that living face, fee I thofe looks,
Which with delight were wont t' amaze my brooks ?
Do I behold that worth, that man divine,
This age's glory, by thefe banks of mine ?
Then find I true what long I wifh'd in vain ;
My much-beloved prince is come again.
So unto them whofe zenith is the pole,
When fix black months are paft, the fun doth roll :
So after tempeft to fea-toffed wights,
Fair Helen's brothers mew their clearing lights :
So comes Arabia's wonder from her woods,
And far, far off is feen by Memphis' floods ;
The feather'd fylvans, cloud-like, by her fly,
And with triumphing plaudits beat the fky ;
Nile marvels, Scrap's priefts entranced rave,
And in Mygdonian ftone her fhape engrave ;
In lafting cedars they do mark the time
In which Apollo's bird came to their clime.
Let mother Earth now deck'd with flow'rs be feeB,
And fweet-breath'd zephyrs curl the meadows green :
.Let heaven weep rubies in a crimfon fhow'r,
Such as on India's mores they ufe to pour ;
Or with that golden ftorm the fields adorn,
Which Jove rain'd when his blue-eyed maid was born.
May never Hours the web of day out-weave,
May never Night rife from her fable cave !
Swell proud, my billows, faint not to declare
Your joys as ample as their caufes are :
For murmurs hoarfe found like Arion's harp,
Now delicately flat, now fweetly fharp.
And
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 173
And you, my nymphs, rife from your moift repair,
Strew all your fprings and grots with lilies fair :
Some fwifteft-footed, get them hence, and pray
Our floods and lakes come keep this holiday ;
Whate'er beneath Albania's hills do run,
Which fee the rifing, or the fetting fun,
Which drink Hern Grampus' mifts, or Ochel's fnows :
-Stone-rolling Tay, Tine tortoife-like that flows,
The pearly Don, the Deas, the fertile Spay,
Wild Neverne', which doth fee our longeft day ;
Ncflc fmoaking fulphur, Leave with mountain!
crown'd,
Strange Loumond for his floating ifles renown'd ;
The Irifh Rian, Ken, the filver Aire,
The fnaky Dun, the Ore with rufliy hair,
'The cryftal-ftreaming Nid, loud-bellowing Clyde,
Tweed, which no more our kingdoms mail divide ;
Rattk-fwelling Annan, Lid with curled ftreams,
The Elkes, the Solway where they lofe their names ;
To every one proclaim our joys and feafts,
-Our triumphs ; bid all come and be our guefts :
And as they meet in Neptune's azure hall,
Bid them bid fea-gods keep this feftival ;
This day fliall by our currents be renown'd ;
Our hills about fliall dill this day refound :
Nay, that our love more to this day appear,
Let us with it henceforth begin our year.
To virgins, flow'rs, to fun-burnt earth, the rain,
To mariners, fair winds amidll the main ;
Cool (hades to pilgrims, which hot glances burn,
-Are net fo plcafmg as thy bled return.
That
*74- THE POEMS OF
That day, dear prince, which robb'd us of thy fight
(Day ? No, but darknefs and a dufky night)
Did fill our breads with fighs, our eyes with tears, :
Turn'd minutes to fad months, fad months to years : 4'
Trees left to flourim, meadows to bear flow'rs,
Brooks hid their heads within their fedgy bow'rs ;
Fair Ceres curs'd our trees with barren froft,
As if again me had her daughter loft:
The Mufes left our groves, and for fweet fongs
Sate fadly filent, or did weep their wrongs :
You know itti meads ; you murmuring woods it know, ]
Hills, dales, and caves, copartners of their woe ;
And you it know, my ftreams, which from their dine ]
Oft on your glafs receiv'd their pearly brine :
O Naiads dear ! faid they, Napaeas fair !
O nymphs of trees ! nymphs which on hills repair ;
Gone are thofe maiden glories, gone that ftate,
Which made all eyes admire our blifs of late.
As looks the heaven when never flar appears,
But flow and weary fhroud them in their fpheres,
While Tithon's wife embofom'd by him lies,
And world doth languifh in a mournful guife :
As looks a garden of its beauty fpoil'd,
As woods in winter by rough Boreas foil'd,
As portraits ras'd of colours us'd to be ;
So look'd thefe abject bounds deprived of thee.
While as my rills enjoy 'd thy royal gleams,
They did not envy Tiber's haughty ilrcams,
Nor wealthy Tagus with his golden ore,
Nor clear Hydafpes which on pearls doth roar,
NOT
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 175
Nor golden Gauge that fees the fun new born,
Nor Achelous with his flcnv'ry horn,
Nor floods which near Elyfian fields do fall :
For why ? Thy fight did ferve to them for all.
No place there is fo defert, fo alone,
Even from the frozen to the torrid zone ;
From flaming Hecla to great Quincey's lake,
Which thy abode could not moll happy make :
All thofe perfections which by bounteous Heaven
To divers worlds in divers times were given,
The ftarry fenate pour'd at once on thee,
That thou exemplar might 'ft to others be.
Thy life was kept till the three fifters fpun
Their threads of gold, and then it was begun.
With chcOjiier'd clouds when ikies do look moft faity
And no diforder'd blafts ditlurb the air ;
When lilies do them deck in azure gowns,
A-nd new-born rofes blufh with golden crowns ;
To prove how calm we under thee rtiould live,
What halcyonean days thy reign mould give ;
And to two flow'ry diadems, thy right,
The heavens thee made a partner of the light.
Scarce wall thou born, when join'd in friendly band*
Two mortal foes with other clafped hands ;
With Virtue Fortune drove, which moil fiiould grace
Thy place for thee, thee for fo high a place :
One vow'd thy facred breall not to forfake,
The other, on thee not to tur:i her back ;
And that thou more her love's effects might'ft feel,
For thee me left her globe, and broke her wheel.
When
t76 THE POEMS OF
When years thee vigour gave, O then, how clear
Did fmother'd fparkles in bright flames appear !
Amongft the woods to force the flying hart,
To pierce the mountain- wolf with feathered dart ;
See falcons climb the clouds, the fox enfnare,
Out-run the wind-out-running Daedale hare ;
To breathe thy fiery fteed on every plain,
And in meand'ring gyres him bring again ;
The prefe thee making place, and vulgar things,
In admiration's air, on glory's wings :
O ! Thou far from the common pitch didft rife,
With thy defigns to dazzle Envy^s eyes :
Thou fought'ft to know this all's eternal fource,
Of ever-turning heavens the reft'lefs courfe ;
Their fixed lamps, their lights, which wand'ring run,
Whence moon her filver hath, his gold the fun ;
If fate there be or no, if planets can,
By fierce afpefts, force the free will of man :
The light afpiring fire, the liquid air,
The flaming dragons, comets with red hair,
Heaven's tilting lances, artillery, and bow,
Loud-founding trumpets, darts of hail and fnour,
The roaring element, with people dumb,
The earth with what conceiv'd is in her womb,
What on her moves, were fet unto thy fight,
Till thou didft find their caufes, efTence, might :
J3ut unto nought thou fo thy mind didft ftrain,
As to be read in man, and learn to reign ;
To know the weight and Atlas of a crown,
To fpare the humble, proud ones tumble down.
Whe»
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. i77
When from thofe piercing cares which thrones invert,
As thorns the rofe, thou wearied would'ft thee relt,
With lute in hand, full of celeftial fire,
To the Pierian groves thou didil retire :
There, garlanded with all Urania's flow'rs,
In fweeter lays than builded Thebes' tow'rs ;
Or them which charm'd the dolphins in the main,
Or which did call Eurydice again ;
Thou fung'ft away the hours, till from their fpherc
Stars feem'd to moot, thy melody to hear.
The god with golden hair, the lifter maids,
Did leave their Helicon and Tempe's fhades,
To fee thine ifle ; here loft their native tongue,
And in thy world-divided language fung.
Who of thine after-age can count the deeds,
With all that Fame in Time's huge annals reads ;
How by example, more than any law,
This people fierce thou didft to gooduefs draw ;
How while the neighbour worlds, tofs'd by the Fates,
So many Phaetons had in their ftates,
Which turn'd to heedlefs flames their burninYd thrones,
Thou, as enfpher'd, kept'ft temperate thy zones ;
In Afric mores, the fands that ebb and flow,
The fhady leaves on Ardcn's trees that grow,
He fure may count, with all the waves that meet
To warn the Mauritanian Atlas' feet.
Though crown'd thou wert not, nor a king by birth,
Thy worth deferves the richeft crown on earth.
Search this half-fphere, and the Antarctic ground,
Where are fuch wit and bounty to be found >
N As
,78 THE POEMS OF
As into filent night, when near the Bear
The virgin huntrefs (nines at full moil clear,
And ftrives to match her brother's golden light,
The hoft of ftars doth vanifh in her fight ;
Ar&urus dies ; cool'd is the Lion's ire,
Po burns no more with Phaetontal fire ;
Orion faints to fee his arms grow black,
And that his flaming fword he now doth lack :
So Europe's lights, all bright in their degree,
Lofe all their luftre, parallel'd with thee.
By jull defcent thou from more kings doll mine,
Than many can name men in all their line :
What moil they toil to find, and finding hold,
Thou fcorneft, orient gems, and flatt'ring gold 5
Efteeming treafure furer in men's breails,
Than when immur'd with marble, clos'd in chefts :
No ftormy pafiions do difturb thy mind,
No mills of greatnefs ever could thee blind :
Who yet hath been fo meek ? Thou life didft give
To them who did repine to fee thee live :
What prince by goodnefs hath fuch kingdoms gain'd ?
Who hath fo long his people's peace maintain'd ?
Their fwords are turn *d to fcythes, to coulters fpears,
Some giant pofl their antique armour bears :
Now, where the wounded knight his life did bleed,
The wanton fvvain fits piping on a reed ;
And where the cannon did Jove's thunder fcorn,
The gaudy huntfman winds his mrill-tun'd horn :
Her green locks Ceres doth to yellow dye ;
The pilgrim fafely in the fnade doth lie ;
Both
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 1-
Both Pan and Pales carelefs keep their flocks ;
Seas have no dangers, fave the winds and rocks :
Thou art this Ifle's palladium ; neither can
(Whiles thou doft live ! ) it be overthrown by man.
Let others boaft of blood and fpoils of foes,
Fierce rapines, murders, iliads of woes ;
Of hated pomp, and trophies reared fair,
Gore-fpangled enfigns ftreaming in the air ;
Count how they make the Scythian them adore,
The Gaditan, and foldier of Aurore :
Unhappy boafting ! to enlarge their bounds,
That charge themfelves with cares, their friends
with wounds ;
Who have no law to their ambitious will,
But, man -plagues ! born are human blood to fpill :
Thou a true viftor art, fent from above
What others ftrain by force to gain by love ;
World-wandering Fame this praife to thee imparts>
To be the only monarch of all hearts.
They many fear, who are of many fear'd,
And kingdoms got by wrongs, by wrongs are tear'd ;
Such thrones as blood doth raife, blood throweth
down ;
No guard fo fure as love unto a crown*
Eye of our weftern world ! Mars-daunting king !
With whofe renown the earth's fcven climates ring,
Thy deeds not only claim thefe diadems,
To which Thame, Litty, Tay, fubjeft their dreams :
But to thy virtues rare, and gifts, is due
All that the planet of the year doth vit-.v ;
N 2 Sure,
,80 THE POEMS OF
Sure, if the world above did want a prince,
The world above to it would take thee hence.
That Murder, Rapine, Luft, are fled to hell,
And in their rooms with us the Graces dwell 5
That honour more than riches men refpect,
That worthinefs than gold doth more effect ;
That Piety unmafked mews her face,
That Innocency keeps with power her place ;
That long-exil'd Allrea leaves the heaven,
And turneth right her fword, her weights holds even j
That the Saturnian world is come again,
Are wim'd effects of thy rnoft happy reign.
That daily peace, love, truth, delights increafe,
And difcord, hate, fraudr with incumbers, ceafe ;
That men ufe ftrength, not to med others blood,
But ufe their flrength, now to do others good ;
That fury is enchain'd, difarmed wrath,
That, fave by Nature's hand, there is no death ;
That late grim foes, like brothers, other love,
That vultures prey not on the harmlefs dove ;
That wolves with lambs do friendship entertain,
Are wim'd effects of thy moft happy reign.
That towns increafe, that ruin'd temples rife,
That their wind-moving vanes do kifs the ikies ;
That ignorance and floth hence run away,
That buryM arts now roufe them to the day ;
That Hyperion far beyond his bed
Doth fee our lions ramp, our rofes fpread ;
That Iber courts us, Tiber not us charms,
That Rhein with hence-brought beams his boforn.
warms ;
4 That
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 181
That ill doth fear, and good doth us maintain,
Are wiih'd effe&s of thy moft happy reign.
O virtue's pattern ! glory of our times !
Sent of paft days to expiate the crimes ;
Great king, but better far than thou art great,
Whom ftate not honours, but who honours (late }
By wonder borne, by wonder firft inftall'd,
By wonder after to new kingdoms call'd ;
Young, kept by wonder from home-bred alarms,
Old, fav'd by wonder from pale traitors* harms ;
To be for this thy reign, which wonders brings,
A king of wonder, wonder unto kings.
If Pi&, Dane, Norman, thy fmooth yoke had feen,
Pi£, Dane, and Norman, had thy fubje&s been :
If Brutus knew the blif* thy rule doth give,
Ev'n Brutus joy would under thee to live :
For thou thy people doft fo dearly love,
That they a father, more than prince, thee prove.
0 days to be defir'd ! age happy thrice !
If you your heaven-fent good could duly prize ;
But we, half-palfy-fick, think never right
Of what we hold, till it be from our fight ;
Prize only fummer's fweet and mufked breath,
When armed winters threaten us with death ;
In pallid ficknefs do efteem of health,
And by fad poverty difcern of wealth:
1 fee an age, when after fome few years,
And revolutions of the flow-pac'd fpheres,
Thefe days mail be 'bove other far efteem'd,
like Auguftus' palmy reign be deem'd.
N The
iS* THE POEMS OF
The names of Arthur, fabulous Paladines,
Grav'n in Time's furly brow in wrinkled lines ;
Of Henries, Edwards, famous for their fights,
Their neighbour conquefts, orders new of knights,
Shall, by this prince's name, be paft as far
As meteors are by the Idalian ftar.
If grey-hair'd Proteus' fongs the truth not mifs,
There is a land, hence diftant many miles,
Out-reaching fiction and Atlantic ides ;
Which (homelings) from this little world we name,
That (hall emblazon with ftrange rites his fame ;
Shall rear him flatues all of pureft gold,
Such as men gave unto the gods of old ;
Name by him temples, palaces, and towns,
With fome great river, which their fields renowns.
This is that king, who mould make right each wrong,
Of whom the bards and myftic fybils fung ;
The man long promis'd, by whofe glorious reign
This Ifle mould yet her ancient name regain,
And more of Fortunate deferve the ftyle,
Than thofe where heavens with double fummers fmile.
Run on, great Prince ! thy courfe in glory's way,
The end the life, the evening crowns the day ;
Heap worth on worth, and ftrongly foar above
Thofe heights, which made the world thee firft to
love ;
Surmount thyfelf, and make thine actions paft
Be but as gleams or lightnings of thy laft ;
Let them exceed thofe of thy younger time,
As far as autumn doth the flow'ry prime.
Through
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 18$
Through this thy empire range, like world's bright
eye,
That once each year furveys all earth and fky ;
Now glances on the flow and refly Bears,
Then turns to dry the weeping Aufter*s tears ;
Hurries to both the poles, and moveth even
In the infigur'd circle of the heaven.
O ! long, long haunt thefe bounds, which by thy
fight
Have now regain'd their former heat and light.
Here grow green woods, here filver brooks do glide,
Here meadows flretch them out with painted pride $
Embroidering all the banks, here hills afpire
To crown their heads with the ethereal fire ;
Hills, bulwarks of our freedom, giant walls,
Which never friends did flight, nor fword madfl
thralls:
Each circling flood to Thetis tribute pays,
Men here, in health, outlive old Neftor's days :
Grim Saturn yet amongft our rocks remains,
Bound in our caves, with many metal' d chains :
Bulls haunt our fliades, like Leda's lover, white,
Which yet might breed Pafiphae delight ;
Our flocks fair fleeces bear, with which, for fport,
Endymion of old the moon did court ;
High-palmed harts amidft our forefts run,
And, not impelled, the deep-mouth'd hounds do fhun j
The rough-foot hare fafe in our bufhes (hrouds,
And long-wing'd hawks do perch amidft our clouds.
The wanton wood-nymphs of the verdant fpring,
Blue, golden, purple flow'rs (hall to thee bring ;
N 4 Pomona'*
i«4 THE POEMS OF
Pomona's fruits the Panifks, Thetis' gyrles
Thy Thule's amber, with the ocean pearls ;
The Tritons, herdfmen of the glafiy field,
Shall give thee what far-diftant mores can yield ;
The Serean fleeces, Erythrean gems,
Wafte Plata's filver, gold of Peru ftreams,
Antarctic parrots, ^Ethiopian plumes,
Sabsean odours, myrrh, and fweet perfumes :
And I myfelf, wrapt in a watchet gown
Of reeds and lilies, on mine head a crown,
Shall incenfe to thee burn, green altars raile,
And yearly fmg due Paeans to thy praife.
Ah ! why mould Ifis only fee thee mine ?
Is not thy Forth, as well as Ills, thine ?
Though Ifis vaunt me hath more wealth in ftorCj
Let it fuffice thy Forth doth love thee more :
Though me for beauty may compare with Seine,
For fwans and fea- nymphs with imperial Rheine j
Yet, for the title may be claim'd in thee,
Nor ihe, nor all the world, can match with me.
Now, when, by honour drawn, thou malt away
To her, already jealous of thy ftay ;
When in her amorous arms (he doth thee fold,
And dries thy dewy hairs with hers of gold,
Much alking of thy fare, much of thy fport,
Much of thine abfence, long, howe'er fo fhort,
And chides, perhaps, thy coming to the North,
Loath not to think on thy much-loving Forth :
O ! love thefe bounds, where, of thy royal item,
More than an hundred wore a diadem.
So
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. iS5
ever gold and bays thy brows adorn,
never time may fee thy race out-worn ;
of thine own dill may'ft thou be defir'd,
ftrangers fear'd, redoubted, and admir'd ;
So memory thee praife, fo precious hours
M"y character thy name in ftarry flow'rs ;
So may thy high exploits at laft make even
With earth thy empire, glory with the heaven !
SPEECHES
SPEECHES
TO THE
HIGH AND EXCELLENT PRINCE
CHARLES,
OF GREAT BRITAIN, FRANCE, AND
IRELAND,
At his entering his CITY of EDINBURGH.
IhcreJ from the Pageants the l$th of June ^ 1633.
AN INTENDED
SPEECH
AT THE WEST GATE.
TF Nature could fuffer rocks to move, and abandon
^ their natural places, this Town, founded on the
ftrength of rocks (now, by the all-cheering rays of
your Majefty's prefencc, taking not only motion,
but life), had, with her caftle, temples, and houfes,
moved toward you, and befought you to acknowledge
her yours, and her inhabitants your moft humble and
affectionate fubje&s ; and to believe, how many fouls
are within her circuits, fo many lives are devoted to
your facred perfon and crown. And here, Sir, (lie
offers, by me, to the altar of your glory, whole heca
tombs of moft happy defires, praying all things may
pn.-vc profperous unto you ; that every virtue and he-
jjroic grace, which make a prince eminent, may, with
a long and bleflcd government, attend you ; your
Kingdoms flouridiing abroad with bays, at home with
oliv:s ; prcfcnting you, Sir (who arc the (Irong key
of
i9o THE POEMS OF
of this little world of Great Britain), with thefe keys,
which caft up the gates of her affection, and defign
you power to open all the fprings of the hearts of
thefe her moft loyal citizens. Yet this is almoft not
necefTary ; for as the rofe at the far appearing of the
morning fun difplayeth and fpreadeth her purples, fo
at the very report of your happy return to this your
native country, their hearts (as might be apparent, if
they could have mined through their breafts) were
with joy and fair hopes made fpacious ; nor did they
ever, in all parts, feel a more comfortable heat, than
the glory of your prefence at this time darteth upon
them.
The old forget their age, and look frefli and young
at the fight of fo gracious a prince : the young bear
a part in your welcome, defiring many years of life,
that they may ferve you long ; all have more joys than
tongues ; for, as the words of other nations far go
beyond and furpafs the affection of their hearts ; fo in
this nation, the affection of their hearts is far above
all they can exprefs by words. Deign then, Sir,,
from the higheft of majefty to look down on their
lownefs, and embrace it ; accept the homage of their
humble minds, accept their grateful zeal ; and, for
deeds, accept that great good-will which they have
ever carried to the high deferts of your anceflors,,
and fhall ever, to your own, and your royal race,
whilft thefe rocks (hall be overfhadowed with build
ings, thefe buildings inhabited by men, and while men
fhall be endued either with courifel or courage* or en
joy any piece of reafon, fenfe, or life.
T H X
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. ,9,
T H E
SPEECH OF CALEDONIA,
REPRESENTING THE KINGDOM.
THE Heavens have heard our vows, our juft de-
fires
Obtained are ; no higher now afpires
Our wifning thought, fmce to his native clime,
The flower of princes, honour of his time,
jEncheering all our dales, hills, forefts, flreams,
(As Phccbus doth the fummer with his beams)
Is come, and radiant to us, in his train,
The golden age and virtues brings again !
Prince fo much longed for ! how thou becalm'fl
Minds eafelefs anguim, every care embalm'ft
With the fweet odours of thy prefence ! Now,
In (welling tides, joys every where do flow
By thine approach ; and that the world may fe£
What unthought wonders do attend on thee,
This kingdom's angel I, who fmce that day
That ruthlefs Fate thy parent reft away,
And made a ftar, appeared not any where
To gratulate thy coming, come am here.
Hail ! princes' phoenix, monarch of all hearts, "
cign of love and juftice, who imparts
More- than thou canft receive ! To thee this crown
Is due by birth : but more, it is thine own
By
x92 THE POEMS OF
By juft defert ; and ere another brow
Than thine fhould reach the fame, my floods mould
flow
With hot vermilion gore, and every plain
Level the hills with carcafes of ilain,
This ifle become a Red Sea. Now how fweet
Is it to me, when love and laws thus meet
To girt thy temples with this diadem,
My nurfelings facred fear, and deareft gem,
Nor Roman, Saxon, Pict, by fad alarms
Could thus acquire and keep ; the heavens in arms
From us repel all perils ; nor by wars
Aught here was won, fave gaping wounds and fears :
Our Lion's climacteric now is paft,
And crown'd with bays he rampeth free at laft.
Here are no Serean fleeces, Peru gold,
Aurora's gems, nor wares by Tynans fold ;
Towns fwell not here with Babylonian walls,
Nor Nero's fky-refembling gold-ceiPd halls ;
Nor Memphis' fpires, nor Quinzaye's arched frames,
Captiving feas, and giving lands their names :
Faith, milk-white Faith ! of old belov'd fo well,
Yet in tin's corner of the world doth dwell
With her pure filters, Truth, Simplicity ;
Here banim'd Honour bears them company :
A Mars-adoring brood is here, their wealth,
Sound minds, and bodies of as found a health ;.
Walls here are men, who fence their cities more
Than Neptune, when he doth in mountains roar,
Doth guard this ifle, or all thofe forts and tow'rs
Amphion's harp rais'd about Thebes' bow'rs.
Heaven's
WILLIAM DR-UMMOND. i9j
even's arch is oft their roof, the pleafant flied
)f oak and plain oft ferves them for a bed.
\> fuffer want, oft pleafure to defpife,
Lun over panting mountains crown'd with ice,
Rivers o'ercome, the wafteft lakes aj)pal,
(Inlr^to themfelves, oars, fteerers, (hip and all)
Is their renown : a brave all-daring race,
Courageous, prudent, doth this climate grace ;
Yet the firm bafe on which their glory Hands,
\ In peace, true hearts ; in ware, is valiant hands,
r'Which here, great King ! they offer up to thee,
Thy worth refpe&ing as thy pedigree.
Though it be much to come of princely flem,
.More is it to deferve a diadem.
Vouchfafe, bled people, ravifiVd here with me,
'To think my thoughts, and fee what I do fee.
A prince all-gracious, affable, divine,
Meek, wife, juft, valiant, whofe radiant mine
Of virtues, like the ftars about the Pole
Gilding "the night, enl'ght'neth evay foul,
Your fceptre fways ; a prince, born in this age
To guard the innocent from tyrants' rn ^ ;
To make peace profper, jaiiicc to reflow'r,
Jn defert hamlet, as in lordly bow'r ;
ce tkat, though of none he Hands in awe,
iirfl fubjecls hirafclf to his own law ;
TV ho joys in good, and dill, as right di
TIJs grer.tncfs meafures by his good effects ;
His people's pzdcilal, who rilnig high,
this throne, nv.ik^s Scotland's runio t-i fix
O
i94 THE POEMS OF
On halcyon's wings (her glory which reftores)
Beyond the ocean to Columbus' mores :
God's facred picture in this man adore,
Honour his valour, zeal, his piety more ;
High value what you hold, him deep engrave
In your heart's heart, from whom all good ye have
For as moon's fplendor from her brother fprings,
The people's welfare ftreameth from their kings.
Since your love's objeft doth immortal prove,
O ! love this prince with an eternal love.
Pray that thofe crowns his anceftors did wear,
His temples long, more orient, may bear ;
That good he reach by fweetnefs of his fway,
That ev'n his fhadow may the bad affray ;
That Heaven on him what he defires bellow,
That ftill the glory of his greatnefs grow ;
That your begun felicities may laft,
That no Orion do with ftorms them blaft ;
That victory his brave exploits attend,
Eaft, wed, or fouth, where he his force fliall bend,
Till his great deeds all former deeds furmount,
And quell the Niir.rod of the Hellefpont ;
That when his well-fpent care all care becalms,
He may in peace fleep in a made,, of palms ;
And rearing up fair trophies*, .thai Heaven may
-Extend his life to world's extrerneft-day.
T H 2
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. i95
THE
SONG OF THE MUSES AT PARNASSUS.
fides j
\ T length we fee thofe eyes,
•**• Which cheer both earth and
Now, ancient Caledon,
Thy beauties heighten, richeft robes put on,
And let young joys to all thy parts arifc.
Here, could thy Prince ftill flay,
Each month fhould turn to May ;
We need nor ftar, nor fun,
Save him, to lengthen days, and joys begun :
Sorrow and Night to far climes haile away.
Now majefly and love
Combin'd are from above ;
Prince never fceptre fway'd,
Lov'd fubjecls more, of fubjecls more obey'd,
Which may endure whilft heaven's great orbs do
move.
Joys, did you always laft,
Life's fpark you foon would wafle ;
"Grief follows fweet delight,
As day is madowed by fable night,
Yet fhall remembrance keep you frill, when paft.
O 2
TKfi
,96 THE POEMS OF
.THE
SPEECHES
AT T H
HOROJS.COP AL PAGEANT,
BY THE PLANETS,
END y MI O N.
O U S ' D from the Latmian cave, \vhere many
years
That emprefs of the loweft of the fpheres,
Who. cheers the night, did keep me hid, apart
Yrom mortal wights, to cafe her love-lick heart,
As young as when (he did me firft inclofe,
As frefh in beauty as the morning rofe,
Endymion, that whilom kept my flacks
Upon Ionia's flow' ry hills and rocks,
And fweet lays warbling to my Cynthia's beams,
Out-fang the cygnets of Meander's ftreams :
To whom, -for guerdon, fh heaven's fecret bars
Jylade open, taught the paths and pow'rs of ftars :
By
WILLIAM DRUMMOND.
197
By tin's dear Lady's ftrift commandement,
To celebrate this day I here am fent.
But whether is this heaven, which ftars do crown,
Or are heaven's flaming fpleridours here come down
To beautify this nether world with me ?
Such ftate and glory did e'er fhepherd fee ?
My wits my fenfe miftruft, and ftay amaz'd?
No eye on- fairer objects ever gaz'd.
Sure this is heaven ; for ev'ry wand'ring liar, -
Forfaking thofe great orbs where whirl'd they are.
All difmal, fad afpe&s abandoning,
Are here met to falute fome gracious king.
Nor is it ftrange if they heaven's height neglect ;
It of undoubted worth is the effect :
Then this it is, thy prefence, royal youth,
Hatlrbrought them here within an azimuth,
To tell by me, their herald, coming things,
And what each Fate to her ftern diftaff fings ^
Heaven's volume to unclafp, vail pages fpread,
Myflerious golden cyphers clear to read.
Hear then the augur of thy future days,
And what the ftarry fenate of thee fays ;
For, what is firm decreed in heaven above,
In vain on earth ilrive mortals to improve* -
o,
SATURN.
THE POEM'S OF
SATURN.
fair hopes to give reins now is it time,
And foar as high as juft defires may climb j.
O halcyonian, clear, and happy day !
From forry wights let forrow fly away,
And vex Antarctic climes ; great Britain's woes
Vanifh, for joy now in her zenith glows.
The old Lucadian fcythe-bearing fire,
Though cold, for thee feels flames of fwcet defire ^
And many luftres at a perfect height
Shall keep thy fceptre's majefly as bright,
And Itrong in power and glory, every way,
As when thy peerlefs parent did it fway ;
Ne'er turning wrinkled in- Time's endlefs length,
But one in her firft beauty, youthful (Irength,
Like thy rare mind, which ftedfaft as the Pole
Still fixed Hands, however fpheres do roll'.
More to enhance with favours this thy reign,
His age of gold he mall reilore again ;
Love, Juftice, Honour, Innocence renew,
Men's fprights- with white fimplicity indue ;
Make all to live in plenty's ceafelefs ftore
With equal fliares, none wifoing to have more.
No more fliall cold the ploughmen's hopes beguile,
Skies mall on earth with lovely glances fmile ;
Which (hall, untill'd, each flower and herb bring forth,
And lands to gardens turn, of equal worth ;
Life (long) fhall not be thrall'd to mortal dates :
Thus Heavens decree, fo have ordain M the Fates.
JOVE.
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 199
JOVE.
TT\E LIGHT of Heaven ! fole honour of the Earth !
*^~^ Jove (courting thine afcendant) at thy birth
Proclaimed thee a King, and made it true,
That to thy worth great monarchies are due :
He gave thee what was good, and what was great,
What did belong to love, and what to Hate ;
Rare gifts, whofe ardours burn the hearts of all ;
I-.ike tinder, when flint's atoms on it fall.
The Tramontane, which thy fair courfe directs,
Thy counfels mall approve by their effects ;
Juftice, kept low by giants, wrongs, and jars,
Thou malt relieve, and crown with glifleiing ftars ;
Whom nought, fave law of force, could keep in awd,
Thou malt turn clients to the force of law ;
Thou arms flialt brandifh for thine own defence,
Wrongs to repel, and guard weak innocence,
Which to thy laft effort thou malt uphold,
As oak the ivy which it doth enfold.
All overcome, at lad thyfelf o'ercome,
Thou malt make Pafiion yield to Reafon's doom ;
For fmiles of Foriune mail not raife thy mind,
Nor (hall difafters make it e'er declin'd :
True Honour mail refide within thy court,
Sobriety and Truth there ft ill refort ;
Keep promis'd faith, thou malt all treacheries
Deteft, and fawning parafites defpife ;
Thou, others to make rich, malt not make poor
Thyfelf, but give, that thou may 'ft ftill give more *
O 4 Thou
200 THE POEMS OF
Thou (halt no paranympli raife to high place,
For frizzled locks, quaint pace, or painted face r.
On gorgeous raiments, womanizing toys,.
The works of worms, and what a moth deftroysj
The maze of fools, thou malt no treafure fpend,
Thy charge to immortality mall tend ;.
Raife palaces, and temples vaulted high ;
Rivers o'erarch ; -of hofpitality
And fcienc.es the ruin'd inns reftore ;
With walls and ports encircle Neptune's more ;..
To new-found worlds thy fleets make hold their courfe^
And find of Canada the unknown fource ;
People thofe lands which pafs Arabian fields
In fragrant woods, and mufk which zephyr yields.
Thou, fear'd of none, malt not thy people fear,
Thy people's love thy greatnefs fnall up-rear :
Still rigour (hall not mine, and mercy lower ;
What love can do, thou malt not do by power;
New and vaft taxes thou (halt not extort,
Load lieavy thofe thy bounty mould fupport.
Thou (halt not flrike the hinge nor mailer-bean* ;
Gf thine cilate ; but errors in the fame,
By harmlefs juftice, gracioufly reform.
' Delighting more in calm than roaring ftorm,.
Thou (halt govern in peace, as did thy fire ;
Keep, fave thine own, and kingdoms new acquire
Beyond Alcides' pillars, and thofe bounds
Where Alexander gain'd the eaftern crowns,
Till thou the greateft be among the Greats :
Thus Heavens ordain, fo have decreed the Fates.
M A R S,
WILLIAM DRUMMONJ>. 201
MARS.
QON of the Lion ! thou of loathfome bands
^ Shalt free the earth, and whatever thee withftands
Thy noble paws (hall tear ; the God of Thrace
Shall DC thy ftcond ; and before thy face,
To Truth and Juftice whilfl thou trophies rears,.
Armies fhall fall difmay'd with panic fears.
I As when Aurora in fay's azure lifts
Makes (hadows vanifh, doth difperfe the mifts,
E And in a twinkling with her opal light
Night's horrors checketh, putting {tars to flight r
More to inflame thee to this noble ta(k,
£ To thee he^here refigns his fword1 and cafque.
A wall of flying caftles, armed pines,
Shall bridge thy fea ; like heaven with fleel that
(nines
To aid Earth's tenants by foul yokes oppreft,
And fill with fears the great King of the Weft :
To thee already Viclory difplays
Her garlands twin'd with olive, oak, and bays ;
Thy triumphs finifh (hall all old debates :
Thus Heavens decree, fo have ordain'd the Fates.
SITN:
202. THE POEMS OF
S U N.
"V17EALTH, wifdom, glory, pleafure, ftouteft
hearts,
Religion, laws, Hyperion imparts
To thy juft reign, which (hall far, far furpafs
Of emperors, kings, the bell that ever was :
Look how he dims the ftars ; thy glories' rays
So darken mail the luftre of thefe days :
For in fair Virtue's zodiac thou (halt run,
And in the heaven of worthies be the fun.
No more contemn 'd (hall haplefs Learning lie ;
The maids of Pindus fiiall be raifed high ;
For bay and ivy which their brows enroll'd,
Thou malt 'em deck with gems and mining gold ;
Thou open malt ParnafTus' cryftal gates ;
Thus Heavens ordain, fo do decree the Fates.
VENUS.
HPHE Acidalian Queen amidft thy bays
•^ Shall twine her myrtles, grant thee pleafant days ;
She did make clear thy houfe, and, with her light,
Of churlifh ftars put back the difmal fpight ;
The hymenean bed fair brood fliall grace,
Which on the earth continue mall their race ;
While Flora's treafure mall the meads endear ;
While fvvcet Pomona rofe-cheek'd fruits mall bear ;
While Phoebus' beams her brother's emulates :
Thus Heavens decree, fo have ordain'd the Fates.
MERCURY.
WILLIAM DRUMMOND.
203
MERCURY.
RE AT Atlas' nephew mall the works of peace,.
The fprings of plenty, tillage, trade, increafe ;
jAnd arts, in time's gulphs loft, again reHoce
To their perfe&ion ; nay, find many more,
More perfect artifls : Cyclops in their forge
Khali mould thofe brazen Typhons, which difgorge
lYom their hard bowels metal, flame, and finoke,
Muffling the air up in a fable cloke.
C it irons, harpies, dragons, fphinges flrange
* Wheel, where in fpacious gires the fume doth range ;
iyThe fea (brinks at the blow, make doth the ground,
f-The world's vaft chambers doth the found rebound p
I The Stygian porter leaveth off to bark,
Black Jove, appall'd, doth mroud him in the dark ;,
Muny a Typhis, in adventures tofs'd,
By new-found Ikill (hall many a maiden coaft
With thy fail-winged Argofes find out,
Which, like the fun, mail run the earth about;
And far beyond his paths fcore wavy ways,
To Cathay's lands by Hyperborean feas ;
He (hall endue thee, both in peace and war,
With wifdom, which than flrength is better far ;
Wealth, honour, arms, and arts fhall grace thy dates ;
Thus Heavens ordain, fo do decree, the Fates.
THE
2o4 THE TOEMS OF
THE MOON.
HOW the fair Queen with the golden maids,
The fun of night, thy happy fortunes aids !
Though turbanM princes for a badge her wear,
To them me wains, to thee would full appear ;
Her hand-maid Thetis daily walks the round
Aftout thy Delos, that no force it wound ;'
Then when thou left'ft it, and abroad didfl ftray,
Dear pilgrim, fhe did ftfew with flowers thy way ;
And, turning foreign force and counfel vain,
Thy guard and guide return'd thee home again ;
To thee fhe kingdoms, years, blifs did divine,
Quailing Medufa's grim makes with her fhine.
Beneath thy reign Difcord (fell mifchief's forge,
The bane of people, (late and kingdom's fcourge).
Pale Envy (with the cockatrice's eye,
Which feeing kills, but feen doth fbrthwith die),
Malice, Deceit, Rebellion, Impudence,
Beyond the Garamants mail pack them hence,
With every monfter that thy glory hates :
Thus Heavens decree, fo have ordain 'd the Fates.
ENDYMION.
WILLIAM DRUM-MONO.
105
ENDYMION.
heretofore to thy heroic mind
Hopes did not anfvver as they were defigri'd,
K) do not think it ftrange : times were not come,
And thefe fair ftars had not pronounc'd their doom
The Dellimes did on that day attend,
When to this northern region thou fhouldil lend
fThy cheerful prefence, and, charg'd with renown,
•Bet on thy brows the Caledonian crown.
Thy virtues now thy juft defire mall grace,
Stern chance mall change, and to defert give place.
Let this be known to all the Fates, admit
fro their grave counfel, and to every wit
That courts Heaven's infide : this let Sybils kno\y, -
lAnd thoTe. mad Corybants who dance and glow
On Dindimus' high tops with frantic fire :
Let this be known to all Apollo's choir,
If And. People : let it not be hid from you,
I What mountains' noifc and floods proclaim as true;
^"Wherever Fame abroad his praife mall ring,
fhall obferve, and ferve this blcfled King.
The End of King CHARLES'S Entertainment
at Edinbwgh, 1633.
A PAS-
THE POEMS OF
A
PASTORAL ELEGY
0 N T « E
.DEATH
O F
S. W. A.
TN fweeteft prime and blooming of his age,
Dear Alcon, ravifh'd from this mortal ftage,
, The fhepherds mourn'd, as they him lov'd before*
Among the rout, him Idmon did deplore ;
Idmon, who, whether fun in eaft did rife,
Or dive in weft, pour'd torrents from his eyes
"Of liquid cry Hal-; under hawthorn made,
At laft to trees and flocks this plaint he made -:
Alcon ! delight of Heaven, defire of Earth,
Off-fpring of Phoebus, and the Mufes' birth,
The Graces' darling, Adon of our plains,
Flame of the faireit nymphs the earth fuftains !
What povv'r of thee hath us bereft ? what Fate,
33y thy untimely fall, would ruinate
7 Our
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. ao7
Our hopes ? O Death ! what treafure in one hour
i Hall thou difperfed ! how doft thou devour
What we on earth hold deareft ! All things good,
iToo envious Heavens, how blaft ye in the bud !
.The corn the greedy reapers cut not down
I Before the fields with golden ears it crown ;
Nor doth the verdant fruits the gardener pull ;
But thou art cropt before thy years were full.
With thee, fweet youth ! the glories of our fields
[Vanifh away, and what contentments yields.
The lakes their filver look, the woods their (hades,
The fp rings their cryftal want, their verdure meads,
t The years their early feafons, cheerful days ;
Hills gloomy Hand, now defolate of rays :
P"heir amorous whifpers zephyrs not us bring,
Nor do air's chorifters falute the -fpring ;
'The freezing winds our gardens do deflowV.
Ah Deflinies, and you whom fkies embow'r,
' To his fair fpoils his fpright again yet give,
And, like another phoenix, make him live !
The herbs, though cut, fprout fragrant from their
ftems,
^ And make with crimfon blufh our anadems :
f'The fun, when in the weft he doth decline,
Heaven's brighteft tapers at his funerals mine ;
His face, when wafh'd in the Atlantic feas,
Revives, and cheers the welkin with new rays :
Why mould not he, finceof more pure a frame,
* Return to us again, and be the fame ?
But,
2d8 THE POEMS OF
But, wretcli ! what wifh I ? To the winds I fend
Thefe plaints and pray'rs : Deftinies cannot lend
Thee more of time, nor Heavens confent will thus
Thou leave their Ttarry world to dwell with us ;
Yet (hall they not thee keep amidft their fpheres
'Without thefe lamentations and tears.
Thou waft all virtue, courtefy, and worth ;
And, as fun's light is in the moon fet forth,
World's fupreme excellence in thee did mine :
Nor, though eclipfed now, {halt thou decline,
: But in our memories live, while dolphins ftreams,
Shall haunt, whilft eaglets ftare on Titan's beams,
Whilft fwans upon their cryilal tombs mail fmg,
Whilft violets with purple paint the fpring.
A gentler (hepherd flocks did never feed
On Albion's hills, nor fmg to oaten reed.
While what fhe found in thee my mufe would blaze,
Grief doth diftraft her, and cut mort thy prazfe.
How oft have we, environ'd by the-throng
Of tedious fwains, the cooler • fhades among,
Contemn'd Earth's glow-worm Greatneis, and the
chace
Of Fortune fcorn'd, deeming it difgrace
"To court inconftancy ! How oft have we
•Some Chlons' name grav'n in each virgin tree ;
And, finding favours fading, the next day
What we had carv'd we did deface away.
Woful remembrance ! Nor time nor place
Of thy abodement fliudovvs any trace-j
Bui
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. :»,
But there to me thou min'ft : late glad defines,
And ye once rofes, how are ye turn'd briars!
Contentments pafled, and of pleafures chief,
Now are ye frightful horrors, hells of grief!
When from thy native foil Love had thee driven,
(Thy fafc return prefigurating) a heaven
Of flattering hopes did in my fancy move ;
Then little dreaming it mould atoms prove.
Thefe groves preferve will I, thefe loved woods,
Thefe orchards rich with fruits, with fifli thefe floods j
My Alcon will return, and once again
His chofen exiles he will entertain ;
The populous city holds him, amongft harms
Of fome fierce Cyclops, Circe's ftronger charms.
Thefe banks, faid I, he vifit will, and dreams ;
Thefe filent fhades, ne'er kifs'd by courting beamt.
Far, far, off I will meet him, and I firft
Shall him approaching know, and firfl be bled
With his afpedl ; I firft fhall hear his voice,
Him find the fame he parted, and rejoice
To learn his pafled perils ; know the fports
Of foreign fhepTierds, fawns, and fairy courts.
No pleafure like the fields, an happy flate
The fwains enjoy, fecure from what they hate :
Free of proud cares they innocently fpend
The day, nor do black thoughts their eafe offend ;
Wife Nature's darlings, they live in the world
Perplexing not themfelves how it is hurl'd.
Thefe hillocks Phoebus loves, Ceres thefe plains,
Thefe (hade* the Sylvans ; and here Pales drains
P Milk
216 THE TO EMS OT
Milk in the pails ; the maids which haunt the fpringS
Dance on thefe paftures ; here Amintas fmgs :
Hefperian gardens, Tempe's fhades, are here,
Or what the Eailern Inde and Weil hold dear.
Come then, dear youth! the wood-nymphs twine thee
boughs
With rofe and lily to impale thy brows.
Thus ignorant I mus'd, not confcious yet
Of what by Death wras done, and ruthlefs Fate :
Amidft thefe trances Fame thy lofs doth found,
And through my ears gives to my heart a wound.
With ftretch'd-out arms I fought thee to embrace,
But clafp'd, amaz'd, a coffin in thy place ;
A coffin of our joys which had the truft,
Which told that thou wert come, but changed t®
duft!
Scarce, ev'n when felt, could I believe this wrack,
Nor that thy time and glory Heavens would break.
Now, fince I cannot fee my Alcon's face,
And find nor vows nor prayers to have place
With guilty flars, this mountain mall become
To me a facred altar, and a tomb
To famous Alcon. Here, as days, months, years
Do circling glide, I facrifice will tears ;
Here fpend my remnant time, exil'd from mirth,
Till Death at laft turn monarch of my earth.
Shepherds on Forth, and you by Doven rocks,
Which ufe to fing and fport, and keep your flocks,
Pay tribute here of tears ! ye never had
To aggravate your moans a caufe more fad :
And
WILLIAM DRUMMOND.
And to their forrows hither bring your mands,
Charged witli fvveeteft flow'rs, and with pure hands,
Fair nymphs, the blufhing hyacinth and rofe
Spread on the place his relics doth inclofc ;
Weave garlands to his memory, and put
Over his hearfe a verfe in cyprefs cut :
Virtue did die, goodnefs but harm did give,
After the noble Alcon ceas'd to live :
Friendfhip an earthquake ftiffer'd ; lofing him
Love's brighteft conilellation turned dim.
MISCF.T.
THE POEMS OF
MISCELLANIES,
A PASTORAL SONG.
PHILLIS and DAMON.
PHIL. QHEPHERD, doft thou love me well ?
DAM. ^ Better than weak words can tell.
PHIL. Like to what, good fliepherd, fay.?
DAM. Like to thee, fair cruel May.
PHIL. O how ftrange thefe words I find !
Yet to fatisfy my mind,
Shepherd, without mocking me,
Have I any love from thee ?
Like to what, good fhepherd, fay ?
DAM. Like to thee, fair cruel May.
PHIL. Better anfwer had it been,
To fay thou lov'ft me as 'thine eync.
DAM. Wo is me ! thefe 1 love not,
For by them love entrance got,
At that time they did behold,
Thy fweet face and locks of gold.
PHIL. Like to what, dear fhepherd, fay ?
DAM. Like to thee, fair cruel May.
PHIL. Once, dear fhepherd, fpeak more plain,
And I mall not afk again ;
Say, to endlhis gentle ftrife,
Doft thou love me as thy life ?
DAM. No, for it is turn'd a flave
To fad annoys, and what I have
Of
WILLIAM DRUMMONrD. *i3
Of life by love's ftronger force
Is 'reft, and I'm but a dead corfe.
PHIL. Like to what, good fhepherd, fay?
DAM. Like to thee, fair cruel May.
PHIL. Learn I pray this, like to thee,
And fay, I love as I do me.
DAM. Alas ! I do not love myfelf,
For I'm fplit on beauty's fhelf.
PHIL. Like to what, good fhepherd, fay?
DAM. Like to thee, fair cruel May;
ALL good hath left this age, all tracks of fliame :
Mercy is banifhed, and Pity dead ;
Juftice, from whence it came, to heav'n is fled ;
Religion, maim'd, is thought an idle name.
Faith to Diftruft and Malice hath giv'n place ;
Envy, with poifon'd teeth, hath Friendfhip torn ;
Renowned Knowledge is a defpis'd fcorn ;
Now evil 'tis", all evil not t' embrace.
There is no life, fave under fervile bands ;
To make Defert a vaflal to their crimes,
Ambition with Avarice joins hands :
O ever fhameful, O moil fhamelefs times !
Save that fun's light we fee, of good here tell,
This earth we court fo much were very hell.
DOTH then the world go thus, doth all thus move ?
Is this the juftice which on earth we find ?
Is this that firm decree which all doth bind ?
Are thefe your influences, Pow'rs above ?
P 3 Thofc
2i4 THE POEMS OF
Thofe fouls which Vice's moody milts moft blind,
Blind Fortune, blindly, moft their friend doth prove ;
And they who thee, poor idol Virtue ! love,
Ply like a feather tofsM by ftorm and wind.
Ah ! if a Providence doth fway this A^,
Why mould beft minds groan under moil diftrefs ?
Or why fhould Pride Humility make thrall,
And injuries the innocent opprefs ?
Heav'ns ! hinder, ftop this fate ; or grant a time
When good may have, as well as bad, their prime*
A REPLY.
"YX7 HO do in good delight,
^ ^ That fov' reign juftice ever doth reward, ;
And though fometime it fmite,
Yet it doth them regard :
For ev'n amidft their grief
They find a ftrong relief,
And death itfelf can work them no defpite.
Again, in evil who joy,
And do in it grow old,
In midft of mirth are charged with fin's annoy,
Which is in confcience fcroll'd ;
And when their life's frail thread is cut by time.
They punifhment find equal to each crime.
T OOK how in May the rofe,
•*— ' At fulphur's azure fumes,
In a fhort fpace her crimfoo blufh doth lofe,
And,
WTLLIAM DRUIWRTOHD: Si5
And, all ama/M, a pallid white aflumes.
So time our beft confumes,
Makes youth and beauty pafs,
And what was pride turns horror in our glafs-
T o
A SWALLOW BUILDING NEAR THE STATUE
OF MEDEA.
Progne, chattering wretch,
That is Medea ! there
Wilt thou ihy younglings hatch ?
Wijl fhe keep thine, her own who could not fparc ?
Learn from her frantic face
To feek fome fitter place.
What other may'ft thou hope for, what defire,
Save Stygian fpells, wounds, poifon, iron, fire ?
VENUS ARMED.
practice new alarms
In Jove's great court above,
The wanton .Qween of Love
Of fleeping Mars put on the horrid arms ;
Where gazing in a glafs
To fee what thing (he was,
To mack and feoff the blue-eyed maid did move ;
Who faid, Sweet queen, thus mould you have been
dight
When Vulcan took you napping with your knight.
THE
2i6 THE POEMS OF
THE £ OAR'S HEAD.
AMIDST a pleafant green
Which fun. did feldomfee,
Where play'd Anchifes with the Cyprian Queen,, *
The head of a wild boar hung on a tree :
And, driven by Zephyrs' breath,
Did fall, and wound the lovely youth beneath ;,:
On whom yet fcarce appears
So much of blood as Venus' eyes fhed tears.
But, ever as (he wept, her anthem was,
Change, cruel change, alas !
My Adon, whilfl thou liv'd, was by thee flam ;
Now dead, this lover muft thou kill again ?
TO AN OWL.
A SCALAPHUS, tell me,
-^~^ So may night's curtain long time cover thec>
So ivy ever may
From irkfome light keep thy chamber and bed;
And, in moon's liv'ry clad,
So may'ft thou fcorn the chcrifters of day —
When plaining thou doft flay
Near to the facred window of my dear,
Doft ever thou her hear
To wake, and fteal fwift hours from drowfy fleep ?
And, when me wakes, doth e'er a ftolen figh creep
Into thy liftening ear ?
If that deaf god doth yet her carelefs keep,
In louder notes my grief with thine exprefs,
Till by thy flirieks ftie think on my diftrefs.
DAPHNIS.
WILLIAM DRUMMOND.
217
D A P H N I S.
Daphnis' arms did grow
In flender branches ; and her braided hair,
Which like gold waves did flow,
In leafy twigs was ftretched in the air ;.,
The grace of either foot
Transformed was to a root ;
A tender bark enwraps her body fair..
He who did caufe her ill
Sore wailing flood, and from his blubbered eyne
Did fhow'rs of tears upon the rind diftil,
Which, water' d thus, did bud and turn more green..
O deep defpair ! O heart -appalling grief !
When that doth woe increafe fhould bring relief.
THE BEAR OF LOVE.
TN woods and defart bounds
A bead abroad doth roam ;
So loving fweetnefs and the honey-comb,
It doth defpife the arms of bees and wounds:.
I, by like pleafure led,
To prove what heav'ns did place
Of fweet on your fair face,
Whilft therewith I am fed,
Reftcarelefs (bear of love) of hellifli fmart,
And how thofe eyes afflict and wound my heart.
FIVE
zi8 THE POEMS OF
FIVE SONNETS
FOR
GALATEA.
QTREPHON, in vain thou bring'ft thy rhimes and
fongs,
Deck'd with grave Pindar's old and wither 'd flow'rs ;.
In vain thou count'ft the fair Europa's wrongs,
And her whom Jove deceived in golden fhow'rs.
Thou haft flept never under myrtle's fhed ;
Or, if that paflion hath thy foul opprefs'd,
It is but for fome Grecian miftrefs dead,
Of fuch old fighs thou doft difcharge thy breaft ;
How can true love with fables hold a place ?
Thou who with fables doft fet forth thy love,
Thy love a pretty fable needs muft prove :
Thou fueft for grace, in fcorn mor.e to difgrace.
I cannot think thou wert charm'd by my looks,
O no ! thou learn'ft thy love in lovers* books.
II.
more with candid words infeft mine ears ;
Tell me no more how that you pine in anguifli ;
When found you fleep, no more fay that you languifh ;
No more in fweet defpite fay you fpend tears.
Who hath fuch hollow eyes as not to fee,
How thofe that are hair-brain'd boaft of Apollo,
And bold give out the Mufes do them follow,
Though in Love's library, yet no lovers be.
If
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 21*
If we, poor fouls ! lead favour but them fhe\v,
That itraight in wanton lines abroad is blaz'd ;
Their names doth foar on our fame's overthrow j
»Maik'd is our lightnefs, whilit their wits are prais'd,.
In filent thoughts who can no fecret cover,
He may, fay we, but not well, be a lover.
m.
"E who with curious numbers, fweeteft art,
Frame Dedal nets our .beauty to furprife,
Celling ftraage ca/Ues jbujlded in the fkies,
jAnd tales of Cupid's bow and Cupid's dart ;
IWell, howfoe'er y.e a& your feigned fmart,
ifolefling quiet ears with tragic cries,
When you accufe our charity's bed part,
Kam'd cruelty, ye feem not half too wife ;
i Yea, ye yourfelves it deem mod worthy praife,
Beauty's bell guard ; that dragon, which doth keep
feefperian fruit, the fpur in you does raife,
That Delian wit that atherways may Qee]),
To cruel nymphs your lines do fame afford,
Oft many pitiful, nqt one poor word.
IV.
TF it be love, to wake .out all the night,
•*• And watchful eyes drive out in dewy moans,
And, when the fun brings to the world his light,
To wafte the day in tears and bitter groans ;
If it be love, to dim weak reafon's beam
•With clouds of itrange defire, and make the mind
In hellifh agonies a heav'n to dream,
Still feeking comforts where but griefs we find ;
If
2io THE POEMS OF
«r
If it be love, to {lain with wanton thought
A fpotlefs chaflity, and make it try
More furious flames than his whofe cunning wrought"
That brazen bull, where he intomb'd did fry ;
Then fure is love the caufer of fuch woes,
Be ye our lovers, or our mortal foes.
V.
A ND would you then make off Love's golden chain,!
•*• -*- With which it is beft freedom to be bound ?
And, cruel ! do you feek to heal the wound
Of love, which hath fuch fweet and pleafant pain ?
All that is fubjedt unto Nature's reign
In Ikies above, or on this lower round,
When it its long and far-fought end hath found,
Doth in decadens fall and flack remain.
Behold the Moon, how gay her face doth grow
Till me kifs all the Sun, then doth decay !
See how the feas tumultuoufly do flow
Till they embrace lov'd banks, then poft away;;
So is 7t with love ; unlefs you love me ftill,
O do not think I'll yield unto your will !'
SONNET.
RE's charming fleep, fon of the fable night,
Brother to death, in filent darknefs born,
Deftroy my languifh ere the day be light,
With dark forgetting of my care's return ;
And let the day be long enough to mourn
The fhip wreck of my ill-adventur'd youth;
L«t
"WILLIAM DRUMMOND.
Let watery eyes fuffice to wail their fcorn,
thout the troubles of the night's untruth,
leafe, dreams, fond image of my fond defires 1
Bo model forth the paflions of to-morrow ;
Let never riling fun approve your tears,
|*o mid more grief to aggravate my forrow:
Still let me fleep, embracing clouds in vain,
And never wake to feel the day's difdain.
TO THAUMANTIA, SINGING.
IS it not too, too much
Thou late didft to me prove
A bafilifk of love,
And didft my wits bewitch ?
Unlefs, to caufe more harm,
Made fyren too thou with thy voice me charm ?
Ah ! though thou fo my reafon didft controul,
That to thy looks I could not prove a mole.,
Yet do me not that wrong,
As not to let me turn afp to thy fong.
UPON A -GLASS.
IF thou wouldft fee threads purer than the gold,
Where love his wealth doth mew,
iBut take this glafs, and thy fair hair behold.
If whitenefs thou wouldft fee more white than fnow,
And read on wonder's book,
Take but this glafs, and on thy forehead look.
Wouldft
»ii THE POEMS OF
Wouldft thou in winter fee a crimfon rofe,
Whofe thorns do hurt each heart,
Look but in glafs how thy fweet lips do clofc.
Wouldft thou fee planets which all good impart,
Or meteors divine,
But take this glafs, and gaze upon thine eyne.
No — planets, rofe, fnow,' gold, cannot compare
With you, dear eyes, lips, brows, and amber hair !
"OF A BEE.
AS an audacious knight,
Come with fome foe to fight,
His fword doth brandim, makes his armour ring ;
So this proud bee, at home perhaps a king,
Did buzzing fly about,
And, tyrant, after thy fair lip did fting.
O champion ftrange as ftout !
Who hail by nature found
-Sharp arms, and trumpet fhrill, to found and wound.
OF THE SAME.
Do not kill that bee
That thus hath wounded thee !
Sweet, it was no defpite,
But hue did him deceive :
For when thy lips did clofe,
He deemed them a rofe.
What wouldft thou further crave ?
He wanting wit, and blinded with delight,
Would fain have kifs'd, but mad with joy did bite.
2 OF
WILLIAM DRUMMO'ND. 223
.OF A KISS.
All ! of that cruel bee
Thy lips have fuck'd too much ;
•or when they mine did touch,
• found that both they hurt and fweetcriM me :
'•"his by the fting they have,
And that they of the honey do receive :
•ear kifs ! elfe by what art
Couldft thou at once both pleafe and wound my
heart ?
IDMON TO VENUS.
I~'F, Acidalia's queen,
Thou quench in me thy torch,
And with the far. re Thaumantia's heart fhalt fcorch,
Each year a myrtle tree
jHere I do vow to confederate to thee :
And, when the meads grow green,
j I will of fweeteft flowers
Weave thoufand garlands to adorn thy bow'rs.
A LOVER's PLAINT.
IN midfl of filent night,
"\jfhen men, birds, beafts, do reft,
With love and fear pofleft,
[To Heav'n, and Flore, I count my heavy plight.
Again, with rofeate wings
When morn peeps forth, and Philomela fings,
3*4- THE POEMS OF
Then, void of all relief,
Do I renew my grief:
Day follows night, night 'day, "whilft ftill I prove
That Heaven is deaf, Flore carelefs of my love,
HI-S FIREBRAND.
T EAVE, page, that flender torch,
•*— ' And in this gloomy night
Let only fliine the light
Of Love's hot brandon, which my heart doth fcorch
A. figh, or blaft of wind,
My tears, or drops of rain,
May that at once make blind ;
Whilft this like jEtna burning {hall remain.
DAPHNIS' VOW.
"T T7 HEN fun doth bring the day
From the Hefperian fea,
Or moon her coach doth roll
Above the northern pole,
When ferpents cannot hifs,
And lovers (hall not kifs,
Then may it be, but in no time till then,
That Daphnis can forget his Orienne.
B
THE STATUE OF VENUS SLEEPING.
REAK not my fvveet repofe,
Thou, whom free will, or chance, brings to "this
place ;
Let lids thefe comets clofe,
O do net feek to fee their mining grace :
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 1*5
For when mine eyes thou feeft, they thine will blind ;
And thou fhalt part, but leave thy heart behind.
A N T H E A's GIFT.
THIS virgin lock of hair
To Idmon Anthea gives,
Idmon, for whom (lie lives,
Though oft fhe mix hi's hopes with cold defpair :
This now ; but, abfent if he conftant prove,
With gift more dear (he vows td meet his love.
TO THAUMANTIA.
COME, let us live,, and love,
And kifs, Thaumantia mine ;
I mall the elm be, be to me the vine ;
Come, let us teach new billing to the dove :
Nay, to augment our blifs,
Let fouls e'en other kifs.
Let Love a workman be,
Undo, diftemper, and his cunning prove,
Of kiffes three make one, of one make three :
Though moon, fun, flars, be bodies far more -bright,
Let them not vaunt they match us in delight.
A LOVER's DAY AND NIGHT.
BRIGHT meteor of day,
For me in Thetis' bow'rs for ever flay ;
Night, to this flow'ry globe
Ne'er (hew for me thy ftar-embroidcr'd robe.
226 THE POEMS OF
My night, my day, do not proceed from you, '
But hang on Mira's brow :
For when fhe lowers, and hides from me her eyes,
'Midft cleareft day I find black night arife ;
When fmiling fhe again thofe twins doth turn,
In midft of night I find noon's torch to burn.
THE STATUE OF ADONIS.
WHEN Venus, 'longft that plain,
This Parian Adon faw,
She %hyd, and faid, What pow'r breaks Deftme's
law,
World-mourned boy, and makes thee live again ?
Then with ftretch'd arms fhe ran him to enfold.
But when fhe did behold
The boar whofe fnowy tufks did threaten death,
Fear clofed up her breath.
Who can but grant then that thefe ftones do live,.
Sith this bred love, and that a wound did give ?
CLORUS TO A GROVE,
OLD oak, and you thick grove,
I ever mall you love,
With thefe fweet-fmelling briers :
For briers, oak, grove, ye crowned my defires,
When underneath your made
I left my woe, and Flore her maidenhead.
A COUPLET
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. az?
A COUPLET ENCOMIASTIC.
123 la
LOVE, Cypris, Phoebus, will feed, deck, and
3
crown,
1 * 3 i 2
iy heart, brows, verfe, with flames, with flow'rs,
3
renown,
ANOTHER.
HY Mufe not-able, full, il-luftred rhymes,
Make thee the poetafler of our times,
•
>ON A BAY TREE NOT LONG SINCE
GROWING IN THE RUINS OF
VIRGIL's TOMB.
'HOSE (tones which once had truft
Of Maro's fecred duft,
u'ch now of their firft beauty fpoil'd are fccn,
it they due praife not want,
Inglorious and remain,
A Dclian tree (fair Nature's only plant)
Now courts, and madows with her trefTes green :
Sing lo Pasan, ye of Phoebus' train ;
Though envy, av'rice, time, your tombs throw down,
With maiden laurels Nature will them crown.
FLORA'S
a*8 THE POEMS OF
FLORA'S FLOWER.
j XT E N U S doth love the rofe ;
* Apollo thofe dear flow'rs
Which were his paramours ;
The queen of fable fkies
The fubtile lunaries :
But Flore likes none of thofe ;
For fair to her no flovv'r feems fave the lily ;
And why ? Becaufe one letter turns, it P .
MELAMPUS's EPITAPH,
AL L that a dog could have t
The good Melampus had :
TSIay, !he had more than what in beafts we crave,
For he could play the brave ;
And often, like a Thrafo ftern, go mad :
And if ye had not feen, but heard him bark,
Ye would have fworn he was your parifh clerk.
THE HAP,PINESS OF A FLEA.
TTOW happier is that Flea,
A •*- Which in thy breaft doth play,
Than that pied butterfly
Which courts the flame, and in the fame doth die.!
That hath a light delight,
Poor fool ! contented only with a fight ;
When this doth fport, and fwell with dearefl food,
And, if he die, he knight-like dies in blood.
O
•
WILtlAM- DRUMMOND. »»,
OF THE SAME.
POOR flea ! then thou didft diej
Yet by fo fair a hand,
That thus to die was deftine to command :
Thou didft die, yet didft try
A lover's laft delight,
To vault on virgin plains, her kifs and bite :
Thou diedft, yet haft thy tomb
Between thofe paps, O dear and ftately room \
;> Flea happier far, more bleft,
k Than Phoenix burning in his fpicy neft.
LINA's' VIRGINITY.
WHO Lina weddeth, mall moft happy be ;
For he a maid mall find,
Though maiden none be me,
A girl or boy beneath her waift confin'd :
And though bright Ceres' locks be never (horn,
He mall be fure this year to lack no corn.
LOVE NAKED.
AND would ye, lovers, know
Why Love doth naked go ?
Fond, waggifh, changeling lad !
Late whilft Thaumantia's voice
He wond'ring heard, it made him fo rejoice,
That he o'erjoy'd ran mad :
And in a frantic fit threw clothes away,
And iince from Up and lap hers cannot flray.
N I O B E.
THE POEMS OF
N I O B E.
WRETCHED Niobe I am ;
Let wretches read ray cafe.
Not fuch who with a tear ne'er wet their face*
Seven daughters of me came,
And fons as many, which one fatal day,
Orb'd mother ! took away.
Thus reft by heavens unjuft,
Grief turn'd me ftone, itone too me doth entomb 5
Which if thou doft miftruft,
Of this hard rock but ope the flinty womb,
And here thou (halt find marble,, and no dulh
CHANGE OF LOVE.
ONCE did I weep and groan,
Drink tears, draw loathed breath,
And all for love of one
Who did affect my d^ath r
Bat now, thanks to difdain !
I live relieved of pain.
For fighs I iinging go,
I burn not as before— no, no, no, no !
WILD BEAUTY.
IF all but ice thou be,
How doft thou thus me burn ?
Or how at fire which thou doft raife in me,
Sith ice, thyfelf in ftreams doft thou not turn *
But
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. *ji
But rather, plaintful cafe !
Of ice art marble made, to my difgrace.
0 miracle of love, not heard till now !
Cold ice doth burn, and hard by fire doth grow.
CONSTANT LOVE.
TIME makes great ftates decay,
Time doth May's pomp difgrace,
Time draws deep furrows in the faireft face,
Time wifdom, force, renown, doth take away ;
Time doth confume the years,
Time changes works in heaven's eternal fpheres ;
Yet this fierce tyrant, which doth all devour,
To leflen love in me (hall have no pow'r.
TO CHLORIS.
SE E, Chloris, how the clouds
Tilt in the azure lifts ;
And how with Stygian mifts
Each horned hill his giant forehead fhrouds.
Jove thund'reth in the air ;
The air, grown great with rain
Now feems to bring Deucalion's days again :
1 fee thee quake : come, let us home repair ;
Come, hide thee in mine arms,
If not for love, yet to fhun greater harm*.
THYRSIS IN DISPRAISE OF BEAUTY.
THAT which fo much the doting world doth
prize,
Fond ladies only care, and fole delight,
Soon-fading beauty, which of hues doth rife,
0.4
43* THE POEMS OF
Is but an abje& let of Nature's might ;
Moft woful wretch, whom mining hair and eyes
Lead to love's dungeon, traitor'd by a fight,
Moll woful ! for he might with greater eafe
Hell's portals enter, and pale Death appeafe.
As in delicfous meads beneath the flowr's,
And the moft wholefome herbs that May can mew,
In cryftal curls the fpeckled ferpent low'rs ;
As in the apple, which moft fair doth grow,
The rotten worm is clos'd, which it devours ;
As in gilt cups, with Gnoflian wine which flow,.
Oft poifon pompoufly doth hide its fours ;
So lewdnefs, falfehood, mifchief them advance,.
Clad with the pleafant rays of beauty's glance.
Good thence is chas'd where beauty doth appear ;
Mild lowlinefs, with pity, from it fly ;
Where beauty reigns, as in their proper fphere; •
Ingratitude, difdain, pride, all defcry ;
The flow'r and fruit, which virtue's tree mould bear,.
With her bad ihadow beauty maketh die :
Beauty a monfter is, a monfter hurPd
From angry heaven, to fcourge this lower world*.
As fruits which are unripe, and four of tafte,
To be confedVd more fit than fweet we prove ;
For fweet, in fpite of care, themfelves will wafle,
When they long kept the appetite do move :.
So, in the fvveetnefs of his nec~tar,A Love
The foul confefts, and feafons of his feaft :
Sour is far better, which we fweet may make,
Than fvveet, which fweeter fweetnefs will not take.,
Foul
WILLIAM DRUMMOND
Foal may my lady be ; and may her nofe,
A Tenerif, give umbrage to her chin ;
May her gay mouth, which me no time may clofe,.
So wide be, that the moon may turn therein :
May eyes and teeth be made conform to thofe ;
Eyes fet by chance and white, teeth black and thin :
May all what feen is, and is hid from fight,
Like unto thefe rare parts be framed right-.
I mall not fear thus, though me ftray alone,
That others her purfue, entice, admire ;
And, though me fometime counterfeit a groan^
I fliall not think her heart feels uncouth fire ;
I mail not ftyle her ruthlefs to my moan,
Nor proud, difdainful, wayward to defire :
Her thoughts with mine will hold an equal line,
I fnall be hers, and me mail all be mine.
EURYMEDON's PRAISE OF MIRA. .
EM of the mountains, glory of our plains!
Rare miracle of nature, and of love !
Sweet Atlas, who all beauty's heavens fuftains,
No, beauty's heaven, where all her wonders move ;
The fun,, from eaft to well who all doth fee,
On this low globe fees nothing like to thce.
One phoenix only liv'd' ere thou waft born,
And earth but did one Queen of Love admire,
Three Graces only did the world adorn,
But thrice three Mufes fung to Phoebus' lyre ;
Two phoenixes be now, Love's Queens are t\ror
Four Graces, Mufes ten, all made bv vou.
For
*34 THE POEMS OF
For thofe perfections which the bounteous heaven
To divers worlds in divers times afiign'd,
With thoufands more, to thee at once were given,
Thy body fair, more fair they made thy mind :
And, that thy like no age mould more behold,
When thou waft fram'd, they after brake the mould.
Sweet are the blufhes on thy face which mine,
Sweet are the flames which fparkle from thine eyes,
Sweet are his torments who for thee doth pine,
Moft fweet his death for thee who fweetly dies ;
For, if he die, he dies not by annoy,
But too much fweetnefs and abundant joy.
What are my flender lays to mew thy worth !
How can bafe words a thing fo high make known ?
So wooden globes bright flars to us fet forth,
So in a cryftal is fun's beauty (hewn :
More of thy praifes if my mufe fhould write,
More love and pity muft the fame indite.
THAUMANTIA AT THE DEPARTURE
OF IDMON.
FAIR Dian, from the height
Of heaven's firft orl> who chear'ft this lower place,
Hide now from me thy light j
And, pitying my cafe,
Spread with a fcarf of clouds thy blufhing face.
Come
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. »J5
Come with your doleful fongs,
Night's fable birds, which plain when others fleep ;
Come, folemnize my wrongs,
And concert to me keep,
Sith heaven, earth, hell, are fet to caufe me weep.
This grief yet I could bear,
If now by abfence I were only pin'd ,
But, ah I worfe evil I fear ;
Men abfent prove unkind,
And change, unconftant like the moon, their mind.
If thought had fo much pow'r
Of thy departure, that it could me flay ;
How will that ugly hour
My feeble fenfe difmay,
" Farewel, fweet heart/' when I mail hear thee fey I
Dear life ! fith thou muft go,
Take all my joy and comfort hence with thee ;
And leave with me thy woe,
Which, until I thee fee,
Nor time, nor place, nor change (hall take from me.
ERYCINE AT THE DEPARTURE OF
ALEXIS.
AN D wilt thou then, Alexis mine, depart,
And leave thefe flow'ry meads and cryftal
ftreams,
Thefe hills as green as great with gold and gems,
Which
236 THE POEMS OF
Which court thee with rich treafure in each part £
Shall nothing hold thee ? Not my loyal heart,
That burfts to lofe the comforts of thy beams ?
Nor yet this pipe, which wildefl fatyrs tames ?
Nor lambkins \vailing,.nor old Dorus' fmart ?
O ruthlefs mepherd ! forefts flrange among
What canft thou elfe but fearful dangers find'?
But, ah! not thou, but honour, doth me wrong ;: .
O cruel honour ! tyrant of the mind.
This faid fad Erycine, and all the flowers
Impearled as flic went with eyes' fait mowers.
COMPARISON.
OF HIS
THOUGHTS TO PEARLS..
"VJfTITH open fhells in feas, on heavenly dew
A mining oyiler lufcioufly doth feed ;
And then the birth of that etherial feed
Shews, when conceiv'd, if Ikies look dark or blue ::
Se^do my thoughts, celeftial twins ! of you,
At whofe afpecl they iirfl begin and breed,
When they came forth to light, demonitrate true
IT ye then fmilrd, or lowVd in mourning weed;
Pearls then are orient fram'd, and fair in form,
Jf heavens in their conceptions do look clear;.
But if they thunder, or do threat a ftorm,
They fadly dark and cloudy do appear :
Right fo my thoughts, and fo my notes do change ;
Sweet if ye fmilc, and hoarfe if ye look ftrange. '
ALL
WILLIAM D R U M M O N D. *37
ALL CHANGETH.
*T*HE angry winds not aye
Do cuff the roaring deep ;
And, though heavens often weep,
Yet <do they fmile for joy when comes difmay ;
Frofts do not ever kill the pleafant flow'rs ;
And love hath fweets when gone are all the fours.
This faid a fhepherd, clofing in his arms
His dear, who blufh'd to feel love's new alarms.
SILENUS TO KING MIDAS.
npHE gricateft gift that from their lofty throne*
The all-governing pow'rs to man can give,
Is, that he never breathe ; or, breathing once,
Avfuckling end his days, and leave to live ;
For then he neither knows the woe nor joy
Of life, nor-fears the Stygian lake's aimoy.
TO HIS AMOROUS THOUGHT.
O WEET wanton thought, who art of beauty born,
"^ And who on beauty feed'ft, and fweet dcfire,
Like taper fly, ftill circling, and ftill turn
About that flame, that all fo much admire,
That heavenly fair which doth out-blufti the morn,
'Thofe'ivory hands, thofe threads of golden wire,
Tbou ftill furroundeft, yet dar'ft not afpire ;
Sure
538 THE POEMS OF
Sure them doft well that place not to come near,
Nor fee the majefty of that fair court ;
For if thou faw'ft what wonders there refort,
The pure intelligence that moves that fphere*,
Like fouls afcending to thofe joys above,
Back never wouldft thou turn, nor thence remove.
What can we hope for more ? what more enjoy ?
Since faireft things thus fooneft have their end,
And as on bodies fhadows do attend,
Soon all our blifs is follow'd with annoy :
Yet file's not dead, me lives where me did love ;
Her memory on earth, her foul above.
P H I L L I S
ON THE
DEATH OF HER SPARROW.
AH ! if ye afk, my friends, why this fait fhow'r
My blubber'd eyes upon this paper pour,
Gone is my fparrow ! he whom I did train,
And turn'd fo toward, by a cat is {lain :
No more with trembling wings mall he attend
His watchful miftrefs. Would my life could end !
No more (hall I him hear chirp pretty lays ;
Have I not caufe to loath my tedious days ?
A Dedalus he was to catch a fly ;
Nor wrath nor rancour men in him could fpy.
To touch or wrong his tail if any dar'd,
He pinch'd their fingers, and agafnfl them warr'd :
Then
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 131)
Then might that creft be feen (hake up and down,
Which fixed was unto his little crewn ;
Like He&or's, Troy's ftrong bulwark, when in ire
He rag'd to fet the Grecian fleet on fire.
But ah, alas ! a cat this prey efpies,
Then with a leap did thus our joys furprife.
Undoubtedly this bird was kill'd by treafon,
Or otherways had of that fiend had reafon.
Thus was Achilles by weak Paris ilain,
And flout Camilla fell by Aruns vain ;
So that falfe horfe, which Pallas rais'd 'gainft Troy,
King Priam and that city did deftroy.
Thou, now whofe heart is big with this frail glory,
Shalt not live long to tell thy honour's ilory.
If any knowledge refteth after death
In ghofts of birds, when they have left to breathe,
My darling's ghoft mall know in lower place
The vengeance falling on the cattifli race.
.For never cat nor catling I mail find,
But mew mall they in Pluto's palace blind.
Ye who with gaudy wings, and bodies light,
Do dint the air, turn hitherwards your flight.
To my fad tears comply thefe notes of yours,
Unto his idol bring an harv'ft of flow're ;
Let him accept from us, as moft divine
Sabaean incenfe, milk, food, fweeteft wine ;
And on a flone let us thefe words engrave :
" Pilgrim, the body of a fparrow brave
" In a fierce glutt'nous cat's womb clos'd remains,
" Whofe ghoft now graccth the Elyfian plains."
2 ox
THE POEMS OF
ON THE
PORTRAIT
OF THE
COUNTESS OF PERTH.
SONNET.
V
THE goddefs that in Amathus doth reign
With filver trammels, fapphire-colour'd eyes,
When naked from her mother's cryilal plain
She firft appear'd unto the wond'ring fides ;
Qr when, the golden apple to obtain,
Her blaming fnow amazed Ida's trees —
Did never look in half fo fair a guife,
As me here drawn (all other ages ftain).
O God, what beauties to inflame the foul,
And hold the hardefl hearts in chains of gold !
Fair locks, fweet face, love's {lately capitol,
Pure neck, which doth that heavenly frame uphold !
If virtue would to mortal eyes appear,
To ravifh fenfe, me would your beauty wear.
SONNET.
TF heaven, the ftars, and nature did her grace
"*• With all perfections found the moon above,
And what excelleth in this lower place
Found place in her to breed a world of love ;
If
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 141
If angels gleams mine on her falrefl face,
Which makes heaven's joy on earth the gazer prove,
And her bright eyes (the orbs which beauty move)
As Phoebus dazzle in his glorious race ;
What pencil paint, what colour to the light
So fvveet a fhape can (hew ? The blufhing Morn
The red mult lend, the Milky-way the white,
And Night the ftars which her rich crown adorn.
To draw her right then, and make all agree,
The heaven the table, Zcuxis Jove muft be.
ON THE SAME DRAWN WITH A PENCIL.
SONNET.
WHEN with brave art the curious painter drew
This heavenly fhape, the hand why made he
bear,
With golden veins, that flow'r of purple hue,
Which follows on the planet of the year ?
Was it to (hew how in our hemifphere
Like him me mines ? nay, that efFcfts more true
Of pow'r and wonder do in her appear,
While he but flow'rs, and (he doth minds fubdue >
Or would he elfe to virtue's glorious light,
Her conftant courfe make known ? or is 't that he
Doth parallel her blifs with Clitra's pligh^?
Right fo ; and thus he reading in her eye
Some lover's end, to grace what he did grare,
For cvprcfs tree this mourning flow'r he gave.
R
-42 'THE POEMS OF
MADRIGAL.
TF light be not beguil'd,
•*• And eyes right play their part,
This flow'r is not of art, but fairefl nature's child ;
And though, when Titan's from our world exil'd,
She doth not look, her leaves, his lofs to moan,
To wonder earth finds now more funs than one.
EPIGRAMS.
I.
r ]p HE Scottim kirk the Englifh church do name ;
-*• The Englifh church the Scots a kirk do call ;
Kir& and not church, church and not kirk, O fhame !
Your lappa turn in chl, or perifh all.
Affemblies meet, poft bifhops to the couit :
If thefe two nations fight, 'tis ftrangers fport.
II.
AGAINST the King, fir, now why would you
fight ?
Forfooth, becaufe he dubb'd me not a knight.
And ye, my lords, why arm ye 'gainft king Charles ?
Becaufe of lords he would not make us earls.
Earls, why do ye lead forth thefe warlike bands ?
Becaufe we will not quit the church's lands.
Moft holy churchmen, what is your intent ?
The king our ftipends largely did augment.
Commons,
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. j+j
Commons, to tumult thus why are you driven ?
Priefts us perfuade it is the way to heaven.
Are thefe juft caufe of war ; good people, grant ?
Ho ! Plunder ! thou ne'er fwore our covenant.
Give me a thoufand covenants ; I'll fubfcrivc
Them all, and more, if more ye can contrive
Of rage and malice ; and let every one
Black treafon bear, not bare rebellion.
I'll not be mock'd, hifs'd, plundered, banifli'd hence,
For more years Handing for a *
prince.
His caftles all are taken, and his crown,
His fword, and fceptre, enfigns of renown,
With that lieutenant Fame did fo extol ;
And captives carried to the capital.
I'll not die martyr for a mortal thing ;
'Tis 'nough to be confeflbr for a king.
Will this you give contentment, honcfl men?
I've written rebels — pox upon the pen !
T
III.
HE king a negative voice moil juftly hath,
Since the kirk hath found out a negative faith.
IV.
IN parliament one voted for the king ;
The crowd did murmur he might for it fmart ;
His voice again being heard, was no fuch thing ;
For that which was miftaken, was a full.
R2
BOLD
244 THE POEMS OF
V.
BOLD Scots, at Barnnockburn ye kill'd your king,
Then did in parliament approve the fad ;
And would ye Charles to fuch a nonplus bring,
To authorize rebellion by an A61 ?
Well, what ye crave, who knows but granted
may be ?
But, if he do't, caufe fwaddle him for a baby.
VI.
A REPLY.
£< WADDLED is the baby, and almoft two years
^ (His fwaddling time) did neither cry nor ftir ;
But ftar'd, fmil'd, did lie ftill, void of all fearp,
And fleep'd, though barked at by every cur :
Yea, had not wak'd, if Lefly, that hoarfe nurfe,
Had not him hardly rock'd — old wives him curfe I
VII.
TH E king nor band nor hoft had him to
follow,
Of all his fubje&s ; they were given to thee,
Lefly. Who is the greateft ? By Apollo,
The emperor thou ; fome Palfegrave fcarce feems he.
Couldfl thou pull lords, as we do bifhops, down,
Small diftance were between thee and a crown.
VIII.
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. a45
VIII.
WHEN lately Pym defcended into hell,
Ere he the cups of Lethe did caroufe,
What place that was, he called loud to tell ;
To whom a devil — This is the Lower Houfe.
IX.
THE STATUE OF ALCIDES.
FLORA, upon a time,
Naked Alcides' ftatue did behold ;
And with delight admir'd each am'rous limb ;
Only one fault, (he faid, could be oft told.
For, by right fymmetry,
The craftfman had him wrong'd ;
To fuch tall joints a taller club belongM— -
The club hung by his thigh.
To which the ilatuary did reply :
Fair nymph, in ancient days, your * * * by far
Were not fo hugely vaft as now they are.
X.
GREAT lies they tell, preach our church can
not err;
Lefs lies, who fay the king's not head of her ;
Great lies, who cry we may fhed other's blood,
Lefs lies, who fwear dumb bifhops are not good ;
Great lies they vent, fay we for God do right,
Lefs lies, who guefs the king does nothing right ;
Great lies and lefs lies all our aims defcry ;
To pulpits fome, to camp the relt apply.
R 3 XI. A
246 THE POEMS OF
XL
A SPEECH
At the KING's Entry into the
TOWN of LlNLlTHGOW }
PRONOUNCED BY MR. JAMES WISEMAN,
SCHOOLMASTER there,
Inclofed in a Plafter made in the Figure of a LION.
THRICE, royal Sir, here I do you befeech,
Who art a lion, to hear a lion's fpeech.
A miracle ; for, fince the days of JEfop,
No lion till thefe times his voice dar'd raife up
To fuch a majefty : then, king of men,
The king of beafts fpeaks to thee from his den ;
Who, though he now inclofed be in plafter,
When he was free, was Lithgow's wife fchool*
mailer.
XII.
A COUNTRY maid Amazon-like did ride,
•**• To fit more fure, with leg on either fide :
Her mother, who her fpied, faid that ere long
She mould juft penance fuffer for that wrong ;
For when time mould on her more years beftow,
That horfes hair between her thighs would grow.
Scarce winter twice was come, as was her told,
When me found all to frizzle there with gold ;
Which firft made her afraid, then turn'd her lick,
And forc'd her keep her bed almoft a week.
2 At
WILLIAM DRUM'KTOND. H
At lad her mother calls, who fcarcc for laughter
Could hear the pleafant ftory of her daughter ;
But, that this phrenzy fhould no more her vex,
She fwore thus bearded were their weaker fex ;
Which when denied, Think not, faid (he, I fcorn ;
Behold the place, poor fool, where thou waft born.
The girl that feeing cried, now void of pain,
Ah ! mother, you have ridden on the mane !
XIII.
GO D ' s judgments feldom ufe to ceafe, unlels
The fins which them procured men do confefs.
Our cries are Baal's priefts, our failing vain ;
Our pray'rs not heard, nor anfwer'd us again :
Till perjury, wrong, rebellion, be confeit,
Think not on peace, nor to be freed of pert.
XIV.
THE king gives yearly to his fenate gold ;
Who can deny but juflice then is fold ?
H
XV.
ERE Rixus lies, a novice in the laws,
Who 'plains he came to hell without a caufe.
R4 THE
4& THE POEMS OF-
THE
CHARACTER
OF AN
ANTI-COVENANTER, OR MALIGNANT-
you know thefe royal knaves>
Of free men would turn us flaves f
Who our union do defame
With rebellion's wicked name ?
Read thefe verfes, and ye '11 fpring 'em,
Then on gibbets ftraight caufe hing 'enx.
They complain of fin and folly ;
In thefe times fo paffing holy,
They their fubftance will not give,.
Libertines that we may live.
Hold thofe fubje&s too, too wanton,
Under an old king dare canton.
Negleft they do our circ'lar table*,
Scorn our a&s and laws as fables ;
Of our battles talk but meekly,
With four ferrnons pleas'd are weekly ;
Swear king Charles is neither papift,
Arminian, Lutheran, or atheift.
But that in his chamber pray'rs,
Which are pour'd 'midft fighs and tears,
To avert God's fearful wrath,
Threat'ning us with blood and death ;
Periuade they would the multitude,
This king too holy is and good.
They
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 24*
They avouch we '11 weep and groan
When hundred kings we ferve for one ;
That each (hire but blood affords,
To ferve th' ambition of young lords ;
Whofe debts ere now had been redoubled,
i If the flate had not been troubled.
Slow they are our oath to fwear,
Slower for it arms to bear :
They do concord love, and peace,
' Would our enemies embrace ,
^Turn men profelytes by the word,
Not by mufket, pike, and fword.
They fwear that for religion's fake
We may not maflacre, burn, fack :
That the beginning of thefe pleas,
Sprang from the ill-fped A B C's.
For fervants that it is not well
Againft their mailers to rebel.
That that devotion is but flight,
Doth force men firft to fwear, then fight.
That our confeflion is indeed
Not the Apoftolic Creed ;
Which of negations we contrive,
Which Turk and Jew may both fubfcrive.
That monies mould men's daughters marry,
They on frantic war mifcarry.
"Whilil dear the foldiers they pay,
At laft who will fnatch all away.
And, as times turn worfe and worfe,
Catechife us by the purfe.
That
<25o THE POEMS OF
That debts are paid with bold ftern looks ;
That merchants pray on their 'compt books ;
That Juftice dumb and fullen frowns,
To fee in croflets hang'd her gowns ;
That preachers' ordinary theme
Is 'gain ft monarchy to declaim.
That, fince leagues we 'gan to fwear,
Vice did ne'er fo black appear ;
Oppreffion, bloodfhed, ne'er more rife,
Foul jars between the man and wife j
Religion fo contemn 'd was never,
Whilft all are raging in a fever.
They tell by devils, and fome fad chance,
That that deteflable league of France,
Which coft fo many thoufand lives,
And two kings, by religious knives,
Is amongft us, though few defcry ;
Though they fpeak truth, yet fay they lie.
He who fays that night is night,
That cripple folk walk not upright,
That the owls into the fpring
Do not nightingales out-fing,
That the feas we may not plough,
Ropes make of the rainy bow,
That the foxes keep not fheep,
That men waking do not deep,
That all's not gold doth gold appear—
Believe him not, although he fwear.
To fuch fyrens flop your ear,
Their focieties forbear.
Yc
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 151
|Ye may be toffed like a wave,
JVerity may you deceive ;
fjuft fools they may make of you j
Then hate them worfe than Turk or Jew..
Were it not a dangerous thing,
i Should we again obey the king ;
Lords lofe mould fovereignty,
Soldiers hafte back to Germany;
Juftice mould in our towns remain,
Poor men pofTefs their own again ;
Brought out of hell that word of Plunder,
More terrible than devil, or thunder,
Should with the covenant fly away,
And charity amongft us (lay ;
•Peace and plenty fhould us nourifh,
True religion 'mongft us flourifh ?
When you find thefe lying fellows,
Take and flower with them the gallows*
On others you may too lay hold,
In purfe or cheft, if they have gold.
Who wife or rich are in this nation,
Malignants are by proteftation.
THE FIVE SENSES,
i. .SEEING.
T^ROM fuch a face, whofe excellence
•*• May captivate my fovereign's fenfe,
And make him (Phoebus like) his throne,
Rcfign to fome young Phaeton,
Whofc
2S2 THE POEMS OP
Whofe fkillefs and unftayed hand
May prove the ruin of the land,
Unlefs great Jove, down from the /ky,
Beholding earth's calamity,
Strike with his hand that cannot err
The proud ufurping charioter ;
And cure, though Phoebus grieve, our woe— -
From fuch a face as can work fo,
Wherefoever thou 'il a being,
Blefs my Sovereign and his Seeing.
2. HEARING.
TT^ROM jefls prophane and flattering tongues,
-*• From bawdy tales and beaftly fongs,
From after-fupper fuits, that fear
A parliament or council's ear ;
From Spanifh treaties, that may wound
The country's peace, the gofpel's found ;
From Job's falfe friends, that would entice
My, Sovereign from heaven's paradife ;
From prophets fuch as Achab's were,
Whofe flatterings foothe my fovereign's ear$
His frowns more than his Maker's fearing,
Blefs my Sovereign and his Hearing.
3. TASTING.
OM all fruit that is forbidden,
Such for which old Eve was chidden ;
From bread of labours, fweat, and toil ;
From the poor widow's meal and oil ;
From
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 2:3
From blood of innocents oft wrangled
From their c dates, and from that's ftrangledf
From the candid poifon'd baits
Of Jefuits, and their deceits ;
Italian fallads, Romim drugs,
The milk of Babel's proud whore's dugs/
from wine, that can dedroy the brain ;
And from the dangerous figs of Spain ;
At all banquets, and all feading,
Blefs my Sovereign and his Tading.
4. FEELING.
T^ROM prick of confcience, fuch a ding
P- As flays the foul, heav'n blefs the king ;
From fuch a bribe as may withdraw
His thoughts from equity or law ;
From fuch a fmooth and beardlefs chin
As may provoke or tempt to fin ;
From fuch a hand, whofe moid palm may
My fovereign lead out of the way ;
From things polluted and unclean,
From all things beadly and obfcene ;
From that may fet his foul a reeling,
Blefs my Sovereign and his Feeling.
5. SMELLING.
HERE myrrh and frankincenfe are thrown,
The altar's built to gods unknown,
O let my fovereign never dwell ;
Such damn'd perfumes arc fit for hell.
Let
454- THE POEMS OF
Let no fuch fcent his noftrils ftain ;
From fmells that poifon can the brain
Heav'ns ftill preferve him. Next I crave,
Thou wilt be pleas'd, great God ! to fave
My fov'reign from a Ganymede,
Whofe whorifh breath hath pow'r to lead
His Excellence which way it lift —
O let fuch lips be never kifs'd !
From a breath fo far excelling,
Biefs my Sovereign and his Smelling.
THE ABSTRACT.
SEEING.
AND now, juft God, I humbly pray,
That thou wilt take the flime away
That keeps my fovereign's eyes from feeing
The things that will be our undoing.
HEARING.
HP* HEN let him hear, good God, the founds
As well of men as of his hounds.
TASTE.
I V E him a tafte, and truly too,
Of what his fubje&s undergo.
FEELING AND SMELLING,
I V E him a feeling of their woes,
And then no doubt his royal nofe
Will
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 25$
I Will quickly fmdl the rafcals forth,
|Whofe black deeds have eclips'd his worth:
They found, and fcourg'd for their offences,
Heavens blefs my Sovereign and his Senfes.
POLEMO-MIDDINI A
INTER VITARVAM ET NEBERNAM.
NYMPHS, quae colitis highiflima monta Fifaea,
Seu vos Pittenwema tenent, feu Crelia crofta,
FSive Anftraea domus, ubi nat Haddocus in undis,
Codlineufque ingens, ubi Fleucca & Sketta pererrant
:Per coftam, & fcopulis Lobfter monifootus in udis
Creepat, & in mediis ludit Whitenius undis :
Et vos Skipperii, foliti qui per mare breddum
Valde procul lanchare foris, iterumque redire,
Linquite fkellatas botas, mippafque picatas,
Whiftlantefque fimul fechtam memorate bloodseam,
Fechtam terribilem, quam marvellaverat omnis
Banda Detim, quoque Nympharum Cockelflieleanim,
Maia ubi Sheepifeda, atque ubi Solgoofifera Bafla
Swellant in pelago, cum Sol bootatus Edenum
Foftabat radiis madidis & fhouribus atris,
Quo vifo ad fechtas noifam cecidere volucres.
Ad terrain cecidere gnies, plifh-plafhque dederc
Solgoofae in pelago, prope littora Bruntiliana ;
Sea-futor obilupuit, fummique in margine faxi
Scartavit prsluftre caput, wingafque flapavit.
Quodqu*
*56 THE POEMS OF
Quodque magis, alte volitans Heronius ipfc
Ingeminans clig-clag mediis fhitavit in undis.
Namque a principio ftoriam tellabimus omnem,
Muckrelium ingentem turbam Vitarva per agros
Nebernae marchare fecit, & dixit ad illos,
« Ite hodie armati greppis, drivate caballos
" Nebernae per crofta, atque ipfas ante feneilras.
" Quod fi forte ipfa Neberna venerit extra,
" W arrant abo omnes, & vos bene defendebo."
Hie aderant Geordy Akinhedius, & little Johnusj
Et Jamy Richa3us, & flout Michel Hcnderfonus,
Qui jolly tryppasante alios danfare folebat,
Et bobbare bene, & lafias kifTare bonasas ; ~
Duncan Olyphantus, valde ftalvartus, & ejus
Filius eldeftus jolyboyus, atque oldmoudus,
Qui pleugham longo gaddo drivare folebat ;
Et Rob Gib, wantonus homo, atque Oliver Hutchin>
Et ploucky-fac'd Waty Strang, atque inkneed Alcknda
Atken,
Et Willy Dick, heavy-arftus homo, pigerrimus om
nium,
Qui tulit in pileo magnum rubrumque favorem,
Valde lethus pugnare, fed hunc Corngrevius heros
Noutheadum vocavit, atque ilium forcit ad arma.
Infuper hie aderant Tom. Taylor, & Hen. Watfonus,
Et Tomy Gilchriftus, & fool Jocky Robinfonus,
Andrew Alfhenderus, & Jamy Tomfonus, & unus
Norland bornus homo, valde valde Anticovenanter,
Nomine Gordonus, valde blackmoudus, & alter
(Deil ftick it ! ignore nomen) flavry beardius homo,
Qui pottas dightavit, & affas jecerat extra.
Denique
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 257
unique prae reliquis Geordeum affatur, & inquit,
>rdi mi formane, inter ftoutifiimus omnes,
luc ades & crook faddelos, hemmafquuc, creilefque,
Irechemmefque fimul omnes bindato jumentis ;
[Amblentemque meum naggum, fattumqne mariti
Curforem, & reliquos trottantes fumito avcros.
3n cartis yokkato omnes, extrahito muckam
fcrofta per & riggas, atque ipfas ante feneftras
Webernae ; & aliquid fin ipfa contra loquatur,
In fydis tu pone manus, & dicito fart jade.
Nee mora, formannus cundlos flankavit averos,
Workmannofque ad workam omnes vocavit, & illi
I Extern plo cartas bene fillavere jigantes :
Whilllavere viri, workhorfofque ordine fvvieros,
^Drivavere foras, donee iterumque iterumque
Fartavere omnes, & fie turba horrida muftrat,
Hand aliter quam fi cum multis Spinola troupis
Proudus ad Oflendam marchaflet fortiter urbem :
Interea ante alios dux Piper Laius heros
Praecedens, magnamque gerens cum burdine pypam
Incipit Harlai cundlis fonare batellum.
Tune Neberna furens yettam ipfa egreffa, videnfque
Muck-cartas tranfire viam, valde angria fadla
Non tulit arfrontam tantam ; verum, agmine fafto,
Convocat extemplo Barowmannos atque Ladxos,
lackmannumque, Hiremannos, Pleuglidrivfters, atque
Pleughmannos
Tumlantefque fimul reekofo ex kitchine boyos,
Hunc qui dirtiferas terfit cum dimclouty dimas,
Hunc qui gruclias fcivit benc lickere plettaa,
S Et
a5S THE POEM'S OF
Et faltpannifumos, £ widebricatos fifheros,
Hellaeofque etiam falteros duxit ab antris,
Coalheughos nigri girnantes more Divelli,
Lifeguardamque fibi fasvas vocat improba lafTas,
Maggaeam magis do&am milkare cowseas,
Et doftum fwecpare flooras, & fternere beddas,
Qiiaeque novit fpinnare, & longas ducere threedas ;
Nanfaeam, claves bene quae keepaverat omnes,
Yellantemque Elpen, longo bardamque Anapellam,
Fartantemque fimul Gyllam, gliedamque Kataeam
Egregie indutam blacko caput footy clouto ;
Mammaeamque fimul vetulam, quae fciverat apte
Infantum teneras blande ofcularier arfas ;
Quaeque lanam cardare folet greafyfingria Betty.
Turn deum hungraeos ventres Neberna gruelis
Farfit, & guttas rawfuinibus implet amaris,
Poitea newbarmae ingentem dedit omnibus hauftum,
Staggravere omnes, grandefque ad fidera riftas
Barmifumi attollunt, & fie ad praelJa marchant.
Ncc mora marchavit for as longo ordine turma,
Ipfa prior Neberna fuis ftout fafta ribaldis,
Ruilieum manibus geftans furibunda gulaeum :
Tandem muckreilios vocat ad pell-mellia flaidos.
** Ite, ait, uglaei fellows, fi quis modo pofthac
*« Muckifer has noftras tentet croffare feneftras,
'< Juro quod ego ejus longum extrahabo thrapellum,
" Et totam rivabo faciem, luggafque gulaso hoc
*< Ex capite cuttabo ferox, totumque vidtbo
*4 Heartbloodum fluere in terram." Sic verba finivh%
•Obitupit Vitarva diu dirtfluida, fed inde
Couragium
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 459
Coui-agium accipiens, muckrcilos ordine cun&os
Middini in medio faciem turnare cocgit.
O qualem prime fleuram guftafTes in ipfo
Battelli onfetto ! Pugnat muckreillius heros
Fortiter, & muckam per pofteriora cadentem
In creilibus fhoolare ardet. Sic dirta volavit.
O quale hoc hurly hurly fuit, fi forte vidifles
Pypantes arfes, & flavo fanguine breeckas
Dripantes, hominumque heartas ad pnelia faintas !
O qualis firy fary fuit, namque alteri nemo
Ne vel footbreddum yerdae yieldare volebat,
Stout erat ambo quidem, valdeque hardhearta caterva !
Turn vero e medio muckdryviler profilit unus
Gallantaeus homo, & greppam minatur in ipfam
Nebernam (quoniam mifere fcaldaverat omnes),
Dirtavitque totam peticotam gutture thicko,
Pearlineafque ejus fkirtas, filkamque gownacam,
Vafquineamque rubram muckmerda begariavit.
Et tune ille fuit valde faintheartus, & ivit
Valde procul,metuens(hottamwoundurnqueprofundum.
Sed nee valde procul fuerat revengia in ilium ;
Extemplo Gillaea ferox invafit, & ejus
In faciem girnavit atrox, & tigrida fa&a
Boublentem grippans berdam, lie dixit ad ilium :
Vade domum, filthaee nequam, aut te interficiabo.
Tune cum gerculeo magnum fecit Gilly whippum,
Ingentemque manu fherdam levavit, &. omnem
Gallantaei hominis gaflibeardam befmeariavit ;
Sume tibi hoc, inquit, fneefing valde operativum,
Pro premio, fwingere, tuo ; turn deniquc fleido
Ingentcm Gillywamphra dedit, validamquc nevellanv,
S 2
a-fo THE POEMS OF
Ingeminatque iterum, donee bis fecerit ignem
Ambobus fugere ex oculis ; fie Gylla triumphat.
Obftupuit bombaizdus homo ; backumque repente
Turnavit, veluti nafus bloodaffet ; et, O fy !
Ter quater exclamat, et O quam foede neezavit !
Disjuniumque omne evomuit valde hungrius homo,
Laufavitque fupra atque infra, miferabile vifu,
Et luggas necko imponens, fie cucurit abfens ;
Non audens gimpare iterum, nennworfa tulifTet.
Hasc Neberna videns yellavit turpia verba,
Et fy, fy ! exclamat, prope mine victoria lofta eft*
Nee mora, terribilem fillavit dira canonem,
Elatifque hippis magno cum munnure fartam
Barytonam emilit, veluti Monfmegga cracafTet.
Turn vero quackarunt hoftes, flightamque repente
Sumpferunt ; retrofpexit Jackmannus, & ipfe
Sheepheadus metuit fonitumque i&umque buleti.
Quod fi king Spanius, Philippus nomine, feptem
Hifce confimiles habuifiet forte canones
Batterare Sluiflam, Sluiflam dingaflet in afTam.
Aut fi tot magnus Ludivocus forte dediffet
Ingentes fartas ad mcenia Montalbana,
Ipfam continuo townam dingaffet in yerdam.
Exit corngrevius, wracco omnia tendere videns,
Conliliumque meum fi non accipitis, inquit,
Pulchras fcartabo facies, & vos worriabo :
Sed needlo per feuftram broddatus, inque privatas
Partes ftobbatus, g^reitans ookanfque grivate,
B-iriafumle clamat, & dixit, O Deus ! O God !
Quid mujtis? Sic fraya fuit, fie guifa perada eft,
Una nee interea fpilala ell droppa cruoris.
EPL
WILLIAM DRUMMOND
EPITAPHS.
ON A DRUNKARD.
OR amaranths nor rofes do bequeath
Unto this hearfe, but tamarifts and wine ;
For that fame thirft, though dead, yet doth him pine,
lich made him fo caroufe while he drew breath.
ON ONE NAMED MARGARET.
IN fhells and gold pearls are not kept alone,
A Margaret here lies beneath a ftone ;
A Margaret that did excel in worth
All thofe rich gems the Indies both fend forth ;
Who, had me hVd when good was lov'd of men,
Had made the Graces four, the Mufes ten ;
And forc'd thofe happy times her days that claim'd.
From her, to be the Age of Pearl ftill nam'd ;
She was the richeft jewel of her kind,
Grac'd with more luftre than me left behind,
All goodnefs, virtue, bounty ; and could cheer
The faddefl minds : now Nature knowing here
How things but (hewn, then hidden, are lov'd beft,
This Margaret 'flmn'd in this marble cheft.
S* ON
*6£ THE POEMS OF
ON A YOUNG LADY.
r"pHIS beauty fair, which death in duft did turn,
•*• And closed fo foon within a coffin fad,
Did pafs like lightning, like the thunder burn,
So little life, fo much of worth it had.
Heav'ns, but to fhew their might, here made it mine ;
And, when admir'd, then in the world's difdain,
O tears ! O grief! did call it back again,
Left earth mould vaunt me kept what was divine.
What can we hope for more, what more enjoy,
Sith faireft things thus fooneft have their end;
And, as on bodies fhadows do attend,
Sith all our blifs is follow'd with annoy ?
She is not dead, me lives where me did love,
Her memory on earth, her foul above.
ARETINUS's EPITAPH.
HERE Aretine lies, moil bitter gall,
Who whilft he liv'd fpoke evil of allj
Only of God the arrant Scot
Nought faid, but that he knew him not.
VERSES ON THE LATE
WILLIAM EARL OF PEMBROKE.
I.
E doubtful fears of change fo fright my mind,
Though raifed to the higheft joy in love,
As in this flippery ftate more grief I find
Than they who never fuch a blifs did prove ;
But,
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. »6
But, fed with ling'ring hopes of future gain,
Dream not what 'tis to doubt a lofer's pain.
II.
Defire a fafer harbour is than fear,
| And not to rife lefs danger than to fall ;
The want of jewels we far better bear,
Than, fo pofTeft, at once to lofe them all : •
. Unfatisfied hopes time may repair,
When ruin'd faith mud finifh in defpair.
III.
Alas ! ye look but up the hill on me,
Which mews to you a fair and fmooth afcent ;
The precipice behind ye cannot fee,
On which high fortunes are too pronely bent :
If there I flip, what former joy or blifs
Can heal the bruife of fuch a fall as this ?
E. P.
A REPLY.
I.
WHO love enjoys, and placed hath his mind
Where fairer virtues faired beauties grace ;
Then in himfelf fuch ftore of worth doth find,
That he deferves to find fo good a place ;
To chilling fears how can he be fet forth
Whofe fears condemn his own, doubt others worth ?
II.
Defire, as flames of zeal, fear, horrors meets,
They rife who fall of falling never prov'd.
Who is fo dainty, fatiate with fweets,
To niurmur when the banquet is removed ?
S 4 The
a-64 THE POEMS OF
The fairefl hopes time in the bud deftroys,
When fweet are memories of ruin'd joys.
III.
It is no hill, but heaven, where you remain ;
And whom defert advanced hath fo high
To reach the guerdon of his burning pain,
Muft not repine to fall, and falling die :
His hopes are crown'd. What years of tedious
breath
Can them compare with fuch a happy death ?
UPON THE DEATH OF
JOHN EARL OF LAUDERDALE.
thofe rare worthies who adorn'd our North,
And fhone like conftellations, thou alone
Remainedft laft, great Maitland ! charg'd with worth
Second in Virtue's theatre to none.
But finding all eccentric in our times,
Religion into fuperilition turn'd,
Juftice filenc'd, exiled, or in-urn'd ;
Truth, Faith, and Charity reputed crimes ;
The young men deftinate by fword to fall,
And trophies of their country's fpoils to rear ;
Strange laws the ag'd and prudent to appal,
And forc'd fad yokes of tyranny to bear ;
And for no great nor virtuous minds a room—*
Diidaining life, thou mouldlt into thy tomb.
II. WHEN
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. -e5
n.
\K7HEN mifdcvotion every where (hall take place,
And lofty orators, in thund'ring terms,
Shall move you, people, to arife in arms,
And churches hallow'd policy deface ;
When you mail but one general fepulchre
(As Averroes did one general foul)
On high, on low, on good, on bad confer,
And your dull predecefTors rites controul —
Ah ! fpare this monument, great guefts ! it keeps
Three great Jufticiars, whom true worth did raife ;
The Mufes' darlings, whofe lofs Phoebus weeps;
Beft men's delight, the glory of their days.
More we would fay, but fear, and (land in awe
To turn idolaters, and break your law.
III.
DO not repine, blefs'd foul, that humble wits
Do make thy worth the matter of their verfe :
No high-ftrain'd mufe our times and forrows fits j
And we do figh, not fing, to crown thy hearfe.
The wifeft prince e'er manag'd Britain's ftate
Did not difdain, in numbers clear and brave,
The virtues of thy fire to celebrate,
And fix a rich memorial on his grave.
Thou didft deferve no lefs ; and here in jet,
Gold, touch, brafs, porphyry, or Parian ftone,
That by a prince's hand no lines are fet
For thee — the caufe is, now this land hath none*
Such giant moods our parity forth brings,
We all will nothing be, or all be kings.
ON
*6* THE POEMS OF
ON THE DEATH OF
A NOBLEMAN IN SCOTLAND,
BURIED AT AITHEN.
A ITHEN, thy pearly coronet let fall ;
Clad in fad robes, upon thy temples fet
The weeping cyprefs, or the fable jet.
Mourn this thy nurfeling's lofs, a lofs which all
Apollo's choir bemoans, which many years
Cannot repair, nor influence of fpheres.
Ah ! when malt thou find fhepherd like to him,
Who made thy banks more famous by his worth,
Than all thofe gems thy rocks and ftreams fend forth?
His fplendour others glow-worm light did dim :
Sprung of an ancient and a virtuous race,
He virtue more than many did embrace.
He fram'd to mildnefs thy half-barbarous fwains ;
The good man's refuge, of the bad the fright>
Unparallell'd in friendmip, world's delight !
For hofpitality along thy plains
Far-farn'd a patron ; and a pattern fair
Of piety ; the Mufes' chief repair ;
Moft
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 167
Moil debonnave, in courtefy fupreme ;
Lov'd of the mean, and honour' d by the great ;
Ne'er dafh'd by Fortune, nor call down by Fate ;
To prefcnt and to after times a theme.
Aithen, thy tears pour on this filent grave,
And drop them in thy alabafter cave,
And Niobe's imagery here become ;
And, when thou haft diftilled here a tomb,
Enchafe in it thy pearls, and let it bear,
Aithcn's belt gem and honour ftirin'd lies here."
"pAME, regifter of time,
•*• Write in thy fcroll that I,
Of wifdom lover, and fweet poefy,
Was cropped in my prime ;
And ripe in worth, though green in years, did die.
JUSTICE, Truth, Peace, and Hofpitality,
Friendship, and Love, being refolv'd to die,
In thefe lewd times, have chofen here to have
With juft, true, pious their grave ;
Them cherim'd he fo much, fo much did grace,
That they on earth would chufe none other place.
WHEN
268 THE POEMS OF
HEN Death, to deck his trophies, ftopt thy
breath,
Rare ornament and glory of thefe parts !
All with moift eyes might fay, and ruthful hearts,
That things immortal vaflal'd were to death.
What good in parts on many fhar'd we fee,
From Nature, gracious Heaven, or Fortune flow ;
To make a mailer-piece of worth below,
Heaven, Nature, Fortune gave in grofs to thee.
In honour, bounty, rich — in valour, wit,
In courtefy ; born of an ancient race ;
With bays in war, with olives crown'd in peace ;
Match'd great with offspring for great actions fit.
No ruft of times, nor change, thy virtue wan
With times to change; when truth, faith, love, decay M,
In this new age, like Fate thou fixed ftaid,
Of the firft world an all-fubftantial man.
As erfl this kingdom given was to thy fire,
The prince his daughter trufted to thy care,
And well the credit of a gem fo rare
Thy loyalty and merit did require.
Years cannot wrong thy worth, that now appears
By others fet as diamonds among pearls ;
A queen's dear fofter, father to three earls,
Enough on earth to triumph are o'er years.
Life
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. »6
[Life a fea voyage is, death is the haven,
And freight with honour there thou haft arriv'd ;
Which thoufands feeking, have on rocks been driven :
That good adorns thy grave which with thee liv'd.
For a frail life, which here thou didft enjoy,
Thou now a lading hail, freed of annoy.
TO THE
O B S E Q^U I E S
OF THE
BLESSED PRINCE JAMES,
KING OF GREAT BRITAIN.
T ET holy David, Solomon the wife,
•*— ' That king whofe breaft Egeria did inflame,
;- Auguflus, Helen's fon, great in all eyes,
Do homage low to thy maufolean frame ;
And bow before thy laurel's anadem ;
Let all thofe facred fwans, which to the fkiet
I By never-dying lays have rais'd their name,
fr From north to fouth, where fun doth fet and rife.
£ Religion, orphan'd, waileth o'er thy urn ;
I Juftice weeps out her eyes, now truly blind ;
£• To Niobes the remnant virtues turn ;
; Fame but to blaze thy glories {lays behind
V th' world, which late was golden by thy breath,
Is iron turn'd, and horrid by thy death.
FOND
<27o THE POEMS OF
F^OND wight, who dream'ft of greatnefs, glory,
Hate;
And worlds of pleafures, honours, doft devife ;
Awake, learn how that here thou art not great
Nor glorious : by this monument turn wife.
One it enfhrineth fprung of ancient ftem,
And (if that blood nobility can make)
From which fome kings have not difdain'd to take
Their proud defcent, a rare and matchlefs gem.
A beauty here it holds by full affurance,
Than which no blooming rofe was more refin'd,
Nor morning's blufh more radiant ever fhin'd ;
Ah ! too, too like to morn and rofe at laft !
It holds her who in wit's afcendant far
Did years and fex tranfcend ; to whom the heavea
More virtue than to all this age had given ;
For virtue meteor turn'd, when me a flan
Fair mirth, fweet converfation, modefty,
And what thofe kings of numbers did conceive
By Mufes nine, and Graces more than three,
Lie clos'd within the compafs of this grave.
Thus death all earthly glories doth confound,
Lo ! how much worth a little duft doth bound.
FAR
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. »7,
from thcfe banks exiled be all joys,
Contentments, pleafures, mufic (care's relief) I
Tears, fighs, plaints, horrors, frightments, fad annoyi,
Inveft thefe mountains, fill all hearts with grief.
f Here, nightingales and turtles, vent your moans ?
Amphrifian (hepherd, here come feed thy flock,
And read thy Hyacinth amidft our groans ;
Plain, Echo, thy NarcifTus from our rocks.
Loll have oiy meads their beauty, hills their gems,
Our brooks their cryftal, groves their pleafant made :
The faireft flow'r of all our anadems
Death cropped hath ; the Lefbia chafte is dead !
Thus figh'd the Tyne, then fhrunk beneath his urn ;
And meads, brooks, rivers, hills, about did mourn.
flow'r of virgins, in her prime of years,
By ruthlefs Deftinies is ta'en away,
And rap'd from earth, poor earth ! before this day
Which ne'er was rightly nam'd a vale of tears.
Beauty to heaven is fled, fweet modcfty
No more appears ; me whofe harmonious founds
Did ravifli fenfo, and charm mind's deepeft wounds,
Embalm'd with many a tear now low doth lie !
FAIR
37» THE POEMS OF
Fair hopes now vanifh'd are. She would have grac'd
A prince's marriage-bed ! but, lo ! in heaven
Bleft paramours to her were to be given !
She liv'd an angel, now is with them plac'd.
Virtue is but a name abflra&ly trimm'd,
Interpreting what fhe was in effeft ;
A fhadow from her frame which did reflect,
A portrait by her excellences limm'd.
Thou whom free-will or chance hath hither brought,
And read'ft, here lies a branch of Maitland's item,
And Seyton's offspring ; know that either name
Defigns all worth yet reach'd by human thought,
Tombs elfewhere ufe life to their guefts to give,
Thefe afhes can frail monuments make live.
ANOTHER ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
IKE to the garden's eye, the flow'r of flow'rs,
•" With purple pomp that dazzle doth the fight ;
Or, as among the lefler gems of night,
The ufner of the planet of the hours ;
Sweet maid, thou (hinedft on this world of ours,
Of all perfections having trac'd the height ;
Thine outward frame was fair, fair inward pow'rs,
A fapphire lanthorn, and an incenfe light.
Hence the enamour'd heaven, as too, too good
On earth's all-thorny foil long to abide,
Tranf,
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 273
Tranfplanted to their fields fo rare a bud,
Where from thy fun no cloud thee now can hide.
Earth moan'd her lofs, and wifh'd flie had the grace
Not to have known, or known thee longer fpacc.
TTARD laws of mortal life !
-* -*- To which made thralls we come without confent,
Like tapers, lighted to be early fpent,
Our griefs are always rife,
When joys but halting march, and fwiftly fly,
Like madows in the eye :
The fliadow doth not yield unto the fun,
But joys and life do wafte e'en when begun.
ITHIN the clofure of this narrow grave
Lie all thofe graces a good wife could have :
But on this marble they (hall not be read,
For then the living envy would the dead
HPHE daughter of a king of princely parts,
In beauty eminent, in virtues chief;
Loadilar of love, and loadftone of all hearts,
Her friends' and hufband's only joy, now grief;
Is here pent up within a marble frame,
Whofe parallel no times, no climates claim.
T
THE POEMS OF
^TT ERSES frail records are to keep a name,
Or raife from duft men to a life of fame ;
The fport and fpoil of ignorance ; but far
More frail the frames of touch and marble arc,
Which envy, avarice, time, ere long confound,.
Or mifdevotion equals with the ground.
Virtue alone doth laft, frees man from death ;
And, though defpis'd and fcorned here beneath,
Stands grav'n in angels' diamantine rolls,
And blazed in the courts above the poles.
Thou waft fair virtue's temple, they did dwell,-
And live ador'd in thee ; nought did excel,
But what thou either didil pofiefs or love,
The Graces* darling, and the maids of Jove ;
Courted by Fame for bounties, which the Heaven
Gave thee in great ; which, if in parcels given,
Too many fuch we happy fure might call ;
How happy then waft thou, who enjoy 'dft them all f
A whiter foul ne'er body did inveft,
And now, fequefter'd, cannot be but bleft ;
Enrob'd in glory, midft thofe hierarchies
Of that immortal people of the fides,
Bright faints and angels, there from cares made free,
Nought doth becloud thy fovereign good from thee^
Thou fmiPft at earth's confuiions and jars,
And how for Centaurs' children we wage wars :
Like honey flies, -whofe rage whole fwarms confumes,
Till duft thrown on them makes them veil their
plumes.
Thy
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. a75
Thy friends to thee a monument would raife,
A nd limn thy virtues ; but dull grief thy praife
Breaks in the entrance, and our taik proves vain ;
What duty writes, that woe blots out again :
Yet Love a pyramid of fighs thee rears,
And doth embalm thee with farewels and tears.
ROSE.
"CHOUGH marble porphyry, and mourning
touch,
May praife thefe fpoils, yet can they not too much ;
For beauty laft, and this ftone doth clofe,
Once earth's delight, Heaven's care, a puretl rofd.
And, Reader, fhouldft thou but let fall a tear
Upon it, other flow'rs mall here appear,
Sad violets and hyacinths, which grow
With marks of grief, a public lofs to (how.
II.
Relenting eye, which deigneft to this ftonc
To lend a look, behold here laid in one,
The living and the dead interred ; for dead
The turtle in its mate is ; and me fled
From earth, her choosM this place of grief
To bound thoughts, a fmall and fad relief.
His is this monument, for hers no art
Could frame ; a pyramid rais'd of his heart.
T 2 III.
2?6 THE POEMS OF
III.
Inftead of epitaphs and airy praifc,
This monument a lady chafte did raife
To her lord's living fame ; and after death
Her body doth unto this place bequeath,
To reft with his, till God's mrill trumpet found,
Though time her life, no time her love could bound*
T O
SIR WILLIAM ALEXANDER.
With the AUTHOR'S Epitaph.
THOUGH I have twice been at the doors of"
death,
And twice found fhut thofe gates which ever mourn 2
This but a lightning is, truce ta'en to breathe,
For late-born forrows augur fleet return*
Amidil thy facred cares, and courtly toils,
Alexis, when thou malt hear wand'ring fame
Tell, Death hath triumph'd o'er my mortal fpoil^
And that on earth I am but a fad name ;
If thou e'er held me dear, by all our love,
By all that blifs, thofe joys heaven here us gave,
I conjure thee, and by the maids of Jove,
To grave this mort remembrance on my grave :
Here Damon lies, whofe fongs did fometime grace
The murmuring Efk ;-— may rofes made the place.
DIVINE
WILLIAM DRUMMOND.
DIVINE POEMS.
A TRANSLATION.
I.
A H, filly foul ! what wilt thou fay
•*•** When He, whom earth and heaven obey,,
Comes man to judge in the lad day ?
II.
When He a reafon afks, why grace
And goodnefs thou wouldil not embrace,
But fteps of vanity didft trace !
III.
That day of terror, vengeance, ire,
Now to prevent thou fhouldft defire,
And to thy God in hafte retire.
IV.
With wat'ry eyes, and figh-fwoll'n heart,
O beg, beg in hie love a part,
Whilft confcience with remorfe doth fmart.
V.
That dreaded day of wrath and fhame
In flames mail turn this world's huge frame,
As facred prophets do proclaim.
VI.
O ! with what grief mall earthlings groan
When that great Judge, fet on his throne,
Examines ftrictly every one !
T 3 VII. Sbrifl.
i7.8. THE POEMS OF
VII.
Shrill-founding trumpets through the air
Shall from dark fepulchres each where
Force wretched mortals to appear.
VIII.
Nature and Death amaz'd remain
To find their dead arife again,
And procefs with their Judge maintain.
IX.
Difplay'd then open books mail lie,
Which all thofe fecret crimes defcry
For which the guilty world muft die.
X.
The Judge enthron'd, whom bribes not gain,
The clofeft crimes appear mail plain,
And none unpunifhed remain.
XL
O ! who then pity mall poor me ?
Or who mine advocate mail be ?
When fcarce the jufteft pafs mail free.,,.
XII.
All wholly holy, dreadful King,
Who freely life to thine doft bring,
Of mercy fave me, mercy's fpring !
XIII.
Then, fweet Jefu, call to mind
How of thy pains I was the end,
And favour let me that day find.
XIV. In
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 27*
XIV.
In fearch of me Thou, full of pain,
Didft fweat blood, death on crofs fuftain t
Let not thcfe fuff'ringsbe in vain.
XV.
Thou fuprcme Judge, moil jufl and wife,
Purge me from guilt, which on me lies,
Before that day of thine affr/c.
XVI.
Charged with remorfe, lo ! here I groan,
Sin makes my face a bluuh take on ;
Ah ! fpare me, proftrate at thy throne.
XVII.
Who Mar}- Magdalen didfl fp.irc,
And lendMt the thief on crofs thine ear,
Shew me fair hopes I mould not fear.
XVIII.
My prayers imperfect are and weak,
But worthy of thy grace them make,
And fave me from hell's burning lake.
XIX.
On that great day, at thy right hand,
Grant I amongil thy fheep may (land,
Sequefter'd from the goatifli band*
XX.
When that the reprobates are all
To everlaiting flames made thrall,
O to thy chofen, Lord, me call !
T 4 . XXI. That
*So THE POEMS OF
XXL
That I one of thy company,
With thofe whom thou doll juftify,
May live blelt in eternity.
SONNETS.
O O long I followed have my fond defire,
And too long painted on the ocean ftreams ;
Too long refrefhment fought amidft the fire,
Purfu'd thofe joys which to my foul are blames.
Ah ! when I had what moll I did admire,
And feen of life's delights the laft extremes,
I found all but a rofe hedg'd with a brier,
A nought, a thought, a mafquerade of dreams.
Henceforth on thee, my only good, I'll think ;
For only thou can ft grant what I do crave ;
Thy nail my pen fhallbe ; thy blood, mine ink ;
Thy winding-meet, my paper ; fludy, grave :
And, till my foul forth of this body fke,
No hope I'll have but only, only thee.
HPO fpread the azure canopy of heaven,
•*• And fpangle it all with fparks of burning gold ;
To place this pond'rous globe of earth fo even,
That it mould all, and nought mould it uphold ;
With motions itrange t' endue the planets feven.
And Jove to make fo mild, and Mars fo bold ;
To temper what is moid, dry, hot, and cold^
Of all their jars that fweet accords are given 5
Xroru,
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 18*
»rd, to thy wifdom's nought, nought to thy might r
But that thou fhouldft, thy glory laid afide,
Come bafely in mortality to 'bide,
And die for thofe deferv'd an endlefs night ;
A wonder is, fo far above our wit,
That angels {land amaz'd to think on it.
HAT haplcfs hap had I for to be bora
In thefe unhappy times, and dying days,
Of this now doting world, when good decays,
Love's quite extinct, and virtue's held a fcorn !
When fuch are only priz'd by wretched ways,
Who with a golden fleece them can adorn ;
When avarice and lull are counted praife,
And braveft minds live, orphan like, forlorn !
Why was not I born in that golden age,
When gold was not yet known, and thofe black arts
By which bafe worldlings vilely play their parts,
With horrid afts ftaining earth's {lately flage ?
To have been then, O heaven ! 't had been my blifa ;
But blefs me now, and take me foon from this.
AST RE A in this time
Now doth not live, but is fled up to heaven ;
Or if flie live, it is not without crime
That me doth ufe her power,
And (he is no more virgin, but a whore ;
Whore,
*S* THE POEMS OTV
Whore, proftitute for gold :
For me doth never hold her balance even ;
And when her fword is roll'd,
The bad, injurious, falfe, (he not overthrows,
But on the innocent lets fall her blows.
"TIT HAT ferves it to be good? Goodnefs by
thee,
The holy-wife, is thought a fool to be ;
For thee, the man to temperance inclin'd
Is held but of a bafe and abject mind ;
The continent is thought, for thee-, but cold :
Who yet was good, that ever died old ?
The pitiful, who others fears to kill,
Is kill'd himfelf, and goodnefs doth him ill ;
The meek and humble man who cannot brave,
By thee is to fome giant's brood made flave.
Poor Goodnefs, thine thou to fuch wrongs fet'fl forth)
That, O ! I fear me, thou art nothing worth.
And when I look to earth, and not to heaven,
Ere I were turned dove, I would be raven.
T> RIGHT portals of the iky,
•*^* Embofs'd with fparkling itars ;
Doors of eternity,
With diamantine bars,
Your arras rich uphold $
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. a8;
Loofe all your bolts and fpiings,
Ope wide your leaves of gold ;
That in your roofs may come the King of kings.
irf'd in a rofy cloud,
He doth afcend the air ;
Straight doth the moon him fliroud
With her refplendent hair :
The next encryftalPd light
Submits to him its beams ;
And he doth trace the height
Of that fair lamp which flames of beauty flrcams.
He towers thofe golden bounds
He did to fun bequeath ;
The higher wand'ring rounds
Are found his feet beneath :
The Milky-way comes near,
Heaven's axle feems to bend,
Above each turning fphere
That, rob'd in glory, Heaven's King may afcend.
O Well-fpring of this All !
Thy Father's image vive ;
Word, that from nought did call
What is, doth reafon, live !
The foul's eternal food,
Earth's joy, delight of heaven,
All truth, love, beauty, good,
To Thee, to Thee, be praifes ever given.
What was difmarftiall'd late
In this thy noble frame,
And loft the prime eftate,
Hath re-obtain'd the fame,
384 THE POEMS OF
Is now moft perfect feen ;
Streams, which diverted were
(And, troubled, ftray'd unclean)
From their firft fource, by Thee home turned arc.
By Thee, that blemifti old
Of Eden's leprous prince,
Which on his race took hold,
And him exiPd from thence,
Now put away is far ;
With fword, in ireful guife,
No cherub more mall bar
Poor man the entrance into Paradifc.
By Thee, thofe fpirits pure,
Firft children of the light,
Now fixed ftand, and fure,
In their eternal right ;
Now human companies
Renew their ruin'd wall ;
Fall'n man, as Thou mak'ft rife,
Thou giv'ft to angels, that they mail not fall.
By Thee, that prince of fin,
That doth with - mifchief fwell,
Hath loft what he did win,
And mail endungeon'd dwell ;
His fpoils are made the prey,
His fanes are fack'd and torn,
His altars raz'd away,
And what ador'd was late, now lies a fcorn.
Thefe manfions pure and clear,
Which are not made by hands,
Which once by him 'joy'd were,
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. **5
And his, then not ftain'd, bands,
Now forfeit'd, difpofieft,
And headlong from them thrown,
Shall Adam's heirs make bleft,
By Thee, their great Redeemer, made their Own.
O ! Well-fpring of this All !
Thy Father's image vive ;
Word, that from nought did call
What is, doth reafon, live!
Whofe work is but to will ;
God's co-eternal Son,
Great Banifher of ill,
By none but Thee could thefe great deeds be
done,
fow each ethereal gate
To him hath open'd been ;
And Glory's King in ftatc
His palace enters in :
Now come is this High Prieft
In the moft holy place,
Not without blood addreft,
With glory heaven, the earth to crown whh grace.
$tars, which all eyes were late,
And did with wonder burn,
His name to celebrate,
In flaming tongues them turn ^
Their orby cryftals move
More a&ive than before,
And entheate from above,
Their Sovereign Priflce laud, glorify, adore.
The
286 THE POEMS OF
The choirs of happy fouls,
Wak'd with that mufic fweet,
Whofe defcant care controuls,
Their Lord in triumph meet ;
The fpotlefs fp'rits of light
His trophies do extol,
And, arch'd in fquadrons bright,
Greet their great Victor in his capitok
O glory of the heaven !
O fole delight of earth !
To thee all power be given,
God's uncreated birth ;
Of mankind lover true,
Endurer of his wrong,
Who dofl the world renew,
Still be thou our falvation, and our fong*
From top of Olivet fuch notes did rife,
When man's Redeemer did tranfcend the ikies*
A/TORE aft than once Death whifper'd in min«
•L-V-** ear,
Grave what thou hear'ft in diamond and gold ;
I am that monarch whom all monarchs fear,
Who have in dufl their far-ftretch'd pride uproll'd.
All, all is mine beneath moon's iilver fphere ;
And nought, fave Virtue, can my power withhold:
This, not believ'd, experience true thee told,
By danger late when I to thee came near.
As
WILLIAM DRUMMOND, »S7
bugbear then my vifage I did mow,
of my horrors thou right ufe might'ft make,
ind a more facred path of living take :
low ftill walk armed for my ruthlefs blow ;
Truft flattering life no more, redeem time paft,
And live each day, as if it were thy laft.
THE SHADOW OF THE JUDGMENT.
B O V E thofe boundlefs bounds, where flarg do
move,
ceiling of the cryftal round above,
And rainbow-fparkling arch of diamond clear,
Which crowns the azure of each underfphere,
In a rich manfion, radiant with light,
; To which the fun is fcarce a taper bright,
Which, though a body, yet fo pure is fram'd,
That almoft fpiritual it may be nam'd,
[Where blifs aboundeth, and a lafting May,
All pleafures heightening, flourifheth for aye,
The King of Ages dwells. About his throne,
; Like to thofe beams day's golden lamp hath on,
Angelic fplendours glance, more fwift than aught
ReveaPd to fenfe, nay, than the winged thouglit.
His will to pradife : here do feraphim
Burn with immortal love ; there cherubim,
With other noble people of the light,
| As eaglets in the fun, delight their fight ;
Heaven's ancient denizens, pure active powers,
Which, freed of death, that cloiiter high embowers,
Ethereal
S88 THE POEMS OF
Ethereal princes, ever-conquering bands,
Bleft fubjects, ading what their king commands j
Sweet chorifters, by whofe melodious ftrains
Skies dance, and earth untir'd their brawl fuftains.
Mixed among whofe facred legions dear,
The fpotlefs fouls of humanes do appear,
Diverting bodies which did cares diveft,
And there live happy in eternal reft.
Hither, furcharg'd with grief, fraught with annoy,
(Sad fpe&acle into that place of joy !)
Her hair diforder'd, dangling o'er her face,
Which had of pallid violets the grace j
The crimfon mantle, wont her to adorn,
Caft loofe about, and in large pieces torn ;
Sighs breathing forth, and from her heavy eyne,
Along her cheeks diftilling cryftal brine,
Which downward to her ivory breaft was driven,
And had bedew'd the milky-way of heaven,
Came Piety : at her left hand near by,
A wailing woman bare her company,
Whofe tender babes her fnowy neck did clip,
And now hang on her pap, now by her lip :
Flames glanc'd her head above, which once did glow,.
But late look pale, a poor and ruthful mow !
She, fobbing, mrunk the throne of God before,
And thus began her cafe to him deplore :
Forlorn, wretch'd, defolate ! to whom mould I
My refuge have, below or in the iky,
But unto thee ? See, all-beholding King,
That fervant, no, that darling thou didft bring
On earth, loft man to fave from hell's abime,
And raife unto thofe regions above time ;
WiJ
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. iS9
Who made thy name fo truly be implor'd,
And by the reverend foul fo long ador'd,
[Her banifti'd now fee from thefe lower bounds ;
Behold her garments' fhreds, her body's wounds :
Ixvok how her fitter Chanty there ftands,
Profcrib'd on earth, all maim'd by wicked hands :
Mifchief there mounts to fuch an high degree,
That there now none is left that cares for me.
There dwells idolatry, there atheifm reigns ;
7'here man in dumb, yet roaring, fins him flams ;
So fooliih, that he puppets will adore
Of metal, ftone, and birds, beafts, trees, befopc
He once will to Thy holy fervice bow,
And yield Thee homage. Ah, alas ! yet now
To thofe black fp'rits which thou doft keep in chains
He vows obedience, and with fhameful pains
Infernal horrors courts ; cafe fond and ftrange !
To bane than blifs defiring more the change.
Thy Charity, of graces once the cbief,
Did long time find in hofpitals relief ;
Which now lie levelled with the lowefl ground,
Where fad memorials fcarce are of them found.
Then (vagabonding) temples her received,
Where my poor cells afforded what me crav'd ;
But now thy temples raz'd arc, human blood
Thofe places ftains, late where thy altars flood :
Times are fo horrid, to implore thy name
That it is held now on the earth a blame.
Now doth the warrior, with his dart and fword,
Write laws in blood, and vent them for thy word :
U Religion,
a9» THE TOEMS OF
Religion, faith pretending to make known,
All have, all faith, religion quite overthrown !
Men awlefs, lawlefs live ; moft woful cafe !
Men no more men, a God-contemning race.
Scarce had me faid, when, from the nether world
( Like to a lightning through the welkin hurl'd,
That fcores with flames the way, and every eye
"With terror dazzles as it fwimmeth by),
Came Juftice ; to whom angels did make place,
And Truth her flying footileps flraight did trace.
Her fword was loft, the precious weights me bare
Their beam had torn, fcales rudely bruifed were :
From off her head was reft her golden crown ;
In rags her veil was rent, and ftar-fpangl'd gown ;
Her tear- wet locks hang'd o'er her face, which made
Between her and the Mighty King a made ;
Jult wrath had rais'd her colour (like the morn
Portending clouds moift embryos to be born ) ,
Of which, flie taking leave, with heart fwoll'n great,
Thus ftrove to 'plain before the throne of ftate.
Is not the earth thy workmanmip, great King ?
Didft thou not all this All from nought once bring
To this rich beauty, which doth on it fhine ;
Beftowing on each creature of thine
Some fhadow of thy bounty ? Is not man
Thy vaflal, plac'd to fpend his life's fhort fpan
To do thee homage ? And then didft not thou
A queen inftall me there, to whom mould bow
Thy earth's indwellers, and to this effect
Put in my hand thy fyirord ? O high oegleft 1
No*
WILLIAM DRUMMOND.
Now wretched earthlingg, to thy great difgrace,
Perverted have my pow'r, and do deface
All reverent tracts of judice ; now the earth
Is but a frame of fhame, a funeial hearth,
Where every virtue hath confumed been,
And nought (no, not their dud) reds to be fcen :
Long hath it me abhorr'd, long chafed me )
Expell'd at lad, here I have fled to Thee,
And forthwith rather would to hell repair,
Than earth, fmce juftice execute is there.
All live on earth by fpoil, the hod his gueft
Betrays ; the man of her lies in his bread
Is not afiur'd ; the fon the father's death
Attempts ; and kindred kindred reave of breath
By lurking means, of fuch age few makes fick,
Since hell difgorg'd her baneful arfenic.
Whom murders, foul aflafilnates defile,
Mod who the harmlefs innocents beguile,
Who mod can ravage, rob, ranfack, blafpheme,
Is held mod virtuous, hath a worthy's name J
So on embolden'd malice they rely,
That, madding, thy great puiflance they defy :
Erft man refembled thy portrait, foil'd by fmokc
Now like thy creature hardly doth he look.
Old Nature here ((he pointed where there dood
An aged lady in a heavy mood)
Doth break her dafF, denying human race
To come of her, things born to her difgrace !
The dove the dove, the fwan doth love the fvvan ;
Nought fo relcntlcfs unto man as man.
?.9a THE POEMS OF
O 1 if thou mad'il this world, govern'il it all,
Deferred vengeance on the earth let fall :
T he period of her Handing perfect is ;
Her hour-glafs not a minute fhort doth mifs.
The end, O Lord, is come ; then let no more
Mifchief ftill triumph, bad the good devour ;
But of thy word fince conftant, true thou art,
Give good their guerdon, wicked due defert.
She faid : throughout the mining palace went
A murmur foft, fuch as afar is fent
By mufked zephyrs' fighs along the main ;
Or when they curl fome flow'ry lee and plain :
One was their thought, one their intention, will ;
Nor could they err, Truth there refiding ftill :
All, mov'd with zeal, as one with cries did pray,
Hailen, O Lord ! O haften the laft day !
Look how a generous prince, when he doth hear
Some loving city, and to him moft dear,
Which wont with gifts and (hows him entertain
(And, as a father's, did obey his reign),
A rout of flaves and rafcal foes to wrack,
Her buildings overthrow, her riches fack,
Feels vengeful flames within his bofom burn,
And a juft rage all refpe&s overturn :
80 feeing earth, of angels once the inn,
Manfion of faints, deflower'd all by fin,
And quite confus'd, by wretches here beneath,
The world's great Sovereign moved was to wrath.
Thrice did he roufe himfelf, thrice from his face
Tlames fparkle did throughout the heavenly place.
The
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 295
The flars, though fixed, in their rounds did quake ;
The earth, and earth-embracing fea, did fhake :
Carmel and Haemus felt it ; Athos* tops
Affrighted fhrunk ; and near the Ethiops,
Atlas, the Pyrenees, the^ Apennine*
And lofty Grampius, which with fnow doth mine.
Then to the fynod of the fp'rits he fwore,
Man's care mould end, and time fhould be no more ;
By his own Self he fwore of perfeft worth,
Straight to perform his word fent angels forth.
There lies an ifland, where the radiant fun,
When he doth to the northern tropics run,
Of fix long moneths makes one tedious day ;
And when through fouthern figns he holds his way,
Six moneths turneth in one loathfome night
(Night neither here is fair, nor day hot-bright,
But half white, and half more) ; where, fadly clear,
Still coldly glance the beams of either Bear —
The frofty Groen-land. On the lonely fhorc
The ocean in mountains hoarfe doth roar,
And over-tumbling, tumbling over rocks,
Cafts various rainbows, which in froth he chokes :
Gulphs all about are fhrunk moft ftrangely deep,
Than Nilus' cataracts more vaft and deep.
To the wild land beneath to make a made,
A mountain lifteth up his crefted head :
His locks are icicles, his brows are fnow ;
Yet from his burning bowels deep below,
Comets, far-flaming pyramids, are driven,
And pitchy, meteors, to the cope of heaven.
U3 No
1,4 THE POEMS OF
No fummer here the lovely grafs forth brings,
Nor trees, no, not the deadly cyprefs fprings.
Cave-loving Echo, daughter of the Air,
By human voice was never waken'd here :
Inftead of night's black bird, and plaintful owl,
Infernal furies here do yell and howl.
A mouth yawns in this height fo black obfcure
With vapours, that no eye it can endure :
Great jEtna's caverns never yet did make
Such fable damps, though they be hideous black ;
Stern horrors here eternally do dwell,
And this gulf deiline for a gate to hell :
Forth from this place of dread, earth to appal,
Three furies rufhed at the angel's call.
One with long trefies doth her vifage maik,
Her temples clouding in a horrid calk ;
Her right hand fwings a brandon in the air,
Which flames and terror hurleth every where ;
Pond'rous with darts, her left doth bear a fhield,
Where Gorgon's head looks grim in fable field :
Her eyes blaze fire and blood, each hair 'ilills blood,
Blood thrills from either pap, and where me flood
Blood's liquid coral fprang her feet beneath ;
Where fhe doth llretch her arm is blood and death.
Her Stygian head no fooner fhe uprears,
When earth of fwords, helms, lances, flraight ap
pears
To be deliver'd ; and from out her womb,
In flame-wing'd thunders, artillery doth come ;
Floods filver ftreams do take a bluming dye,
The plains with breathlefs bodies buried lie j
Rage,
WILLIAM DRUMMQND. 795
Lage, wrong, rape, facrilege, do her attend,
Fear, difcord, wrack, and woes which have no end :
Town is by town, and prince by prince withftood ;
Earth turns an hideous fhamble, a lake of blood.
The next with eyes funk hollow in her brains,
Lean face, fnarl'd hair, with black and empty veins,
Her dry'd-up bones fcarce cover'd with her ikin,
Bewraying that ftrange ftru&ure built within ;
Thigh-belly lefs, moil ghaftly to the fight,
A wafted fkeleton refembleth right.
Where me doth roam in air faint do the birds,
Yawn do earth's ruthlefs brood and harmlefs herds,
The wood's wild forragers do howl and roar,
The humid fwimmers die along the more :
In towns, the living do the dead up-eat,
Then die themfelves, alas ! and wanting meat ;
Mothers not fpare the birth of their own wombs,
But turn thofe nefls of life to fatal tombs.
Laft did a faffron-colour'd hag come out,
With uncomb'd hair, brows banded all about
With dufky clouds, in ragged mantle clad,
Her breath with (linking fumes the air befpread ;
In either hand fhe held a whip, whofe wires
Still'd poifon, blaz'd with Phlegethontal fires.
Rclentlefs, fhe each ftate, fex, age, defiles,
Earth ftreams with gores, burns with envenom'd boils ;
Where fhe repairs, towns do in deferts turn,
The living have no paufe the dead to mourn ;
The friend, ah ! dares not lock the dying eyes
Of his belov'd ; the wife the hufband flics j
U 4 Men
s06 THE POEMS OF
Men bafilifks to men prove, and by breath,
Than lead or fteel, bring worfe and fwifter death :
No cyprefs, obfequies, no tomb they have ;
The fad heaven moftly ferves them for a grave.
Thefe over earth tumultuoufly do run,
South, North, from rifmg to the fetting fun ;
They fometime part, yet, than the winds more fleet*
Forthwith together in one place they meet.
Great Quinzay, ye it know, Sufania's pride,
And you where ftately Tiber's ftreams do glide ;
Memphis, Parthenope, ye too it know,
And where Euripus' feven-fold tide doth flow :
Ye know it, empreffes, on Thames, Rhone, Seine ;
And ye, fair queens, by Tagus, Danube, Rhine ;
Though they do fcour the earth, roam far and large,
Npt thus content, the angels leave their charge :
We of her wreck thefe (lender figns may name,
By greater they the judgment do proclaim.
This center's center with a mighty blow
One bruifeth, whofe crack'd concaves louder low,
And rumble, than if all th* artillery
On earth difcharg'd at once were in the fky ;
Her furface fhakes, her mountains in the main
Turn topfy-turvy, of heights making plain :
Towns them ingulph ; and late where towers did ftand
Now nought remaineth but a wafte of fand :
With turning eddies feas fink under ground,
And in their floating depths are valleys found ;
Late where with foamy crefts waves tilted waves?
Now fifhy bottoms mine, and mofTy caves.
The
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 297
The manner cafts an amazed eye
On his wing'd firs, which bedded he finds lie,
Yet can he fee no more ; but whilft he thinks,
What hideous crevice that huge current drinks,
The dreams rufh back again with ftorming tide,
And now his (hips on cryftal mountains glide,
Till they be hurl'd far beyond feas and hope,
And fettle on fome hill or palace top ;
Or, by triumphant furges over-driven,
Shew earth their entrails, and their keels the heaven.
Sky's cloudy tables fome do paint, with fights
Of armed fquadrons, juftling fleeds and knights,
With mining crofles, judge, and fapphire throne,
Arraigned criminals to howl and groan,
And plaints fent forth are heard : new worlds feen
mine
With other funs and moons, falfe ftars decline,
And dive in feas ; red comets warm the air,
And blaze, as other worlds were judged there.
Others the heavenly bodies do difplace,
Make fun his fitter's ftranger fteps to trace ;
Beyond the courfe of fpheres he drives his coach,
And near the cold Arfturus doth approach;
The Scythian amaz'd is at fuch beams,
The Mauritanian to fee icy ftreams ;
The fhadow which ere while turn'd to the Weft,
Now wheels about, then reeleth to the Eaft :
New ftars above the eighth heaven fparkle clear,
Mars chops with Saturn, Jove claims Mars's fpherc ;
Shrunk nearer earth, all blacken'd now and brown, .
In maik of weeping clouds appears the moon.
There
2^8 THE POEMS OF
There are no feafons, Autumn, Summer, Spring,
All are ftern Winter, and no birth forth bring :
Red turns the fky's blue curtain o'er this globe,
As to propine the Judge with purple robe.
At firft, entranc'd, with fad and curious eyes,
Earth's pilgrims flare on thofe ftrange prodigies :
The ilar-gazer this round finds truly move
In parts and whole, yet by no /kill can prove
The firmament's ftay'd firmnefs. They which dream
An everlaflingnefs in world's vaft frame,
Think well fome region where they dwell may wrack,
But that the whole nor time nor force can make ;
Yet, frantic, mufe to fee heaven's ftately lights,
Like drunkards, waylefs reel amidft their heights.
Such as do nations govern, and command
Vafts of the fea and emperies of land,
Repine to fee their countries overthrown,
And find no foe their fury to make known :
Alas ! they fay, what boots rtur toils and pains,
Of care on earth is this the furtheft gains ?
No riches now can bribe our angry fate ;
O no ! to blaft our pride the heavens do threat i
In duft now muft our greatnefs buried lie,
Yet is it comfort with the world to die.
As more and more the wrarning figns increafe,
Wild dread deprives loft Adam's race of peace ;
From out their grand-dame earth they fain would fly,
But whither know not, heavens ate far and high :
Each would bewail and mourn his own diftrefs ;
But public cries do private tears fupprefs :
Laments,
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 299
Laments, plaints, flirieks of woe, difturb all ears>
And fear is equal to the pain it fears.
Amidil this mafs of cruelty and flights,
This galley full of God-defpifing wights,
This jail of fin and ihame, this filthy ftage,
Where all a& folly, mifery, and rage ;
Amidft thofe throngs of old prepar'd for hell,
Thofe numbers which no Archimede can tell,
A filly crew did lurk, a harmlefs rout,
Wand'ring the earth, which God had chofen out
To live with Him (few rofes which did blow
Among thofe weeds earth's garden overgrow,
A dew of gold ftill'd on earth's fandy mine,
Small diamonds in world's rough rocks which mine),
By purple tyrants which purfu'd and chas'd,
Liv'd reclufes, in lonely iflands plac'd ;
Or did the mountains haunt, and forefts wild,
Which they than towns more harmlefs found and
mild ;
Where many an hymn they, to their Maker's praife,
Teach'd groves and rocks, which did refound their
Jays.
Nor fword, nor famine, nor plague-poifoning air,
Nor prodigies appearing every where,
Nor all the fad diforder of this All,
Could this fmall handful of the world appal ;
But as the flow'r, which during winter's cold
Runs to the root, and lurks in fap uprolTd,
So foon as the great planet of the year
Begins the Twins' dear manfion to clear,
Lifts
3oo THE POEMS OF
Lifts up its fragrant head, and to the field
A fpring of beauty and delight doth yield :
So at thofe figns and apparitions ftrange,
Their thoughts, looks, geftures, did begin to change ;
Joy makes their hands to clap, their hearts to dance,
In voice turns mufic, in their eyes doth glance.
What can, fay they, thefe changes elfe portend,
Of this great frame, fave the approaching end ?
Paft are the figns, all is perform'd of old,
Which the Almighty's heralds us foretold.
Heaven now no longer fliall of God's great power
A turning temple be, but fixed tower ;
Burn (hall this mortal mafs amidft the air,
Of Divine Juftice turn'd a trophy fair ;
Near is the laft of days, whofe light embalms
Paft griefs, and all our ftormy cares becalms.
O happy day ! O cheerful, holy day !
Which night's fad fables mall not take away !
Farewel complaints, and ye yet doubtful thought
Crown now your hopes with comforts long time fought ;
Wip'd from our eyes now mail be every tear,
Sighs ftopt, fince our falvation is fo near.
What long we long'd for, God at laft hath given,
Earth's chofen bands to join with thofe of heaven.
Now noble fouls a guerdon juft mall find,
And reft and glory be in one combin'd ;
Now, more than in a mirror, by thefe eyne,
Even face to face, our Maker (hall be feen.
O welcome wonder of the foul and fight !
O welcome object of all true delight i
Thy
I
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 301'
Thy triumphs and return we did expe&,
Of all paft coils to reap the dear effeft :
Since thou art juft, perform thy holy word ;
O come dill hop'd for, come long wifiVd for, Lord.
While thus they pray, the heavens in flames appear,
As if they fliew fire's elemental fphere ;
The earth feems in the fun, the welkin gone ;
Wonder all hufhes ; ftraight the air doth groan
With trumpets, which thrice louder founds do yield
Than deaf'ning thunders in the airy field.
Created nature at the clangor quakes ;
Immur'd with flames, earth in a palfy ihakes,
And from her womb the duft in feveral heaps
Takes life, and muft'reth into human fhapes :
Hell burfts, and the foul prifoners there bound
Come howling to the day, with ferpents crown'd.
Millions of angels in the lofty height,
Clad in pure gold, and the electre bright,
Ufhering the way ftill where the Judge mould move,
In radiant rainbows vault the fkies above ;
Which quickly open, like a curtain driven,
And beaming glory (hews the KING OF HEAVEN.
What Ferfian prince, AfTyrian molt renown'd,
What Scythian with conquering fquadrons crown'd,
Entering a breached city, where confpire
Tire to dry blood, and blood to quench out fire ;
Where cutted carcafles quick members reel,
And by their ruin blunt the reeking fteel,
Refembleth now the ever-living King ?
What face of Troy which doth with yelling ring,
And
3ofc THEPOEMSOF
And Grecian flames tranfported in the air ;
What dreadful fpectacle of Carthage fair ;
What pi&ure of rich Corinth's tragic wrack,
Or of Numantia the hideous fack ;
Or thefe together fhewn, the image, face,
Can reprefent of earth, and plaintful cafe,
Which muft lie fmoking in the world's vaft womb,
And to itfelf both fuel be and tomb ?
Near to that fweet and odoriferous clime,
Where the all-cheering emperor of time
Makes fpring the cafiia, nard, and fragrant balms,
And every hill, and Collin crowns with palms ;
Where incenfe fweats, where weeps the precious
myrrh,
And cedars overtop the pine and fir ;
Near where the aged phoenix, tir'd of breath,
Doth build her neft, and takes new life in death j
A valley Into wide and open fields
Tar it extendeth *****
The reft is wanting.
HYMNS.
I.
C AVIOUR of mankind ! Man Emanuel !
^ Who finlefs died for fin, who vanquinVd hell,
The firft fruits of the grave, whofe life did give
Light to our darknefs, in whofe death we live—
O ftrengthen thou my faith, correct my will,
That mine may thine obey ; protect me ftill,
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. J0
So that the latter death may not devour
My foul feaPd with thy feal ; fo in the hour
When thou, vvhofe body fanctified thy tomb,
(Unjuftly judg'd) a glorious judge malt come,
To judge the world with juflice ; by that fign
I may be known and entertained for thine.
II.
TT I M, whom the earth, the fea, and iky
Wormip, adore, and magnify,
And doth this threefold engine fteer,
Mary's pure clofet now doth bear :
Whom fun and moon, and creatures all,
Serving at times, obey his call,
Pouring from heaven his facred grace,
T th' virgin's bowels hath ta'en place.
Mother moft bleft by fuch a dower,
Whofe Maker, Lord of higheft power,
Who this wide world in hand contains,
In thy womb's ark himfelf reftrains.
Bleft by a meflage from heaven brought,
Fertile with Holy Ghoft full fraught,
Of nations the defired King,
Within thy facred womb doth fpring.
Lord, may thy glory {till endure,
Who born waft of a virgin pure ;
The Father's and the Sp'rit's love,
Which endlefs world* may not remove.
III. JES17,
304 THE POEMS OF
III.
JESU, our prayers with mildnefs hear,
Who art the crown which virgins decks,
Whom a pure maid did breed and bear,
The fole example of her fex.
Thou feeding there where lilies fpring,
While round about the virgins dance,
Thy fpoufe doft to glory bring,
And them with high rewards advance.
The virgins follow in thy ways
Whitherfoever thou doft go,
They trace thy fteps with fongs of praife,
And in fweet hymns thy glory mew.
Caufe thy protecting grace, we pray,
In 'all our fenfes to abound,
Keeping from them all harms which may
Our fouls with foul corruption wound.
Praife, honour, ftrength, and glory great,
To God the Father, and the Son,
And to the holy Paraclete,
While time lafts, and when time is done.
IV.
TDENIGN Creator of the ftars,
•*•"* Eternal Light of faithful eyes,
Chrift, whofe redemption none debars,
Do not our humble prayers defpife.
6 Who
WILLIAM DRUMMOND.
Who for the ftate of mankind griev'd,
That it by death deftroy'd fhould be,
Haft the difeafed world reliev'd,
And given the guilty remedy.
When th* -evening of the world drew near,
Thou as a bridegroom deign'ft to come
Out of thy wedding chamber dear,
Thy Virgin Mother's purcft womb :
To the ftrong force of whofe high reign
All knees are bow'd with gefture low,
Creatures which heaven or earth contain
With rev'rence their fubje&ion fhe\v.
O holy Lord ! we thee defire,
Whom we expeft to judge all faults,
Preferve us, as the times require,
From our deceitful foes' aflaults.
Praife, honour, ftrength, and glory great,
To God the Father, and the Son,
And to the Holy Paraclete,
Whilft time laits, and when time is done,
HYMN FOR SUNDAY.
BLEST Creator of the light,
Who bringing forth the light of days,
With the firft work of fplendour bright
The world didft to beginning raife j
Who
30$ THE POEMS OF
Who morn with evening joinM in one
Commandedft fhould be call'd the day :
The foul confufion now is gone ;
O hear us when with tears we pray :
Left that the mind, with fears full fraught,
Should lofe bell life's eternal gains,
While it hath no immortal thought,
But is enwrapt in fmful chains.
O may it beat the inmoft iky,
And the reward of life pofTefs !
May we from hurtful actions fly,
And purge away all wickednefs !
Dear Father, grant what we entreat,
And only Son, who like pow'r haft,
Together with the Paraclete,
Reigning whilft times and ages laft.
HYMN FOR MONDAY.
REAT Maker of the heavens wide,
Who, left things mix'd mould all confound,
The floods and waters didft divide,
And didft appoint the heav'ns their bound ;
Ordering where heav'nly things mall ftay,
Where ftreams mail run on earthly foil,
That waters may the flames allay,
Left they the glgbe of earth ihould fpoilt
Sweet
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 307
Sweet Lord, into our minds infufe
The gift of everlafting grace,
That no old faults which we did ufe
May with new frauds our fouls deface.
May our true faith obtain the light,
And fuch clear beams our hearts pofTefs,
That it vain things may banim quite,
And that no falfehood it opprefs. "
Dear Father, grant what we entreat, &.cf
HYMN FOR TUESDAY.
GREAT Maker of man's earthly realm,
Who didil the ground from waters take
Which did the troubled land o'erwhelm,
And it immovable didil make j
That there young plants might fitly fpring,
While it with golden flow'rs attir'd.
Might forth ripe fruit in plenty bring,
And yield fweet fruit by all ddir'd :
With fragrant greennefs of thy grace,
Our blafted fouls of wounds releafe,
That tears foul fins away may chafe,
And in the mind bad motions ceafe.
May it obey thy heav'nly voice,
And never drawing near to ill,
T* abound in goodnefs may rejoice,
And may no mortal fin fulfil,
Dear Father, &c.
X 2 HYMN
THE POEMS OF
HYMN FOR WEDNESDAY,
HOLY God of heav'nly frame,
Who mak'ft the pole's wide center bright,
And paint'ft the fame with mining flame,
Adorning it with beauteous light ;
Who framing, on the fourth of days,
The fiery chariot of the fun,
Appoint'ft the moon her changing rays,
And orbs in which the planets run ;
That thou might'ft by a certain bound
'Twixft night and day divifion make ;
And that fome fure fign might be found
To mew when months beginning take ;
Men's hearts with lightfome fplendour blefs,
Wipe from their minds polluting fpots,
Diflblve the bond of guiltinefs,
Throw down the heaps of finful blots.
Dear Father, £c.
HYMN FOR THURSDAY.
GOD, whofe forces far extend,
Who creatures which from waters fprirtg
Back to the flood doft partly fend,
And up to th* air doft partly bring ;
Some in the waters deeply div'd,
Some playing in the heav'ns above,
That
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 303
That natures from one ftock deriv'd
May thus to feveral dwellings move :
Upon thy fervants grace beftow,
Whofe fouls thy bloody waters clear,
That they no finful falls may know,
Nor heavy grief of death may bear ;
That fin na foul oppreft may thrall,.
That none be lifted high with pride,
That minds caft downwards do not fallr
Nor raifed up may backward flide.
Dear Father, &c.
HYMN FOR FRIDAY.
OD, from whofe work mankind did fpring*
Who all in rule doft only keep,
Bidding the dry land forth to bring
All kind of beafts which on it creep ;
Who haft made fubjed to man's hand
Great bodies of each mighty thing,,
That, taking life from thy command,
They might in order ferve their King ;.
From us thy fervants, Lord, expel
Thofe errors which uncleannefs breeds*.
Which either in our manners dwell,
Or mix themfelves among our deeds*
X 3 Give
3ia THE POEMS OF
Give the rewards of joyful life ;
The plenteous gifts of grace increafe ;
DifTolve the cruel bonds of ftrife ;
Knit fail the happy league of peace.
Dear Father, -£c.
HYMN FOR SATURDAY.
TRINITY ! O blefTed light !
O Unity, moft principal !
The fiery fun now leaves our fight ;
•Caufe in our hearts thy beams to fall :
Let us with fongs of praife divine
At morn and evening thee implore ;
And let our glory, bow'd to thine,
Thee glorify for evermore.
To God the Father glory great,
And glory to his only Son,
And to the Holy Paraclete,
Both now, and ilill while ages run.
HYMN UPON THE NATIVITY.
/CHRIST, whofe redemption all doth free,
^•^ Son of the Father, who alone,
Before the world began to be,
Didit fpring from him by means unknown ;
Thoti
WILLIAM DRUMMOND.
Thou his clear brightnefs, thou his light,
Thou everlafting hope of all,
Obferve the pray'rs which in thy fight
Thy Servants through the world let fall;
O cleared Saviour, bear in mind,
That of our body thou, a child,
Didft whilom take the natural kind,
Born of the Virgin undefiPd.
This much the prefent day makes known,
Faffing the circuit of the year,
That thou from thy high Father's throne
The world's fole fafety didft appear.
The higheft heaven, the earth, and feas,
And all that is within them found,
Becatife he fent thee us to eafe,
With mirthful fongs his praife refound.
We alfo, who redeemed are
With thy pure blood from finful {late,
For this thy birth-day will prepare
Now hymns this feaft to celebrate.
Glory, O Lord, be given to thee,
Whom the unfpotted Virgin bore ;
And glory to thee, Father, be,
And th' Holy Ghoft, for evermore.
X 4 HYMN
812 THE POEMS OF
HYMN UPON THE INNOCENTS.
TTAIL you, fweet babes ! that are the flow'rs,
•*" Whom, when you life begin to tafte,
The enemy of Chrift devours,
As whirlwinds down the rofes caft :
Firft facrifice to Chrift you went,
Of offer'd lambs a tender fort ;
With palms and crowns, you innocent
Before the facred alter fport.
UPON THE SUNDAYS IN LENT.
HYMN.
S~\ MERCIFUL Creator, hear
^"•^ Our pray'rs to thee devoutly bent,
Which we pour forth with many a tear
In this moft holy fail of Lent.
Thou mildefl fearcher of each heart,
Who know'ft the weaknefs of our ftrength,
To us forgiving grace Impart,
Since we return to thee at length.
Much have we finned, to our fhame ;
But fpare us, who our fins confefs 5
And, for the glory of thy name,
To our fick fouls afford redrefs.
Grant
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 313
Grunt that the flefti may be fo pin'd
By means of outward abftinence,
Aa that the fober watchful mind
May fail from fpots of all offence.
Grant this, O bleffed Trinity !
Pure Unity, to this incline* —
That the effects of fafts may be
A grateful recompence for thine.
ON THE ASCENSION DAY.
JESU, who our fouls doft fave,
On whom our love and hopes depend ;
God from whom all things being have,
Man when the world drew to an end ;
What clemency thee vanquifh'd fo,
Upon thee our foul crimes to take*
And cruel death to undergo,
That thou from death us free might make ?
Let thine own goodnefs to thee bend,
That thou our fins may'ft put to flight ;
Spare us* — and, as our wifhes tend,
O fatisfy us with thy fight !
May 'ft thou our joyful pleafures be,
Who (hall be our expected gain ;
And let our glory be in thee,
While any ages (hall remain.
HYMN
3i4 THE POEMS OF
HYMN FOR WHITSUNDAY.
CREATOR, HolyGhoft, defcend ;
^-^ Vifit our minds with thy bright flame;
And thy celeftial grace extend
To fill the hearts which thou didil frame :
Who Paraclete art faid to be,
Gift which the higheft God beftows ;
Fountain of life, fire, charity,
Ointment whence ghoftly blefling flows.
Thy fevenfold grace thou down doft fend>
Of God's right hand thou finger art ;
Thou, by the Father promifed,
Unto our mouths doft fpeech impart*
In our dull fenfes kindle light ;
Infufe thy love into our hearts ;
Reforming with perpetual light
Th' infirmities of flefhly parts.
Far from our dwelling drive our foe,
And quickly peace unto us bring ;
Be thou our guide, before to go,
That we may fhun each hurtful thing.
Be pleafed to inftru& our mind,
To know the Father and the Son ;
The Spirit who them both doth bind
JLet us believe while ages run.
To
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 315
To God the Father glory great,
And to the Son who from the dead
Arofe, and to the Paraclete,
Beyond all time imagined.
ON THE TRANSFIGURATION OF OUR
LORD,
THE SIXTH OF AUGUST.
A HYMN.
ALL you that feek Chrift, let your fight
Up to the height dire&ed be,
.For there you may the fign mod bright
Of everlafting glory fee.
A radiant light we there behold,
Endlefs, unbounded, lofty, high ;
Than heaven or that rude heap more old
Wherein the world confus'd did lie.
The Gentiles this great prince embrace ;
The Jews obey this king's command,
Promised to Abraham and his race
A bleffing while the world fhall Hand.
By mouths of prophets free from lyes,
Who fcal the witnefs which they bear,
His Father bidding teftifies
That we mould him believe and hear,
Glory
3i6 THE POEMS OF
Glory, O Lord, be given to thee,.
Who haft appear'd upon this day ;
And glory to the Father be,
And to the Holy Ghoft, for aye.
ON THE FEAST OF ST. MICHAEL.
THE ARCHANGEL.
1O thee, O Chrift ! thy Father's light,
Life, virtue, which our heart infpires,
In prefence of thine angels bright,
We fmg with voice and with defires s
Ourfelves we mutually invite,
To melody with anfwering choirs.
With reverence we thefe foldiers praife,
Who near the heavenly throne abide ;
And chiefly him whom God doth raife,
His ftrong celeftial hoft to guide —
Michael, who by his power difmays
And beateth down the Devil's pride.
PETER, AFTER THE DENIAL OF HIS
MASTER.
T IKE to the folitary pelican,
-*--' The fhady groves I haunt, arrd deferts wild,
Amongft wood's burgefles; from fight of man,
From earth's delight, from mine own felfexil'd,
But
• WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 3«>
But that remorfe, which with my fall began,
Relenteth not, nor is by change turn'd mild ;
But rends my foul, and, like a famim'd child,
Renews its cries, though nurfe does what me can*
Look how the (hrieking bird that courts the night
In ruin'd wall doth lurk, and gloomy place :
Of fun, of moon, of ftars, I flum the light,
Not knowing where to ftay, what to embrace :
How to heaven's lights mould I lift thefe of mine,
th I denied him who made them mine 1
ON THE VIRGIN MARY.
THE woful Mary, 'midft a blubber'd band
Of weeping virgins, near unto the tree
Where God death fuffer'd, man from death to free,
Like to a plaintful nightingale did ftand,
Which fees her younglings reft before her eyes,
And hath nought elfe to guard them, fave her
cries :
Xove thither had her brought, and mi (belief
Of thefe fad news, which charged her mind to fears ;
ut now her eyes, more wretched than her tears,
Bear witnefs (ah, too true!) of feared gritf :
Her doubts made certain did her hopes deftroyf
Abandoning her foul to black annoy.
Long fixing downcaft eyes on earth, at laft
MShe longing them did raife (O torturing fight !)
"To view what they did fhun, their fole delight
Imbrued in his own blood, and naked plac'd
To
$i8 THE POEMS OF
To finful eyes ; naked, fave that black veil
Which heaven him fhrouded with, that did bewail.
It was not pity, pain, grief, did poffefs
The mother, but an agony more ilrange :
Cheeks' rofes in pale lilies ftraight did change ;
Her fp'rits, as if me bled his blood, turn'd lefs.
When (he him faw, woe did all words deny,
And grief her only fuffer'd figh, O my !
O my dear Lord and Son ! then me began ;
Immortal birth, tho' of a mortal born ;
Eternal bounty, which doth heav'n adorn ;
Without a mother, God ; a father, man !
Ah ! what haft thou deferv'd ? what haft thou
done,
Thus to be treat ? Woe's me, my fon, my fon !
Who bruis'd thy face, the glory of this All ?
Who eyes engor'd, load-ftars to Paradife ?
Who, as thou wert a trimmed facrifice,
Did with that cruel crown thy brows impale ?
Who rais'd thee, whom fo oft the angels ferv'd,
Between thofe thieves who that foul death deferv'd £
Was it for this thou bred waft in my womb ?
Mine arms a cradle ferv'd tliee to repofe ?
My milk thee fed, as morning dew the rofe ?
Did I thee keep till this fad time mould come,
That wretched men mould nail thee to a tree,
And I a witnefs of thy pangs muft be ?
It is not long, the way's beftrew'd with flow'rs,
With fhouts to echoing heav'ns and mountains roll'd,
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 3i§
Since, as in triumph, I thee did behold
In royal pomp approach proud Sion's tow'rs :
Lo, what a change ! Who did thee then embrace^
Now at thee fhake their heads, inconftant race !
Eternal Father ! from whofe piercing eye
Hid nought is found that in this All is form'd,
Deign to vouchsafe a look unto this round,
This round, the ftage of a fad tragedy :
Look but if thy dear pledge thou here canfl know.
On an unhappy tree a fliameful fliow 1
Ah ! look if this be he, Almighty King,
Before heav'ns fpangled were with liars of gold,
Ere world a center had it to uphold,
Whom from eternity thou forth didfl bring ;
With virtue, form, and light who did adorn
Sky's radiant globes — fee where he hangs a fcorn!
Did all my prayers tend to this ? Is this
The promife that celeilial herald made
At Nazareth, when full of joy he f:iid,
I happy was, and from thee did me bids ?
How am I bleft ? No, moil unhappy I
Of all the mothers underneath the iky.
How true and of choice, oracles the choice
Was that blell Hebrew, whofe dear eyes in peace
Mild death did clofe ere they faw this difgrace,
When he forefpake with more than angel's voice ;
The Son mould (malice fign) be fet apart,
Then that a fword Ihould pierce the mother's
heart!
3*o THE POEMS OF
But whither doft thou go, life of my foul ?
O ftay a little till I die with thee !
And do I live thee languifhing to fee ?
And cannot grief frail laws of life controul ?
If grief prove weak, come, cruel fquadrons, kill
The Mother, fpare the Son, he knows no ill :
He knows no ill ; thofe pangs, bafe men, are due
To me, and all the world, fave him alone ;
But now he doth not hear my bitter moan ;
Too late I cry, too late I plaints renew :
Pale are his lips, down doth his head decline,
Dim turn thofe eyes once wont fo bright to mine.
The heavens which in their manfions conftant move,
That they may not feem guilty of this crime,
Benighted have the golden eye of time.
Ungrateful earth, canft thou fuch mame approve,
And feem unmov'd, this done upon thy face ?
Earth trembled then, and me did hold her peace.
COMPLAINT OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN.
r"lpHE mother flood, with grief confounded,
•*• Near the crofs ; her tears abounded,
While her dear fon hanged was,
Through whofe foul her fighs forth venting,
Sadly mourning and lamenting,
Sharped points of fwords did pafs :
O how fad and how diflrefs'd
Was the mother, ever-blefs'd,
Who
WILLIAM DRUMMOND. 32*
Who God's only Son forth brought !
She in grief and woes did languifh,
Quaking to behold what anguifli
To her noble Son was wrought.
DEDICATION OF A CHURCH,
JERUSALEM, that place divine,
J The vifion of fweet peace is nam'd,
In heaven her glorious turrets fliine,
Pier walls of living ftones are fram'd;
While angels guard her on each fide,
Fit company for fuch a bride.
She, deck'd in new attire from heaven,
Her wedding chamber now defcends,
Prepared in marriage to be given
To Chrift, on whom her joy depends.
Her walls wherewith fhe is inclos'd,
And ftrcets, are of pure gold compos'd.
The gates, adorn'd with pearls moft bright,
The way to hidden glory mew ;
And thither, by the blefied might
Of faith in Jefus' merits, go
All thefe who are on earth diftrefs'd,
Becaufe they have Chrift's name profefs'd,
Thefe ftones the workmen drefs and beat,
Before they throughly poliftYd are;
Then each is in his proper feat
Eftablifh'd by the builder's care,
In this fair frame to ftand for ever,
So join'd that them no force can fever.
To
3^2 THE POEMS OF
To God, who- fits in higheft feat,
Glory and power given be ;
To Father, Son, and Paraclete,
Who reign in equal dignity ;
Whofe boundlefs pow'r we ftill adore,
And ling their praife for evermore.
The folio wing Poenrs 'were nof publifhed in tie Oflavo
Edition,
SONNET.
LET Fortune triumph now, and lo fmg,
Sith I muft fall beneath this load of care 5
Let her what moft I prize of ev'ry thing
Now wicked trophies in her temple rear.
She who high palmy empires doth not fpare,
And tramples in the dull the proudeft king ;
Let her vaunt how my blifs (he did impair,
To what low ebb me now my flow doth bring ;
Let her count how (a new Ixion) me
She in her wheel did turn ; how high or low
I never Hood, but more to tortur'd be.
Weep foul, weep plaintful foul, thy forrows know 5
Weep, of thy tears till a black river fwell,
Which may Cocytus be to this thy hell.
SONNET
WILLIAM DRUMMOND.
SONNET.
NIGHT, clear night, O dark and gloomy day !
O woeful waking ! O foul-pleafmg deep !
O fweet conceits which in my brains did creep !
Yet four conceits which went fo foon away.
A fleep I had more than poor words can fay ;
For, clos'd in arms, methought I did thee keep,
A forry wretch plung'd in misfortunes deep.
Am I not wak'd, when light doth lyes bewray ?
O that that night had ever ftill been black !
O that that day had never yet begun !
And you, mine eyes, would ye no time faw fun !
To have your fun in fuch a zodiac :
Lo, what is good of life is but a dream,
When forrow is a never ebbing ilream.
SONNET.
SO grievous is my pain, fo painful life,
That oft I find me in the arms of death ;
But, breath half gone, that tyrant called Death,
Who others kills, reftoreth me to life :
For while I think how woe (hall end with life,
And that I quiet peace mall 'joy by death,
That thought ev'n doth o'erpow'r the pains of death,
And call me home again to loathed life :
Thus doth mine evil tranfcend both life and death,
.While no death is fo bad as is my life,
Y2 Nor
3*4 THE POEMS OF
Nor no life fuch which doth not end by death.
And Protean changes turn my death and life :
0 happy thofe who in their birth find death,
Sith but to languifh heaven affordeth life.
SONNET.
f CURSE the night, yet do from day me hide,
The Pandionian birds I tire with moans ;
The echoes even are wearied with my groans,
Since abfence did me from cay blifs divide.
Each dream, each toy, my reafon doth affright ;
And when remembrance reads the curious fcroll
Of pail contentments caufed by her fight,
Then bitter anguiih doth invade my foul,
While thus I live eclipfed of her light.
0 me ! what better am I than the mole ?
Or thofe whofe zenith is the only pole,
Whofe hemifphere is hid with fo long night ?
Save that in earth he refts, they hope for fun ;
1 pine, and find mine endlefs night begun.
MADRIGAL.
T)OOR turtle, thou bemoans
•*• The lofs of thy dear love,
And I tor mine fend forth thefe fmoaking groans.
Unhappy widow' d dove !
While all about do fing,
1 at the root, thou on the branch above,
Even weary with our .moans the gaudy fpring;
Yet
WILLIAM DRU'MMOND. 315
Yet thefe our plaints we do not fpend in vain,
Sith fighing zephyrs anfwer us again.
SONNET.
A S, in a dufky and tempeftuous night,
•**• A ftar is wont to fpread her locks of gold,
And while her pleafant rays abroad are roll'd,
Some fpiteful cloud doth rob us of her fight :
Fair foul, in this black age fo ftiin'd thou bright,
And made all eyes with wonder thee behold ;
Till ugly death, depriving us of light,
In his grim mifly arms thee did enfold.
Who more (hall vaunt true beauty here to fee ?
What hope doth more in any heart remain,
That fuch perfections (hall his reafon rein,
If beauty, with thee born, too died with thee ?
World, plain no more of Love, nor count his harms;
With his pale trophies Death has hung his arms.
MADRIGAL.
I FEAR not henceforth death,
Sith after this departure yet I breathe.
Let rocks, and feas, and wind,
Their higheft. treafons fliew ;
Let fky and earth combin'd
Strive (if they can) to end my life and woe ;
Sith grief cannot, me nothing can overthrow ;
Or, if that aught c*n caufe my fatal lot,
It will be when I hear I am forgot.
M A D R I-
3i6 THE POEMS, &c.
MADRIGAL.
TRITONS, which bounding dive
Through Neptune's liquid plain,
When as ye fhall arrive
With tilting tides where filver Ora plays,
And to your king his wat'ry tribute pays,
Tell how I dying live,
And burn in midft of all the coldeft main.
F I N I S.
PR
2260
Al
1790
Drummond, William
The poems of William
Drummond
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