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Flowers of Sion i 

The Entertainment of Kino Charles . 71 
Commendatory Verses . . .101 

Pastoral Elegy _,^- . . .111 

Posthumous Poems — 

Sonnets 121 

Miscellanies .... 135 

Epitaphs ... .168 

Satires and Epigrams .185 


I. Poems attributed to Drummond . 209 

II. A Cypress Grove 238 

Notes 283 

A Table of First Lines .... 333 



VOL. 11. 




Triumphant arches, statues crown'd with bays, 
Proud obelisks, tombs of the vastest frame, 
Colosses, brazen Atlases of fame. 
Fanes vainly builded to vain idols' praise ; 
States, which insatiate minds in blood do raise, s 

From the cross-stars unto the Arctic team, 
Alas ! and what we write to keep our name. 
Like spiders' cauls are made the sport of days : 
All only constant is in constant change, 
What done is, is undone, and when undone, lo 

Into some other figure doth it range ; 
Thus moves the restless world beneath the moon : 
Wherefore, my mind, above time, motion, place, 
Thee raise, and steps not rt-ach'd by nature trace. 


A GOOD that never satisfies the mind, 
A beauty fading like the April flowers, 
A sweet with floods of gall that runs combin'd, 
A pleasure passing ere in thought made ours, 




All honour that more fickle is than wind, 
A glory at opinion's frown th;it lowers, 
A treasury which bankrupt time devours, 
A knowledge than grave ignorance more blind, 
A vain delight our ecpials to command, 
A style of greatness, in effect a dream, 
A fabulous thought of holding sea and land, 
A servile lot, deck'd with a pompous name. 
Arc the strange ends we toil for here below, 
Till wisest death make us our errors know. 


Life a right shadow is. 

For if it long appear, 

Then is it spent, and death's long night draws near : 

.Shadows are moving, light, 

And is there aught so moving as is this ? i 

When it is most in sight. 

It steals away, and none can tell how, where, 

So near our cradles to our coffins are. 


Look how the flower which ling'ringly doth fade, 
The morning's darling late, the summer's queen, 
Spoil'd of that juice which kept it fresh and green, 
As high as it did raise, bows low the head : 
Right so my life, contentments being dead, 
Or in their contraries but only seen, 


With swifter speed declines than erst it spread, 
And, blasted, scarce now shows what it hath been. 
As doth the pilgrim therefore, whom the night 
By darkness would imprison on his way, 
Think on thy home, my soul, and think aright 
Of what yet rests thee of life's wasting day : 
Thy sun posts westward, passed is thy morn, 
And twice it is not given thee to be born. 

world's jovs are toys. 

The weary mariner so fast not flies 

An howling tempest, harbour to attain. 

Nor shepherd hastes, when frays of wolves arise, 

So fast to fold to save his bleating train. 

As I, wing'd with contempt and just disdain, ■' 

Now fly the world and what it most doth prize, 

And sanctuarj' seek, free to remain 

From wounds of abject times, and envy's eyes. 

Once did tliis world to me seem sweet and fair, 

WTiile sense's light mind's prospective kept blind, lo 

Now like imagin'd landscape in the air, 

And weeping rainbows, her best joys I find ; 

Or if aught here is had that praise should have, 

It is a life obscure, and silent grave. 


Too long I followed have on fond desire, 
And too long panted on deluding streams, 


Too long rcfi(.shnicnl sought in burning fire, 
Run after joys which to my soul were blames. 
Ah ! when I hail what iii().->t I liid admire, 
And prov'd of life's delights the last extremes, 
I found all but a rose hedg'd with a briar, 
A nought, a thought, a show of golden dreams. 
Henceforth on theo, mine only good, I think, 
For only thou canst grant what I do crave ; 
Thy nails my pens sh.all be, thy blood mine ink 
Thy winding-sheet my paper, stuily grave ; 
And till that soul from body parted bo, 
No hope I have, but only only thee. 


Of this fair volume which we world do name, 
If we the sheets and leaves could turn with care, 
Of him who it corrects, and did it frame. 
We clear might read the art and wisdom rare ; 
Find out his power which wildest pow'rs cloth 
tame, ■"* 

His providence extending everywhere. 
His justice which proud rebels doth not spare. 
In every page, no, period of the same : 
But silly wc, like foolish children, rest 
Well pleas'd with colour'd vellum, leaves of gold, lo 
Fair dangling riblxins, leaving what is best. 
On the great writer's sense ne'er taking hold ; 
Or if by chance our minds do muse on aught, 
It is some picture on the margin wrought. 



The grief was common, common were the cries, 
Tears, sobs, and groans of that afflicted train, 
Which of God's chosen did the sum contain, 
And earth rebounded with them, pierc'd were skies ; 
All good had left the world, each vice did reign 5 

In the most hideous shapes hell could devise. 
And all degrees and each estate did stain, 
Nor further had to go, whom to surprise ; 
The world beneath the Prince of ]~)arkness lay, 
In every fane who had himself install'd, lo 

Was sacrificed unto, by prayers call'd, 
Responses gave, which, fools, they did obey ; 
When, pitying man, God of a virgin's womb 
Was born, and those false deities struck dumb. 


Run, shepherds, run where Bethlem blest appears, 
We bring the best of news, be not dismay'd, 
A Saviour there is bom, more old than years. 
Amidst heaven's rolling heights this earth who stay'd : 
In a poor cottage inn'd, a virgin maid c 

A weakling did him bear, who all upbears ; 
There is he poorly swaddl'd, in manger laid. 
To whom too narrow swaddlings are our spheres : 
Run, shepherds, run, and solemnize his birth, 


This is that night — no, day, grown great with bliss, lo 
In which the power of Satan broken is ; 
In heaven be glory, peace unto the earth ! 

Thus singing, through the air the angels swam, 

And cope of stars re-echoed the same. 


O THAN the fairest day, thrice fairer night ! 

Night lo best days in which a sun doth rise, 

Of which that golden eye, which clears the skies, 

Is but a sparkling ray, a shadow light : 

And blessed ye, in silly pastors' sight, 5 

Mild creatures, in whose warm crib now lies 

That heaven-sent youngling, holy-maid -born wight, 

Midst, end, beginning of our prophecies : 

Blest cottage that hath flowers in winter spread ! 

Though withered, blessed grass, that hath the grace m 

To deck and be a carpet to that place ! 

Thus sang, unto the sounds of oaten reed, 

Before the babe, the shepherds bow'd on knees, 

And springs ran nectar, honey dropp'd from trees. 


To spread the azure canopy of heaven, 

And make it twinkle with those spangs of gold, 

To stay this weighty mass of earth so even. 

That it should all, and nought should it uphold ; 

To give strange motions to the planets seven, ; 


Or Jove to make so meek, or Mars so bold, 
To temper what is moist, dry, hot, and cold. 
Of all their jars that sweet accords are given, 
Lord, to thy wisdom nought is, nor thy might ; 
But that thou shouldst, thy glory laid aside, 10 

Come meanly in mortality to bide. 
And die for those deserved eternal plight, 
A wonder is so far above our wit, 
That angels stand amaz'd to muse on it. 


The last and greatest herald of heaven's King, 
Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild, 
Among that savage brood the woods forth bring, 
Which he than man more harmless found and mild : 
His food was locusts, and what young doth spring, 
With honey that from virgin hives distill'd ; 
I'arch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing 
Made him appear, long since from earth exil'd. 
There burst he forth : " All ye, whose hopes rely 
On God, with me amidst these deserts mourn ; 10 

Repent, repent, and from old errors turn." 
Who listen'd to his voice, obey'd his cry? 
Only the echoes, which he made relent, 
Rung from their marble caves, " Repent, repent !" 


These eyes, dear Lord, once brandons of desire, 
Frail scouts betraying what they had to keep, 


Which their own heart, then others set on fire, 

Their trait'rous black before thee here out-weep : 

These locks, of blushing deeds the fair attire, 5 

Smooth-frizzled waves, sad shelves which shadow 

Soul-stinging serpents in gilt curls which creep, 

To touch thy sacred feet do now aspire. 

In seas of care beliold a sinking bark, 

By winds of sharp remorse unto thee driven, i» 

O ! let me not expos'd be ruin's mark ; 

My faults confest, Lord, say they are forgiven 
Thus sigh'd to Jesus the llethanian fair, 
His tear-wet feet still drying with her hair. 


I COUNTRIES chang'd, new pleasures out to find, 

But, ah ! for pleasure new I found new pain ; 

Enchanting pleasure so did reason blind. 

That father's love and words I scorn'd as vain : 

For tables rich, for bed, for frequent train 5 

Of careful servants to observe my mind, 

These herds I keep my fellows are assign 'd, 

My bed a rock is, herbs my life sustain. 

Now while I famine feel, fear worser harms. 

Father and Lord, I turn ; thy love, yet great, lu 

My faults will pardon, pity mine estate. 

This, where an aged oak had spread its arms, 

Thought the lost child, while as the herds he led. 

Not far off on the acorns wild them fed. 



Ik that the world doth in a maze remain, 

To hear in what a sad deploring mood 

The pelican pours from her breast her blood. 

To bring to life her younglings back again ; 

How should we wonder of that sovereign good, s 

Who from that serpent's sting, that had us slain 

To save our lives, shed his life's purple flood, 

And turn'd in endless joy our endless pain ! 

Ungrateful soul, that charm'd with false delight, 

Hast long long wander"d in sin's flowery path, lo 

And didst not think at all, or thought's! not right 

On this thy Pelican's great love and deatli. 

Here pause, and let, though earth it scorn, heaven 

Thee pour forth tears to him pour'd blood for thee. 


Ii-, when far in the east yc do behold 

Forth from his crystal bed the sun to rise, 
With rosy robes and crown of flaming gold ; 

If, gazing on that empress of the skies, 

Tlial takes so many forms, and those fair brands 5 
Which blaze in heaven's high vault, night's watch- 
ful eyes ; 

I f, seeing how the sea's tumultuous bands 

Of bellowing billows have their course contin'd, 
How, unsustain'd, the earth still steadfast stands ; 


I'oor mortal wiglils, yc c"cr found in your mind m 
A thought that some great King did sit above, 
Who had such laws and rites to them assign'd ; 

A King wlio fix'd the poles, made spheres to move, 
All wisdom, pureness, excellence, and might, 
All goodness, greatness, justice, beauty, love ; ir. 

With fear and wonder hither turn your sight : 
See, see, alas ! him now, not in that state 
Thought could forecast him into reason's light. 

Now eyes with tears, now hearts with grief make great. 
Bemoan this cruel death and dreary case, ■-" 

If ever plaints just woe could aggravate. 

From sin and hell to save us, human race, 
See this great King nail'd to an abject tree. 
An object of reproach and sad disgrace. 

O unheard pity, love in strange degree ! -ii 

He his own life doth give, his blood doth shed. 
For wormlings base such excellence to see ! 

I'oor wights, behold his visage pale as lead. 
His head bow'd to his breast, locks sadly rent, 
Like a cropp'd rose that languishing doth fade. »> 

Weak nature, weep ; astonish'd world, lament ; 
Lament, ye winds ; you heaven that all contains 
And thou, my soul, let nought thy grief relent. 

Those hanrls, those sacred hands, which hold the reins 
Of this great All, and keep from mutual wars m 
The elements, bear rent for thee their veins : 

Those feet which once must tread on golden stars, 
For thee with nails would be pierc'd through and 

For thee heaven's King from heaven himself debars. 



This great heart-quaking dolour waii and mourn. w 
Ye that long since him saw by might of faith, 
Ye now that are, and ye yet to be bom. 

Not to behold his great Creator's death, 

The sun from sinful eyes hath veil'd his light. 
And faintly journeys up heaven's sapphire path ; •».-, 

And, cutting from her brows her tresses bright. 
The moon doth keep her Lord's sad obsequies, 
Impearling with her tears this robe of night. 

All staggering and lazy lower the skies, 

The earth and elemental stages quake, r.o 

The long-since dead from bursted graves arise. 

And can things wanting sense yet sorrow take, 
And bear a part with him who all them wrought, 
And man, though born with cries, shall pity lack ? 

Think what had been your state had he not brought .w 
To these sharp pangs himself, and priz'd so higii 
Your souls, that with his life them life he bought. 

What woes do you attend, if still ye lie 

Plung'd in your wonted ordures, wretched brood 1 
Shall for your sake again God ever die ? .w 

O leave deluding shows, embrace true good, 
He on you calls, forego sin's shameful trade, 
With prayers now seek heaven, and not with 
Let not the lambs more from their dams be had, 
Nor altars blush for sin ; live everything ; <» 

That long time long'd-for sacrifice is made. 
All that is from you crav'd by this great King 
Is to believe, a pure heart incense is ; 
What gift, alas ! can we him meaner bring ? 


Haste, sin-sick souls, this season do not miss, 70 

Now while remorseless time doth grant you space, 
And God invites you to your only bliss. 

He who you calls will not deny you grace, 
But low-deep bury faults, so ye repent ; 
His arms, lo, stretched are you to embrace. 75 

When days are done, and life's small spark is spent. 
So ye accept what freely here is given, 
Like brood of angels', deathless, all-content. 

Ye shall for ever live with him in heaven. 


Come forth, come forth, ye blest triumphing bands. 
Fair citizens of that immortal town, 
Come see that King which all this All commands. 
Now, overcharg'd with love, die for his own. 
Look on those nails which pierce his feet and 
hands ; 6 

What a sharp diadem his brows doth crown ! 
Behold his pallid face, his eyes which swoon. 
And what a throng of thieves him mocking stands. 
Come forth, ye empyrean troops, come forth, 
Preserve this sacred blood that earth adorns, m 

Those liquid rosr ? gather off his thorns, 
O ! to be lost they be of too much worth ; 

For streams, juice, balm they are, which quench, 
kills, charms, 

Of God, death, hell, the wrath, the life, the 



Soul, which to hell wast thrall, 

lie, he for thine offence 

Did suffer death, who could not die at all. 

O sovereign excellence, 

O life of all that lives, 5 

Eternal bounty which each good thing gives, 

How could death mount so high ? 

No wit this height can reach ; 

Faith only doth us teach, 

For us he died, at all who could not die. 10 


LiFK, to give life, deprived is of life. 

And death display'd hath ensign against 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 power lo death, 5 

But willingly life hath abandon'd life, 

Love gave the wound which wrought this work of 

His hivf and shafts were of the tree of life. 
Now quakes the author of eternal death, 
To find thai Ihcf vhom erst he reft of life, 10 

Shall fill his room above the lists of death ; 
Now all rejoiri ia death who hope for life. 

Dead Jesus lies, vhi death hath ki'l'd by death. 
His ton.b no tomb is, but ni.w source of life. 



Rise from those fragraiu climes thee now embrace, 

Unto this world of ours O haste thy race, 

Fair sun, and though contrary ways all year 

Thou hold thy course, now with the highest sphere 

Join thy swift wheels, to hasten time that low'rs, 5 

And lazy minutes turn in perfect hours ; 

The night and death too long a league have made. 

To stow the world in horror's ugly shade. 

Shake from thy locks a day with saffron rays, 

So fair, that it outshine all other days ; hi 

And yet do not presume, great eye of light. 

To be that which this day shall make so bright : 

See, an eternal Sun hastes to arise. 

Not from the eastern blushing seas or skies. 

Or any stranger worlds heaven's concaves have, is 

But from the darkness of an hollow grave ; 

And this is that all-powerful Sun above. 

That crown'd thy brows with rays, first made thee move. 

Light's trumpeters, ye need not from your bowers 

Proclaim this day ; this the angelic powers 

Have done for you ; but now an opal hue 

Bepaints heaven's crystal, to the longing view 

Earth's late-hid colours glance, light doth adorn 

The world, and, weeping joy, forth comes the morn ; 

And with her, as from a lethargic trance, 25 

Breath, com'd again, that body doth advance, 

Which two sad nights in rocks lay coffin'd dead, 

And with an iron guard environed. 



Life out of death, light out of darkness springs, 

From a base jail forth comes the King of kings ; so 

What late was mortal, thrall'd to every woe 

That lackeys life, or upon sense doth grow. 

Immortal is, of an eternal stamp. 

Far brighter beaming than the morning lamp. 

So from a black eclipse out-peers the sun ; 35 

Such, when a huge of days have on her run, 

In a far forest in the pearly east, 

And she herself hath burnt and spicy nest. 

The lonely bird,* with youthful pens and comb, 

Doth soar from out her cradle and her tomb ; 4» 

So a small seed that in the earth lies hid 

And dies, reviving bursts her cloddy side, 

Adorn'd with I'ellow locks, of new is born. 

And doth become a mother great with corn, 

Of grains brings hundreds with it, which when old « 

Enrich the furrows with a sea of gold. 

Hail, holy Victor, greatest Victor, hail ! 
That hell dost ransack, against death prevail, 
O how thou long'd for comes ! With jubiling cries 
The all-triumphing paladins of skies so 

.Salute thy rising ; earth would joys no more 
Bear, if thou rising didst them not restore. 
A silly tomb should not his flesh enclose, 
Who did heaven's trembling terraces dispose ; 
No monument should such a jewel hold, ss 

No rock, though ruby, diamond, and gold. 
Thou only pity didst us, human race, 
Bestowing on us of thy free-given grace 

* The lonely bird : phoenix, 
vol.. II. B 


More than we forfeited and losed first, 
In Eden's rebel when we were accurst. ho 

Then earth our portion was, earth's joys but given, 
Earth and earth's bliss thou hast exchang'd with heaven. 

what a height of good upon us streams 
From the great splendour of thy bounty's beams ! 
When we deserv'd shame, horror, flames of wrath, (is 
Thou bled our wounds, and suffer didst our death ; 
Bui, Father's justice pleas'd, hell, death o'ercome. 

In triumph now thou risest from thy tomb. 
With glories which past sorrows countervail ; 

1 lail, holy Victor ! greatest Victor, hail ! m 

Hence, humble sense, and hence ye guides of sense. 
We now reach heaven ; your weak intelligence, 
And searching pow'rs, were in a flash made dim, 
To learn from all eternity that him 
The Father bred, then that he here did come, 75 

His bearer's parent, in a virgin's womb ; 
But then when sold, betray'd, scourg'd, crown'd 

with thorn, 
Nail'd to a tree, all breathless, bloodless, torn, 
Entomb'd, him rising from a grave to find, 
Confounds your cunning, turns like moles you blind, so 
Death, thou that heretofore still barren wast. 
Nay, didst each other birth eat up and waste. 
Imperious, hateful, pitiless, unjust, 
Unpartial equaller of all witli dust, 
Stern executioner of heavenly doom, « 

Made fruitful, now life's mother art become, 
A sweet relief of cares the soul molest. 
An harbinger to glory, peace, and rest ; 


Put off thy mourning weeds, yield all thy gall 

To daily-sinning life, proud of thy fall ; 90 

Assemble thy captives, bid all haste to rise, 

And every corse, in earthquakes where it lies, 

Sound from each flowery grave and rocky jail, 

Hail, holy Victor, greatest Victor, hail ! 

The world, that waning late and faint did lie, 95 
Applauding to our joys thy victory, 
To a young prime essays to turn again, 
And as ere soil'd with sin yet to remain ; 
Her chilling agues she begins to miss, 
All bliss returning with the Lord of bliss. ico 

With greater light heaven's temples opened shine, 
Morns smiling rise, evens blushing do decline. 
Clouds dappled glister, boisterous winds are calm, 
Soft zephyrs do the fields with sighs embalm. 
In amel * blue the sea hath hush'd his roars, vs 

And with enamour'd curls doth kiss the shores : 
All-bearing earth, like a new-married queen. 
Her beauties heightens in a gown of green. 
Perfumes the air, her meads are wrought v.ith 

In colours various, figures, smelling, powers ; no 

Trees wanton in the groves with leafy locks. 
Her hills empampercd stand, the vales, the rocks 
Ring peals of jo}' ; her floods, her crystal brooks, 
The meadows' tongues, with many maze-like crooks 
And whispering murmurs, sound unto the main 115 
Tliat world's pure age returned is again. 

* Amel : enamel ; Fr. diiiail. 


The honey people leave their golden bowers, 
And innocently prey on budding flowers : 
In gloomy shades, porch'd on the lender sprays, 
The painted singers fill the air with lays : ijo 

Seas, floods, earth, air, all diversely do sound. 
Yet all their diverse notes have but one ground. 
Re-echoed here down from heaven's azure veil, 
Hail, holy Victor, greatest Victor, hail ! 

O day ! on which death's adamantine chain 125 

The I.ord did break, ransacking Satan's reign, 
And in triumphing pomp his trophies rear'd, 
Be thou blest ever, henceforth still endear'd 
With name of his own day ! The law to grace, 
Types to their substance yield ; to thee give place iso 
The old new moons, with all festival-days, 
And what above the rest deserveth praise. 
The reverend Sabbath. What else could they be 
Than golden heralds, telling what by thee 
We should enjoy? Shades past, now shine thou 
clear, ,:,5 

And henceforth be thou empress of the year, 
This glory of thy sisters six to win, 
From work on thee, as other days from sin. 
That mankind shall forbear, in every place 
The prince of planets warmeth in his race, uo 

And far beyond his paths in frozen climes ; 
And may thou be so blest to out-date times. 
That when heaven's quire shall blaze in accents loud 
The many mercies of their sovereign good, 
How he on thee did sin, death, hell destroy, nr, 

It may be aye the anthem of their joy. 



Bright portals of the sky, 

Emboss'd with sparkling stars, 

Doors cf eternity. 

With diamantine bars. 

Your arras rich uphold, 5 

Lxiose all your bolls and springs. 

Ope wide your leaves of gold, 

That in your roofs may come the King of kings. 
Scarfd in a rosy cloud, 

He doth ascend the air : lo 

Straight doth the moon him shroud 

With her resplendent hair ; 

The next encrystall'd light 

Submits to him its beams. 

And he doth trace the height is 

Of that fair lamp which llames of beauty streams. 
He towers those golden bounds 

1 le did to sun bequeath ; 

The higher wand'ring rounds 

Are found his feet beneath ; -'3 

The milky-way comes near, 

1 leaven's axle seems to bend. 

Above each turning sphere 

That, rob'd in glory, heaven's King may ascend. 
() well-spring of this All ! --^ 

Thy father's image vive ; 

* First published in the second edition of Flmvcrs of 
Sion, 1630. 


Word, that from nought did call 

What is, dolh reason, live ; 

The soul's eternal food, 

P^arth's joy, delight of heaven ; so 

All truth, love, beauty, good : 

To thee, to ihee be praises ever given ! 
What was dismarshall'd late 

la this thy noble frame. 

And lost the prime estate, 33 

Hath reobtain"d the same, 

Is now most perfect seen ; 

Streams which diverted were. 

And troubled strayed unclean 

From their first source, by thee home turned 
are. 40 

By thee that blemish old 

Of Eden's leprous prince. 

Which on his race took hold, 

And him exil'd from thence, 

Now put away is far : 4-, 

With sword, in ireful guise, 

No cherub more shall Ijar 

Poor man the entries into Paradise. 
By thee those spirits pure, 

First children of the light, 50 

Now fixed stand and sure 

In their eternal right ; 

Now human companies 

Renew their ruin'd wall ; 

Fall'n man, as thou mak'st rise, 55 

Thou giv'st to angels, that they shall not fall. 


By thee that prince of sin, 

That doth with mischief swell, 
Hath lost what he did win, 

And shall endungeon'd dwell ; «> 

His spoils are made thy prey, 
His fanes are sacked and torn, 
His altars raz'd away, 

And what ador'd was late, now lies a scorn. 
These mansions, pure and clear, •» 

\\"hich are not made by hands. 
Which once by him joy'd were. 
And his, then not stain'd, bands 
(Now forfeit'd, dispossess'd, 

And headlong from them thrown), 70 

Shall Adam's heirs make blest, 
By thee, their great Redeemer, made their own. 
O well-spring of this All ! 
Thy father's image vive ; 

Word, that from nought did call 75 

What is, doth reason, live ; 
Whose work is but to will, 
God's coetemal Son, 
Great banisher of ill ! 

By none but thee could these great deetls be 
done. "" 

Now each ethereal gate 
To him hath opened been, 
And glory's King in state 
His palace enters in ; 

Now com'd is this high priest " 

In the most holy i)lace, 


Not without blood address'd, 
With glory heaven, the earth to crown with 
Stars which all eyes were late, 
And did with wonder burn, 
His name to celebrate, 
In flaming tongues them turn ; 
Their orby crystals move 
More active than before, 

And entheate * from above, ,,3 

Their sovereign prince laud, glorify, adore. 
The quires of happy souls, 
Wak'd with that music sweet, 
Whose descant care controls, 

Their Lord in triumph meet ; luu 

The spotless spriglits of light 
His trophies do extol, 
And, arch'd in squadrons bright, 
Greet their great Victor in his Capitol. 
O glory of the heaven ! j^j 

O sole delight of earth ! 
To thee all power be given, 
God's uncreated birth ! 
Of mankind lover true, 
Indearer of his wronp-. 
Who dost the world renew, 
Still be thou our salvation and our song ! 
From top of Olivet such notes did rise, 
When man's Redeemer did transcend the skies. 

* Entheate : divinely inspired ; Gr. ivdeos. 


man's knowledge, ignorance in the 
mysteries of god. 

Beneath a sable veil and shadows deep 

Of unaccessible and dimming light, 

In silence' ebon clouds more black than night, 

The world's great King his secrets hid doth keep : 

Through those thick mists, when any mortal wight 3 

Aspires, with halting pace and eyes that weep. 

To pore, and in his mysteries to creep, 

With thunders he and lightnings blasts their sight. 

O Sun invisible, that dost abide 

Within thy bright abysms, most fair, most dark, in 

Where with thy proper rays thou dost thee hide ! 

O ever-shining, never full-seen mark ! 

To guide me in life's night thy light me show. 
The more I search of thee, the less I know. 


Ik with such passing beauty, choice delights. 

The architect of this great round did frame 

This palace visible (short lists of fame. 

And silly mansion but of dying wights), 

I low many wonders, what amazing lights 5 

Must that triumphing seal of glory claim, 

That doth transcend all this great All's vast heights, 

Of whose bright sun ours here is but a Ixiam 1 


() blest abode ! O happy dwelling-place, 
Where visibly th' Invisible doth reign ! lo 

Blest people which do see true beauty's face, 
With whose far dawnings scarce he earth doth 
deign ! 
All joy is but annoy, all concord strife, 
Match'd with your endless bliss and happy life. 


Love, which is here a care, 

That wit and will doth mar, 

Uncertain Iruce, and a most certain war ; 

A shrill tempestuous wind, 

Which doth disturb the mind, b 

And like wild waves our designs all commove ; 

Among those pow'rs above, 

Which see their maker's face, 

It a contentment is, a quiet peace, 

A pleasure void of grief, a constant rest, lo 

Eternal joy, which nothing can molest. 


That space, where raging waves do now divide 
From the great continent our happy isle. 
Was sometime land ; and where tall ships do glide. 
Once with dear art tlie crooked plough did toil ; 


Once those fair bounds stretch'd out so far and wide, 5 

Where towns, no, shires enwall'd, endear each mile. 

Were all ignoble sea, and marish vile. 

Where Proteus' flocks danc'd measures to the tide. 

So age, transforming all, still forward runs. 

No wonder though the earth doth change her face, 10 

New manners, pleasures new, turn with new suns, 

Locks now like gold grow to an hoary grace ; 

Nay, mind's rare shape doth change ; thatliesdespis'd 
Which was so dear of late, and highly priz'd. 


This world a hunting is, 

The prey poor man, the Ninirod fierce is Death ; 

Ills speedy greyhounds are 

Lust, sickness, envy, care. 

Strife that ne'er falls amiss, » 

With all those ills which haunt us while we breathe. 

Now, if by chance we fly 

Of these the eager chase, 

Old age with stealing pace 

Casts up his nets, and there we panting die. lo 


Why, worldlings, do ye trust frail honour's dreams, 
And lean to gilded glories which decay ? 
Why do ye toil to reglstrate your names 
On icy pillars, which soon melt away? 


True honour is not here, thai place it claims o 

Where black-brow'd night doth not exile the day, 
Nor no far-shining lamp dives in the sea, 
But an eternal sun spreads lasting beams : 
There it attendeth you, where spotless bands 
Of spirits stand gazing on their sovereign bliss, lo 

Where years not hold it in their cank'ring hands, 
But who once noble, ever noble is. 

Look home, lest he your weak'ned wil make 

Who Eden's foolish gard'ner erst made fall. 


As are those apples, pleasant to the eye, 

But full of smoke within, which use to grow 

Near that strange lake, where God pour'd from the 

Huge showers of flames, worse flames to over- 
throw ; 
vSuch are their works that with a glaring show r> 

Of humljle holiness, in virtue's dye 
Would colour mischief, while within they glow 
With coals of sin, though none the smoke descry. 
Ill is that angel which erst fell from heaven, 
But not more ill than he, nor in worse case, lo 

Who hides a trait'rous mind with smiling face, 
And with a dove's white feathers masks a raven. 

Each sin some colour hath it to adorn. 

Hypocrisy almighty God doth scorn. 



New doth the sun appear, 

The mountains' snows decay, 

Crown'd with frail flowers forth comes the baby year. 

My soul, time posts away, 

-Vnd thou yet in that frost 5 

AVhich flower and fruit hath lost, 

As if all here immortal were, dost stay : 

For shame ! thy powers awake. 

Look to that heaven which never night makes black, 

And there, at that immortal sun's bright rays, 10 

Deck thee with flowers which fear not rage of days. 


Thrice happy he, who by some shady grove, 
Far from the clamorous world, doth live his own ; 
Though solitar)', who is not alone. 
But doth converse with that eternal love. 
O how more sweet is birds' harmonious moan, .'; 

Or the hoarse sobbings of the widow'd dove. 
Than those smooth whisperings near a prince's throne. 
Which good make doubtful, do the evil approve I 
C) how more sweet is zephyr's wholesome breath, 
.And sighs embalm'd, which new-born flow'rs unfold, 10 
Than that applause vain honour doth bequeath ! 
i low sweet are streams to poison drunk in gold ! 
The world is full of horrors, troubles, slights. 
Woods' harmless shades have only true delights. 



Sweet bird, that sing'bt away the early hours, 
Of winters past or coming void of care. 
Well pleased with delights which present are, 
Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flowers ; 
To rocks, to springs, to rills, from leafy bowers r, 

Thou thy Creator's goodness dost declare, 
And what dear gifts on thee he did not spare, 
A stain to human sense in sin that lowers. 
What soul can be so sick which by thy songs, 
Attir'd in sweetness, sweetly is not driven lu 

Quite to forget earth's turmoils, spites, and wrongs, 
And lift a reverent eye and thought to heaven ? 
Sweet artless songster, thou my mind dost raise 
To airs of spheres, yes, and to angels' lays. 


As when it happ'neth that some lovely towni 
Unto a barbarous besieger falls, 
Who there by sword and flame himself instals, 
And, cruel, it in tears and blood doth drown ; 
Her beauty spoil'd, her citizens made thralls, 5 

His spite yet so cannot her all throw down, 
But that some statue, arch, fane of renown 
Yet lurks unmaim'd within her weeping walls : 
So, after all the spoil, disgrace, and wrack. 
That time, the world, and death could bring com- 
bin'd, 10 


Amidst that mass of ruins they did make, 
Safe and all scarless yet remains my mind : 

From this so high transcending rapture springs, 
That I, all else defac'd, not envy kings. 

death's last will.* 

More oft than once Death whisper'd in mine ear. 
Grave what thou hears in diamond and gold, 
I am that monarch whom all monarchs fear, 
Who hath in dust their far-stretch'd pride uproll'd ; 
All, all is mine beneath moon's silver sphere, 5 

And nought, save virtue, can my power withhold : 
This, not believ'd, experience true thee told, 
By danger late when I to thee came near. 
As bugbear then my visage I did show. 
That of my horrors thou right use might'st make, 10 
And a more sacred path of living take : 
Now still walk armed for my ruthless blow, 
Trust flattering life no more, redeem time past. 
And live each day as if it were thy last. 


Let us each day inure ourselves to die. 
If this, and not our fears, be truly death, 
Alx)ve the circles both of hope and fait'ii 
With fair immortal pinions to fly ; 

* First published in the second edition of Flmvers 
of S ion, 1630. 


If this be death, our best part to untie, e 

By ruining the jail, from lust and wrath. 
And every drowsy languor here beneath, 
It turning deniz'd citizen of sky ; 
To have more knowledge than all books contain, 
All pleasures even surmounting wishing power, lo 
The fellowship of God's immortal train, 
And these that time nor force shall e'er devour ; 
If this be death, what joy, what golden care 
Of life can with death's ugliness compare ? 


Amidst ihe azure clear 

Of Jordan's sacred streams, 

Jordan, of Libanon the offspring dear, 

When zephyrs flowers unclose. 

And sun shines with new beams, n 

With grave and stately grace a nymph arose. 
Upon her head she ware 

Of amaranths a crown, 

Her left hand palms, her right a brandon bare ; 

Unveil'd skin's whiteness lay, lo 

Gold hairs in curls hung down, 

Eyes sparkled joy, more bright than star of day. 
The flood a throne her rear'd 

Of waves, most like that heaven 

\Vhere beaming stars in glory turn enspher'd ; 15 

The air stood calm and clear, 

No sigh by winds was given. 

Birds left to sing, herds feed, her voice to hear. 


World-wand'ring sorry wights, 

Whom nothing can content 20 

Within those varying lists of days and nights, 

Whose life, e'er known amiss, 

In glittering griefs is spent, 

Come learn, said she, what is your choicest bliss ; 
From toil and pressing cares 25 

How ye may respite find, 

A sanctuary from soul-thralling snares, 

A port to harbour sure 

In spite of waves and wind. 

Which shall, when time's hourglass is run, endure, so 
Not happy is that life 

Which ye as happy hold. 

No, but a sea of fears, a field of strife, 

Charg'd on a throne to sit 

With diadems of gold, 36 

Preserv'd by force, and still observ'd l)y wit ; 
Huge treasures to enjoy. 

Of all her gems spoil Ind, 

All Seres' silk in garments to employ, 

Deliciously to feed, <ii 

The Phfcnix' plumes to find 

To rest upon, or deck your purple bed ; 
Frail beauty to abuse. 

And, wanton Sybarites, 

On past or present touch of sense to muse ; 4.-. 

Never to hear of noise 

But what the ear delights. 

Sweet music's charms, or charming flatterer's 

VOL. II. c 


Nor can it bliss you bring, 

Hid nature's depths to know, so 

AVhy matter changelh, whence eacli form dolli 
spring ; 

Nor that your fame should range. 

And after-worlds it blow 

From Tanais to Nile, from Nile to Gange. 
All these have not the power 55 

To free the mind from fears, 

Nor hideous horror can allay one hour, 

When Death in steel doth glance, 

In sickness lurk or years. 

And wakes the soul from out her mortal trance. 61; 
No, but blest life is this. 

With chaste and pure desire. 

To turn unto the loadstar of all bliss, 

On God the mind to rest, 

Burnt up with sacred fire, ss 

Possessing him, to be by him possest. 
When to the balmy east 

Sun doth his light impart. 

Or when he diveth in the lowly west, 

And ravisheth the day, 70 

With spotless hands and heart 

Ilim cheerfully to praise, and to him pray ; 
To heed each action so, 

As ever in his sight, 

More fearing doing ill than passive woe ; 78 

Not to seem other thing 

Than what ye are aright, 

Never to do what may repentance bring ; 


Not to be blown with pride, 

Nor mov'd at glory's breath, so 

Which shadow-like on wings of time doth glide ; 

So malice to disarm, 

And conquer hasty wrath. 

As to do good to those that work your harm ; 
To hatch no base desires, sj 

Or gold or land to gain, 

Well pleas'd with what by virtue one acquires ; 

To have the wit and will 

Consorting in one strain, 

Than what is good to have no higher skill ; oo 

Never on your neighbour's well * 

With cockatrice's eye 

To look, and make mother's heaven your hell ; 

Not to be beauty's thrall. 

All fruitless love to fly, 95 

Yet loving still a love transcending all ; 
A love which, while it burns 

The soul with fairest beams. 

In that uncreated sun the soul it turns, 

And makes such beauty prove, 100 

That, if sense saw her gleams, 

All lookers-on would pine and die for love. 
Who such a life would live. 

Ye happy even may call, 

Vac ruthless Death a wished end him give, 105 

And after then when given. 

More happy by his fall, 

For humans, earth, enjoying angels, heaven. 

* Well : welfare. 


Swift is your mortal race, 

And glassy is the field ; no 

Vast are desires not limited l)y grace ; 

Life a weak taper is ; 

Then, while it light doth yield, 

Leave flying joys, embrace this lasting bliss. 
This when the nymph had said, lis 

She dived within the flood, 

Whose face with smiling curls long after staid : 

Then sighs did zephyrs press, 

Birds sang from every wood, 

And echoes rang, This was true happiness ! 120 



I FEEL my bosom glow with wontless fires, 
Rais'd from the vulgar press my mind aspires, 
Wing'd with high thoughts, unto his praise to climb. 
From deep eternity who called forth time ; 
That essence which not mov'd makes each thing 
move, 5 

Uncreate beauty, all-creating love : 
]iut by so great an object, radiant light, 
My heart appall'd, enfeebled rests my sight. 
Thick clouds benight my labouring engine. 
And at my high attempts my wits repine. 10 


If thou in me this sacred rapture wrought. 

My knowledge sharpen, sarcels * lend my thought ; 

Grant me, time's Father, world-containing King, 

A pow'r, of thee in pow'rful lays to sing, 

That as thy beauty in earth lives, heaven shines, 15 

So it may dawn or shadow in my lines. 

As far beyond the starry walls of heaven, 
As is the loftiest of the planets seven 
Sequester'd from this earth, in purest light, 
Outshining ours, as ours doth sable night, 20 

Thou, all-sufficient, omnipotent, 
Thou ever-glorious, most excellent, 
( lod various in names, in essence one, 
High art installed on a golden throne, 
Outreaching heaven's wide vasts, the bounds of 

nought, 25 

Transcending all the circles of our thought : 
With diamanline sceptre in thy hand, 
There thou giv'st laws, and dost this world command, 
Tliis world of concords rais'd unlikely sweet. 
Which like a ball lies prostrate to thy feet. 30 

If so we may well say (and what we say. 
Here wrapt in flesh, led by dim reason's ray. 
To show by earthly beauties which we see. 
That spiritual excellence that shines in thee, 
Good Lord, forgive), not far from thy right side, ss 
With curled locks Youth ever dotii abide ; 
Kose-cheeked Youth, who, garlanded with flowers 
Still blooming, ceaselessly unto thee pours 

* Sarcels : pinions ; a term in falconrj'. 



Immortal nectar in a cup of gold, 

That by no darts of ages thou grow old, w 

j\.nd, as ends and beginnings thee not claim, 
Successionless that thou be still the same. 

Near to thy other side resistless Might, 
From head to foot in burnish'd armour diglit 
That rings about him, with a waving brand 4.j 

And watchful eye, great sentinel doth stand ; 
That neither time nor force in aught impair 
Thy workmanship, nor harm thine empire fair. 
Soon to give death to all again that would 
Stern discord raise, which thou destroy'd of old ; .w 
Discord, that foe to order, nurse of war, 
By which the noblest things demolish'd are ; 
I'ut, caitiff, she no treason doth devise, 
When might to nought doth bring her enterprise. 
Thy all-upholding Might her malice reins, .->.•; 

And her in hell throws bound in iron chains. 

With locks in waves of gold that ebb and flow 
On ivory neck, in robes more white than snow. 
Truth steadfastly before thee holds a glass, 
Indent with gems, where shineth all that was, i:u 

That is, or shall be. Here, ere aught was wrought. 
Thou knew all that thy pow'r with time forth brought, 
And more, things numberless which thou couldst 

That actually shall never being take : 
Here, thou behold'st thyself, and, strange, dost prove «.- 
At once the beauty, lover, and the love. 

With faces two, like sisters, sweetly fair. 
Whose blossoms no rough autumn can impair, 


Stands Providence, and doth her looks disperse 
Through every- corner of this universe ; 70 

Thy Providence at once which general things 
And singular doth rule, as empires kings ; 
Without whose care this world, lost, would remain 
As ship without a master in the main. 
As chariot alone, as lx)dies prove 75 

Depriv'd of souls by which they be, live, move. 

But who are they which shine thy throne so near ? 
With sacred countenance, and look severe. 
This in one hand a pond'rous sword doth hold, 
Her left stays charg'd with balances of gold ; so 

That with brows girt with bays, sweet-smiling face, 
Doth bear a brandon* with a babish grace ; 
Two milk-white wings him easily do move. 
O she thy Justice is, and this thy Love ! 
By this thou brouglU this engine great to light, ss 

By that it fram'd in number, measure, weight ; 
That destine doth reward to ill and good. 
But sway of Justice is by Love withstood, 
^^■hich did it not relent and mildly stay, 
This world ere now had had its funeral day. su 

What bands encluster'd near to these abide, 
Which into vast infinity them hide ; 
Infinity that neither doth admit 
Place, time, nor number to encroach on it ? 
Here bounty sparkleth, here doth beauty shine, 95 

Simplicity more white than gelsomine,t 

• Brandon : torch. 

t Gelsomine : jasmine; \X3.\. gelsomitio. 


Mercy with open wings, aye-varied bliss, 
Glory, and joy that bliss's darling is. 

Ineffable, all-pow'rful God, all-free, 
Thou only liv'st, and each thing lives by thee ; kw 
No joy, no, nor perfection to thee came 
By the contriving of this world's great frame ; 
Ere sun, moon, stars, began their restless race, 
Ere paint'd with purple light was heaven's round face, 
Ere air had clouds, ere clouds wept down their 
showers, 105 

Ere sea embraced earth, ere earth bare flowers, 
Thou happy liv'd ; world nought to thee supplied, 
All in thyself thyself thou satisfied. 
Of good no slender shadow doth appear. 
No age-worn track, in thee which shin'd not clear ; no 
Perfection's sum, prime cause of every cause, 
Midst, end, beginning, where all good doth pause. 
Hence of thy substance, differing in nought. 
Thou in eternity thy Son forth brought, 
The only birth of thy unchanging mind, 115 

Thine image, pattern-like that ever shin'd, 
Light out of light, begotten not by will. 
But nature, all and that same essence still 
Which thou thyself ; for thou dost nought possess 
Which he hath not, in aught nor is he less 120 

Than thou his great begetter. Of this light. 
Eternal, double, kindled was thy spright 
Eternally, who is with thee the same, 
All-holy gift, ainbassador, knot, flame. 
Most sacred Triad ! O most holy One ! iss 

Unprocrcate Father, ever-procreate Son, 


Ghost breath'd from both, you were, are, aye shall be. 

Most blessed, three in one, and one in three. 

Incomprehensible by reachless height. 

And unperceived by excessive light. 130 

So in our souls, three and yet one are still 

The understanding, memory, and will : 

So, though unlike, the planet of the days, 

So soon as he was made, begat his rays, 

Which are his offspring, and from both was hurl'd i:!5 

The rosy light which comfort doth the world, 

And none forewent another : so the spring. 

The well-head, and the stream which they forth 

Are but one selfsame essence, nor in aught 
Do differ, save in order, and our thought i40 

No chime of time discerns in them to fall, 
But three distinctly bide one essence all. 
But these express not thee ; who can declare 
Thy being ? Men and angels dazzled are : 
Who force this Eden would with wit or sense, ut 

A cherubin shall find to bar him thence. 
All's architect. Lord of this universe, 
Wit is ingulfd that would thy greatness pierce. 
.A.h ! as a pilgrim who the Alps doth pass. 
Or Atlas* temples crown'd with winter's glass, uo 

The airy Caucasus, the Apennine, 
Pyrenees' clifts where sun doth never shine, 
When he some heaps of hills hath overwent, 
Begins to think on rest, his journey spent, 
Till, mounting some tall mountain, he do find iss 

.More heights before him than he left behind : 


With halting ]5acc, so v\hile I would me raise 

To the unbounded eircuits of thy praise, 

Some part of way I tliought to have o'errun, 

But now I see how scarce I have begun ; im 

With wonders new my spirits range possest, 

And wand'ring wayless in a maze them rest. 

In those vast llelds of light, ethereal plains, 
Thou art attended by immortal trains 
Of intellectual powVs, which thou ])rought forth lus 
To praise thy goodness, and admire thy worth ; 
In numbers passing other creatures far, 
Since most in number noblest creatures are, 
Which do in knowledge us no less outrun, 
Than moon doth stars in light, or moon the sun. iro 
Unlike, in orders rang'd and many a band 
(If beauty in disparity doth stand), 
Archangels, angels, cherubs, seraphins. 
And what with name of thrones amongst them 

Large-ruling princes, dominations, powers, - 275 
All-acting virtues of those flaming towers : 
These freed of umbrage, these of labour free. 
Rest ravished with still beholding thee ; 
Inflam'd with beams which sparkle from thy face. 
They can no more derire, far less embrace. i»> 

Low under them, with slow and staggering pace. 
Thy handmaid Nature thy great steps doth trace. 
The source of second causes, golden chain 
That links this frame, as thou it dost ordain ; 
Nature gaz'd on with such a curious eye, m 

That earthlings oft her dcem'd a deity. 


By Nature led, those bodies fair and great, 

Which faint not in their course, nor change their 

Unintermixt, which no disorder prove. 
Though aye and contrarj- they always move ; iso 

The organs of thy providence divine, 
Books ever open, signs that clearly shine. 
Time's purpled maskers, then do them advance, 
As by sweet music in a measur'd dance. 
Stars, host of heaven, ye firmament's bright flow'rs, 195 
Clear lamps which overhang this stage of ours, 
Ve turn not there to deck the weeds of night, 
Nor, pageant-like, to please the vulgar sight ; 
Great causes, sure ye must bring great effects, 
But who can descant right your grave aspects ? ioo 
He only who you made, decipher can 
Your notes ; heaven's eyes, ye blind the eyes of man. 

Amidst these sapphire far-extended heights, 
The never-twinkling, ever-wand'ring lights 
Their fixed motions keep ; one dr)' and cold, -jxr, 

Deep-leaden colour"d, slowly there is roll'd ; 
With rule and line for time's steps measur'd even, 
In twice three lustres he but turns his heaven. 
With temperate qualities and countenance fair, 
.Still mildly smiling, sweetly debonair, -jhi 

Another cheers the world, and way doth make 
In twice six autumns through the zodiac. 
But hot and dry, with flaming locks and brows 
Knrag'd, this in his red pavilion glow.s. 
Together running with like speed, if space, 2)5 

Two equally in hands achieve iheir race ; 


With blushing face this oft doth bring the day, 

And ushers oft to stately stars the way ; 

That various in virtue, changing, light. 

With his small flame ingems the veil of night. 220 

Prince of this court, the sun in triumph rides, 

With the year snake-like in herself that glides ; 

Time's dispensator, fair life-giving source, 

Through sky's twelve posts as he doth run his 

Heart of this All, of what is known to sense 225 

The likest to his Maker's excellence ; 

In whose diurnal motion doth appear 

A shadow, no, true portrait of the year. 

The moon moves lowest, silver sun of night, 

Dispersing through the world her borrow'd light, 230 
Who in three forms her head abroad doth range, 
And only constant is in constant change. 

Sad queen of silence, I ne'er see thy face 
To wax, or wane, or shine with a full grace, 
But straight amaz'd on man I think, each day 2:!5 

His state who changeth, or, if he find stay, 
It is in dreary anguish, cares, and pains. 
And of his labours death is all the gains. 
Immortal Monarch, can so fond a thought 
Lodge in my breast, as to trust thou first brought 340 
Here in earth's shady cloister wretched man. 
To suck the air of woe, to spend li.e's span 
'Midst sighs and plaints, a stranger unto mirth, 
To give himself his death, rebuking birth ? 
By sense and wit of creatures made king, 34!5 

By sense and wit to live their underling ? 


And, what is worse, have eaglet's eyes to see 

His own disgrace, and know an high degree 

Of bliss, the place, if thereto he might climb, 

And not live thralled to imperious time ? 'Jso 

Or, dotard, shall I so from reason swer\-e. 

To deem those lights which to our use do serve — 

For thou dost not them need — more nobly fram'd 

Than us, that know their course, and have them 

nam'd ? 
No, I ne'er think but we did them surpass, iw 

As far as they do asterisms of glass, 
When thou us made. By treason high defil'd, 
Thrust from our first estate, we live exil'd, 
Wand'ring this earth, which is of death the lot, 
Where he doth use the pow'r which he hath got, jw 
Indifferent umpire unto clowns and kings, 
The supreme monarch of all mortal things. 

When first this flowery orb was to us given, 
It but in place disvalu'd was to heaven ; 
These creatures which now our sovereigns are, iw 
And as to rebels do denounce us war, 
Then were our vassals ; no tumultuous storm, 
No thunders, quakings, did her form deform ; 
The seas in tumbling mountains did not roar, 
But like moist crystal whispered on the shore ; 270 
No snake did mete her meads, nor ambush'd lower 
In azure curls beneath the sweet spring flower ; 
The nightshade, henbane, naple, aconite. 
Her bowels then not bare, with death to smite 
Her guiltless brood ; thy messengers of grace, 275 

As their high rounds, did haunt this lower place. 


( ) joy of joys ! with our first parents thou 

To commune then didst deign, as friends do now : 

Against thee we rebell'd, and justly thus 

Each creature rebelled against us ; 280 

Earth, reft of what did chief in her excel, 

To all became a jail, to most a hell, 

In time's full term until thy Son was given, 

^Vho man with thee, earth reconcil'd with heaven. 

Whole and entire, all in thyself thou art, -jsr, 

Ail-where diffus'd, yet of this All no part ; 
For infinite, in making this fair frame, 
Great without quantity, in all thou came, 
And filling all, how can thy state admit 
Or place or substance to be void of it ? lw 

Were worlds as many as the rays which stream 
From heaven's bright eyes, or 'nadding wits do dream. 
They would not reel in nought, nor wand'ring stray. 
But draw to thee, who could their centres stay; 
Were but one hour this world disjoin'd from thee, -!w 
It in one hour to nought reduc'd should be, 
For it thy shadow is ; and can they last, 
Ifscver'd from the substances them cast? 
O only blest, and author of all bliss, 
No, bliss itself, that ail-where wished is, .-juo 

Efficient, exemplary, final good, 
Of thine own self but only understood ! 
Light is thy curtain, thou art light of light, 
An ever- waking eye still shining bright, 
In-looking all, exempt of passive power aor, 

And change, in change since death's pale shade doth 


All times to thee are one ; that which hath run, 

And that which is not brought yet by the sun. 

To thee are present, who dost always see 

In present act what past is, or to be. 310 

Day-livers, we rememberance do lose 

Of ages worn, so miseries us toss 

(Blind and lethargic of thy heavenly grace. 

Which sin in our first parents did deface, 

And even while embryons cursed by justice' doom), 315 

That we neglect what gone is, or to come : 

But thou in thy great archives scrolled hast, 

In parts and whole, whatever yet hath past, 

Since first the marble wheels of time were roll'd, 

As ever living, never waxing old. '.io 

Still is the same thy day and yesterday, 

An undivided now, a constant aye. 

O King, whose greatness none can comprehend, 
Whose boundless goodness doth to all extend, 
Light of all beauty, ocean without ground, ;&-, 

That standing flowest, giving dost abound ; 
Rich palace, and indweller ever blest, 
Never not working, ever yet in rest ! 
What wit cannot conceive, words say of thee, 
Here, where, as in a mirror, we but see :y«i 

Shadows of shadows, atoms of thy might, 
Still owly-eyed when staring on thy light. 
Grant that, released from this earthly jail, 
And freed of clouds which here our knowledge 

In heaven's high temples, where thy praises ring, :k--< 
I may in sweeter notes hear angels sing. 



•Great God, whom we with huml)Ie thoughts adore, 
Eternal, infinite, ahnighty King, 
Whose dwellings heaven transcend, whose throne before 
Archangels serve, and seraphim do sing ; 
Of nought who wrought all that with wond'ring eyes 5 
We do behold within this spacious round, 
Who makes the rocks to rock, to stand the skies, 
At whose command clouds dreadful thunders sound ! 
Ah ! spare us worms ; weigh not how we, alas ! 
Evil to ourselves, against thy laws rebel ; 10 

Wash off those spots which still in mind's clear glass, 
Though we be loath to look, we see too well ; 
Deserv'd revenge O do not, do not take ! 
Do thou revenge, what shall abide thy blow? 
Pass shall this world, this world which thou didst 
make, is 

Which should not perish till thy trumpet blow. 
What soul is found whom parents' crime not stains. 
Or what with its own sin distain'd is not? 
Though Justice rigour threaten, ah ! her reins 
Let Mercy guide, and never be forgot. -m 

Less are our faults far, far than is thy love ; 
O what can better seem thy grace divine 
Than they, that plagues deserve, thy bounty prove, 
And where thou shower mayst vengeance, fair to 

shine ? 
Then look and pity, pitying, forgive 2s 

Us guilty slaves or servants now in thrall, 


Slaves, if alas ! thou look how we do live, 

Or doing ill, or doing nought at all ; 

Of an ungrateful mind a foul effect. 

But if thy gifts, which amply heretofore 30 

Thou hast upon us pour'd, thou dost respect, 

We are thy servants, nay, than servants more, 

Thy children, yes, and children dearly bought ; 

But what strange chance us of this lot bereaves ? 

Poor worthless wights, how lowly are, we brought, 35 

Whom grace made children, sin hath turned slaves ! 

Sill hath turn'd slaves, but let those bands grace break. 

That in our wrongs thy mercies may appear ; 

Thy wisdom not so mean is, pow'r so weak. 

But thousand ways they can make worlds thee fear. 40 

O wisdom boundless ! O miraculous grace ! 
Grace, wisdom, which make wink dim reason's eye, 
And could heaven's King bring from his placeless 

On this ignoble stage of care to die, 
To die our death, and with the sacred stream 45 

Of blood and water gushing from his side, 
To put away each odious act and lilame 
By us contriv'd, or our first parents' pride. 
Thus thy great love and pity, heavenly King, 
Love, pity, which so well our loss prevent, ' so 

Of evil itself, lo ! could all goodness bring, 
And sad beginning cheer with glad event. 
O love and pity, ill-known of these times ! 
O love and pity, careful of (^ur need ! 
O bounties, which our execrable crimes, as 

Now numlierlcss, contend ne'er to exceed ! 

vol.. II. D 


Make this excessive ardour of thy love 

So warm our coldness, so our lives renew, 

That we from sin, sin may from us remove, 

Wit may our will, faith may our wit subdue. m 

Let thy pure love burn up all worldly lust. 

Hell's pleasant poison killing our best part, 

Which makes us joy in toys, adore frail dust 

Instead of thee, in temple of our heart. 

Grant, when at last our souls these bodies leave, 65 
Their loathsome shops of sin, and mansions blind. 
And doom before thy royal seat receive, 
They may a Saviour, not a judge thee find. 



Above those boundless bounds where stars do move, 

The ceiling of the crystal round above, 

And rainbow-sparkling arch of diamond clear, 

Which crowns the azure of each under sphere, 

In a rich mansion radiant with light, 5 

To which the sun is scarce a taper bright. 

Which, though a body, yet so pure is fram'd, 

That almost spiritual it may be nam'd ; 

* First published in the second edition of Flowers of 
Siofi, 1630. 


Where bliss aboundeth, and a lasting May, 
-Vll pleasures heiglu'ning, flourisheth for aye, i» 

The King of ages dwells. About his throne, 
Like to those beams day's golden lamp hath on. 
Angelic splendours glance, more swift than aught 
Keveal'd to sense, nay, than the winged thought, 
His will to practise : here do seraphim .5 

Burn with immortal love, there cherubim 
With other noble people of the light. 
As eaglets in the sun, delight their sight ; 
Heaven's ancient denizens, pure active powers, 
Which, freed of death, that cloister high em- 
bowers, 20 
Kthereal princes, ever-conquoring bands, 
Blest subjects acting what their King commands ; 
Sweet quiristers, by whose melodious strains 
Skies dance, and earth untir'd their brawl * sustains : 
Mixed among whose sacred legions dear -js 
The spotless souls of humans do appear, 
Divesting bodies which diil cares divest, 
And there live happy in eternal rest. 

Hither, surcharg'd with grief, fraught with annoy, 
.Sad spectacle into that place of joy, :io 

Her hair disordered dangling o'er her face, 
Which had of pallid violets the grace. 
The crimson mantle wont her to adorn 
Cast loose about, and in large pieces torn, 
.Sighs breathing forth, and from her heavy eyne :« 

\long her cheeks diKiilling crystal brine, 

• Brawl : dance. 


Which downwards to her ivory breast was driven, 

And had bedewed the milky-way of heaven, 

Came Piety : at her left hand near by 

A wailing woman bare her company, •»« 

Whose tender babes her snowy neck did clip. 

And now hang on her pap, now by her lip : 

Flames glanc'd her liead above, which once did 

But late look pale, a poor and ruthful show! 
She sobbing shrunk the throne of God before, 45 

And thus began her case to him deplore. 

" Forlorn, wretch'd, desolate, to whom should I 
My refuge have, below or in the sky, 
But unto thee ? See, all-beholding King, 
That servant, no, that darling thou didst bring so 

On earth, lost man to save from hell's abysm, 
And raise unto these regions above time, 
Who made thy name so truly be implor'd, 
And by the reverent soul so long ador'd ; 
Her banish'd now see from these lower bounds, 55 
Behold her garments' shreds, her body's wounds ; 
Loolc how her sister Charity there stands, 
Proscrib'd on earth, all maim'd by wicked hands : 
Mischief there mounts to such a high degree 
That there now none is left who cares for me. no 

There dwells idolatiy, there atheism reigns. 
There man in dumb, yet roaring sins him stains ; 
80 foolish that he puppets will adore 
Of metal, stone, and birds, beasts, trees, before 
He once will to thy holy ser^-ice bow, ts 

And yield thee homage. Ah, alas ! yea now 


To those black sprights, which thou dost keep in 

He vows obedience, and with shameful pains 
Infernal horrors courts ; case fond and strange, 
To bane than bliss desiring more the change ! 70 

Thy charity, of graces once the chief. 
Did long time find in hospitals relief. 
Which now lie levell'd with the lowest ground, 
^Vhere sad memorials scarce are of them found ; 
Then vagabonding, temples her receiv'd, 7s 

Where my poor cells afforded what she crav'd ; 
But now thy temples raz'd are, human blood 
Those places stains, late where thy altars stood ; 
'limes are so horrid, to implore thy name 
That it is held now on the earth a blame, so 

Now doth the warrior with his dart and sword 
Write laws in blood, and vent them for thy word ; 
Religion, faith, pretending to make known, 
All have all faith, religion quite o'ei thrown ; 
Men aweless, lawless live, most woful case ! ss 

Men, no more men, a God-contemning race." 

Scarce had she said, when from the netlier world, 
Like to a lightning ihrougli the welkin hurl'd. 
That scores with flames the way, and every eye 
With terror dazzles as it swimmeth by, 90 

Came Justice ; to whom angels did make place. 
And Truth her flying footsteps straight did trace. 
I ler sword wxs lost, the precious weights she bare 
Their beam had torn, scales rudely bruised were : 
From off her head was reft her golden crown, »5 

In rags her veil was rent, and star-spangl'd gown ; 


Ilcr tear-wcl locks hung o'er her face, which made 
Between her and the mighty King a shade ; 
Just wrath had rais'd her colour (like the morn 
Portending clouds' moist emhryons to be born), n'n 
Of which she taking leave, with heart swoU'tt great, 
Thus strove to plain before the throne of state. 

" Is not the earth thy workmanship, great King? 
Didst thou not all this All from nought once bring 
To this rich beauty which dotli on it shine, wr. 

Bestowing on each creature of thine 
Some shadow of thy bounty ? Is not man 
Thy vassal, plac'd to spend his life's short span 
To do thee homage ? And then didst not thou 
A queen instal me there, to whom should bow no 

Thy earth's indwellers, and to this effect 
Put in my hand thy sword ? O high neglect ! 
Now wretched earthlings, to thy great disgrace 
Perverted have my pow'r, and do deface 
All reverend tracts of justice ; now the earth U5 

Is but a frame of shame, a funeral hearth, 
Where every virtue hath consumed been, 
And nought, no^ not their dust, rests to be seen. 
Long hath it me abhorr'd, long chased me ; 
Expelled last, here I have fled to thee, 120 

And forthwith rather would to hell repair 
Than earth, sith justice execute is there. 
All live on earth by spoil ; the hcst his guest 
Betrays ; the man of her lies in his breast 
Is not assured ; the son the father's death 125 

Attempts ; and kindred kindred reave of breath 
By lurking means : of such age few makes sick, 


Since hell disgorg'd her baneful arsenic. 

Whom murders, foul assassinates defile. 

Most who the harmless innocent beguile, iso 

Who most can ravage, rob, ransack, blaspheme. 

Is held most virtuous, hath a worthy's name : 

So on embolden'd malice they rely. 

That, madding, thy great puissance they defy : 

Erst man resembl'd thy portrait, soil'd by smoke 135 

Now like thy creature hardly doth he look. 

Old Nature here fshe pointed where there stood 

An aged lady in a heavy mood) 

Doth break her staff, denying human race 

To come of her, things born to her disgrace ! ho 

The dove the dove, the swan doth love the swan ; 

Nought so relentless unto man as man. 

O ! if thou mad'st this world, govem'st it all, 

Deserved vengeance on the earth let fall ; 

The period of her standing perfect is, 345 

Her hourglass not a minute short doth miss. 

The end, O Lord, is come : then let no more 

Mischief still triumph, bad the good devour ; 

But of thy word sith constant, true thou art, 

Give good their guerdon, wicked due desert."' i.'io 

She said. Throughout the shining palace went 
A murmur soft, such as afar is sent 
Hy musked zephyrs' sighs along the main, 
Or when they curl some flowery lea and plain ; 
(Jne was their thought, one their intention, will, iss 
Nor could they err, truth there residing still : 
All, mov'd with zeal, as one with cries did pray, 
Hasten, O Lord, O hasten the last day! 


Look how a generous prince, wlicn he dolh 
Some loving city, and to him most dear, iim 

Which wont with gifts and shows him entertain, 
And as a father's did obey his reign, 
A rout of slaves and rascal foes to wrack, 
Her buildings overthrow, her riches sack, 
P'eels vengeful flames within his bosom burn, i8o 

And a just rage all respects overturn : 
So seeing earth, of angels once the inn, 
Mansion of saints, deflow'red all by sin, 
And quite confus'd by wretches here beneath, 
The world's great Sovereign moved was to wrath : no 
Thrice did he rouse himself, thrice from his face 
Flames sparkle did throughout the heavenly place. 
The stars, though fixed, in their rounds did quake ; 
The earth and earth-embracing sea did shake ; 
Carmel and Hiemus felt it ; Athos' tops 175 

-Affrighted shrunk, and, near the /Ethiops, 
Atlas, the Pyrenees, the Apennine, 
And lofty Grampius, which with snow dotli sliine. 
Then to the synod of the sprights he swore 
Man's care should end, and time should be no 

more ; i8i> 

By his own self he swore of perfect wortli, 
Straight to perform his word sent angels fortli. 
There lies an island, where the radiant sun. 
When he doth to the northern tropic run, 
Of six long monelhs makes one tedious day ; iss 

And when through southern signs he holds his 


Six moneths turneth in one loathsome night 
(Night neither here is fair, nor day hot-bright, 
But half white and half Moor *), where sadly 

Still coldly glance the beams of either bear, iso 

The frosty- Greenland. On the lonely shore 
The ocean in mountains hoarse doth roar. 
And over-tumbling, tumbling over rocks, 
Casts various rainbows, which in froth he chokes ; 
(Julfs all about are shrunk most strangely steep, i:>i 
Than Nilus' cataracts more vast and deep. 
To the wild land beneath to make a shade, 
A mountain lifteth up his crested head : 
His locks are icicles, his brows are snow, 
Vet from his burning bowels deep below, 200 

Comets, far- flaming pyramids, are driven. 
And pitchy meteors, to the cope of heaven. 
No summer here the lovely grass forth brings, 
Nor trees, no, not the deadly cypress springs. 
Cave-loving Echo, daughter of the air, -ms 

V>y human voice was never waken'd here : 
Instead of night's black birds and plaintful owl. 
Infernal furies here do yell and howl. 
A mouth yawns in this height so black obscure 
With vapours, that no eye it can endure : Jio 

< jreat .Ktna's caverns never yet did make 
.Such sable damps, though they be hideous black : 
Stern horrors here eternally do dwell, 
And this gulf destine for a gale to hell. 

* Moor : black. 


Forth from this place of dread, eartli to appal, 215 

Three Furies * rushed at the angel's call. 

One with long tresses doth her visage mask, 

Her temples clouding in a horrid casque ; 

Her right hand swings a brandon in the air, 

Which flames and terror hurleth everywhere ; -j-o 

Pond'rous with darts, her left doth bea- a shield. 

Where Gorgon's head looks grim in sable field ; 

Her eyes blaze fire and blood, each hair stills blood, 

Blood trills from eitlier pap ; and where she stood 

Blood's liquid coral sprang her feet beneath ; i-js 

Where she doth stretch her arm is blood and death. 

Her Stygian head no sooner she uprears, 

When earth of swords, helms, lances, straight appears 

To be delivered, and from out her womb 

In flame-wing'd thunders artillery doth come ; 230 

Floods' silver streams do take a blushing dye, 

The plains with breathless bodies buried lie ; 

Rage, wrong, rapt, sacrilege do her attend. 

Fear, discord, wrack, and woes which have none 

Town is by town, and prince by prince withstood, ms 
Earth turns an hideous shambles, a lake of blood. 
The next, with eyes sunk hollow in her brains, 
Lean face, snarl'd hair, with black and empty veins. 
Her dried-up bones scarce covered with her skin, 
Bewraying that strange structure built within, -jm 

Thigh-bellyless, most ghastly to the sight, 
A wasted skeleton rescmbleth right. 

* Three Furies : War, Famine, and Pestilence. 


Where she doth roam, in air faint do the birds, 
Yawn do earth's ruthless brood and harmless herds ; 
The woods' wild foragers do howl and roar, 24.3 

The humid swimmers die along the shore ; 
In towns, the living do the dead up-eat, 
Then die themselves ; alas ! and wanting meat, 
Mothers not spare the birth of their own wombs. 
But turn those nests of life to fatal tombs. -^ 

Last did a saffron-colour'd hag come out, 
With uncomb'd hair, brows banded all about 
With dusky clouds, in ragged mantle clad, 
Her breath with stinking fumes the air bespread ; 
In either hand she held a whip, whose wires iss 

Still'd poison, blaz'd with Phlegethontal fires. 
Relentless, she each state, sex, age defiles. 
Earth streams with gores, burns with invenomM 

biles ; 
Where she repairs, towns do in deserts turn, 
The living have no pause the dead to mourn ; eno 

The friend, ah ! dares not lock the dying eyes 
Of his belov'd, the wife the husband flies ; 
Men basilisks to men prove, and by breath 
Than lead or steel bring worse and swifter death : 
No cypress, obsequies, no tomb they have, S'W 

The sad heaven mostly serves them for a grave. 

These over earth tumultuously do run, 
South, north, from rising to the setting sun ; 
They some time part, yet, than the winds more fleet. 
Forthwith together in one place they meet. -"To 

Great Quinzai ye it know, Susania's pride, 
And you where stalely Tilxir's streams do glide, 


Memphis, I'arthenope, ye too ii know, 

And where Euripus' sevenfold tide doth flow : 

Vc know it, empresses on Thames, Rhone, Seine, -jrr, 

And ye fair queens by Tagus, Danube, Rhine. 

Though they do scour the earth, roam far and 

Not thus content the angels leave their charge : 
We of her wrack these slender signs may name. 
By greater they the judgment do proclaim. ;;aii 

This centre's centre with a mighty blow 
One bruiseth, whose crack'd concaves louder low 
And rumble, than if all the artillery 
On earth discharged at once were in the sky ; 
Her surface shakos, her mountains in the main iss 
Turn topsy-turvy, of heights making plain ; 
Towns them ingulf, and late where towers did stand. 
Now naught remaineth but a waste of sand ; 
With turning eddies seas sink underground. 
And in their floating depths are valleys found ; •-•so 
Late where with foamy crests waves tilted waves. 
Now fishy bottoms shine and mossy caves. 
The mariner casts an amazed eye 
On his wing'd firs, which bedded he finds lie, 
Yet can he see no shore ; but whilst he thinks, 295 
What hideous crevice that huge current drinks, 
The streams rush back again with storming tide, 
And now his ships on crystal mountains glide. 
Till they be hurl'd far beyond seas and hope, 
And settle on some hill or palace top, 3o« 

Or, by triumphant surges overdriven, 
Show earth their entrails, and their keels the heaven. 


Sky's cloudy tables some do paint with fights 
Of armed squadrons, justling steeds and knights, 
With shining crosses, judge, and sapphire throne ; dos 
Arraigned criminals to howl and groan, 
And plaints sent forth are heard ; new worlds seen, 

With other suns and moons, false stars decline. 
And dive in seas ; red comets warm the air, 
And blaze, as other worlds were judged there. ao 

Others the heavenly bodies do displace. 
Make sun his sister's stranger steps to trace ; 
Beyond the course of spheres he drives his coacli, 
And near the cold Arcturus doth ai)proach ; 
The Scythian amaz'd is at such beams, 315 

The Mauritanian to see icy streams ; 
The shadow which erewhile turn'd to the west, 
Now wheels about, then reeleth to the east ; 
New stars above the eighth heaven sparkle clear, 
Mars chops with Saturn, Jove claims Mars's sphere ; 320 
Shrunk nearer earth, all blackened now and brown. 
In mask of weeping clouds appears the moon. 
There are no seasons ; autumn, summer, spring, 
Are all stem winter, and no birth forth bring ; 
Red turns the sky's blue curtain o'er this globe, 325 
As to propine the judge with purple robe. 

At first, entranc'd, with sad and curious eyes 
Earth's pilgrims stare on those strange prodigies ; 
The stargazcr this round finds truly move 
In parts and whole, yet by no skill can prove 3:!(i 

The firmament's stay'd firmness. They which dream 
An evcrlastingness in world's vast frame, 



Think well some region where they dwell may 

But that the whole nor time nor force can shake ; 
Vet, frantic, muse to see heaven's stately lights, .m 
Like drunkards, wayless reel amidst their heights. 
Such as do nations govern, and command 
Vasts of the sea and empirics of land, 
Repine to see their countries overthrown, 
And find no foe their fur>- to make known. 
Alas ! say they, what boots our toils and pains ? 
Of care on earth is this the furthest gains ? 
No riches now can bribe our angry fate, 
O no ! to blast our pride the heavens do threat ; 
In dust now must our greatness buried lie, .•i45 

Vet is it comfort witli the world to die. 
As more and more the warning signs increase, 
Wild dread deprives lost Adam's race of peace ; 
From out their grandam Earth they fain would fly, 
But whither know not, heavens are far and high. ;jdo 
Each would bewail and mourn his own distress, 
But public cries do private tears suppress ; 
Laments, plaints, shrieks of woe disturb all ears, 
And fear is equal to the pain it fears. 

Amidst this mass of cruelty and slights, 333 

This galley full of God-despising wights, 
This jail of sin and shame, this filthy stage 
Where all act folly, misery, and rage ; 
Amidst those throngs of old prepar'd for hell, 
Those numbers which no Archimede can tell, seo 

A silly crew did lurk, a harmless rout, 
Wand'ring the earth, which (Jod had chosen out 


To live witli him (few roses which did blow 
Among those weeds earth's garden overgrow ; 
A dew of gold still'd on earth's sandy mine, aa 

Small diamonds in world's rough rocks which shine), 
By purple tyrants which pursued and chas'd, 
Liv'd recluses, in lonely islands plac'd ; 
Or did the mountains haunt, and forests wild, 
Which they than towns more harmless found, and 
mild ; arc 

Where many a hymn they to their Maker's praise 
Teach'd groves and rocks, which did resound their lays. 
Nor sword nor famine, nor plague poisoning air. 
Nor prodigies appearing everj where, 
Nor all the sad disorder of this All, 3-s 

Could this small handful of the world appal. 
But as the flower, which during winter's cold 
Runs to the root, and lurks in sap uproU'd, 
.So soon as the great planet of the year 
Begins the twins' dear mansion to clear, jso 

Lifts up its fragrant head, and to the field 
A spring of beauty and delight doth yield ; 
So at those signs and apparitions strange, 
Their thoughts, looks, gestures did begin to change ; 
Joy makes their hands to clap, their hearts to dance, .iss 
In voice turns music, in their eyes doth glance. 

What can, say they, these changes else portend, 
( ){ this great frame save the approaching end ? 
Past are the signs, all is perform'd of old 
Which the Almighty's heralds us foretold. nun 

Heaven now no longer shall of God's great power 
A turning temple be, but fixed tower ; 


Burn shall this nioital mass amidst the air, 

Of divine Justice turn'd a trophy fair ; 

Near is the last of days, whose light embalms ■:.m 

Past griefs, and all our stormy cares becalms. 

O happy day ! O cheerful lioly day, 

Which night's sad sables shall not take away ! 

Farewell, complaints, and ye yet doubtful thoughts. 

Crown now your hopes with comforts long time 

sousjht ; 
Wip'd from our eyes now shall be every tear, 
Sighs stopp'd, since our salvation is so near. 
What long we long'd for, God at last hath given, 
Earth's chosen bands to join with those of heaven ; 
Now noble souls a guerdon just shall find, 411.1 

And rest and glory be in one combin'd ; 
Now, more than in a mirror, by these eyne 
Even face to face our Maker shall be seen. 
O welcome wonder of the soul and sight ! 
O welcome object of all true delight ! 410 

Thy triumphs and return we did expect. 
Of all past toils to reap the dear effect : 
Since thou art just, perform thy holy word, 
O come still hop'd-for, come, long wish'd-for Lord ! 
While thus they pr.iy, the heavens in flames appear, us 
As if they shew fire's elemental sphere ; 
The earth seems in the sun, the welkin gone ; 
Wonder all hushes ; straight the air doth groan 
With trumpets, which thrice louder sounds do yield 
Than deafening thunders in the airy field. 420 

Created nature at the clangour quakes, 
Immur'd with flames, earth in a palsy shakes, 


And from her womb the dust in several heaps 

Takes Hfe, and mustereth into human shapes : 

Hell bursts, and the foul prisoners there bound 425 

Come howling to the day, with serpents crown'd. 

Millions of angels in the lofty height, 

Clad in pure gold and the electar * bright. 

Ushering the way still where the Judge should 

In radiant rainbows vault the skies above, 430 

Which quickly open, like a curtain driven. 
And, beaming glory, show the ICing of Heaven. 
What Persian prince, Assyrian most renown'd. 
What Scythian with conquering squadrons crown'd. 
Entering a breached city, where conspire 435 

Fire to dry blood, and blood to quench out fire, 
Where cutted carcasses' quick members reel. 
And by their ruin blunt the reeking steel, 
Kesembleth now the ever-living King ? 
What face of Troy, which doth with yelling ring, 44o 
And Grecian flames transported in the air, 
What dreadful spectacle of Carthage fair, 
What picture of rich Corinth's tragic wrack, 
Or of Numantia the hideous sack, 
Or these together shown, the image, face, 4J5 

Can represent of earth, and plaintful case. 
Which must lie smoking in the world's vast womb, 
And to itself both fuel be and tomb ? 

Near to that sweet and odoriferous clime, 
Where the all-cheering emperor of time mo 

* Electar : perhaps amber, ijKiKrpov. 

VOL. II. ^ 


Makes spring the cassia, nard, and fragrant balms, 
And every hill and collin crowns with palms ; 
Where incense sweats, where weeps the precious 

And cedars overtop the pine and fir ; 
Near where the aged phoenix, tired of breath, -lou 

Doth build her nest, and takes new life in death ; 
A valley into wide and open fields 
Far it extendeth, * » * 

T/ie rest is desired. 


Ii'' that were true which whispered is by Fame, 
That Damon's light no more on earth doth burn, 
His patron Pha'bus physic would disclaim. 
And cloth'd in clouds as erst for Phaethon mourn. 

Yea, Fame by this had got so deep a wound, 5 

That scarce she could have power to tell his death, 
Her wings cut short ; who could her trumpet sound. 
Whose blaze of late was nurs'd but by his breath ? 

That spirit of his which most with mine was free. 
By mutual traffic interchanging store, la 

If chas'd from him, it would have com'd to me, 
Where it so oft familiar was before. 


Some secret grief distempering first my mind, 
Had, though not knowing, made me feel this loss ; 
A sympathy had so our souls combin'd, 15 

That such a parting both at once would toss. 

Though such reports to others terror give. 

Thy heavenly virtues who did never spy, 

I know, thou, that canst make the dead to live. 

Immortal art, and needs not fear to die. 20 


• TO S. W. A.* 

Though I have twice been at the doors of death, 

And twice found shut those gates which ever mourn, 

This but a light'ning is, truce ta'en to breath, 

For late-born sorrows augur fleet return. 

Amidst thy sacred cares and courtly toils, s 

Alexis, when thou shalt hear wand'ring Fame 

Tell, Death halh triuniph'd o'er my mortal spoils, 

And that on earth I am but a sad name ; 

If thou e'er held me dear, by all our love, 

iJy all that bliss, those joys Heaven here us gave, 10 

I conjure thee, and by the maids of Jove, 

To grave this short remembrance on my grave : 

Here Damon lies, whose songs diil sometime grace 
The murmuring Esk ; may roses shade the place ! 

• Sir William Alexander. 



This bcauly, which pale death in dust did turn, 

And clos'd so soon within a coffin sad, 

Did pass like lightning, like to thunder burn ; 

So little life so much of worth it had ! 

Heavens but to show their might here made it shine, 5 

And when admir'd, then in the world's disdain, 

O tears ! O grief ! did call it back again, 

Lest earth should vaunt she kept what was divine. 

What can we hope for more, what more enjoy, 

Sith fairest things thus soonest have their end ; lo 

And, as on bodies shadows do attend, 

Sith all our bliss is follow'd with annoy ? 

She is not dead, she lives where she did love. 
Her memory on earth, her soul above. 


Let holy David, Solomon the wise. 
That king whose breast Egeria did inflame, 
Augustus, Helen's son, great in all eyes, 
Do homage low to thy mausolean frame ; 

* First published in the second edition of Flowers 
of Sion, 1630. 


And Ixjw before thy laurel anademe 5 

Let all those sacred swans, which to the skies 

By never-dying lays have rais'd their name, 

From north to south, where sun doth set and rise. 

Religion, orphan'd, waileth o'er thine urn. 

Out Justice weeps her eyes, now truly blind ; lo 

In Niobes the remnant virtues turn ; 

Fame, but to blaze thy glories, lives behind. 

The world, which late was golden by thy breath, 
Is iron turn'd, and horrid by thy death. 







King of Great liriiain, France, and Ireland, into his 

Ancient and Royal City of Edinbitr«h, the 

x^th of June, mdcxxxiii. 

Without the gate which is towards the west, where 
the street ascendeth to Heriot's Hospital, did an arch 
arise of height * * * of breadth * * * square with 
the battlements and inmost side of the town-wall : the 
face looking to the Castle represented a city situated 
on a rock, which with pointed cliffs, shrubs, trees, 
herbs, and verdure, did appear in perspective upon 
the battlements. In great letters was written, 

T II E A A, 

as Ptolomeus nameth it.* In a less and different 
character was written, 


* Wjip^jnitv <TTpaT6irt8ov, the winged camp; caslra 
alula. \'m\ it is doubtful if ICdinlnirph hi- tbo place 
meant by I'lolfmy. 



and under that, in .1 different colour, M. Rdcnbourgh. 
The rock was inscribed Montapta tie Dianiant, after 
two Italians, which gave that name to the greatest 
rock near Edinburgh, and Cardan, who in his book 
Dc Rerutn Varieiale, highly prizelh the diamond of 
the rock. 

In the frieze under the town was written, 


Upon one side of the town was drawn the flood 
Lithus,* in a mantle of sea-green or water-colour, a 
crown of sedges and reeds on his head, with long 
locks : his arm leaned upon an earthen pot, out of 
which water and fishes seemed to run forth ; in his 
hand he held a bundle of flowers. Over him was 


On the other side of the town appeared Neptune 
bestriding his Hippocampus, the Nereids about him, 
his trident in his hand. The word over him was, 


The theatre under the arch was a mountain, upon 
which appeared the Genius of the town, represented 
by a nymph : she was attired in a sea-green velvet 
mantle, her sleeves and under-robe of blue tissue, 
with blue buskins on her feet ; about her neck she 
wore a chain of diamonds, the dressing of her head 

* The flood Lithus : Leith Water. 


represented a castle with turrets, her locks dangled 
about her shoulders. Upon her right hand stood 
Religion all in white taffeta, with a blue mantle 
seeded with stars, a crown of stars on her head, to 
show from whence she is : she leaned her on a 
scutcheon, whereupon was a cross with the word, 


Beneath her feet lay Superstition trampled, a woman 
blind, in old and worn garments ; her scutcheon had, 
i//tra Saitromatas.*' On the left hand of this nymph 
stood Justice, a woman in a red damask mantle, her 
undcr-garments cloth of silver : on her head a crown 
of gold ; on a scutcheon she had balances and a sword 
drawn. The word was, 


Beneath the feet of Justice lay Oppression trampled, 
a person of a fierce aspect, in arms, but broken all 
and scattered. The word was, 


The mountain, at the approach of the King's 
Majesty, moved, and the nymph thus spake unto 
him : — 

" Sir, — If nature could suffer rocks to move, and 
abandon their natural places, this town, founded on 

* Ultra Sauromata^. The meaning is, that stip':;rsti- 
tion was banish'-d beyond the Sannatians ; i.e.. to the 
farthest confines of the earth. 


the slicngth of rocks (now, by all-chceving rays of 
your Majesty's presence, taking not only motion, 
Init life), had, v/ith her castle, temples, and houses, 
moved towards you, and besought you to acknow- 
ledge her yours, and her indwellers your most humble 
and affectionate subjects, and to believe how many 
souls are within her circuits, so many lives are devoted 
to your sacred person and crown. And here, Sir, 
she offers by me, to the altar of your glory, whole 
hecatombs of most happy desires, praying all things 
may prove prosperous unto you, that every virtue and 
heroic grace which make a prince eminent, may willi 
a long and blessed government attend you, your 
kingdoms flourisliing abroad with bays, at home 
with olives ; presenting you. Sir (who art the strong 
key of this little world of Great Britain), with these 
keys, which cast up the gates of her affection, and 
desig-n you power to open all the springs of the hearts 
of these her most loyal citizens. Yet this almost 
not necessary, for as the rose at the far-appearing 
of the morning star displayeth and spreadeth her 
purples, so at the very noise of your happy return to 
this your native country, their hearts, if they could 
have shined without their breasts, were with joy 
and fair hopes made spacious ; nor did they ever in 
all parts feel a more comfortable heat than the glory 
of your presence at this time darteth upon them. 

'•The old forget their age, and look fresh and 
young at the sight of so gracious a Prince ; the young 
bear a part in your welcome, desiring many years 
of life, that they may serve you long ; all have more 


joys than tongues, for, as the words of other nations 
far go beyond and surpass the affection of their hearts, 
so in this nation the affection of their hearts is far 
above all they can express by words. Deign then, 
Sir, from the highest of majesty, to look down on 
their lowness, 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 deserts of your ancestors, 
and shall ever to your own, and your royal race, 
whilst these rocks shall be overshadowed with build- 
ings, these buildings inhabited by men, and while 
men be endued either with counsel or courage, or 
enjoy any piece of reason, sense, or life." 

The keys being delivered in a basin of silver, and 
his Majesty received by the magistrates under a pall 
of state, where the street ascendeth proudest, begin- 
ning to turn toward:; the gate of the old town, he 
meetelh with an arch, the height of which was * * * 
the breadth * * * The frontispiece of this represented, 
in landscape, a country wild, full of trees, bushes, 
boars, white kine, along the which appeared one great 
mountain to extend itself, with the word upon it, 


In some parts was seen the sea enriched with 
coral, and the mussel that conceiveth the pearl ; 
farther off, in an island, appeared a flaming moun- 
tain, with the word, 



On the chapter was a lion rampant ; the word, 


On the landscape was Caledonia in great letters 
written, and part represented a number of men in 
arms, flying and retiring, with S. P. Q. R. on tlieir 
ensigns, which shew them to be Romans ; another 
part had a number of naked persons flying and 
enchained, with the figures of the sun, moon, and 
stars, drawn on their skins, and shapes of flowers, 
which represented the Picts, under the Romans, and 


A curtain falling, the theatre discovered a lady 
attired in tissue ; her hair was dressed like a cornu- 
copia ; two chains, one of gold, another of pearl, 
baudrick-ways, hung down her shoulders ; a crown 
of gold hung from the arch before her : she repre- 
sented the Genius of Caledonia. Near unto her 
stood a woman with an olive-coloured mask, long 
black locks waving over her back ; her attire was 
of divers coloured feathers, which shew her to be an 
American, and to represent New Scotland. The 
scutcheon in her hand bare the arms of New Scotland, 
with this word, 



His Majesty coming near, was welcomed with 
these verses by 


The heavens have heard our vows, our just desires 

Obtained are, no higher now aspires 

Our wishing thought, since to his native cHme 

The flower of Princes, honour of his time — 

Encheering all our dales, hills, forests, streams, 5 

As Phoebus doth the summer with his beams — 

Is come, and radiant to us in his train 

The golden age and virtues brings again. 

Prince so much longed for, how thou becalm'st 

Mind's easeless anguish, every care embalm'st lo 

With the sweet odours of thy presence ! Now 

In swelling tides joys everywhere do flow 

By thine approach ; and that the world may see 

What unthought wonders do attend on thee. 

This kingdom's angel I, who since that day is 

That ruthless fate thy parent reft away, 

And made a star, appear'd not anywhere. 

To gratulate thy coming come am here. 

Hail, Princes' phoenix. Monarch of all hearts, 
Sovereign of love and justice, who imparts 20 

More than thou canst receive ! To thee this crown 
Is due by birth, Vjut more it is thine own 
By just desert ; and ere another brow 
Than thine should reach the same, my floods should flow 
With hot vermilion gore, and every plain as 

Level the hills with carcasses of slain, 
This isle become a red sea. Now how sweet 


Is il to me, when love and laws thus meet, 

To girt thy tcmpks with this diadem, 

My nurslings' sacred fear, and dearest gem ! »o 

No Roman, Saxon, Pict, by sad alarms 

Could this acquire and keep ; the heavens in arms 

From us repell'd all perils, nor by wars 

Ought here was won but gaping wounds and scars : 

Our lion's climacteric now is past, - 

And crown'd with bays he rampants free at last. 

Here are no Serean fleeces, Peru gold, 
Aurora's gems, nor wares by Tyrians sold ; 
Towns swell not here with Babylonian walls, 
Nor Nero's sky-resembling gold-ceil'd halls, 
Nor Memphis' spires, nor Quinzay's arched frames, 
Captiving seas, and giving lands their names : 
Faith, milk-white Faith, of old belov'd so well. 
Yet in this corner of the world doth dwell 
With her pure sisters. Truth, Simplicity ; 
Here banish'd Honour bears them company ; 
A Mars-adorning brood is here, their wealth 
Sound minds and bodies of as sound a health ; 
Walls here are men, who fence their cities more 
Than Neptune, when he doth in mountains roar. 
Doth guard this isle, or all those forts and towers, 
Amphion's harp rais'd about Thebes' bowers ; 
Heaven's arch is oft their roof, the pleasant shed 
Of oak and plane oft serves them for a bed : 
To suffer want, soft pleasure to despise. 
Run over panting mountains crown'd with ice. 
Rivers o'ercome, the vastest lakes appal, 
Being to themselves oars, steerers, ship and all, 




Is their renown. A brave all-daring race, 
Courageous, prudent, doth this climate grace ; 6o 

Vet the firm base on which their glory stands. 
In peace true hearts, in wars is valiant hands. 
Which here, great King, they offer up to thee, 
Thy worth respecting as thy pedigree : 
Though much it be to come of princely stem, 65 

More is it to deserve a diadem. 

Vouchsafe, blest people, ravish'd here with me, 
To think my thoughts, and see what I do see ; 
A Prince all-gracious, affable, divine, 
Meek, wise, just, valiant, whose radiant shine -o 

Of virtues, like the stars about the pole 
Gilding the night, enlight'neth every soul 
Your sceptre sways ; a Prince born in this age. 
To guard the innocents from tyrants' rage. 
To make peace prosper, justice to reflower 75 

In desert hamlet as in lordly bower ; 
A Prince that, though of none he stand in awe, 
Vet first subjects himself to his own law ; 
Who joys in good, and still, as right directs, 
His greatness measures by his good effects ; m 

His people's pedestal, who, rising high 
To grace this throne, makes Scotland's name to fly 
On halcyon's wings, her glory which restores 
P.cyond the ocean to Columbus' shores. 
God's sacred picture in this man adore, 85 

1 lonour his valour, zeal, his piety more ; 
High value what ye hold, him deep ingrave 
In your heart's heart, from whom all good ye 
have ; 



For, as moon's splendour from her brother springs, 
The people's welfare streameth from their kings. do 
Since your love's object doth immortal prove, 
O love this Prince with an eternal love ! 

Fray that those crowns his ancestors did wear. 
His temples long, more orient, may bear ; 
That good he reach by sweetness of his sway, ys 

That even his shadow may the bad affray ; 
That Heaven on him what he desires bestow, 
That still the glory of his greatness grow ; 
That your begun felicities may last, 
That no Orion do with storms them blast ; ioo 

That victory his brave exploits attend. 
East, west, or south do he his forces bend, 
Till his great deeds all former deeds surmount. 
And quail the Nimrod of the Hellespont ; 
That when his well-spent care all care becalms, 105 
He may in peace sleep in a shade of palms ; 
And, rearing up fair trophies, that heavens may 
Extend his life to world's extremest day. 

The other face of the arch shew men, women, and 
children, dancing after diverse postures, with many 
musical instruments. The word above them, in great 
characters, was, 

S. P. Q. E. P.* 

* Senaius Fopulusque Edinburgenus posuerunt. 


Where the great street divideth itself in two, upon 
the old foundations, inhabited by the goldsmiths and 
glovers, did an arch arise of height * * * of breadth 
* * * Upon the chapter of this arch was a crown 
set, with this word, 


The face of the arch had an aback, or square, with 
this inscription, 


Amidst flourishes of arms, as liclms, lances, corslets, 
pikes, muskets, bows, cannons, at the one side of the 
aback stood Mars. The word by him was, 


At the other side, amongst flourishes of instruments 
of peace, as harps, lutes, organs, cithers, hautboys, 
stood Minerva ; her word, 


upon each side was arms of the two kingdoms, and 
an intcrtcxture of crowns, with a word, 



Upon the frieze was written 


At the approach of the King, the theatre, a curtain 
drawn, manifested Mercury, with his feathered hat 
and his caduceus, with an hundred and seven Scottish 
kings, which he had brought from the Elysian fields. 
Fergus, the first, had a speech in Latin, which is here 
desired. * * Upon the cross of the town was a show 
of panisks : Bacchus, crowned with ivy, and naked 
from the shoulders up, bestrode a hogshead ; by him 
stood Silenus, Sylvanus, Pomona, Venus. Ceres, in 
a straw-coloured mantle, embroidered with ears of 
corn, and a dressing of the same on her head, should 
have delivered a speech to the King, but was inter- 
rupted by the Satyrs. She bare a scutcheon, upon 
which was, 


meaning, by the King she was free of the great abuse 
of the tithes of this country. 

In the midst of the street there was a mountain 
dressed for Parnassus, where Apollo and the Muses 
appeared, and ancient worthies of Scotland for learn- 
ing was represented ; such as Sedulius, Joannes Duns, 
Bishop Elphinston of Aberdeen, Hector Boecc, Joannes 
Major, Bishop Ciawin Douglass, Sir David Lindsay, 
Georgius Buchananus. The word over them was, 



The Muses were clad in varying taffetas, cloth of 
silver, and purl ; * Melpomene, though her under- 
vesture was black, yet her buskins and mantle were 
crimson. They were distinguished by the scutcheons 
they bare, and more properly than by their flats. 
Every one had a word. The first was Clio, who bare 


which was the King's symbol when he was Prince. 
Melpomene had the syniljol of King James, 


Thalia had that of Queen Anna, 


Euterpe had the word of Prince Henry, 







• Purl (purflf) : an embroidered border ; ombroidcry. 






Apollo, sitting in the midst of them, was clad in 
crimson taffeta, covered with some purl of gold, with 
a bawdrick like the rainbow, a mantle of tissue knit 
together above his left shoulder ; his head was 
crowned with laurel, with locks long and like gold : 
he presented the King with a book. 

Where the great street contracteth itself, at the 
descent of the eastern gate of the town, did an arch 
arise of height * * * * of breadth * * * * The 
face of this represented a heaven, into the which 
appeared his Majesty's ascendant Virgo. She was 
beautified with six-and-twenty stars, after that order 
that they are in their constellation, one of them being 
of the first magnitude, the rest of third and fourth. 
By her was written, 


Beneath, on the earth, lay the Titans prostrate, 
with mountains over them, as when they attempted 
to bandy against the gods. Their word was on the 



The chapter shew the three Parcae, where was 




The Stand discovered the seven planets sitting on 
a throne, and Endymion. Saturn, in a sad blue 
mantle, embroidered with golden flames ; his girdle 
was like a snake biting his tail ; his scutcheon bare, 


Jupiter was in a mantle of silver, embroidered with 
lilies and violets. His scutcheon bare, 


Mars, his hair and beard red, a sword at his side, 
had his robe of deep crimson taffeta, embroidered 
with wolves and horses. His head bare a helmet, 
and his scutcheon, 


The Sun had a crown of flowers on his head, as 
marigolds and pansies, and a tissue mantle. His 
scutcheon bare, 


* These verses are from Forth Feasting, lines 1 17, 118. 


Venus had the attire of her head rising like parts 
in a coronet, and roses ; she was in a mantle uf green 
damask embroidered with doves ; instead of her 
caestus, she wore a scarf of diverse colours : her 


Mercury had a dressing on his head of i)arli- 
coloured flowers, his mantle parti-coloured ; his 


The Moon had the attire of her head like an half 
moon or crescent of pearl ; her mantle was sad 
damask fringed with silver, embroidered with chame- 
leons and gourds ; her word, 


At a corner of the theatre, from out a verdant 
grove, came Endyniion. He was apparelled like a 
shepherd, in a long coat of crimson velvet coming 
over his knee ; he had a wreath of flowers upon his 
head, his hair was curled, and long ; in his hand he 
bare a sheep-hook, on his legs were buskins of gilt 
leather. These before the King had this action. 


Rous'd from the Latniian cave, where many years 
That empress of the lowest of the spheres, 
Who cheers the night, did keep me hid apart 
From mortal wights, to ease her love-sick heart. 


As young as when she did me first enclose, 5 

A.s fresh in beauty as the morning * rose, 

Endymion, that whilom kept my flocks 

Upon Ionia's flow'ry hills and rocks, 

And warbling sweet lays to my Cynthia's beams, 

Out-sang the swannets of Meander's streams ; le 

To whom, for guerdon, she heaven's secret bars 

Made open, taught the paths and powers of stars ; 

By this dear lady's strict commandement, 

To celebrate this day I here am sent. 

But whether is this heaven, which stars do crown, 13 

Or are heaven's flaming splendours here come down 

To beautify this nether world with me? 

Such state and glory did e'er shepherd sec ? 

My wits my sense mistrust, and stay amaz'd ; 

$io eye on fairer objects ever gaz'd. s» 

Sure this is heaven, for every wand'ring star, 

Forsaking those great orbs where whirFd they are, 

All dismal, sad aspects abandoning. 

Are here assembled to greet some darling ; 

Nor is it strange if they heaven's height neglect, m 

Unwonted worth produceth like effect. 

Tlien this it is, thy presence, royal youth, 

Hath brought them here within an azimuth, 

To tell by me, their herald, coming things, 

A nd what each Fate to her stern distaff sings ; s» 

Heaven's volume to unclasp, vast pages spread, 

Mysterious golden ciphers clear to read. 

• Morning ; thn Maitland Club edition reads " May- 


Hear then ihc augur of thy future days. 
And all the starry senate of thee says ; 
For what is firm decreed in heaven above, 
In vain on earth strive mortals to improve. 


To fair hopes to give feins now is it time, 
And soar as high as just desires may climb ; 
O halcyonian, clear, and happy day ! 
From sorry wights let sorrow fly away. 
And vex antarctic climes ; Great Britain's woes s 

Evanish, joy now in her zenith glows. 
Tlie old Leucadian scythe-bearing sire, 
Though cold, for thee feels flames of sweet desire; 
And many lustres at a perfect height 
.Shall keep thy sceptre's majesty as bright lo 

And strong in j^ower and glory every way 
As when thy peerless parent did it sway ; 
Ne'er turning wrinkled in time's endless length, 
But one in her first beauty, youthful strength, 
Like thy rare mind, which steadfast as the pole is 
.Still fixed stands, however spheres do roll. 
More to inhance with favours this thy reign, 
His age of gold he shall restore again. 
Love, justice, honour, innocence renew, 
Men's spirits with white simplicity endue, m 

Make all lo live in plenty's ceaseless store 
With equal shares, not wishing to have more. 



Then shall not cold the ploughmen's hopes beguile, 
On earth shall sky with lovely glances smile, 
Untill'd which shall each flower and herb bring forth, 25 
And with fair gardens make of equal worth : 
Life long shall not be thrall'd to mortal dates, 
Thus Heavens decree, so have ordain'd the Fates. 


Delight of heaven, sole honour of the earth, 
Jove, courting thine ascendant, at thy birth 
Proclaimed thee a King, and made it true. 
That empirics should to thy worth be due : 
He gave thee what was good, and what was great, 3 
What did belong to love, and what to state ; 
Rare gifts whose ardours burn the hearts of all, 
Like tinder when flint atoms on it fall. 
The Tramontane * which thy fair course directs, 
Thy counsels shall approve by their effects ; 10 

Justice kept low by grants, and wrongs, and jars, t 
Tiiou shalt relieve, and crown with glistering stars ; 
Whom nought save law of force could keep in awe. 
Thou shalt turn clients to the force of law ; 
Thou arms shalt brandish for thine own defence, is 
Wrongs to repel, and guard weak innocence, 

* Tramontane, polnr star. Ital. Tramontana. 

t Perhaps we should read "giant wrongs and jars." 
His majesty's "grants " may have contributed to the low 
condition of justio-, but tliis is hardly whiit Dnminiond 
would intend. Phillips has "giants, wrongs, and jars." 


Which to thy last effort thou shalt uphold, 

As oak the ivy which it doth enfold. 

All overcome, at last thy self o'ercome, 

Thou shait make passion yield to reason's doom ; so 

For smiles of fortune shall not raise thy mind, 

Nor shall disasters make it ere declin'd ; 

True honour shall reside within thy court, 

Sobriety and truth there still resort ; 

Keep promis'd faith thou shalt, supercheries* .'s 

Detest, and beagling marmosets t despise. 

Thou others to make rich, shalt not make poor 

Thyself, but give that thou may'st still give more : 

Thou shalt no paranymph X raise to high place, 

For frizzl'd locks, quaint pace, or painted face ; so 

On gorgeous raiments, womanising toys. 

The works of worms, and what a moth destroys, 

The maze of fools, thou shalt no treasure spend ; 

Thy charge to immortality shall tend. 

Raise palaces and temples vaulted high, ss 

Rivers c'erarch ; of hospitality. 

Of sciences, the ruin'd inns restore, 

With walls and ports encircle Neptune's shore ; 

To new-found worlds thy fleets make hold their course. 

And find of Canada the unknown source ; « 

People those lands which pass Arabian fields 

In fragrant wood, and musk which zephyr yields. 

* Supercheries (French) : frauds. 

t Phillips reads "fawning parasites." 

t Paranymph : the bridegrooms " best man ; " 
hence, assistant, encourager. Here perhaps it means a 
womanish man. 


Thou, fear'd of none, shalt not thy people fear, 
Thy people's love thy greatness shall uprear : 
Still rigour shall not shine, and mercy lower, « 

WTiat love can do thou shah not do by power : 
New and vast taxes thou shalt not extort, 
Load heavy those thy bounty should support ; 
Thou shalt not strike the hinge nor master beam'' 
Of thine estate, but errors in the same 50 

By harmless justice graciously reform, 
Delighting more in calm than roaring storm ; 
Thou shalt govern in peace as did thy sire. 
Keep, save thine own, and kingdoms new acquire 
Beyond Alcides' pillars, and those bounds 56 

Where Alexander's fame till now resounds. 
Till thou the greatest be among the greats : 
Thus Heavens ordain, so do decree the Fates. 


Son of the Hon, thou of loathsome bands 
Shalt free the earth, and whate'er thee withstands 
Thy noble paws shall tear : the god of Thrace 
Shall be thy second ; and before thy face. 
To Truth and Justice whilst thou trophies rears. 
Armies shall fall dismay'd with panic fears, 
As when Aurora in skies' azure lists 
Makes shadows vanish, doth disperse the mists, 
And in a twinkling with her opal light 
Night's horrors chcckcth, puttcth stars to flight. 

* Lines 49-50 are inserted from Phillips's edition. 


More to inflame thcc to this nuble task, 

To thee he here resigns his sword and casque. 

A wall of flying castles, armed pines, 

Shall bridge thy sea, like heaven with steel liiat 

To aid earth's tenants by foul yokes oppress'd, 15 

And fill with fears the great king of the west.* 
To thee already Victory displays 
Her garlands twin'd with olive, oak, and bays ; 
Thy triumphs finish shall all old debates : 
Thus Heavens decree, so have ordain'd the Fates, l'o 


Wealth, wisdom, glory, pleasure, stoutest hearts, 
Religion, laws, Hyperion imparts 
To thy just reign, which shall far, far surpass 
Of emperors, kings, the best that ever was. 
Look how he dims the stars ! Thy glory's rays 
So darken shall the lustre of these days ; 
For in fair Virtue's zodiac thou shalt run. 
And in the heaven of worthies be the sun. 
No more contemn'd shall hapless learning lie ; 
The maids of Pindus shall be raised high ; i 

For bay and ivy, wliich their brows enroll'd. 
Thou shalt them deck with gems and shining gold ; 
Thou open shalt Parnassus' crystal gates : 
Thus Heavens ordain, so do decree the Fates. 

'' King of the West : the Emperor. 



The Acidalian queen amidst thy bays 
Shall twine her myrtles, grant thee pleasant days ; 
She did make clear thy house, and with her light 
Of cheerless stars put back the dismal spite. 
Thy Hymenean bed fair brood shall grace, 5 

Which on the earth continue shall their race, 
While Flora's treasure shall the meads endear, 
While sweet Pomona rose-cheek'd fruits shall bear, 
While Phoebe's beams her brother's emulates : 
Thus Heavens decree, so have ordain'd the Fates. 10 


Great Atlas' nephew shall the works of peace 
(The springs of plenty), tillage, trades increase. 
And arts, in time's gulfs lost, again restore 
To their perfection, nay, find many more. 
More perfect artists, Cylops in their forge, 5 

Shall mould those brazen typhons which disgorge 
From their hard bowels metal, flame, and smoke, 
Muffling the air up in a sable cloak : 
The sea shrinks at the blow, shake doth the ground. 
The world's west corners doth the sound rebound ; lu 
The Stygian porter leaveth off" to bark, 
Black Jove appall'd doth shroud him in the dark. 
Many a Tiphys,* in adventures lost, 
By new-found skid shall many a maiden coast 

* Tiphys : mariner. 1 iphys was the helmsman of 
the ship Ar^o. 


With thy sail-winged argosies find out, is 

Which like the sun shall run the earth about, 

And far beyond his paths score wavy ways, 

To Cathay's lands by Hyperborean seas. 

He shall endue thee both in peace and war 

With wisdom, which than strength is better far ; -ju 

Wealth, honour, arms, and arts shall grace thy 

states : 
Thus Heavens ordain, so do decree the Fates. 


O how the fair Queen with the golden maids. 
The sun of night, thy happy fortunes aids ! 
Though turban'd princes for a badge her wear, 
To them she wane, to thee would full appear. 
Her handmaid Thetis daily walks the round 
About thy Delos, that no force it wound ; 
Then when thou left it, and abroad did stray, 
Dear pilgrim, she did strew with flowers the way, 
And, turning foreign force and counsel vain. 
Thy guard and guide return'd thee home again : 
To thee she kingdoms, years, bliss did divine, 
Quailing Medusa's grim snakes with her shine. 
Beneath thy reign Discord (fell mischiefs forge, 
The bane of peoples, state and kingdom's scourge). 
Pale Envy, with the cockatrice's eye. 
Which seeing kills, but seen doth forthwith die ; 
Malice, deceit, rebellion, impudence, 


Beyond the Garamants * shall pack them hence, 

With every monster that thy glorj' hates : 

Thus Heavens decree, so have ordain'd the Fates. 20 


That heretofore to thy heroic mind 
Haps, hopes not answer'd as they were dcsign'd, 
O do not think it strange ! Times were not come, 
And these fair stars had not pronounc'd their doom ; 
The destinies did on that day attend, 5 

WTien to this northern region thou should lend 
Thy cheering presence, and, charg'd with renown, 
Set on thy brows the Caledonian crown. 
Thy virtues now thy just desire shall grace, 
Stern chance shall change, and to desert give place : 10 
Let this be known to all the Fates admit 
To their grave counsel, and to every wit 
That spies heaven's inside : this let Sibyls know, 
And those mad Corybants which dance and glow 
On Dindymus' high tops with frantic fire ; 15 

Let this be known to all Apollo's quire ; 
And, people, let it not be hid from you. 
What mountains noise and floods proclaim as true : 
Wherever fame abroad his praise shall ring, 
All shall observe and serve this blessed King ! 20 

The back face of this arch, towards the east, had 
the three Graces drawn upon it, which were naked, 
and in others' hands ; they were crowned with cars of 

• (";aramantes : a people of the interior of Africa. 

VOL. II. u 


corn, flowers, and grapes, to signify fecundity ; their 


By them was Argus, full of eyes ; his word, 


Under all was written, 


The Emperor Justinian appointed that the shows 
and spectacles made to princes should be seven for 
the east. On the battlements of the east gate, in a 
coat all full of eyes and tongues, with a trumpet in 
her haad, as if she would sound, stood Fame, the 
wings of the bat at her feet, a wreath of gokl on her 
head ; and by her, Honour, a person of a reverend 
countenance, in a blue mantle of the colour of silver, 
his hair broidered with silver, shadowing in waves 
his shoulders. They were above the statue of King 
James, under which was written, 


At length we see those eyes 

Which cheer both earth and skies ; 

Now, ancient Caledon, 

Thy beauties heighten, richest robes put on. 

And let young joys to all thy parts arise. 5 

Here could thy Prince still stay, 
Each month should turn in May ; 


We need not star nor sun, 

Save him, to lengthen days and joys begun ; 
SoiTow and night to far climes haste away. 10 

Now majesty and love 

Combin'd are from above ; 

Prince never sceptra sway'd 

Lov'd subjects more, of subjects more obey'd, 
WTiich may endure whilst heaven's great orbs do 
move. 15 

Joys, did ye always last, 

Life's spark ye soon would waste ; 
Grief follows sweet delight. 

As day is shadowed by sable night, 

Yet shall remembrance keep you still, when past, -m 


Illustrious top-bough of heroic stem. 
Whose head is crown'd with glory's anadem, 
My shallow muse, not daring to draw near 
Bright Phoebus' burning flames in his career, 
Y^et knowing surely that Apollo shines 
Upon the dunghill, as on golden mines, 
.\nd knowing this the bounty of best kings. 
To mark the giver, not the gifted things ; 
Doth boldly venture in this pompous throng 
To greet thy greatness with a welcome song, 
And with the pye doth Ave Ccesar sing. 
While graver wits do greater ofT rings bring. 





[Prefixed to Doomes-day, by Sir William Alexander. 
Edinburgh, 1614, 410.] 

Like Sophocles, the hearers in a trance, 

With crimson cothurn on a stately stage 

If thou march forth, where all with pomp doth glance, 

To moan the monarchs of the world's first age ; 

Or if, like Phoebus, thou thyself advance, 5 

All bright with sacred flames, known by heaven's badge, 

To make a day, of days which scorns the rage, 

Whilst, when they end, it, what should come, doth 

seance ; * 
Thy Phoenix-muse still wing'd with wonders flies. 
Praise of our brooks, stain to old Pindus' springs, 10 
And who thee follow would, scarce with their eyes 
Can reach the sphere where Ihou most sweetly sings. 

Though string'd with stars heavens Orpheus' harp 

More worthy thine to blaze aljoul the pole. 

* Seance ■ scan. 



[Prefixed to the famous Historic of Penardo and Laissa, by 
Patrick Gordon. Dort, 1615, 8vo.] 

Come forth, Laissa, spread thy locks of gold, 
Show thy cheeks' roses in their virgin prime. 
And though no gems thee deck which Indies hold, 
Yield not unto the fairest of thy time. 
No ceruse brought from far beyond the seas, b 

No poison like cinnabar paints thy face ; 
Let them have that whose native hues displease. 
Thou gracest nakedness, it doth thee grace. 
Thy sire no pick-purse is of others' wit. 
Those jewels be his own which thee adorn ; lo 

And though thou after greater ones be born. 
Thou may'st be bold even midst the first to sit ; 
P'or whilst fair Juliet, or the Faery Queen, 
Do live with theirs, thy beauty shall be seen. 


[Prefixed to G. Vander Hagen Miscellanea Poemata 
Middelburgi, 1619, 410.] 

Scarce I four lustres had enjoyed breath, 
When my life's thread was cut by cruel death ; 
Few were my years, so were my sorrows all, 
Long days have drams of sweet, but pounds of gall ; 
And yet the fruits which my fair spring did give, 5 
Prove some may longer breathe, not longer live. 


That cragg)- path which cloth to virtue lead, 

With steps of honour I did strongly tread ; 

I made sweet lays, and into notes divine 

Outsung Apollo and the Muses nine ; 10 

Forth's sweetest swannets did extol my verse, 

Forth's sweetest swannets now weep o'er my hearse 

For which I pardon Fates my date of years ; 

Kings may have vaster tombs, not dearer tears. 


(Prefixed to Pathmos ; or a Commentarj- on the Revelation of 
Saint lohn, by William Cowper, Bishop of Galloway. 
London, 1619, 4to.] 

To this admir'd discoverer give place, 

Ve who first tam'd the sea, the winds outran. 

And match'd the day's bright coachman in your race, 

Americas, Columbus, Magellan. 

It is most true that your ingenious care 5 

And well-spent pains another world brought forth, 

For beasts, birds, trees, for gems and metals rare, 

^'et all being earth, was but of earthly worth. 

I Ic a more precious world to us descries, 

liich in more treasure than both Inds contain, i» 

Fair in more Ix-auty than man's wit can feign, 

Whose sun not sets, whose people never dies. 

F2arth should your brows deck with still-verdant 

But heavens crown his with stars' immortal rays. 



[Prefixed to Heptameron, the Seven Dnyes, SiC, by A. Symson. 
Saint Andrew's, 1621, 8vo.] 

God, binding with hid tendons this great All, 
Did make a lute which had all parts it given ; 
This lute's round belly was the azur'd heaven, 
The rose those lights which he did there instal ; 
The basses were the earth and ocean ; 5 

The treble shrill the air ; the other strings 
The unlike bodies were of mixed tilings : 
And then his hand to break sweet notes began. 
Those lofty concords did so far rebound, 
That floods, rocks, meadows, forests, did them hear, 10 
Birds, fishes, beasts, danc'd to their silver sound ; 
Only to them man had a deafen'd ear : 

Now him to rouse from sleep so deep and long, 
God waken'd hath the echo of this song. 


[Prefixed to Samson's Seaven Lockes of Hair, by A. SvMson. 
Saint Andrew's, 1621, 8vo.] 

Locks, ornament of angels, diadems 

Which the triumphing quires above do crown ; 

Rich curls of bounty, pinions of renown, 

Of that immortal sun immortal beams ; 

Locks, sacred locks, no, adamantine chains, 5 

Which do shut up and firm together bind 


Both that contentment which in life we find, 
And bliss which with unbodied souls remains ; 
Fair locks, all locks compar'd to you, though gold, 
Are comets' locks, portending harm and wrath, 10 
Or bald Occasion's lock, that none can hold ; 
Or Absalom's, which work the v.earer's death. 
If henceforth beauty e'er my mind subdue, 
It shall, dear locks, be for what shines in you. 


(Prefixed to Pallas Armata, or Militarie Instructions for the 
Learned, by Sir Thomas Kellie. Edinburgh, 1627, 4to.] 

Poor Rhine, and canst thou see 

Thy natives' gore thy curls deface, 

Thy nymphs so bright which be, 

Half-blackamoors embrace. 

And, dull'd with grapes, yet not resent thy case ? 3 
Fallen are thy anadcmes, 

O of such goodly cities famous flood ! 

Dimm'd be thy beauty's beams, 

And with thy spoils and blood 

Hell is made rich, proud the Iberian blood. 10 
And you, fair Europe's queen, 

Which hast with lilies deck'd your purple scat, 

Can you see those hive been 

.Stern comets to your state. 

On neighbours' wrack to grow so hugely great ? n 

* Paraineticon (Grcnk) : an exhortation. 


Look how much Iber gains, 

B}' as much lessened is your flowery throne ; 

O do not take such pains 

On Bartholomews alone, 

But seek to reacquire your Pampelone. 20 

Brave people, which indwell 

The happiest isle that Neptune's arms embrace ! 

World, which doth yet excel 

In what first worlds did grace, 

Do never to base servitude give place ; 25 

Marshal your wits and arms, 

Your courage whet with pity and disdain, 

Your * deem your allies' harms : 

All lose or reobtain, 

And cither palm or fatal cypress gain. 30 

To this great spirit's frame 

If moulded were all minds, all endeavours, 

Coidd worth thus all inflame, 

Then not this isle were ours 

Alone, but all between sun's golden bowers. 35 


[Prefixed to the True Crucifixe for True Catholickes, by Sir 
William Moore. Edinburgh, 1629, 8vo.] 

You that with awful eyes and sad regards, 
Gazing on masts of ships cross'd with their yards; 
Or \\hen ye see a microcosm to swim, 
At ev'ry stroke the crucifix do limn 

* Your : i.e. yours. 


In your brain's table ; or when smaller things, 5 
As pied butterflies, and birds their wings 
Do raise a cross, straight on your knees do fall 
And worship ; you, that every painted wall, 
Grac'd with some antic face, some godling make, 
And practise whoredom for the cross's sake 10 

With bread, stone, metal ; read these sacred lays. 
And, proselytes, proclaim the author's praise : 
Such fame your transformation shall him give. 
With Homer's ever that his name shall live. 


[Subjoined to a Funerall Sermon, preached at the Buriall of the 
Lady Jane Maitland, daughter to lohn Earle of Lauderdail. 
Ed.nburgh, 1633, 410.] 

The flower of virgins, in her prime of years. 
By ruthless destinies 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, sweet modesty 5 

No more appears ; she whose harmonious sounds 
Did ravish sense, and charm mind's deepest wounds, 
Embalm'd with many a tear now low doth lie. 

Fair hopes evanish'd arc ; she should have grac'd 
A prince's marriage-bed ; but lo ! in heaven io 

Blest paramours to her were to be given ; 
She liv'd an angel, now is with them plac'd. 


Virtue was but a name abstractly trimm'd, 
Interpreting what she was in effect, 
A shadow from her frame, which did reflect 15 

A portrait by her excellencies limn'd. 

Thou whom free-will or chance hath hither brought, 
And read'st, here lies a branch of Maitland's stem, 
And Seaton's offspring, know that either name 
Designs all worth yet reach'd by human thought. 20 
Tombs elsewhere rise, life to their guests to give, 
These ashes can frail monuments make live. 

OF person's varieties. 

[Prefixed to Varieties, &c., by David Person, of JLoghlands. 
London, 1635, 4to.] 

The lawyer here may learn divinity ; 

The divine, laws of fair astrology ; 

The dameret,* respectively to fight ; 

The duellist, to court a mistress right ; 

Such who their name take from the rosy-cross, 5 

May here by time learn to repair their loss : 

All learn may somewhat, if they be not fools ; 

Arts quicklier here are lesson'd than in schools. 


This book a world is ; here if errors be. 

The like, nay worse, in the great world we see. 

* Dameret : lady's man. gallant ; Fr. dameret. 





In sweetest prime and blooming of his age, 

Dear Alcon ravish'd from this mortal stage, 

The shepherds moum'd as they him lov'd before : 

Among the rout him Idmon did deplore, 

Idmon, who, whether sun in east did rise s 

Or dive in west, fjour'd torrents from his eyes 

Of liquid crystal, under hawthorn shade; 

At last to trees and rocks this plaint he made : 

Alcon, delight of heaven, desire of earth. 

Offspring of Phoebus, and the ISIuses' birth, lo 

The Graces' darling, Adon of our plains, 

Flame of the fairest nymphs the earth sustains. 

What power of thee hath us bereft ? what fate 

By thy untimely fall would ruinate 

Our hopes ? O Death ! what treasure in one hour is 

Hast thou dispersed ! how dost thou devour 

What we on earth hold dearest ! All things good, 

Too envious heavens, how blast ye in the bud ! 

The com the greedy reapers cut not down 

Before the fields with golden cars it crown, '-'ii 

VOL. II. iij II 


Nor doth the verdant fruits the gardener pull, 
But thou art cropt before thy years were full. 

With thee, sweet youth, the glories of our fields 
Vanish away, and what contentments yields ; 
The lakes their silver look, the woods their shades, 2b 
The springs their crystal want, their verdure meads, 
The years their early seasons, cheerful days ; 
Hills gloomy stand now desolate of rays ; 
Their amorous whispers zephyrs not us bring, 
Nor do airs quiristers salute the spring ; •(« 

The freezing winds our gardens do deflow'r. 
Ah, Destinies ! and you whom skies embow'r, 
To his fair spoils his spright again yet give, 
And like another phoenix make him live. 
The herbs, though cut, sprout fragrant from their 
stems, ^ 

And make with crimson blush our anadems ; 
The sun, when in the west he doth decline, 
Heaven's brightest tapers at his funerals shine ; 
His face, when wash'd in the Atlantic seas, 
Revives, and cheers the welkin with new rays : w 
Why should not he, since of more pure a frame. 
Return to us again, and be the same ? 
But wretch, what wish I ? To the winds I send 
These plaints and prayers. Destines cannot lend 
Thee more of time, nor heavens consent will thus -15 
Thou leave their starry world to dwell with us ; 
Yet shall they not thee keep amidst their spheres 
Without these lamentations and tears. 

Thou wast all virtue, courtesy, and worlli. 
And as sun's light is in the moon set forth, 50 


World's supreme excellence in thee did shine ; 

Nor, though eclipsed now, shalt thou decline, 

But in our memories live, while dolphins streams 

Shall haunt, whilst eaglets stare on Titan's beani>, 

Whilst swans upon their crystal tombs sliall sing, se 

Whilst violets with purple paint the spring. 

A gentler shepherd flocks did never feed 

On Albion's hills, nor sung to oaten reed : 

While what she found in thee my muse would blaze, 

drief doth distract her, and cut short thy praise. <io 

How oft have we, environ'd by the throng 
Of tedious swains, the cooler shades among, 
Contemn'd earth's glow-worm greatness, and the chase 
Of fortune scorned, deeming it disgrace- 
To court inconstancy ! How oft have we hs 
Some Chloris' name grav'n in each virgin tree, 
And, finding favours fading, tlie next day 
What we had carv'd we did deface away ! 
Wolul remembrance ! Nor time nor place 
Of thy abodement shadows any trace, 70 
But there to me thou shin'st : late glad desires. 
And ye once roses, how are ye turned briers ! 
Contentments passed, and of pleasures chief, 
Now are ye frightful horrors, hells of grief. 

When from thy native soil love had thee driven, 76 
Thy safe return prefigurating, a heaven 
< )f flattering hopes did in my fancy move. 
Then little dreaming it should atoms prove. 
These groves preserve will I, these loved woods, 
'ITiese orchards rich with fruits, with fish thesi- 
floods ; oil 


My Alcon will rctuin, and once again 
His chosen exiles he will entertain ; 
The populous city holds him, amongst harms 
Of some fierce Cyclops, Circe's stronger charms. 
These banks, said I, he visit will, and streams, 85 

These silent shades ne'er kiss'd by courting beams ; 
Far, far off I will meet him, and I first 
Shall him approaching know, and first be blest 
With his aspect ; I first shall hear his voice. 
Him find the same he parted, and rejoice an 

To learn his passed perils, know the sports 
Of foreign shepherds, fauns, and fairy courts. 
No pleasure to the fields ; an happy state 
The swains enjoy, secure from what they hate : 
Free of proud cares they innocently spend us 

The day, nor do black thoughts their ease offend ; 
Wise nature's darlings they live in the world. 
Perplexing not themselves how it is hurl'd. 
These hillocks Phoebus loves, Ceres these plains, 
These shades the Sylvans, and here Pales strains loo 
Milk in the pails, the maids which haunt the springs 
Dance on these pastures, here Amintas sings ; 
Hesperian gardens, Tempe's shades are here, 
Or what the eastern Ind and west hold dear. 
Come then, dear youth, the wood-nymphs twine thee 
boughs 1"® 

With rose and liiy, to impale thy brows. 
Thus ignorant, I mus'd, not conscious yet 
Of what by death was done, and ruthless fate : 
Amidst these trances. Fame thy loss doth sound. 
And through my cars gives to my heart a wound ; no 


With stretch'd-out arms I sought thee to embrace, 

But clasp'd, amaz'd, a coffin in thy place ; 

A coffin ! of our joys which had the trust, 

Which told that thou wast come, but chang'd in dust. 

Scarce, even when felt, could I believe this wrack, us 

Nor that thy time and glory Heavens would break. 

Now since I cannot see my Alcon's face, 

And find nor vows nor prayers to have place 

With guilty stars, this mountain shall become 

To me a sacred altar, and a tomb i-.>o 

To famous Alcon ; here, as days, months, years 

Do circling glide, I sacrifice will tears, 

Here spend my remnant time, exil'd from mirth. 

Till death in end turn monarch of my earth. 

Shepherds on Forth, and ye by Doven" rocks 125 
Which use to sing and sport, and keep your flocks, 
Pay tribute here of tears ; ye never had 
To aggravate your moans a cause more sad ; 
And to their sorrows hither bring your maunds 
Charged with sweetest flowers, and with pure hands, 130 
fair nymphs, the blushing hyacinth and rose 
.Spread on the place his relics doth enclose ; 
Weave garlands to his memory, and put 
Over his hearse a verse in cypress cut : 
" Virtue did die, goodness but harm did give r.a 

.\fier the noble Alcon left to live ; 
Friendship an earthquake suffer'd ; losing him, 
Love's brightest constellation turned dim." 

* Dovcn, or Devon : a tributary of the Forth, south of 
the Ochil Hilh 




O CHIOME, parte de la treccia d'oro 

Di cui fe amor il laccio, onde fui colto 

Qual semplice augelletto, e da qual sciolto 

Non spero esser mai piii, si pria non nioro ; 

lo vi bacio, io vi stringo, io vi amo e adoro, n 

Perche adombrasti gia quel sacro volto 

Che a quanti in terra sono il pregio ha tolto, 

Ne lascia senza invidia il divin choro : 

A voi diro gli affanni, e i pensier miei, 

Poi chc lungi e mia donna, e parlar seco lo 

Mi nega aspra fortuna, e gli empi diei. 

Lasso ! guarda se amor mi fa ben cieco, 

Quando cercar di scioglierme io dovrei, 

La rete porto e le catenc meco. 


O HAIR, sweet hair ! part of the tress ot gold 
Of which love makes his nets, where wretched I 


Like simple bird was ta'en, and while I die 
Hopeless, I hope your fair knots shall me hold ; 
You to embrace, kiss, and adore I'm bold, 5 

Because ye shadow rlid that sacred face. 
Stain to all mortals, which from starry place 
Hath jealous made those who in spheres are roll'd : 
To you I'll tell my thoughts and inward pains, 
Since she by cruel heavens now absent is, 19 

And cursed Fortune me from her detains. 
Alas ! bear witness how my reason is 
Made blind by love, while as his nets and chains 
I bear about when I should seek my bliss. 


HAIR, fair hair ! some of the golden threads 

Of which love weaves the nets that passion breeds, 

Where me like silly bird he doth retain. 

And only death can make me free again ; 

Ah, I you love, embrace, kiss, and adore, 5 

For that ye shadow did that face before ; 

That face so full of beauty, grace, and love, 

That it hath jealous made heaven's quire above : 

To you I'll tell my secret thoughts and grief, 

Since she, dear she, can grant me no relief, 19 

While me from her foul traitor absence binds. 

Witness, sweet hair, with me, how love me blinds ; 

For when I should seek what his force restrains, 

1 foolish bear about his nets and chains. 



Hair, sweet hair ! touched by Midas' hand 
In curling knots, of which love makes his nets, 
WTio when ye loosest hang me fastest band 
To her, world's lily among violets ; 
Dear fatal present, kissing I adore you, 
Because of late ye shade gave to these roses, 
That this earth's beauty in their red encloses ; 
I saw while ye them hid they did decore you : 
I'll plain my woes to you, I'll tell my thought, 
Alas ! since I am absent from my jewel, 
Hy wayward fortune and the heavens more cruel. 
Witness be ye what love in me hath wrought, 
Instead to seek th' end of my mortal pains, 
I take delight to wear his golden chains. 


Si come suol, poi che '1 verno aspro e rio 

Parte, e da loco a le stagion migliori, 

Vaga cervetta uscir col giorno fuori 

Del suo dolce boschetto almo natio; 

Ed or su per un colle, or lungo un rio, » 

r;i lontano e da ville e da pastori, 

Gir sicura pascendo erbetta e fiori, 

Ovunque piii la porta il suo desio ; 

Ni teme di saetta o d'altro inganno, 

Se non quand' ella c colta in mezzo '1 fianco, i» 


Da buon arcicr chc di nascosto scocchi : 
Tal io senza temcr vicino affanno 
Mossi, donna, quel di chc bei vostr' occhi 
Me 'mpiagar, lasso ! tutto '1 lato manco. 


As the youny fawn, wlion winter's gone away, 

Unto a sweeter season granting place. 

More wanton grown by smiles of heaven's fair face, 

Leaveth the silent woods at break of day, 

And now on hills, and now by brooks doth prey 5 

On tender flowers, secure and solitar, 

Far from all cabins, and where shepherds are ; 

Where his desire him guides his foot doth stray, 

He feareth not the dart nor other arms. 

Till he be shot into the noblest part lo 

By cunning archer, who in dark bush lies : 

So innocent, not fearing coming harms, 

Wandering was I that day when your fair eyes, 

World-killing shafts, gave death-wounds to my heart. 


As the young stag, when Winter hides his face, 
Giving unto a better season place. 
At break of day comes forth wanton and fair, 
Leaving the quiet woods, his sweet repair ; 


Now on the hills, now by the ris'er's sides, 5 

He leaps, he runs, and where his foot him guides, 

Both sure and solitare, preys on sweet flowers, 

Far from all shepherds and their helmish bowers ; 

He doth not fear the net nor murdering dart, 

Till that, poor beast, a shaft be in his heart, lu 

Of one who pitiless in ambush lay : 

So innocent, wand'ring that fatal day 

Was I, alas ! when with a heavenly eye, 

Ye gave the blow whereof I needs must die. 


As the young hart, when sun with golden beams 
Progresseth in the first post of the sky, 
Turning old Winter's snowy hair in streams, 
Leaveth the woods where he was wont to lie ; 
Where his desire him leads, the hills among, » 

He runs, he feeds, the crooking brooks along, 
Imprison'd only with heaven's canopy ; 
Wanton, he cares not ought that dolour brings, 
Hungr>-, he spares not flowers with names of kings ; 
He thinks all far, who can him fool espy, 10 

Till bloody bullet part his chiefest part : 
In my young spring, alas ! so wander'd I, 
When cruel she sent out from jetty eye 
The deadly shaft of which I bleeding smart. 



Ay me, and I am now the man whose muse 
In happier times was wont to laugh at love, 
And those who sufifer'd that blind boy abuse 
The noble gifts were given them from above? 
What metamorphose strange is this I prove ? » 

Myself now scarce I find myself to be, 
And think no fable Circe's tyranny. 
And all the tales are told of changed Jove. 
Virtue hath taught with her philosophy 
My mind unto a better course to move : ao 

Reason may chide her full, and oft reprove 
Affection's power, but what is that to me, 
Wlio ever think, and never think on auglii 
But that bright cherubin wluch thralls my thought ? 


With open shells in seas, on heavenly dew 

A shining oyster lusciously doth feed, 

And then the birth of that ethereal seed 

Shows, when conceiv'd, if skies look dark or blue: 

So do my thoughts, celestial twins, of you. 

At whose aspect they first begin and breed. 

When they came forth to light, demonstrate true, 

If ye then smil'd, or lower'd in mourning weed. 

Pearls then are orient fram'd, and fair in form, 

If heavens in their conceptions do look clear ; j 


But if they thunder, or do threat a storm, 

They sadly dark and cloudy do appear : 

Right so my thoughts and so my notes do change, 
Sweet if ye smile, and hoarse if ye look strange. 


Strephon, in vain thou bring'st thy rhymes and 

Deck'd with grave Pindar's old and wilher'd flow'rs ; 
In vain thou count'st the fair Europa's wrongs, 
And her whom Jove deceiv'd in golden show Vs. 
Thou hast slept never under myrtles' shed, s 

Or, if that passion hath thy soul oppress'd. 
It is but for some Grecian mistress dead, 
Of such old sighs thou dost discharge thy breast 
How can true love with fables hold a place ? 
Thou who with fables dost set forth thy love, i« 

Thy love a pretty fable needs must prove. 
Thou suest for grace, in scorn more to disgrace : 
I cannot think thou wert charm'd by my looks, 
O no, thou leam'dst thy love in lovers' books. 

II. ' 

No more with candied words infect mine ears, 
Tell me no more how that ye pine in anguish, 
When sound ye sleep ; no more say that yc languish, 
No more in sweet despite say you spend tears. 


Who hath such hollow eyes as not to see s 

How those that arc hair-biain'il boast of Apollo, 
And ])olcl give out the Muses do them follow? 
Though in love's library yet no lover's he. 
If we poor souls least favour but them show, 
That straight in wanton lines abroad is blazed, lo 

Their name doth soar on our fame's overthrow, 
Mark'd is our lightness whilst their wits are praised : 
In silent thoughts who can no secret cover, 
He may, say we, but not well, be a lover. 


Ye who with curious numbers, sweetest art, 

Frame daedal nets our beauty to surprise, 

Telling strange castles builded in the skies, 

And tales of Cupid's bow, and Cupid's dart ; 

Well, howsoe'er ye act your feigned smart, s 

Molesting quiet ears with tragic cries, 

When you accuse our chastity's best part, 

Nam'd cruelty, ye seem not half too wise 

Yea, ye yourselves it deem most worthy praise. 

Beauty's best guard, that dragon which doth keep lo 

Hesperian fruit, the spur in you does raise 

That Delian wit that otherwise may sleep : 

To cruel nymphs your lines do fame afford. 

Of many pitiful not one poor word. 


Ik it be love to wake out all the night, 
And watchful eyes drive out in dewy moans, 


And when the sun brings to the world his light, 

To waste the day in tears and bitter groans ; 

If it be love to dim weak reason's beam 5 

With clouds of strange desire, and make the mind 

In hellish agonies a heav'n to dream, 

Still seeking comforts where but griefs we find ; 

If it be love to stain with wanton thought 

A spotless chastity, and make it try 10 

More furious flames than his whose cunning wrought 

That brazen bull where he entomb'd did fry ; 

Then sure is love the causer of such woes. 

Be ye our lovers, or our mortal foes ? 


And would you then shake off love's golden chain, 
With which it is best freedom to be bound ; 
And cruel do ye seek to heal the wound 
Of love, which hath such sweet and pleasant pain ? 
All that is subject unto nature's reign 8 

In skies above, or on this lower round, 
When it its long and far sought end hath found, 
Doth in decadence fall, and slack remain : 
Behold the moon, how gay her face doth grow 
Till she kiss all the sun, then doth decay ; 10 

See how the seas tumultuously do flow 
Till they embrace lov'd banks, then post away : 
So is't with love : unless you love mc still, 
O do not think I'll yield unto your will. 



Mourn not, fair Greece, the ruin of thy kings. 
Thy temples raz'd, thy forts with flames devour'd, 
Thy champions slain, thy virgins pure deflower'd, 
Nor all those griefs which stern Bellona brings : 
But mourn, fair Greece, mourn that that sacred bands 
Which made thee once so famous by their songs, 
Forc'd by outrageous Fate, have left thy land, 
And left thee scarce a voice to plain thy wrongs ; 
Mourn that those climates which to thee appear 
Beyond both Phoebus and his sister's ways, lo 

To save thy deeds from death must lend thee lays, 
And such as from Musceus thou didst hear ; 
For now Irene hath attain'd such fame, 
That Hero's ghost doth weep to hear her name. 


All laws but cobwebs are, but none such right 

Had to this title as these laws of ours. 

Ere that they were from their Cimmerian bowers 

By thy ingenious labours brought to light. 

Our statutes senseless statues did remain, 6 

Till thou, a new Prometheus, gave them breath, 

Or, like aged /Eson's body curb'd to death. 

When thou young blood infus'd in every vein. 

Thrice happy ghosts ! which after-worlds must woo, 

That first tam'd barbarism by your swords, lo 


Then knew to keep it fast in nets of words, 
Hind'ring what men not suffer would to do ; 

To Jove the making of the world is due, 

But that it turns not chaos, is to you. 


I FEAR to me such fortune be assign'd 
As was to thee, who did so well deser\-e, 
Brave Halkerston, even suffer'd here to starve 
Amidst base-minded friends, nor true, nor kind. 
Why were the Fates and Furies thus combined, 5 

Such worths for such disasters to reserve ? 
Yet all those evils never made thee swerve 
From what became a well-resolved mind ; 
For swelling greatness never made thee smile, 
Despising greatness in extremes of want ; 10 

O happy thrice whom no distress could daunt ! 
Yet thou exclaimed, O time ! O age ! O isle ! 

Where flatterers, fools, bawds, fiddlers, are rewarded, 
Whilst virtue starves unpitied, unregarded. 


First in the Orient reign'd the Assyrian kings, 
To those the sacred Persian prince succeeds ; 
Then he by whom the world sore wounded bleeds, 
Earth's crown to Greece with bloody blade he brings ; 
Then Greece to Rome the reins of state resigns : 6 
Thus from the mighty monarch of the Medes 
To the west world successively proceeds 
That great and fatal period of all things ; 


Whilst wearied now with broils and long alarms, 
Earth's majesty her diadem lays down lo 

Before the feet of thy unconquer'd crown, 
And throws herself, great monarch, in thy arms. 
Here shall she stay, Fates have ordained so, 
Nor has she where nor further for to go. 


O TIMES ! O heaven, that still in motion art, 

And by your course confounds us mortal wights ! 

O flying days ! O over-gliding nights. 

Which pass more nimble than wind or archer's dart ! 

Now I myself accuse, excuse your part, 5 

For he who fixed your far-off shining lights, 

You motion gave, and did to me impart 

A mind to mark, and to prevent your slights. 

Life's web ye still weave out, still, fool, I stay, 

Malgre my just resolves, on mortal things. lo 

Ah ! as the bird surprised in subtle springs, 

That beats with wing but cannot fly away, 

So struggle I, and fain would change my case, 
But this is not of nature, but of grace. 


Rise to my soul, bright Sun of Grace, O rise ! 
Make me the vigour of thy beams to prove ; 
Dissolve the chilling frost which on me lies, 
That makes me less than lukewarm in thy love : 
Grant me a beamling of thy light above, 5 

To know my footsteps in these times, too wise ; 


! guide my course, and let me no more move 
On wings of sense, where wand'ring pleasure flies. 

1 have gone wrong and erred ; but ah, alas ! 

What can I else do in this dungeon dark ? 10 

My foes strong are, and I a fragile glass, 
Hours charged with cares consume my life's small spark ; 
Yet, of thy goodness if I grace obtain, 
My life shall be no loss, my death great gain. 


All good hath left this age, all tracks of shame ; 

Mercy is banished, and pity dead ; 

Justice, from whence it came, to heaven is fled ; 

Religion, maim'd, is thought an idle name ; 

P'aith to distrust and malice hath given place ; e 

Envy with poison'd teeth hath friendship torn ; 

Renowned knowledge is a despis'd scorn ; 

Now evil 'tis all evil not to embrace : 

There is no life, save under servile bands ; 

To make desert a vassal to their crimes, jo 

Ambition with Avarice join hands. 

O ever-shameful, O most shameless Times ! 
Save that sun's light we see, of good hear tell. 
This earth we court so much were very hell. 


Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move ? 
Is this the justice which on earth wc find ? 
Is this that firm decree which all doth bind ? 
Are these your influences. Powers above ? 


Those souls which vice's moody mists most blind, c 

Blind Fortune blindly most their friend doth prove ; 

And they who thee, poor idol, Virtue, love, 

Ply like a feather toss'd by storm and wind. 

Ah ! if a Providence doth sway this all, 

Why should best minds groan under most distress, lo 

Or why should pride humility make thrall, 

And injuries the innocent oppress ? 

Heavens, hinder, stop this fate, or grant a time 
When good may have, as well as bad, their prime. 


Who do in good delight, 

That sovereign Justice ever doth reward, 

And though sometime it smite, 

Yet it doth them regard ; 

For even amidst their grief , 6 

They find a strong relief. 

And death itself can work them no despite. 

Again, in evil who joy, 

And do in it grow old. 

In midst of mirth are charg'd with sin's annoy, lo 

Which is in conscience scroll'd. 

And when their life's frail thread is cut by time. 

They punishment find equal to each crime. 



Now Phoebus whipp'd his horse with all his might, 

Thinking to take Aurora in her flight ; 

But she, who hears the trampling of his steeds, 

'Gins swiftly gallop through heaven's rosy meads. 

The more he runs, the more he comes her near ; 5 

The less her speed, she finds the more her fear. 

At last his coursers, angry to be torn, 

Her took ; she with a blush dyed all the morn. 

Thetis, aghast to spy her greens made red, 

All drowsy rose forth of her coral bed, lo 

Thinking the night's fair queen should thole some 

She saw poor Tithon's wife in PhcEbus' arms. 


It autumn was, and cheerful chanticleer 
Had wam'd the world twice that the day drew near ; 
The three parts of the night almost were spent. 
When I, poor wretch, with love and fortune rent, 

* This fragment and the three following pieces are 
juvenile productions of Drummond's. 



Began my eyes to close, and sweetest sleep, 
Charming my sense, all over me did creep ; 
But scarce with Lethe drops and rod of gold 
Had he me made a piece of breathing mould — 


Oft ye me ask, whom my sweet fair can be ? 

Look in this crystal and ye shall her see ; 

At least some shade of her it will impart. 

For she no true glass hath except my heart. 
Ah ! that my breast were made of crystal fair, 
Tliat she might see her lively portrait there ! 


With elegies, sad songs, and mourning lays, 
While Craig his Kala would to pity move, 
Poor brainsick man ! he spends his dearest days ; 
Such silly rhyme cannot make women love. 

Morice, who sight of never saw a book, 5 

With a rude stanza this fair virgin took. 


Wise hand, which wisely wrought 

That dying dame, who first did banish kings, 

Thy light and shadow brings 

In doubt the wond'ring thought. 

If it a substance be, or feigned show, 6 

That doth so lively smart. 


The colours strove for to have made her live, 

Were not thy heart said no, 

That fear'd perchance the wound so should her 
give ; * 

Yet in the fatal blow 10 

She seems to speak, nay, speaks with Tarquin's heart ; 
But death her stays, surprising her best part 


A CUNNING hand it was 

Of this hard rock did frame 

That monster of all ages, mankind's shame, 

Fierce Nero, hell's disgrace : 

Of wit, sense, pity void, 5 

Did he not, living, marble hard surpass. 

His mother, master, country, all destroyed ? 

Not alt'ring his first case, 
A stone he was when set upon a throne, 
And now a stone he is, although dethroned down, la 


This Amphion, Phidias' frame. 

Though senseless it appear. 

Doth live, and is the same 

Did Thebes' towers uprear ; 

And if his harp he touch not to your ear, 5 

No wonder, his harmonious sounds alone 
Would you amaze, and change himself in stone. 

* Give : so in former editions, but perhaps it should 
be " grieve." 



Ingenious was that bee 

In lip that wound which made, 

And kind to others, though unkind to thee ; 

For by a just exchange, 

On that most lively red 

It gives to those revenge, 
Whom that delicious, plump, and rosy part, 
All pitiless, perhaps, now wounds the heart. 


Forth from green Thetis' bowers 

The morn arose ; her face 

A wreath of rays did grace, 

Her hair rain'd pearls, her hand and lap dropp'd 

Led by the pleasant sight . 5 

Of those so rich and odoriferous showers, 

Each shepherd thither came, and nymphcs bright : 
Entranc'd they stood ; I did to Chloris turn, 
And saw in her more grace than in the morn. 


Amintas, now at last 
Thou art revenged of all my rigour past ; 
The scorning of thee, softness of thy heart, 
Thy longings, causeful tears. 


Do double grief each clay to me impart. s 

I am not what I was, 

And in my miseries I thine do glass ! 

Ah ! now in perfect years, 

Ere reason could my coming harms descrj', 

Made love's fond taper-fly, 10 

I bum, methinks, in sweet and fragrant flame ; 
Ask me no more : tongue, hide thy mistress' shame. 


In this world's raging sea, 

Where many Scyllas bark, 

WTiere many syrens are, 

Save, and not cast away. 

He only saves his barge 5 

With too much ware who doth it not o'ercharge ; 

Or, when huge storms arise. 

And waves menace the skies, 
Gives what he got with no deploring show. 
And doth again in seas his burthen throw. :o 


Sigh, stolen from her sweet breast, 

What doth that marble heart ? 

Smarts it indeed, and feels not others' smart, 

Grieves it, yet thinks that others grieved jest? 


Love or despite, vvliicli forc'd thee thence to part ? 5 
Sweet Iiarbinger, say from what uncouth guest ? 

Sure thou from Love must come, 

Who sigh'd to see there dress'd his marble tomb. 


My sweet did sweetly sleep, 

And on her rosy face 

Stood tears of pearl, which beauty's self did weep ; 

I, wond'ring at her grace. 

Did all amaz'd remain, 5 

When Love said, "Fool, can looks thy wishes 
crown ? 

Time past comes not again." 

Then did I me bow down, 
And kissing her fair breast, lips, cheeks, and eyes, 
Prov'd here on earth the joys of paradise. lo 


Lirs, double port of love, 

Of joy tell all the art, 

Tell all the sweetness lies 

In earthly paradise, 

Sith happy now ye prove 6 

What bliss a kiss 

Of sweetest Nais can bring to the heart. 

Tell how your former joys 

Have been but sad annoys : 

This, only this, doth ease a long-felt smart, 10 

This, only this, doth life to love impart. 


Endymion, I no more 

Envy thy happy state, 

Nor his who had the fate 

Ravish'd to be and hugged on Ganges' shore : 15 

En\-y nor yet do I 

Adon, nor Jove's cupbearer in the sky. 

Dear crimson folds, more sweetness ye do bear 

Than Hybla tops, or gardens of Madere. 
Sweet, sweet'ning Midases, your force is such, 20 

That everything turns sweet which ye do touch. 


I NEVER long for gold. 

But since I did thy dangling hair behold, 

Ah ! then, then was it first 

That I prov'd ^Nlidas' thirst ; 

And what both Ind and rich Pactolus hold 

Can not my flames allay, 

For only ye, fair tresseress, this may. 
Would ye but give a lock to help my want, 
Of that which prodigal to winds ye grant. 


Show me not locks of gold. 

Nor blushing roses of that virgin face, 

Nor of thy well-made leg and foot the grace ; 

Let me no more behold 

Soul-charming smiles, nor lightnings of ihinceye, 6 

P'or tliey, dear life, but serve to make me die. 


Yes, show them all, and more ; unpin thy breast, 

Let me see living snow 

Where strawberries do grow ; 

Show that delicious field lo 

Which lilies still doth yield. 

Of Venus' babe the nest : 
Smile, blush, sigh, chide, use thousand other charms ; 
Me kill, so that I fall between thine arms. 


Prometheus am I, 

The heavens my lady's eye, 

From which I, stealing fire, 

Find since a vulture on my heart to tire. 


When Idmon saw the eyne 

Of Anthea his love, 

Who yet, said he, such blazing stars hath seen, 

Save in the heavens above ? 

She, thus to hear her praise, 6 

Blush'd, and more fair became. 
For nought, said he, thy cheeks that mom do raise. 
For my heart cannot burn with greater flame. 


To worship me, why come ye, fools, abroad ? 
For artisans made me a demigod. 



This strange eclipse, one says, 

Strange wonders doth foretel : 

But you whose wives excel, 

And love to count their praise, 

Shut all your gates, your hedges plant with thorns, 

The sun did threat the world this time with horns. 


Are not those locks of gold 

Sufficient chains the wildest hearts to hold ? 

Is not that ivory hand 

A diamantine band, 

Most sure to keep the most untamed mind, 

But ye must others find ? 

O yes : why is that golden one then worn ? 

Thus free in chains, perhaps, love's chains to scorn. 


Fierce 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 now, when all is sold. 

Woods, mountains, caves, to good men be refuge. 

And do the guiltless lodge, 

And, clad in purple gowns, 

The greatest thieves command within the towns. 



This is no work of stone, 

Though it seems breatliless, cold, and sense hath none ; 

But that false god which keeps 

The monstrous people of the raging deeps ; 

Now that he doth not change his shape this while, 5 

It is thus constant more you to beguile. 


Passenger, vex not thy mind 
To make me mine eyes unfold ; 
For if thou should'st them behold, 
Thine perhaps they will make blind. 


I RATHER love a youth and childish rhyme. 
Than thee whose verse and head are wise through 


Near to a crystal spring, 
With thirst and heat oppress'd, 
Narcissa fair doth rest : 

Trees, pleasant trees, which those green plains forth 


Now interlace your trembling tops above, s 

And make a canopy unto my love ; 
So in heaven's highest house when sun appears, 
Aurora may you cherish with her tears. 


Why, Nais, stand ye nice, 

Like to a well-wrought stone, 

When Dorus would you kiss ? 

Deny him not that bliss, 

He's but a child (old men be children twice) 

And even a toothless one ; 

And when his lips yours touch in that delight, 

Ye need not fear he will those cherries bite. 


Sweet nymphs, if, as ye stray. 

Ye find the froth-born goddess of the sea, 

All blubber'd, pale, undone. 

Who seeks her giddy son. 

That little god of love, 

Whose golden shafts your chastest bosoms prove, 

Who, leaving all the heavens, hath run away ; 

If ought to him that finds him she'll impart. 

Tell her he nightly lodgcth in my heart. 




AONIAN sisters, help my Phrcjene's praise to tell, 
Phrcene, heart of my heart, with whom the Graces 

dwell ; 
For I surcharged am so sore that I not know 
What first to praise of her, her breast, or neck of snow, 
Iler cheeks with roses spread, or her two sun-like 

eyes, 5 

Her teeth of brightest pearl, her lips where sweetness 

lies ; 
But those so praise themselves, being to all eyes set 

That, Muses, ye need not to say ought of their worth. 
Then her white swelling paps essay for to make known, 
But her white swelling paps through smallest veil are 

shown ; 10 

Yet she hath something else more worthy than the rest, 
Not seen ; go sing of that which lies beneath her 

And mounts like fair Parnass, where Pegas' well doth 

run : 
Here Phroene stay'd my muse, ere she had well begun. 


Dear life, while I do touch 

These coral ports of bliss. 

Which still themselves do kiss, 

And sweetly me invite to do as much, 


All panting in my lips 5 

My heart my life doth leave, 

No sense my senses have, 

And inward powers do find a strange eclipse : 

This death so heavenly well 

Doth so me please, that I 10 

Would never longer seek in sense to dwell, 

If that even thus I only could but die. 


If for to be alone, and all the night to wander, 
Maids can prove chaste, then chaste is Phoebe without 


Fool, still to be alone, all night in Heaven to wander, 
Would make the wanton chaste, then she's chaste 
without slander. 


Look how in May the rose, 

At sulphur's azure fumes. 

In a short space her crimson blush doth lose, 

And, all amaz'd, a pallid white assumes. 

So time our best consumes, 

Makes youth and beauty pass, 

And what was pride turns horror in our glass. 



Fond Prognc, chattering wretch, 

That is Medea : there 

Wilt thou thy younglings hatch ? 

Will she keep thine, her own who could not spare ? 

Learn from her frantic face 6 

To seek some fitter place. 

What other may'st thou hope for, what desire, 

Save Stygian spells, wounds, poison, iron, fire ? 


To practice new alarms 

In Jove's great court above, 

The wanton Queen of Love, 

Of sleeping Mars put on the horrid arms ; 

Where gazing in a glass 6 

To see what thing she was. 

To mock and scoff the blue-eyed maid did move ; 

Who said, sweet Queen, thus should you have been dight 

When A'ulcan took you napping with your knight. 

THE boar's HEAD. 

Amidst a pleasant green 

Which sun did seldom see. 

Where play'd Anchises with the Cyprian queen, 

The head of a wild boar hung on a tree ; 

And driven by zephyr's breath, 5 

Did fall, and wound the lovely youth beneath, 


On whom yet scarce appears 

So much of blood as Venus' eyes shed tears. 

But ever as she wept, her anthem was, 

Change, cruel change, alas ! 10 

My Adon, whilst thou liv'd, was by thee slain, 

Now dead, this lover must thou kill again ? 


ASCALAPHUS, tell me, 

So may night's curtain long time cover thee, 

So ivy ever may 

From irksome light keep thy chamber and bed, 

And in moon's liv'ry clad, 5 

So mayst thou scorn the quiristers of day : 

When plaining thou dost stay 

Near to the sacred window of my dear, 

Dost ever thou her hear 

To wake, and steal swift hours from drowsy sleep ? 10 

And when she wakes, doth e'er a stolen sigh creep 

Into thy list'ning ear ? 

If that deaf god doth yet her careless keep. 

In louder notes my grief with thine express, 

Till by thy shrieks she think on my distress. is 


Now Daphnis' arms did grow 

In slender branches, and her braided hair, 

Which like gold waves did flow, 

In leafy twigs was stretched in the air ; 


The grace of either foot 6 

Transform'd was to a root, 

A tender bark enwraps her body fair. 

He who did cause her ill, 

Sorewailing stood, and from his blubber'd eyne 

Did shovv'rs of tears upon the rind distil, lo 

Which water'd thus did bud and turn more green. 

O deep despair I O heart-appalling grief! 

^Vhen that doth woe increase should bring relief. 


In woods and desert bounds 

A beast abroad doth roam. 

So loving sweetness and the honeycomb, 

It doth despise the arms of bees and wounds : 

I by like pleasure led B 

To prove what heavens did place 

Of sweet on your fair face, 

Whilst therewith I am fed, 

Rest careless, bear of love, of hellish smart, 

And how those eyes afflict and wound my heart. lo 


The angry winds not aye 

Do cuff the roaring deep, 

And though heavens often weep, 

Yet do they smile for joy when comes dismay : * 

* So in all editions. Perhaps we should read, ' ' when 
Cometh May." 


Frosts do not ever kill the pleasant flow'rs, 5 

And love hath sweets when gone are all the sours. 
This said a shepherd, closing in his arms 
His dear, who blush'd to feel love's new alarms. 


The greatest gift that from their lofty thrones 
The all-governing pow'rs to man can give, 
Is, that he never breathe, or, breathing once, 
A suckling end his days, and leave to live ; 
For then he neither knows the woe nor joy 
Of life, nor fears the Stygian lake's annoy. 


Sweet wanton thought, who art of beauty bom, 

And who on beauty feed'st, and sweet desire, 

Like taper fly, still circling, and still turn 

About that flame that all so much admire ; 

That heavenly fair which doth out-blush the morn, 5 

Those ivory hands, those threads of golden wire. 

Thou still surroundest, yet dar'st not aspire. 

Sure thou dost well that place not to come near. 

Nor see the majesty of that fair court ; 

For if thou saw'st what wonders there resort, 10 

The pure intelligence that moves that sphere, 

Like souls ascending to those joys above, 

Back never wouldst thou turn, nor thence remove. 



The doubtful fears of change so fright my mind, 
Tliough raised to the highest joy in love, 
As in this slippery state more grief I find, 
Than they who never such a bliss did prove, 

But fed with ling'ring hopes of future gain, 5 

Dream not what 'tis to doubt a loser's pain. 


Desire a safer harbour is than fear. 

And not to rise less danger than to fall ; 

The want of jewels we far better bear, 

Than, so possess'd, at once to lose them all : lo 

Unsatisfied hopes time may repair, 
WTien ruin'd faith must finish in despair. 


Alas ! ye look but up the hill on me. 
Which shows to you a fair and smooth ascent, 
The precipice behind ye cannot see, is 

On which high fortunes are too pronely bent : 
If there I slip, what former joy or bliss 
Can heal the bruise of such a fall as this ? 

E. r. 



Who love enjoys, and placed hath his mind 
^^^lere fairer virtues fairest beauties grace, 
Then in himself such store of worth doth find. 
That he deserves to hold so good a place : 

To chilling fears how can he be set forth, 5 

^\^lose fears condemn his own, doubts others' worth ? 


Desire, as flames of zeal, fear, horrors, meets, 

They rise who fear of falling never prov'd. 

Who is so dainty, satiate with sweets, 

To murmur when the banquet is remov'd ? 10 

The fairest hopes time in the bud destroys, 
\\Tien sweet are memories of ruin'd joys. 


It is no hill but heaven where you remain, 

And whom desert advanced hath so high, 

To reach the guerdon of his burning pain, as 

Must not repine to fall, and falling die : 

His hopes arc crown'd ; what years of tedious breath 
Can them compare with such a happy death ? 

W. D. 



Trees happier far than I, 

Which have the grace to heave your heads so high, 

And overlook those plains. 

Grow till your branches kiss that lofty sky 

Which her sweet self contains ; 5 

There make her know mine endless love and pains, 

And how these tears which from mine eyes do fall, 

Help'd you to rise so tall : 

Tell her, as once I for her sake lov'd breath, 

So for her sake I now court ling'ring death. lo 


How comes it, Sleep, that thou 

Even kisses me affords 

Of her, dear her, so far who 's absent now ? 

How did I hear those words. 

Which rocks might move, and move the pines to bow ? 5 

Ay me, before half day 

Why didst thou steal away ? 

Return, I thine for ever will remain. 

If thou wilt bring with thee that guest again. 


Hard laws of mortal life ! 

To which made thralls, we come without consent. 

Like tapers lighted to be early spent ; 

Our griefs are always rife. 


When joys but halting march, and swiftly fly 5 

Like shadows in the eye : 

The shadow doth not yield unto the sun, 

But joys and life do waste even when begun. 


What course of life should wretched mortals take ? 

In books hard questions large contention make ; 

Care dwells in houses, labour in the field, 

Tumultuous seas affrighting dangers yield ; 

In foreign lands thou never canst be blest, 5 

If rich, thou art in fear, if poor, distress'd. 

In wedlock frequent discontentments swell, 

Unmarried persons as in deserts dwell. 

How many troubles are with children born ! 

Yet he that wants them counts himself forlorn. 10 

Young men are wanton, and of wisdom void ; 

Grey hairs are cold, unfit to be employ'd. 

Who would not one of those two offers try, 

Not to be born ; or, being bom, to die ? 


[Translated from the Latin of Dr. Arthur Johnston.] 

Install'd on hills, her head near starry bowers, 
Shines Edinburgh, proud of protecting powers. 
Justice defends her heart ; Religion east 
With temples, Mars with lowers doth guartl the west ; 


Fresh nymphs and Ceres ser\'ing, wait upon her, 5 

And Thetis, tributary, doth her honour. 

The sea doth Venice shake, Rome Tiber beats, 

While she but scorns her vassal water's threats. 

For sceptres no where stands a town more fit, 

Nor place where town, world's queen, may fairer sit. lo 

But this thy praise is, above all, most brave. 

No man did e'er defame thee but a slave. 


Pronounced by Mr. James Wiseman, Schoolmaster there, 
enclosed in a plaster made in the figure of a Lion. 

Thrice royal sir, here I do you beseech, 

Who art a lion, to hear a lion's speech ; 

A miracle ; for since the days of ^^sop, 

No lion till these times his voice dar'd raise up 

To such a majesty. Then, king of men, a 

The king of beasts speaks to thee from his den ; 

Who, tho' he now enclosed be in plaster, 

When he was free was Lithgow's wise schoolmaster. 


A COUNTRY maid Amazon-like did ride. 
To sit more sure, with leg on either side ; 
Her mother, who her spied, said, that ere long 
She should just penance suffer for that wrong ; 


For when time should on her more years bestow, 5 
That horse's hair between her thighs would grow. 
Scarce winter twice was come, as was her told, 
\\'hen she found all to frizzle there with gold, 
\\Tiich first made her afraid, then turn'd her sick, 
And forc'd her keep her bed almost a week. lo 

At last her mother calls, who scarce for laughter 
Could hear the pleasant story of her daughter ; 
But that this frenzy should no more her vex. 
She swore thus bearded were their weaker sex ; 
^^'hich when denied, "Think not," said she, "I 
scorn, 15 

Behold the place, poor fool, where thou was bom." 
The girl, that seeing, cried, now void of pain, 
'* Ah ! mother, you have ridden on the mane." 


Flora upon a time 

Naked Alcides' statue did behold. 

And with delight admir'd each amorous limb : 

Only one fault she said could be of 't told ; 

For by right symmetry 5 

The craftsman had him wrong'd, 

To such tall joints a taller club belong'd. 

The club hung by his thigh : 

To which the statuary did reply, 

" Fair nymph, in ancient days your by far, 10 

Were not so hugely vast as now they are." 



All ! if ye ask, my friends, why this salt shower 

My blubher'd eyes upon this paper pour, 

Gone is my sparrow ; he whom I did train, 

And tum'd so toward, by a cat is slain. 

No more with trembling wings shall he attend 5 

His watchful mistress : would my life could end ! 

No more shall I him hear chirp pretty lays ; 

Have I not cause to loath my tedious days ? 

A Dredalus he was to catch a fly, 

Nor wrath nor rancour men in him could spy ; 10 

To touch or wrong his tail if any dar'd. 

He pinch'd their fingers, and against them warr'd : 

Then might that crest be seen shake up and down, 

Which fixed was unto his little crown ; 

Like Hector's, Troy's strong bulwark, when in ire 15 

He rag'd to set the Grecian fleet on fire. 

But, ah, alas ! a cat this prey espies. 

Then with a leap did thus our joys surprise. 

Undoubtedly this bird was kill'd by treason, 

Or otherways had of that fiend had reason. co 

Thus was Achilles by weak Paris slain, 

And stout Camilla fell by Aruns vain : 

So that false horse, which Pallas rais'd 'gainst Troy, 

King Priam and that city did destroy. 

Thou now, whose heart is big with this frail glory, 25 

Shalt not live long to tell thy honour's story. 

If any knowledge resteth after death 

In ghosts of birds, when they have left to breathe. 


My darling's ghost shall know in lower place. 

The vengeance falling on the cattish race. 30 

Ibr never cat nor catling I shall find, 

But mew shall they in Pluto's palace blind. 

Ye who with gaudy wings and bodies light 

Do dint the air, turn hitherwards your flight, 

To my sad tears comply these notes of yours, 35 

Unto his idol bring an harv'st of flowers ; 

Let him accept from us, as most divine, 

Sabsean incense, milk, food, sweetest wine ; 

And on a stone let us these words engrave : 

" Pilgrim, the body of a sparrow brave 40 

In a fierce gluttonous cat's womb clos'd remains, 

Whose ghost now graceth the Elysian plains." 


PA. Shepherd, dost thou love me well ? 

Da. Better than weak words can tell. 

PA. Like to what, good shepherd, say ? 

Da. Like to thee, fair, cruel may. 

P/i. O how strange these words I find ! 6 

Yet, to satisfy my mind, 
Shepherd, without mocking me. 
Have I any love for thee. 
Like to what, good shepherd, say ? 

Da. Like to thee, fair, cruel may. 10 

PA. Better answer had it been 
To say thou lov'd me as thine eyne. 

Da. Woe is me, these I love not, 
For by them love entrance got, 


At that time they did behold is 

Thy sweet face and locks of gold. 

PA. Like to what, dear shepherd, say ? 

Da. Like to thee, fair, cruel may. 

F/i. Once, dear shepherd, speak more plain, 
And I shall not ask again ; 20 

Say, to end this gentle strife. 
Dost thou love me as thy life ? 

£>a. No, for it is Uirn'd a slave 
To sad annoys, and what I have 
Of life by love's stronger force at 

Is reft, and I'm but a dead corse. 

P/i. Like to what, good shepherd, say ? 

Z>a. Like to thee, fair, cruel may. 

/%. Leave, I pray, this like to thee, 
And say, I love as I do me. so 

Da. Alas ! I do not love myself, 
For I 'm split on beauty's shelf. 

P/i. Like to what, good shepherd, say ? 

Da. Like to thee, fair, cruel may. 



Like to the solitary pelican, 
The shady groves I haunt, and deserts wild, 
Amongst woods' burgesses, from sight of man, 
From earth's delight, from mine own self exil'd. 


But that remorse which with my fall began, 5 

Relenteth not, nor is by change turn'd mild, 
But rents my soul, and like a famish'd child 
Renews its cries, though nurse does what she can. 
Look how the shrieking bird that courts the night 
In ruin'd wall doth lurk, and gloomy place : 10 

Of sun, of moon, of stars, I shun the light, 
Not knowing where to stay, what to embrace : 

How to heaven's lights should I lift these of mine, 
Sith I denied him who made them shine ? 


The woful Mary, midst a blubber'd band 
■ Of weeping virgins, near unto the tree 
Where God death suffer'd, man from death to free, 
Like to a plaintful nightingale did stand, 

^Vhich sees her younglings reft before her eyes, 5 
And hath nought else to guard them save her cries. 
Love thither had her brought, and misbelief 
Of these sad news, which charg'd her mind to fears, 
But now her eyes more wretched, then her tears, 
Bear witness, ah ! too true, of feared grief: 10 

Her doubts made certain, did her hopes destroy. 
Abandoning her soul to black annoy. 
Long fixing downcast eyes on earth, at last 
She longing did them raise, O torturing sight ! 
To view what they did shun, their sole delight, is 
Imbru'd in his own blood, and naked plac'd 
To sinful eyes, naked save that black veil 
Which heaven him shrouded with, that did bewail. 



It was not pity, pain, grief, did possess 
The mother, but an agony more strange ; oo 

Cheek's roses in pale lilies straight did change, 
Her sp'rits, as if she bled his blood, turn'd less : 
When she saw him, woe did all words deny, 
And grief her only suffer'd sigh, " O my, 
O my dear Lord and Son ! " Then she began : 25 
•' Immortal birth ! tho' of a mortal born, 
Eternal bounty which doth heaven adorn, 
Without a mother, God ; a father, man : 

Ah ! what hast thou deserv'd, what hast thou 

Thus to be treat ? Woe 's me, my son, my son ! 30 
Who bruis'd thy face, the glory of this All, 
Who eyes engor'd, loadstars to Paradise, 
Who, as thou were a trimmed sacrifice, 
Did with that cruel crown thy brows impale ? 

Who rais'd thee, whom so oft the angels serv'd, 35 
Between those thieves who that foul death deserv'd ? 
Was it for this thou bred wast in my womb, 
Mine arms a cradle serv'd thee to repose, 
My milk thee fed, as morning-dew the rose ? 
Did I thee keep till this sad time should come, 49 

That wretched men should nail thee to a tree, 
And I a witness of thy pangs must be ? 
It is not long, the ways bestrew'd with flowers, 
With shouts to echoing heavens and mountains roU'd, 
Since, as in triumph, I thee did behold « 

In royal pomp approach proud Sion's towers : 

Lo ! what a change ! who did thee then embrace. 
Now at thee shake their heads, inconstant race I 


Eternal Father ! from whose piercing eye 

Hid nought is found, that in this All is forni'd, 50 

Deign to vouchsafe a look unto this round. 

This round, the stage of a sad tragedy : 

Look but if thy dear pledge thou here canst know, 
On an unhappy tree a shameful show. 
Ah ! look if this be he, almighty King, ss 

Before heavens spangled were with stars of gold, 
Ere world a centre had it to uphold, 
Whom from eternity thou forth didst bring. 
With virtue, form, and light, who did adorn 
Sky's radiant globes, see where he hangs a scorn. 60 
Did all my prayers tend to this ? Is this 
The promise that celestial herald made 
At Nazareth, when full of joy he said, 
I happy was, and from thee did me bless ? 

How am I blest? No, most unhappy I es 

Of all the mothers underneath the sky. 
How true and of choice oracles the choice 
Was that blest Hebrew, whose dear eyes in peace 
Mild death did close, ere they saw this disgrace, 
When he forespake with more than angel's voice, 70 
The son should, malice' sign, be set apart. 
Then that a sword should pierce the mother's 
heart ! 
But whither dost thou go, life of my soul ? 
O stay a little till I die with thee ; 
And do I live thee languishing to sec, 75. 

And cannot grief frail laws of life control ? 

H grief prove weak, come, cruel squadrons, kill 
The mother, spare the son, he knows no ill ; 


He knows no ill ; those pangs, base men, are due 
To me and all the world, save him alone ; so 

But now he doth not hear my liitter moan ; 
Too late I cry, too late I plaints renew ; 

Pale arc his lips, down doth his head decline, 
Dim turn those eyes once wont so bright to shine. 
The heavens, which in their mansions constant move, 85 
That they may not seem guilty of this crime, 
Benighted have the golden eye of time : 
Ungrateful earth, canst thou such shame approve. 
And seem unmov'd, this done upon thy face ? " 
Earth trembled then, and she did hold her peace, so 



Ah ! silly soul, what wilt thou say. 
When he whom earth and heavens obey, 
Comes man to judge in the last day ; 


When he a reason asks, why grace 

And goodness thou would'sl not embrace, 

But steps of vanity didst trace ? 


That day of terror, vengeance, ire, 
Kow to prevent thou should'st desire, 
And to thy God in haste retire. 



With wat'ry eyes, and sigh-swoU'n heart, 10 

O beg, beg in his love a part, 

WTiilst conscience with remorse doth smart. 


That dreaded day of wrath and shame. 

In flames shall turn this world's huge frame, 

As sacred prophets do proclaim. 15 


O with what grief shall earthlings groan, 
When that great Judge, set on his throne, 
Examines strictly every one ! 

Shrill-sounding trumpets through the air 
Shall, from dark sepulchres, each where 20 

Force wretched mortals to appear. 

Nature and Death amaz'd remain, 
To find their dead arise again. 
And process with their Judge maintain. 


Display'd then open books shall lie, as 

Which all those secret crimes descry, 
For which the guilty world must die. 



The Judge enthron'd, whom bribes not gain, 

The closest crimes appear shall plain, 

And none unpunished remain. so 


O who then pity shall poor me, 
Or who mine advocate shall be, 
When scarce the justest pass shall free ? 


All wholly holy dreadful King, 

Who freely life to thine dost bring, as 

Of mercy save me, mercy's spring. 


Then, sweet Jesu, call to mind 
How of thy pains I was the end. 
And favour let me that day find. 


In search of me, thou full of pain 40 

Did'st sweat blood, death on cross sustain ; 
Let not these suff'rings be in vain. 


Thou supreme Judge, most just and wise. 

Purge me from guilt which on me lies, 

Before that day of thine assize. « 



Charg'd with remorse, lo ! here I groan, 
Sin makes my face a blush take on ; 
Ah ! spare me prostrate at thy throne ; 


Who Mary Magdalen didst spare, 

And lend'st the thief on cross thine ear, so 

Showest me fair hopes, I should not fear. 


My prayers imperfect are, and weak, 
But worthy of thy grace them make. 
And save me from hell's burning lake. 



On that great day, at thy right hand, 
Grant I amongst thy sheep may stand, 
Sequestered from the goatish band. 


When that the reprobates are all 

To everlasting flames made thrall, 

O to thy chosen. Lord, me call 1 «o 


That I one of thy company, 

With those whom thou dost justify, 

May live blest in eternity. 


[on the earl of LINLITHGOW.] 

When death to deck his trophies stopp'd thy breath, 
Rare ornament and glory of these parts, 
All with moist eyes might say, and ruthful hearts, 
That things immortal vassall'd were to death. 

What good, in parts on many shar'd, we see 5 

From nature, gracious heaven, or fortune flow. 
To make a master-piece of worth below. 
Heaven, nature, fortune, gave in gross to thee. 

In honour, bounty, rich, in valour, wit. 
In courtesy, born of an ancient race, 10 

With bays in war, with olives crown'd in peace, 
Match'd great, with offspring for great actions fit ; 

No rust of times nor change thy virtue wan 
With times to change, when truth, faith, love decay'd 
In this new age ; like fate, thou fixed stay'd, is 

Of the first world an all-substantial man. 

As erst this kingdom given was to thy sire, 
The prince his daughter trusted to thy care. 
And well the credit of a gem so rare 

Thy loyalty and merit did require. so 



Years cannot wnrong thy worth, that now appears, 
By others set, as diamonds among pearls ; 
A queen's dear foster, father to three earls. 
Enough on earth to triumph are o'er years. 

Life a sea-voyage is, death is the haven, 25 

And fraught with honour there thou hast arriv'd, 
^\^lich thousands seeking, have on rocks been driven, 
That good adorns thy grave, which with thee liv'd : 
For a frail life which here thou didst enjoy, 
Thou now a lasting hast, freed of annoy. so 

[on lady jane maitland.] 

Like to the garden's eye, the flower of flow'rs 
With purple pomp that dazzle doth the sight. 
Or as among the lesser gems of nightj 
The usher of the planet of the hours. 
Sweet maid, thou shined'st on this world of ours, s 
Of all perfections having trac'd the height : 
Thine outward frame was fair, fair inward powers, 
A sapphire lanthom, and an incense light. 
Hence, the cnamour'd heaven, as too too good 
On earth's all-thorny soil long to abide, 10 

Transplanted to their fields so rare a bud, 
Where from thy sun no cloud thee now can hide. 
Earth moan'd her loss, and wish'd she had the grace 
Not to have known, or known thee longer space. 



No wonder now, if mists becloud our day, 
Sith late our earth lacks her celestial Ray ; 
And Phoebus mourns his priest, and all his quire, 
In sables wrapp'd, weep out their sacred fire ; 
Farewell, of Latin Muses greatest praise, 5 

Whether thou read grave proses, or did raise 
Delight and wonder by a numbrous strain ; 
Farewell, Quintilian once more dead again ; 
With ancient Plautus, Martial combined, 
Maro and TuUy, here in one enshrined. 10 

Bright Ray of learning, which so clear didst stream, 
Farewell, soul which so many souls did frame ! 
Many Olympiads about shall come. 
Ere earth like thee another can entomb. 


Fond wight, who dream'st of greatness, glory, state, 
And worlds of pleasures, honours dost devise, 
Awake, learn how that here thou art not great 
Nor glorious, by this monument turn wise. 

One it enshrineth, sprung of ancient stem, b 

And, if that blood nobility can make, 
From which some kings have not disdain'd to take 
Their proud descent, a rare and matchless gem. 


A beauty here it holds by full assurance, 

Than which no blooming rose was more refin'd, 10 

Nor morning's blush more radiant ever shin'd, 

Ah ! too too like to morn and rose at last. 

It holds her who in wit's ascendant far 
Did years and sex transcend, to whom the heaven 
More virtue than to all this age had given, n 

For virtue meteor turn'd when she a star. 

Fair mirth, sweet conversation, modesty, 
And what those kings of numbers did conceive 
By Muses nine, and Graces more than three. 
Lie clos'd within the compass of this grave. 20 

Thus death all earthly glories doth confound, 
Lo, how much worth a little dust doth bound ! 


What was mortal of Thomas Dalyell of Binns 
lieth here. He was descended of the ancient race of 
the Ls. of Dalyell, now deservedly advanced to be 
Earls of Carnwath. His integrity and worth made 

him an unremoved Justice of Peace, and 

years Sheriff in the county of Linlithgow. He left, 
successors of his virtues and fortunes, a son renowned 
by the wars, and a daughter married to William 
Drummond of Riccarton. After 69 years' pilgrim- 
age here on earth, he was removed to the repose of 
heaven, the 10 of ?\bruary 1642. 

Justice, truth, peace, and hospitality. 
Friendship, and love, being resolved to die 


In these lewd times, have chosen here to have 
With just, true, pious, kind Dalyell their grave ; 
He them cherish'd so long, so much did grace, 
That they than this would choose no dearer place. 
T. Filins manibiis charissivii patris parentavit. 



Of those rare worthies who adorn'd our north, 

And shin'd like constellations, thou alone 

Remainedst last, great Maitland, charg'd with worth. 

Second in virtue's theatre to none ; 

But finding all eccentric in our times, 5 

Religion into superstition turn'd, 

Justice silenc'd, exiled, or inurn'd. 

Truth, faith, and charity reputed crimes ; 

The young men destinate by sword to fall. 

And trophies of their country's spoils to rear, lo 

Strange laws the aged and prudent to appal. 

And forc'd sad yokes of tyranny to bear. 

And for nor great nor virtuous minds a room, 
Disdaining life thou shrink'st into thy tomb. 


When misdevotion everywhere shall take place. 
And lofty orators in thund'ring terms 
Shall move you, people, to arise in arms, 
And church's hallow'd policy deface ; 


When you shall but one general sepulchre, s 

As Averroes did one general soul, 

On high, on low, on good, on bad confer, 

And your dull predecessors' rites control ; 

Ah ! spare this monument ; great guests it keeps, 

Three grave justiciars, whom true worth did raise, 10 

The Muses' darlings, whose loss Phoebus weeps. 

Best men's delight, the glory of their days. 

More we would say, but fear, and stand in awe, 

To turn idolaters and break your law. 


Do not repine, blest soul, that humble wits 
Do make thy worth the matter of their verse ; 
No high-strain'd Muse our times and sorrows fits. 
And we do sigh, not sing, to crown thy hearse. 
The wisest Prince e'er manag'd Britain's state, 5 

Did not disdain in numbers clear and brave 
The virtues of thy sire to celebrate, 
And fix a rich memorial on his grave. 
Thou didst deserve no less ; and here in jet, 
Gold, touch,* brass, porphyry, or Parian stone, w 
That by a prince's hand no lines are set 
For thee, the cause is now this land hath none : 
Such giant moods our parity forth brings, 
We all will nothing be, or all be kings. 

* Touch : touchstone, basanite. 



To the Memory of the virtuous Gentlewoman Rachel 
Lindsay, Daughter of Sir Jerome Lindsay, Principal 
King of Arms, and wife to Lieutenant-Colonel Barnard 
Lindsay, who died the . . day of May, the year 1645, 
after she had lived .... years. 

The daughter of a king, of princely parts, 
In beauty eminent, in virtues chief, 
Loadstar of love, and loadstone of all hearts, 
Her friends' and husband's only joy, now grief. 
Enclosed lies within this narrow grave, e 

Whose paragon no times, no climates have. 
Marittis mcerens posuit. 


This marble needs no tears ; let them be pour'd 

For such whom earth's dull bowels have embower'd 

In childhead or in youth, and left to live 

By some sad chance fierce planets did contrive. 

Eight lustres, twice full reckoned, did make thee 5 

All this life's happiness to know ; and we 

"Who saw thee in thy winter (as men flowers 

Shrunk in their stems, or Ilium's fair towers. 

Hid in their rubbish), could not but admire, 

The casket spoiled, the jewel so entire ; 10 


For neither judgment, memory, nor sense 

In thee was blasted, till all fled from hence 

To thy great Maker ; earth unto earth must, 

Man in his best estate is but best dust. 

Now, even though buried, yet thou canst not die, 15 

But happy liv'st in thy fair progeny 

To outdate time, and never pass away. 

Till angels raise thee from thy bed of clay. 

And bless'd again with these here lov'd thou meet, 

Rest in Fame's temple and this winding-sheet : 20 

Content thou liv'd here, happy though not great, 

And died with the kingdom and the state. 


What was mortal of W. Ramsay lieth here. He 
was the son of John Ramsay, L. of Edington, brother 
to the Right Honourable William the first Earl of 
Dalhousie, a lineage of all virtues in peace, and valour 
in war, renowned by all times, and second to none ; 
a youth ingenuous, of fair hopes, a mild sweet disposi- 
tion, pleasant aspect, countenance ; his kindred's de- 
light and joy, now their greatest displeasure and sorrow ; 
having left this transitory stage of cares, when he but. 
scarce appeared upon it, in his tender nonage. 

So falls by northern blast a virgin rose, 

At half that doth her bashful bosom close ; 

So a sweet flourish languishing decays, 

That late did blush when kiss'd by Phoebus' rays. 


Though untimely cropp'd, leave to bemoan his 

He died with our monarchy and state. 

His mother J"j"j that care and love she carried to 
him, to continue here his memory some space, raised 
this monument anno 1649, mense . . . 
I)timoriale dectis super is. 


As nought for splendour can with sun compare, 
For beauty, sweetness, modesty, ingyne. 
So she alone unparagon'd did shine, 
And angels did with her in graces share. 

Though few here were her days, a span her life, s 
Yet hath she long time lived, performing all 
Those actions which the oldest do befall — 
Pure, fruitful, modest, virgin, mother, wife. 

For this perhaps the fates her days did close, 
Her deeming old ; perfection doth not last, 10 

When coarser things scarce course of time can waste ; 
Years lives the worthless bramble, few days the rose. 

Unhappy autumn, spoiler of the flowers, 
Disheveler of meads and fragrant plains. 
Now shall those moneths which thy date contains, is 
Uo more from heavens' be nam'd, but eyes' salt showers. 



Far from these banks exiled be all joys, 
Contentments, pleasures, music, care's relief ; 
Tears, sighs, plaints, horrors, frightments, sad annoys 
Invest these mountains, fill all hearts with grief. 

Here, nightingales and turtles, vent your moans ; 5 
Amphrj'sian shepherd, here come feed thy flocks, 
And read thy Hyacinth amidst our groans ; 
Plain, Echo, thy Narcissus from our rocks. 

Lost have our meads their beauty, hills their gems, 
Our brooks their crystal, groves their pleasant shade, 10 
The fairest flow'r of all our anadems 
Death cropped hath, the Lesbia chaste is dead. 
Thus sighed the Tyne, then shrunk beneath his urn. 
And meads, brooks, rivers, hills about did mourn. 


AlTHEN, thy pearly coronet let fall ; 
Clad in sad rol>cs, upon thy temples set 
The weeping cypress, or the sable jet : 
Mourn this thy nursling's loss, a loss which all 
Apollo's quire lx;moans, which many years 
Cannot repair, nor influence of spheres. 

VOL. n. M 


Ah ! when shalt thou lincl shepherd like to him, 
Who made thy banks more famous by his worth, 
Than all those gems thy rocks and streams send forth ? 
His splendour others' glow-worm light did dim, lo 
Sprung of an ancient and a virtuous race, 
He virtue more than many did embrace. 

He fram'd to mildness thy half-barbarous swains, 
The good man's refuge, of the bad the fright, 
Unparallel'd in friendship, world's delight, is 

P"or hospitality along thy plains 
Far-fam'd, a patron and a pattern fair 
Of piety, the Muses' chief repair. 

IMost debonair, in courtesy supreme, 
Lov'd of the mean, and honour'd by the great, 20 

Ne'er dash'd by fortune, nor cast down by fate. 
To present and to after times a theme. 

Aithen, thy tears pour on this silent grave. 

And drop them in thy alabaster cave, 

And Niobe's imagery become ; 25 

And when thou hast distilled here a tomb, 

Enchase in it thy pearls, and let it bear, 

Aithen's best gem and honour shrin'd lies here. 


Verses frail records are to keep a name. 
Or raise from dust men to a life of fame. 
The sport and spoil of ignorance ; but far 
More frail the frames of touch and marble are. 



Which envy, avarice, time ere long confound, 5 

Or mis-devotion equals with the ground. 

Virtue alone doth last, frees man from death, 

And, though despis'd and scorned here beneath. 

Stands grav'n in angels' diamantine rolls. 

And blazed in the courts above the poles. » 

Thou wast fair virtues' temple ; they did dwell 

And live ador'd in thee ; nought did excel 

But what thou either didst possess or love. 

The graces' darling, and the maids' of Jove ; 

Courted by fame for bounties which the heaven is 

Gave thee in great, which if in parcels given 

To many, such we happy sure might call : 

How happy then wast thou who enjoy'dst them all ! 

A whiter soul ne'er body did invest, 

And now, sequester'd, cannot be but blest, 20 

Inrob'd in glory, midst those hierarchies 

Of that immortal people of the skies. 

Bright saints and angels ; there from cares made free, 

Nought doth Ijecloud thy sovereign good from thee ; 

Thou smil'st at earth's confusions and jars, 25 

And how for Centaurs' children we wage wars : 

Like honey-flies, whose rage whole swarms consumes, 

Till dust thrown on them makes them vail their 

Thy friends to thee a monument would raise. 
And limn thy virtues, but dull grief thy praise :;<> 

Breaks in the entrance, and our task proves vain : 
What duty writes, that woe blots out again : 
Yet love a pyramid of sighs thee rears, 
And doth embalm thee with farewells aiul tears. 



In shells and gold, pearls are not kept alone, 

A Margaret here lies beneath a stone ; 

A Margaret that did excel in worth 

All those rich gems the Indies both send forth ; 

Who, had she liv'd when good was lov'd of men, 5 

Had made the Graces four, the Muses ten. 

And forc'd those happy times her days that claim'd, 

From her to be the age of pearl still nam'd. 

She was the richest jewel of her kind, 

Grac'd with more lustre than she left behind, lo 

All goodness, virtue, bounty, and could cheer 

The saddest minds. Now Nature, knowing here 

How things but shown, then hidden, are lov'd best, 

This Margaret shrin'd in this marble chest. 


Though marble, porphyry, and mourning touch. 
May praise these spoils, yet can they not too much > 
For beauty last, and * * * this stone doth close. 
Once earth's delight, heaven's care, a purest Rose. 
And, reader, shouldst thou but let fall a tear c 

Upon it, other flow'rs shall here appear, 
Sad violets and hyacinths, which grow 
With marks of grief, a public loss to show. 



Relenting eye, which deignest to this stone 

To lend a look, behold, here be laid one, 

The living and the dead interr'd, for dead 

The turtle in its mate is ; and, she fled 

From earth, her * * * choos'd this place of grief s 

To bound * * • thoughts, a small and sad relief.* 

His is this monument, for hers no art 

Could frame, a pyramid rais'd of his heart. 


Instead of epitaphs and airy praise, 

This monument a lady chaste did raise 

To her lord's living fame, and after death 

Her body doth unto this place bequeath, 

To rest with his, till God's shrill trumpet sound : 5 

Though time her life, no time her love could bound. 


If monuments were lasting, we would raise 

A fairer frame to thy deserts and praise ; 

But avarice, or misdevotion's rage. 

These tumljling down, or brought to nought by age, 

Twice making man to die, this marble bears a 

An emblem of affection and our tears. 

* The words omitted seem to be "husband" and 
" his." 



Fame, register of lime, 

Write in thy scroll, that I, 

Of wisdom lover, and sweet poesy, 

Was cropped in my prime, 

And ripe in worth, tho' green in years, did die. 


Within the closure of this narrow grave 
Lie all those graces a good wife could have ; 
But on this marble they shall not be read, 
For then the living en\-y would the dead, 


The bawd of justice, he who laws controU'd, 
And made them fawn and frown as he got gold. 
That Proteus of our state, whose heart and mouth 
Were farther distant than is north from south. 
That cormorant, who made himself so gross 
On people's ruin, and the prince's loss, 
Is gone to hell, and though he here did evil, 
lie there perchance may prove an honest devil. 


Peace, passenger, here sleepeth under ground 
A judge in ending causes most profound ; 
Though not long since he was laid in this place. 
It 's lustres ten since he corrupted was. 


[on rixus.] 

Here Rixus lies, a novice in the laws, 
\\T:o plains he came to hell without a cause. 


Sanquhar, whom this earth scarce could contain, 

Having seen Italy, France, and Spain, 

To finish his travels, a spectacle rare, 

Was bound towards heaven, but died in the air. 


Nor amaranths, nor roses do bequeath 

Unto this hearse, but tamarisks and wine, 

For that same thirst, though dead, yet doth him 

Which made him so carouse while he drew breath. 


Here S lies, most bitter gall. 

Who whilst he lived spoke evil of all, 

Only of God the arrant sot 

Naught said, but that he knew him not. 



Tread softly, passenger, upon this stone, 

For here enclosed stays, 

Debarred of mercy's rays, 

A soul, whose body swore it had not one. 


Here covered lies with earth, without a tomb, 
WTiose only praise is, that he died at Rome. 




From such a face, whose excellence 

May captivate my sovereign's sense, 

And make him, Phoebus like, his throne 

Resign to some young Phaethon, 

^^'hose skilless and unstayed hand s 

May prove the ruin of the land, 

Unless great Jove, down from the sky 

Beholding earth's calamity, 

Strike with his hand that cannot err, 

The proud usurping charioteer, lo 

And cure, tho' Phcebus grieve, our woe : 

From such a face as can work so, 

Wheresoever thou hast a being. 

Bless my sov'reign and his seeing. 


From jests profane, and flattering tongues, is 

From bawdy tales, and beastly songs. 

From after-supper suits, that fear 

A parliament or council's ear ; 



From Spanish treaties that may wound 

The country's peace, the gospel's sound ; 20 

From Job's false friends, that would entice 

My sovereign from heaven's paradise ; 

From prophets, such as Achab's were. 

Whose flatterings sooth my sovereign's ear, 

His frowns more than his Maker's fearing ; 25 

Bless my sov'reign and his hearing. 


From all fruit that is forbidden, 

Such for which old Eve was chidden ; 

From bread of labours, sweat, and toil, 

From the poor widow's meal and oil ; so 

From blood of innocents oft wrangled, 

From their estates, and from that's strangled ; 

From the candied poison'd baits 

Of Jesuits and their deceits, 

Italian salads, Romish drugs, 3» 

The milk of Babel's proud whore's dugs ; 

From wine that can destroy the brain, 

And from the dangerous figs of Spain ; 

At all banquets and all feasting, 

Bless my sov'reign and his tasting. 40 


From prick of conscience, such a sting 
As slays the soul, Heaven bless the king ; 
From such a bribe as may withdraw 
His thoughts from equity or law ; 


From such a smooth and beardless chin « 

As may provoke or tempt to sin ; 

From such a hand whose moist pahn may 

My sov'reign lead out of the way ; 

From things polluted and unclean, 

From all things beastly and obscene ; bo 

From that may set his soul a reeling. 

Bless my sov'reign and his feeling. 


Where myrrh and frankincense is thrown, 

The altar's built to gods unknown, 

O let my sov'reign never dwell, ss 

Such damn'd perfumes are fit for hell. 

Let not such scent his nostrils stain, 

From smells that poison can the brain. 

Heavens still preserve him. Next I crave 

Thou wilt be pleased, great God, to save 

My sov'reign from a Ganymede, 

Whose whorish breath hath power to lead 

His excellence which way it list ; 

O let such lips be never kiss'd ; 

From a breath so far excelling w 

Bless my sov'reign and his smelling. 





And now, just God, I humbly pray- 
That thou wilt take the slime away, 
That keeps my sov'reign's eyes from seeing 

The things that will be our undoing. 70 


Then let him hear, good God, the sounds 
As well of men as of his hounds. 


Give him a taste, and truly too. 
Of what his subjects undergo. 


Give him a feeling of their woes, 75 

And then no doubt his royal nose 
Will quickly smell the rascals forth, 
Whose black deeds have ecHps'd his worth ; 
They found and scourg'd for their offences, 
Heavens bless my sov'reign and his senses ! so 



Would you know these royal knaves 

Of freemen would turn us slaves ; 

Who our union do defame 

With rebellion's wicked jiame ? 

Read these verses, and ye will spring them, 5 

Then on gibbets straight cause hing them. 

They complain of sin and folly, 

In these times, so passing holy, 

They their substance will not give. 

Libertines that we may live ; lo 

Hold those subjects too too wanton, 

Under an old king dare canton. 

Neglect they do our circular tables, 

Scorn our acts and laws as fables, 

Of our bailies talk but meekly, ij 

With four sermons pleas'd are weekly, 

Swear King Charles is neither Papist, 

Arminian, Lutheran, or Atheist ; 

But that in his chamber-prayers. 

Which are pour'd 'midst sighs and tears, 

To avert God's fearful wrath, 

Threat'ning us with blood and death, 

I'crsuadc they would the multitude. 

This king too holy is and good. 

They avouch we'll weep and groan 

When hundred kings we serve for one. 



That each shire but blood affords 

To serve the ambition of young lords, 

Whose debts ere now had been redoubled, 

If the state had not been troubled. so 

Slow they are our oath to swear, 

Slower for it arms to bear ; 

They do concord love and peace, 

Would our enemies embrace, 

Turn men proselytes by the word, 35 

Not by musket, pike, and sword. 

They swear that for religion's sake 

We may not massacre, burn, sack ; 

That the beginning of these pleas 

Sprang from the ill-sped A B C's ; 40 

P'or servants that it is not well 

Against their masters to rebel ; 

That that devotion is but slight 

Doth force men first to swear, then fight ; 

That our Confession is indeed 4.-; 

Not the apostolic creed, 

Which of negations we contrive, 

Which Turk and Jew may both subscrive ; 

That moneys should men's daughters marry. 

They on frantic war miscarry, so 

Whilst dear the soldiers they pay, 

At last who will snatch all away. 

And as times turn worse and worse. 

Catechise us by the purse ; 

That debts are paid with bold stern looks, ss 

That merchants pray on their compt-books ; 

That Justice, dumb and sullen, frowns 


To see in croslets hang'd her gowns ; 

That preachers' ordinary theme 

Is 'gainst monarchy to declaim ; 60 

That since leagues we began to swear, 

Vices did ne'er so black appear ; 

Oppression, bloodshed, ne'er more rife, 

Foul jars between the man and wife ; 

Religion so contemn'd was never, 6S 

\\Tiilst all are raging in a fever. 

They tell by devils and some sad chance 

That that detestable league of France, 

"Which cost so many thousand lives. 

And two kings by religious knives, 70 

Is amongst us, though few descry ; 

Though they speak truth, yet say they lie. 

He who says that night is night, 

That cripple folk walk not upright, 

That the owls into the spring 7fi 

Do not nightingales outsing ; 

That the seas we may not plough, 

Ropes make of the rainy bow ; 

That the foxes keep not sheep. 

That men waking do not sleep ; 80 

That all's not gold doth gold appear, 

Believe him not altho' he swear. 

To such syrens stop your ear, 

Their societies forbear. 

Ye may be tossed like a wave, 86 

Verity may you deceive ; 

Just fools they may make of you ; 

Then hate them worse than Turk or Jew. 


Were it not a dangerous thing, 

Should we again obey the king, 90 

Lords lose should sovereignty, 
Soldiers haste back to Germany, 
Justice should in our towns remain, 
Poor men possess their own again. 
Brought out of hell that word of plunder 95 

More terrible than devil or thunder, 
.Should with the Covenant fly away, 
And charity amongst us stay, 
Peace and plenty should us nourish, 
True religion 'mongst us flourish ? 100 

When you find these lying fellows. 
Take and flower with them the gallows ; 
On others you may too lay hold, 
In purse or chest if they have gold. 
Who wise or rich are in this nation, 105 

Malignants are by protestation. 

wiL. drummond's lines on the bishops : 


[From a Manuscript in the Advocates' Library, in the hand- 
writing of Sir James Balfour.] 

Do all pens slumber still, dare not one try 
In tumbling lines to let some pasquil fly ? 
Each hour a satire craveth to display 
The secrets of this tragic-comic play. 


If Love should let me write, I think you 'd see 5 

The Pyrenees and Alps come skip to me, 

And laugh themselves asunder ; if I 'd trace 

The hurly-burly of state business. 

And to the world abused once but tell 

The legend of Ignatian Machiavel, 10 

That old bold smoking monster, and the pride 

Of these usurping prelates that dare ride 

Upon authority, and look so gay 

As if, good men, they ought forsooth to sway 

Church, state, and all. Plague on that damned crew is 

Of such hell's black-mouth'd hounds ; it 's of a new 

That Roman panders boldly dar'd to woo. 

Nay, strain a gentle King these things to do, 

That move the French, Italian, and Spain, 

In a luxurious and insulting strain 20 

To sing Te Deum, 'cause they hope to see 

The glory of the popish prelacy 

Raised above his royal throne apace, 

To drown his minor light with prouder face. 

These hounds they have engaged him on the stage -a 

Of sharp-eyed Europe, nay, there's not a page 

But thinks he may laugh freely when he sees 

Kings buffoons act, and bishops tragedies. 

Should any dally with the lion's paw ? 

Then know a distance, serpents, stand in awe. 30 

Nay, pray you heavens, once lend me but your 

ril crush and tear these sordid slaves asunder. 
And level with the dust their altar's horn, 
With the lascivious organs, pity's scorn ; 

VOL. II. .\ 


Or let me be as king, then of their skin as 

I'll cause dress leather and fine maroquin, 

To cover coaches, where they wont to ride, 

And walk in boots and shoes made of their hide ; 

Whip them at neighbour princes' courts to show 

Tliat no novations Scots zeal can allow. 40 

I sacrifice would such presumptuous slaves 

To my dear people, beat to dust the knaves, 

Then of the powder of their bones to dray 

The hair and periwig to the pope's lackey. 

I nobly should resent and take to heart 45 

These pedants' pride that make poor Britain smart. 

Confound the church, the state, and all the nation 

With apish fooleries and abomination ; 

Leave churches desolate, and stop the mouth 

Of faithful watchmen who dare preach but truth ; so 

Incendiary firebrands, whose proud words 

Drop blood, and sound the clatt'ring noise of 

Had I but half the spite of Galloway Tom, 
That Roman snaky viper, I 'd fall from 
Discreeter lines, and rub their itching ear m 

With Spanish novels : but I will forbear. 
Because my foster and my amorous quill 
Is not yet hard, proud pasquils to distil, 
I do entreat that droll John de Koell 
To sting them with satires hatch'd in hell ; go 

Each dog chide these tobacco-breath 'd divines, 
Each pen dart volumes of acutest lines. 
And print the shame of that black troop profane 
In livid words, with a Tartarian strain. 


Since I a lover am, and know not how es 

To limn a satyr in half hideous hue, 

Like to polypragmatic Machiavel, 

In pleasant flame, not strife, I love to dwell. 

But now to Paris back I go to tell 

Some news to plotting Richelieu : fare you well. ru 

[an apology.] 

MOMUS, with venom'd tooth, why would'st thou tear 

Our Muses, and turn Moors those virgins fair ? 

Nor citizen, nor manners do they brand, 

Nor of the town ought, save where it doth stand. 

I curs'd, I do confess, some nasty mire, 5 

And lake, deem'd poison by all Paean's quire : 

Iiidwellers safe, I heartily wish'd the town 

Turned in one rock, and still wish 't o'erthrown, 

Klsewhere a nobler town might raised be, 

For sky, air, sweeter, and in bounds more free ; 10 

Yet there to dwell no shame is, nor be born ; 

Pearls dwell in oysters, roses grow on thorn. 

His Rome when Caesar purpos'd to make new, 

Himself straight firebrands on their rafters threw. 

If in these wishes ought deserveth blame, js 

A Caledonian king first wish'd the same. 

My Muse, perhaps, too bold is, but far far 

From tartness breast, from gall her papers are. 



At ease I read your work, and am right sorry 

It came not forth before Encomium Moricz, 

Or in the days when good King James the First 

Caroused the horse's spring to quench his thirst ; 

I durst have given my thumb and laid a wager, 5 

Thy name had grac'd the Chronicles of John Major, 

Had thou liv'd in the days of great Augustus 

(Hence, vulgar dotards, hence, unless ye trust us), 

Thy works, with geese, had kept the Capitol, 

And thou for ever been a happy soul ; lo 

Thy statue had been raised near Claudianus, 

And thou in court liv'd equal with Scjanus. 

Cornelius Tacitus is no such poet. 

Nor Livy ; I'll say more ere that I go yet : 

Let all that here do wear celestial bonnets, t is 

Like thine, they cannot write four-squared sonnets. 

Which shine like to that mummy brought from Venice, 

Or like the French king s relics at Saint Denis, 

It is a matter of regret and pity 

Thou art not read into that famous city -m 

Of Constantine, for then the Turks and Tartars 

Had drunk with us, and like to ours worn garters ; 

* The word is partially erased in the manuscript, but 
seems as if it had been Follies. — Note from Arch. Scot. 

t Perhaps we should read, "Let all hear that do 
wear," &c. 


And the strange Muftis and hard Mamelukes 
Had cut their beards, and got by heart thy books. 
If any them detract, though he were Xenophon, ;s 
Thou shalt have such revenge as e'er was ta'en of one, 
From this our coast unto the wall of China, 
WTiere maids wear narrow shoes ; thou hast been a 
Man for em-y, though such forsooth was Horace, 
Vet thou no less dost write than he, and soar as .w 
Far in this our tongue as any Latins, 
Though some do read their verse that wear fine satins ; 
Rome's latest wonder, r^reat Torquato Tasso, 
Writing, to thee were a pecorious ass, ho ! 
Now to conclude, the nine Castalian lasses .'w 

Their maidenheads thee sell for fans and glasses. 



OF THE ISLE OF RHE., would ye quail your foes, have better luck, 
•Send forth some drakes, and keep at home the duck. 



God never had a church but there, men say. 
The devil a chapel hath rais'd by some wiles. 
I doubted of this saw, till on a day 
I westward spied great Kdinburgh's Saint Giles. 



Rams aye run backward when they wouhl .iilvance ; 
Who knows if Ramsay may find such a chance, 
By playintj the slifT Puritan, to wear 
A bishop's rochet yet another year. 


Flyting * no reason hath, for at this lime, 
It doth not stand with reason, hut in rhyme. 
That none save tlius should flyte, had wc a law. 
What rest had we ! how would wives stand in awe, 
And learn the art of rhyming ! 'l"hen how well 
Would this and all good flyting pamphlets sell ! 

The king gives yearly to his senate gold. 
Who can deny but justice then is sold ? 


The Scottish kirk the English church df) name. 

The English church the Scots a kirk do call ; 

Kirk, and not church, church, and not kirk, O shame! 

Your kappa turn in chi, or perish all ; 

Assemblies meet, post bishops to the court ; r. 

If these two nations fight, 'tis strangers' sport. 

* Flyting : scolding. 



The king a negative voice most justly hath, 
Since the kirk hath found out a negative faith. 



Q. How is the Creed now stolen from us away ? 
A. The Ten Commandments gone, it would not stay. 
Q. Then have we no Commandments ? O wonder ! 
A. Yes, we have one for all — Go fight and plunder. 


Bishops are like the turners, most men say ; 
Though now cried down, they'll up some other day. 


Against the king, sir, now wliy would ye light ? 

Forsooth, because he dubb'd me not a knight. 

And ye, my lords, why arm ye 'gainst King Charles ? 

Because of lords he would not make us earls. 

F.arls, why do ye lead forth these warlike bands? 5 

Because we will not quit the church's lands. 

Most holy churchmen, what is your intent ? 

The king our stipends largely did augment. 

Commons, to tumult thus why are you driven ? 

Priests us persuade it is the way to heaven. lo 


Are these just cause of war, good people, grant? 
Mo I Plunder ! thou ne'er swore our covenant. 
Give me a thousand cov'nants, I'll subscrive 
Them all, and more, if more ye can contrive 
Of rage and malice ; and let every one i; 

Black treason bear, not bare rebellion. 
I'll not be mock'd, hiss'd, plunder'd, banish'd hence 
P'or more years standing for a * * * prince. 
His castles dU are taken, and his crown, 
His sword and sceptre, ensigns of renown, a 

With that lieutenant fame did so extol. 
And captives carried to the Capitol ; 
I'll not die martyr for a mortal thing, 
'Tis enough to be confessor for a king. 
Will this you give contentment, honest men ? 2c 

I've written rebels, pox upon the pen ! 


The king good subjects cannot save : then tell 
Which is the best — to obey or to rebel ? 


Happy to be, truly is in some school- 
Master's book, be either king or fool. 
How happy then are they, if such men be, 
Whom both great fools and kings the world doth 
see ! 



When Charles was young, to walk straight and 

In boots of lead thrall'd were his legs, though 

rocks ; 
Now old, not walking even unto their sight, 
His country lords have put him in their stocks. 


Of all these forces raised against the king 

'Tis my strange hap not one whole man to bring : 

From diverse parishes yet diverse men ; 

But all in halves and quarters. Great king, then, 

In halves and quarters if they come 'gainst thee. 

In halves and quarters send them back to me. 


Bold Scots, at Bannockburn ye kill'd your king. 
Then did in parliament approve the fact ; 
And would ye Charles to such a non-plus bring. 
To authorise rebellion by an act ? 

Well, what ye crave, who knows but granted 
may be ? 

But if he do l, cause swaddle him for a baby. 




Swaddl'd is the baby, and almost two years, 
His swaddling time, did neither cry nor stir, 
But star'd, smil'd, did lie still, void of all fears, 
And sleep'd, tho' barked at by every cur ; 

Yea, had not wak'd, if Lesley, that hoarse nurse, r. 
Had not him hardly rock'd ; old wives him curse ! 


Great lies they tell, preach our church cannot err, 
Less lies, who say the king 's not head of her ; 
Cireat lies, who cry we may shed others' blood, 
Less lies, who swear dumb bishops are not good ; 
Great lies they vent, say we for God do fight, s 

Less lies who guess the king does nothing right ; 
Great lies and less lies all our aims descry : 
To pulpits some, to camp the rest apply. 


Zanzummines to obey the king do swear. 
And yet against King Charles in arms appear. 
What king do ye obey, Zanzummines, tell. 
The King of Beane, or the black prince [of hell ?] 



When discord in a town the tocsin rings, 
Then all the rascals turn unto us kings. 



To sing as was of old, is but a scorn, 

The king's chaff is better than others' corn ; 

Kelso can tell his chaff away did fly, 

Yet had no wind : Benediciie ! 

The com unmowed on Dunse-Law strong did shine, s 

I^sley, could thou have shorn, it might been thine. 


Thf: king nor band, nor host had him to follow 
Of all his subjects ; they were given to thee, 
Lesley. Who is the greatest ? By Apollo, 
The emperor thou, some palsgrave scarce seems he. 
Could'st thou pull lords as we do bishops down, 5 
Small distance were between thee and a crown. 


In parliament one voted for the king. 
The crowd did murmur he might for it smart ; 
His voice again being heard, was no such thing, 
For that which was mistaken was a fart. 



The parliament lords have sitten twice five weeks, 
Yet will not leave their stools, knit up their breeks ; 
Winter is come, dysenteries prevail : 
Rise, fools, and with this paper wipe your tail. 

The parliament the first of June will sit, 
Some say, but is the year of God to it ? 
Forty: no, rather make it forty-one, 
And one to forty, but ye tlien have none. 


Behold, O Scots ! the reveries of your king ; 
Those he makes lords who should on gibbets hing. 


When lately Pym descended into hell, 
Ere he the cups of Lethe did carouse, 
What place that was, he called loud to tell ; 
To whom a devil, " This is the lower house." 


God's judgments seldom use to cease, unless 

The sins which them procur'd men do confess. 

Our cries are Baal's priests', our fasting vain, 

Our pray'rs not heard, nor answer'd us again : 

Till perjury, wrong, rebellion, be confess'd, i 

Think not on peace, nor to be freed of pest. 



ON MARY king's PEST. 

Turn, citizens, to God ; repent, repent, 
-\nd pray your bedlam frenzies may relent : 
Think not rebellion a trifling thing, 
This plague doth fight for Marj' and the King. 


.St. Andrew, why does thou give up thy schools. 
And bedlam turn, and parliament house of fools? 

Old dotard Pasquil, thou mistaketh it, 
Montrose confined us here to learn some wit. 


The Kirrimorians and Forfarians met at Muirmoss, 
The Kirrimorians beat the Forfarians back to the 

.Sulors ye are, and sutors ye'll be ; 
F upon Forfar, Kirrimuir bears the gree. 




Under the heading of " Poems attributed to Drum- 
mond," I have included twenty translations of Hymns 
of the Catholic Church, and a "macaronic" poem 
entitled Polemo-Middinia inler Vitarvant et Nebernam. 
The HjTuns have been hitherto reckoned among the 
posthumous works of Drummond. They were first 
printed, as Drummond's, in the folio edition of his 
Works (Edinburgh, 171 1), and have been reprinted, 
without question, in succeedintj editions. In tho 
preface to Annus Sanctus* however, Mr. Orby 
Shipley has brought to light a fact which casts con- 
siderable doubt upon the authorship of these transla- 
tions. It appears that the twenty Hymns were by no 
means published for the first time in 171 1, but nearly 
a century earlier. They were printed anonymously 
in the Roman Catholic primer published at St. Omer, 
by John Heigham, in 1619. That in the Edinburgh 
Folio they were published " from the author's [Drum- 
mond's] original copies," proves nothing in regard to 

* Annu^ Sanctus. Hymns of the Church for thr 
Ecclesiastical Year. Selected and arranged by Orby 
Shipley, M.A. Vol. i. London and New York, 1884. 

VOL. U. 209 O 


their authenticity. Drummond was so in the habit of 
transcribing poems and passages from other authors, 
that the mere fact that a poem, or even a series of 
poems, existed in his handwriting is of no value 
whatever in determining its authorship. The evi- 
dence of the Hymns themselves is inconclusive : no- 
thing is there which proclaims Drummond's author- 
ship, nor anything which renders it absolutely in- 
admissible. But the fact that, having been printed 
in Drummond's lifetime, they were not recognised as 
his until more than sixty years after his death, does 
not seem to favour his claim. Moreover, it is certainly 
improbable, as Mr. Shipley has observed, that the 
Catholic printer of St. Omer should have applied 
to a Scottish Protestant for translations of Catho- 
lic hymns. There is a bare possibility that Drum- 
mond produced these versions while studying law in 
France, and left behind him copies which Heigham 
made use of ; but upon the whole, I think, with Mr. 
Shipley, that it is far more likely that Drummond 
transcribed them from the primer, "for his own 
private edification." 

The title-page of the earliest extant edition of 
Polemo-Middinia is as follows : — Breviuscula et Com - 
penditcscula Tellatio De Storia tuemorabili Fechta: 
mervelabilis Quce full Inter Muckteillios 6^ Hors- 
boy OS atqite Ladaos, &^c. In hoc Libellulo, cujus In- 
scriptio Famosa ha:c est, Pokmo-Medinia inter Vitarvam 
<Sr» Nehernam, Placide &' Jocose tractatur. Edinbnrgi, 
Re-printat 1684. From the word " re-printat " it is 
evident that this was not actually the first edition. 
Drummond's name a])pears for the first time as that 
of the author of rolcmo-Middinia in an edition pub- 


lished at Oxford in 1691, in a thin quarto volume, 
which contains, in addition, the poem of Christ's 
Kirk on the Green, attributed to King James V. In 
the Edinburgh Folio of 171 1, Pole}no-Middinia\i2& 
printed for the first time in a collection of Drum- 
mond's Poems, no doubt as to its authenticity being 
expressed by the editors ; and it has been reprinted 
as Drummond's in all the succeeding editions of his 
Poetical Works. 

Some doubt, nevertheless, has still remained as to 
the authorship of Polcmo-Middinia. On pp. 482-484 
of his Drumniond of Hawthornden.) Professor Masson 
states the arguments on both sides, without, however, 
coming to any positive conclusion. In favour of 
Drummond's authorship, the only arguments of any 
weight are (l) his connection with the localities men- 
tioned in the poem ;* (2) the fact that in 1691 and 
171 1, when it was published under his name, the 
authorship was undisputed, although the poet's son, 
Sir William Drummoad, was then living. I^ut the 
former argument proves nothing at all, while the 
latter is invalidated by the fact that the Folio of 1711 
attributes to Drummond two or three poems which 
are certuirily by other authors. On the otlier side we 
have "(l) the absence of all reference in Drummond's 
life-time, or immediately afterwards, to such a piece 
as having been written by him, and of any draft or 
trace of it among the extant Ilawthornden MSS., and 
(2) the total \inlikeness of the piece to anything else 
known to have come fr')m Drummond." 

* The title may Ix; thus Englished : The Midden- 
l-'ight between Scotstarvet and Ncwbarns. 


To these reasons for doubting JJrunimond's author- 
ship may be added a third, which was overlooked 
by Professor Masson, and was first, I believe, pointed 
out in Notes and Queries (Sept. 5, 1891). In Defoe's 
Tour thro the Whole Island of Great Britain (Lon- 
don, 1727), Polenio-Middinia is mentioned, and its 
author named. The passage occurs in the Account 
of Scotland, in the tliird volume of the Tour (pp. 
1 50-1 51), and is as follows : — 

"The People who work in the Coal Mines in this 
Country . . . are well descrilj'd by their own Country- 
man Samuel Cohil, in his famous Macaronick Poem, 
call'd Polemo Midinia ; thus, 

Cole-hewers Nigri, gimantes more Divelli."* 

Samuel Colvil is a somewhat shadowy personage, 
who has been confused with Alexander Colville, a 
Scottish Episcopalian divine, who died at Edinburgh 
in 1676. They seem, however, to have been two 
distinct persons. Of Samuel Colvil all that can be 
said is, that he was the author of a piece entitled 
the Mock Toem, or, Whiggs Supplication, which was 
published anonymously at London in 1681. An 
edition of the Whiggs Supplication, published at 
Edinburgh in 1695, has the name of "Sam. Colvil" 
as that of the author ; t so also the London edition 
of 1 7 10. This poem is a satire upon the Presby- 
terians, written in imitation of Butler's Hudibras : 
it is not altogether without humour, and offers, at 
least, no evidence to the contrary of Defoe's assertion, 

* Line 8x. 

t Corser s Collectanea Anglo-Poetica. 


that its author was likewise the author of PoUtrw- 
Middinia. Upon these considerations, and regard- 
ing the nature and style of the poem, I am decidedly 
of opinion that PoUmo-AIiddinia was not written 
by Drummond of Ilawthornden. With or without 
Drummond's name, it was frequently reprinted in 
Scotland, being there esteemed "very witty and 




IQuem terra, pOHtiis, sideraJS 

Him whom the earth, the sea, and sky- 
Worship, adore, and magnify, 
And doth this threefold engine steer, 
Mary's pure closet now doth bear. 

Whom sun and moon, and creatures all, s 

Serving at times, obey his call ; 
Pouring from heaven his sacred grace, 
r th' virgin's bowels hath ta'en place. 

Mother most blest by such a dower. 

Whose maker. Lord of highest power, lo 

Who this wide world in hand contains, 

In thy womb's ark himself restrains, 

Elest by a message from heaven brought, 

Fertile with Holy Ghost full fraught ; 

Of nations the desired king js 

Within thy sacred womb doth spring. 



Lord, may thy glory still endure. 

Who born wast of a virgin pure ; 

The Father's and the sp'rit's of love, 

Which endless worlds may not remove. 20 

[TV !ucis ante iermi>iuin.\ 

Maker of all, we thee entreat. 
Before the joyful light descend. 
That thou with wonted mercy great 
Us as our keeper would'st defend. 

Let idle dreams be far away, 
And vain illusions of the night ; 
Repress our foe, lest that he may 
Our bodies to foul lust incite. 

Let this, O Father, granted be, 
Through our dear Saviour's boundless merit. 
Who doth for ever live with thee, 
Together with the Holy Spirit. 

[Staiat mater.] 

Thr mother stood with grief confounded, 
Near the cross ; her tears abounded 

While her dear son hanged was. 
Through whose soul, her sighs forth venting, 
Sadly mourning and lamenting, 

Sharpest points of swords did pass. 


O how sad and how distress'd 
Was the mother ever-bless'd, 

Who God's only Son forth brought ! 
She in grief and woes did languish, lo 

Quaking to behold what anguish 

To her noble Son was wrought. 


l/esu Redetnptor omnium.] 

Christ, whose redemption all doth free, 

Son of the Father, who alone, 

Before the world began to be, 

Didst spring from him by means unknown ; 

Thou his clear brightness, thou his light, 5 

Thou everlasting hope of all, 
Observe the prayers which in thy sight 
Thy servants through the world let falL 

O dearest Saviour, bear in mind. 

That of our body thou a child 10 

Didst whilom take the natural kind. 

Born of the Virgin undefil'd. 

This much the present day makes known. 
Passing the circuit of the year, 
That thou from thy high Father's throne 15 

The world's sole safety didst appear. 


The highest heaven, the earth, and seas, 

And all that is within them found, 

Because he sent thee us to ease, 

With mirthful songs his praise resound. ao 

We also, who redeemed are 
With thy pure blood from sinful state, 
For this thy birthday will prepare 
New h)anns this feast to celebrate. 

Glory, O Lord, be given to thee 
Whom the unspotted Virgin bore. 
And glory to thee, Father, be. 
And th' Holy Ghost, for evermore. 

[Salvete Jlores martyrum.'] 

Hail, you sweet babes, that are the flowers, 

Whom, when you life begin to taste. 

The enemy of Christ devours. 

As whirlwinds down the roses cast. 

First sacrifice to Christ you went. 
Of offered lambs a tender sort ; 
With palms and crowns you innocent 
Before the sacred altar sport. 



[Cosiest is Urbs Jcrvsaiein. ] 

Jkrusalem, that place divine, 
The vision of sweet peace is nani'd, 
In heaven her glorious turrets shine, 
Her walls of living stones are fram'd, 

While angels guard her on each side, & 

Fit company for such a bride. 

She, deck'd in now attire from heaven, 

1 fer wedding-chamber now descends, 

Prepar'd in marriage to be given 

To Christ, on whom her joy depends. lo 

Her walls, wherewith she is enclos'd, 
And streets are of pure gold compos'd. 

The gates, adom'd with pearls most bright, 

The way to hidden glory show ; 

And thither by the blessed might is 

C)f faith in Jesus' merits go 

All those who are on earth distress'd, 
Because they have Christ's name profess'd. 

These stones the workmen dress and beat, 

Before they throughly polish'd are, a» 

Then each is in his proper seat 

Establish'd by the builder's care, 
In this fair frame to stand for ever. 
So join'd that them no force can sever. 


To God, who sits in highest seat, •-•s 

(ilory and power given be ; 

To Father, Son, and Paraclete, 

Who reign in equal dignity ; 

Whose boundless power we still adore, 

And sing their praise for evermore. no 


[/eSK, corona znrginum.\ 

Jesu, our prayers with mildness hear, 
Who art the crown which virgins decks, 
Whom a pure maid did breed and bear, 
The sole example of her sex. 

Thou feeding there where lilies spring, 5 

While round about the virgins dance, 
Thy spouses dost to glory bring, 
And them with higli rewards advance. 

The virgins follow in thy ways 
Whithersoever thou dost go ; m 

They trace thy steps with songs of praise, 
.\nd in sweet hymns thy glory show. 

Cause thy protecting grace, we pray, 

In all our senses to aljound, 

Keeping from tlicm all harms which may m> 

Our souls with foul corruption wound. 


I'raise, honour, strength, and glory great 
To God the Father, and the Son, 
And to the holy Paraclete, 
While lime lasts, and when time is done. 

[Creator alme siderum.] 

Benign Creator of the stars, 
Eternal light of faithful eyes, 
Christ, whose redemption none debars, 
Do not our humble prayers despise : 

Who for the state of mankind griev'd, » 

That it by death deslroy'd should be, 
Hast the diseased world reliev'd. 
And given the guilty remedy. 

When th' evening of the world drew near, 
Thou as a bridegroom deign'st to come i» 

Out of thy wedding-chamber dear. 
Thy virgin mother's purest womb : 

To the strong force of whose high reign 
All knees are bow'd with gesture low, 
Creatures which heaven or earth contain, is 

With rev'rence their subjection show. 

O holy Lord, we thee desire, 

Whom we expect to judge all faults, 

Preserve us as the limes require, 

From our deceitful foes' assaults. s» 


Praise, honour, strength, and glor)- great 
To God the Father, and the Son, 
And to the holy Paraclete, 
Whilst time lasts, and when time is done. 


[Lucis Creator optime.'^ 

O BLEST Creator of the light, 
\Vho bringing forth the light of days 
With the first work of splendour bright. 
The world didst to beginning raise ; 

Who morn with evening join'd in one s 

Commandedst should be call'd the day ; 

The foul confusion now is gone, 

O hear us when with tears we pray ; 

Lest that the mind, with fears full fraught. 
Should lose best life's eternal gains, J« 

While it hath no immortal thought. 
But is enwrapt in sinful chains. 

O may it beat the inmost sky. 

And the reward of life possess ; 

May we from hurtful actions fly, 15 

And purge away all wickedness. 

Dear Father, grant what we entreat, 

,\nd only Son, who like jxjwer hast. 

Together with the Paraclete, 

Reigning whilst times and ages last. 20 



[Immense cocli Coniiiior.^ 

Great Maker of the heavens wide, 

Who, lest things mix'd should all confound. 

The floods and waters didst divide. 

And didst appoint the heavens their bound ; 

Ordering where heavenly things shall stay, r. 

Where streams shall run on earthly soil, 

That waters may the flames allay, 

Lest they the globe of earth should spoil ; 

Sweet Lord, into our minds infuse 

The gift of everlasting grace, in 

That no old faults which we did use 

May with new frauds our souls deface. 

May our true faith olitain the light. 
And such clear l)eams our hearts possess, 
That it vain things 7nay banish quite, is 

And that no falsehood it oppress. 

Dear Father, grant what we entreat, 

And only Son, who like power hast, 

Together with the Paraclete, 

Keigning whilst times and ages last. ao 



[Telluns alme CondiiorJ] 

Great Maker of man's earthly realm, 
\\Tio didst the ground from waters take, 
Which did the troubled land o'erwhelm. 
And it unmoveable didst make, 

That there young plants might fitly spring, 
While it with golden flowers attir'd 
Might forth ripe fruit in plenty bring, 
And yield sweet fruit by all desir'd ; 

With fragrant greenness of thy grace. 

Our blasted souls of wounds release, 10 

That tears foul sins away may chase, 

And in the mind bad motions cease : 

May it obey thy heavenly voice, 

And never drawing near to ill, 

T' abound in goodness may rejoice, u 

And may no mortal sin fulfil. 

Dear Father, grant what we entreat. 

And only Son, who like power hast. 

Together with the Paraclete, 

Reigning whilst times and ages last. au 



[Cceii Deus sanctisst'me.] 

O HOLY God of heavenly frame, 
Who mak'st the pole's high centre bright. 
And paint'st the same with shining flames, 
Adorning it with beauteous light ; 

Who, framing on the fourth of days s 

The fiery chariot of the sun, 
Appoint'st the moon her changing rays, 
And orbs in which the planets run, 

That thou might'st by a certain bound, 
"Twixt night and day division make, lo 

And that some sure sign might be found 
To show when months beginning take ; 

Men's hearts with lightsome splendour bless, 
Wipe from their minds polluting spots. 
Dissolve the bond of guiltiness, is 

Throw down the heaps of sinful blots. 

Dear Father, grant what we entreat, 

And only Son, who like power hast. 

Together with the Paraclete, 

Reigning whilst times and ages last. m 


[Ma^ue Deus Potent ia.^ 

O God, whose forces far extend, 
Who creatures which from waters spring 
Back to the flood dost partly send, 
And up to th' air dost partly bring ; 

Some in the waters deeply div'd, b 

Some playing in the heavens above, 
That natures, from one stock deriVd, 
May thus to several dwellings move ; 

Upon thy servants grace bestow, 

Whose souls thy bloody waters clear, » 

That they no sinful falls may know. 

Nor heavy grief of death may bear ; 

That sin no soul oppress'd may thrall, 

That none be lifted high with pride, 

That minds cast downward do not fall, is 

Nor raised up may backward slide. 

Dear Father, grant what we entreat. 
And only Son, who like power hast, 
Together with the Paraclete, 
Reigning whiUt limes and ages last. » 

VOL. n. p 



\lfoiiiinis siipernc Conditor.\ 

(Jon, from whose work mankind did spring, 
Who all in rule dost only keep. 
Bidding the dry land forth to bring 
All kind of beasts which on it creep ; 

Who hast made subject to man's hand 
Great bodies of each mighty thing, 
That, taking life from thy command, 
They might in order serve their King ; 

From us thy servants. Lord, expel 
These errors which uncleanness breeds, 
Which either in our manners dwell, 
Or mix themselves among our deeds. 

Give the rewards of joyful life, 

The plenteous gifts of grace increase, 

Dissolve the cruel bonds of strife, is 

Knit fast the happy league of peace. 

Dear Father, grant what we entreat, 

And only Son, who like power hast, 

Together with the Paraclete, 

Reigning whilst times and ages last. 20 



l/am Sol recedii !gneus.'\ 

O Trinity, O blessed light, 

O Unity, most principal ! 

The fiery sun now leaves our sight, 

Cause in our hearts thy beams to fall. 

Let us with songs of praise divine, t> 

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, 10 

And to the Holy Paraclete, 

Both now and still while ages run. 

\Audi, benigne ConditorSi 

O MERCIFUL Creator, hear 
Our prayers to thee devoutly bent, 
Which we pour forth with many a tear 
In this most holy fast of Lent. 

Thou mildest searcher of each heart, 
Who know'st the weakness of our strength. 
To us forgiving grace impart, 
Since wc return to thee at length. 


Much have we sinned to our shame, 

But spare us who our sins confess ; lo 

And for the glory of thy name, 

To our sick souls afford redress. 

Grant that the flesh may be so pin'd 

By means of outward abstinence, 

As that the sober watchful mind u 

May fast from spots of all offence. 

Grant this, O blessed Trinity, 

Pure Unity, to this incline, 

That the effects of fasts may be 

A grateful recompense for thine. 20 


[Sa'uiis humance Stitar.] 

O Jesu, who our souls dost save, 
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 vanquish'd so, 

Upon thee our foul crimes to take, 

And cruel death to undergo, 

That thou from death us free might make ? 

Let thine own goodness to thee bend, 
That thou our sins may'st put to flight ; 
Spare us, and as our wishes tend, 
O satisfy us with thy sight. 


May'st thou our joyful pleasures be, 

Who shall be our expected gain, 

And let our glory be in thee, 35 

While any ages shall remain. 

[ / eni Creator S^iri/us.] 

Creator, Holy Ghost, descend, 
Visit our minds with thy bright flame, 
And thy celestial grace extend, 
To fill the hearts which thou didst franif, 

Who Paraclete art said to be, 5 

(jift which the highest God bestows. 
Fountain of life, fire, charity. 
Ointment whence ghostly blessing flows. 

Thy .sevenfold grace thou down dost send. 

Of God's right hand thou finger art, 10 

Thou by the Father promised, 

Unto our mouths dost speech impart. 

In our dull senses kindle light ; 

Infuse thy love into our hearts, 

Reforming with perpetual light is 

Th' infirmities of fleshly parts. 

Far from our dwelling drive our foe, 

Anfl quickly peace unto us bring ; 

Be thou our guide, before to go, 

That we may shun each hurtful thing. 20 


lie pleased to instruct our mind 
To Icnow the Father and the Son, 
The Spirit who them both dost bind, 
Let us believe while ages run; 

To ()(jd the Father, glory great, 26 

And to the Son who from the dead 
Arose, and to the Paraclete, 
Beyond all time imagined. 


\Qtiicuingue Clirhttitii qiiici-itis.'\ 

All you that seek Christ, let your sight 
Up to the height directed be, 
For there you may the sign most bright 
Of everlasting glory see. 

A radiant light we there behold, 3 

I'^ndless, 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. jir 

Promis'd to Abraham and his race 

A blessing while the world shall stand. 

By mouths of prophets free from lies, 

Who seal the witness which they bear, 

His Father bid<ling testifies is 

That we should him believe and hear. 


(jlor)", O Lord, be given to thee, 

Who hast appear'd upon this day ; 

And glory to the Father be, 

And to the Holy Ghost for aye. so 


[ Te splendor et virtus Patris.] 

To thee, O Christ, thy Father's light, 

Life, virtue, which our heart inspires, 

In presence of thine angels bright. 

We sing with voice and with desires : 

Ourselves we mutually invite 

To melody with answering quires. 

With reverence we those soldiers praise, 

Who near the heavenly throne abide, 

And chiefly him whom God doth raise 

His strong celestial host to guide, lo 

Michael, who by his power dismays, 

And beateth down the devil's pride. 


NvMPH/E, f)ux- colitis highissima monta Fifrea, 
.Seu vos Pillenwema tencnt, seu Crailia crofta, 
Sive Anstraea domus, ubi nat haddocus in undis, 
Cf)dlineusque ingens, ct fleucca et skctta pcrcrranl 
I'er costam, ct scopulis lobster monyfoolus in udis 
Creepat, et in mcdiis iudit whitenius undis; 


Et vos skipperii, soliti qui per mare breddum 
Valde procul lanchare foris, iterumque redire, 
Linquite skellatas botas shippasque picatas, 
VVhistlantesque simul fechtam memorate bloodceam, lo 
P'echtani terribilem, quam marvellaverat omnis 
Banda deum, et nympharum cockelshelleatarum, 
Maia ubi sheepifeda atque ubi solgoosifera Bassa 
Swellant in pelago, cum sol bootatus Edenum 
Postabat radiis madidis et shouribus atris. is 

(^uo viso, ad fechtx noisam cecidere volucrcs, 
Ad terram cecidere grues, plish plashque dederc 
Sol-goosae in pelago prope littora Bruntiliana ; 
Sea-sutor obstupuit, summique in margine saxi 
Scartavit prselustre caput, wingasque flapavit ; at 

Quodque magis, alte volitans heronius ipse 
Ingeminans dig clag mediis shitavit in imdis. 

Namque in principio, storiam tellabimus omnem, 
Muckrelium ingentem turbam Vitarva per agros 
Nebernse marchare fecit, et dixit ad illos : 25 

Ite hodie armati greppis, drivatc caballos 
Crofta per et agros Nebernse, transque fenestras ; 
Quod si forte ipsa Neberna venerit extra, 
Warrantabo omnes, et vos bene defendebo. 

Hie aderant Geordie Akinhedius, et little Johnus, 30 
Et Jamie Richseus, et stout Michel Hendersonus, 
Qui jolly tryppas ante alios dansare solebat, 
Et bobbare bene, et lassas kissare bonaeas ; 
Duncan Oliphantus, valde stalvartus, et ejus 
l'"ilius eldestus joly boyus, atque Oldomoudus, 35 

Qui pleugham longo gaddo drivare solebat, 
Et Rob Gib wantonus homo, atque Oliver Ilutchin, 
Et plouky-fac'd Wattic Strang, atque in -kneed 

Alshinder Atken, 


Et Willie Dick heavy-arstus homo, pigerrimus omnium. 
Qui tulit in pileo magnum rubrumque favorem, 40 

\"alde lothus pugnare, sed hunc corngrevius heros 
Xoutheadum vocavit, et ilium forcit ad arma. 
Insuper hie aderant Tom Taylor et Tom Nicolsonus, 
Et Tomie Gilchristus, et fool Jockie Robisonus, 
Andrew Alshinderus, et Jamie Thomsonus, et unus 4r. 
Norland-bomus homo, valde valde anticovenanter. 
Nomine Gordonus, valde blackmoudus, et alter 
(Heu pudet, ignore nomen) slaverj-beardius homo. 
Qui pottas dightavit, et assam jecerat extra. 

Denique prae reliquis Geordaeum affatur, et inquit, so 
r.eordie, mi formanne, inter stoutissimus omnes, 
Hue ades, et crooksaddelos, hemmasque, creilesquo, 
Brechemmesque simul omnes bindatojumentis : 
Amblentemque meam naggam, fattumque magistri 
Cursorem, et reliquos trottantcs sumito averos, .w 

In cartis yokkato omnes, extrahito muckam 
Crofta per et riggas, atque ipsas ante fenestras 
Xebemse, et aliquid sin ipsa contra loquatur. 
In sidis tu pone manus, et dicito, fart, jade. 

Nee mora, formannus cunctos fiankavit averos, w 
Workmannosque ad workam omnes vocavit, et illi 
Extcmplo cartas bene fillavere jigantes : 
Whistlavere viri, workhorsosque ordine swieros 
Drivavere foras, donee itcrumque itenimque 
Kartavere omnes, et sic turba horrida mustrat, « 

I laud aliter quam si cum multis Spinola troupis 
Proudus ad Ostendam marchasset fortiter urbeni. 
Interea ante alios dux pipcrlaius heros 
I'raecedcns, magnam gestans cum burdine pipani, 
Incipit Ilarlai cunctis sonare Batellum.* m 

- Thf: Ba/Z/f ufllarlaw; an old Scottish balhid. 


Tunc Neberna furens, yettam ipsa egressa vidensque 
Muck-cartas transire viam, valde angria facta, 
Haud lulit affrontam tantam, vcrum agmine facto 
Convocat extcmplo horsboyos atque lada;os, 
Jackmannum, byremannos, ])leughdrivsters atque 

pleughmannos, 75 

Tumblantesque simul reekoso ex kitchine boyos, 
Hunc qui gruelias scivit bene lickere plettas, 
Ilunc qui clirtifcras tcrsit cum dishcloute dishas ; 
Et saltpannifumos, et widebricatos fisheros, 
Hellseosque etiam saltcros duxit ab antris, sn 

Coalheughos nigri girnantes more divelli ; 
Lifcguardamque sibi sa;vas vocat impioba lassas, 
Maggxam, magis doctam milkare cowseas, 
Et doctam sweepare flooras, et sternere beddas, 
Quaicjue novit spinnare, et longas ducere threedas ; «r> 
Nansteam, claves bene qua; keepaverat omnes, 
V'ellantemque Elpen, longoberdamque Anapellam, 
Fartantemque simul Gillam, gliedamque Kata;am 
Egrogie indutam blacko caput sooty clouto, 
Mammreamque simul vetulam, qucC sciverat apte w 
Infantum teneras blande oscularier arsas, 
Quaeque lanam cardare solet olifingria Betty. 

Turn vero hungra^os ventres Neberna gruelis 
Farsit, et guttas rawsuinibus implet amaris, 
Posteanewbarma;ingentem dedil omnibus haustuni : wr, 
Staggravere omnes, grandesque ad sidera riftas 
Barmifumi attollunt, et sic ad proelia marchant. 
Nee mora, marchavit foras longo ordine turma, 
Ipsa prior Neberna suis stout facta ribaldis, 
Rustoeam manibus gestans furilnmda gulseam, i»(i 

Tandem muckcreilios vocat ad ijcllmellia fleidos. 
Ite, ait, uglsei felloes, si quis mode posthac 


Muckifer has nostras tentet crossare fenestras, 
Juro ego quod ejus longum extrahabo thropellum, 
Kt totam rivabo faciem, luggasque gulseo hoc los 

Kx capite cuttabo ferox, totumque videbo 
Ileartbloodum fluere in terram. Sic verba finivit. 

Obstupuit Vitarva diu dirtfleida, sed inde 
Couragium accipiens, muckcreilos ordine cunctos 
Middini in medio faciem turnare coegit. ii« 

O qualem prime fleuram gustasses in ipso 
Battelli onsetto ! pugnat muckcreilius heros 
Fortiter, et muckam per posteriora cadentem 
In creilibus shoollare ardet : sic dirta volavit. 
O qualis feirie fairie fuit, si forte videsses 115 

Pipantes arsas, ct flavo sanguine breickas 
Dripantes, hominumque heartas ad proelia fantas ! 
O qualis hurlie burlie fuit ! namque alteri nemo 
Ne vel footbreddum yerdse yieldare volebat : 
Stout erant ambo quidem, valdeque hardhearta 
caterva. :.» 

Turn vero e medio muckdryvster prosilit unus, 
Gallantseus homo, et greppam minatur in ipsam 
Nebernam, quoniam misere scaldaverat omnes, 
Dirtavitque totam petticotam gutture tliicko, 
I'erlineasque ejus skirtas, silkamque gowna;am, la 
Vasquineamque rubram mucksherda bcgariavit. 
Sed tamen ille fuit valdc fainthcartus, et ivit 
Valde procul, metuens shottam woundumque pro- 

fundum ; 
At non valde procul fuerat rcvenga, sed ilium 
Kxtemplo Gillaca ferox invasit, et ejus !•■» 

In faciem girnavit atrox, ct tigridi facta, 
Hublentcm grippans berdam, sic dixit ad ilium : 
\'ade domum, filtha;e ncquam, aut le interficiabo. 


Tunc cum gerculeo magnum fecit gilliwhippum, 
Ingenlemque manu sherdam levavit, et omnem W5 
(lallantxi hominis gashbeardam besmeariavit. 
Same tibi hoc, inquit, sneezing valde operativuni 
Pro prKmio, swingere, tuo. Turn denique fleido 
Ingentem gilliwamphra dedit, validamque nevellain, 
Ingeminatque iterum, donee bis fecerit ignem uo 

Ambobus fugere ex oculis : sic Gilla triumphal. 
Obstupuit bumbaizdus homo, backumque repcnte 
Turnavit veluti nasus bloodasset, et O fy ! 
Ter quater exclamat, et O quam srepe sneezavit ! 
l>isjuniumque omne evomuit valde hungrius homo. n.'. 
Lausavitque supra et infra, miserabile visu, 
Kt luggas necko imponens, sic cucurrit absens, 
Non audens gimpare iterum, ne worsa tulisset. 
Usee Vitarva videns, yellavit turpia verba, 
Et fy, fy ! exclamat, prope nunc victoria losta est. iso 
Nee mora, terribilem fillavit dira canonem, 
Elatisque hippis magno cum murmure fartam 
Barytonam emisit, veluti Monsmegga cracasset : 
Tum vero quackare hostes, flightamque repente 
Sumpserunt, retrospexit Jackmannus, et ipse i.-.s 

Sheepheadus metuit sonitumque ictumque buleti. 

Quod si King Spanius, I'hilippus nomine, septem 
J fisce consimiles habuisset forte canones 
Batterare Sluissam, Sluissam dingasset in assam ; 
Aut si tot magnus Ludovicus * forte dedisset iso 

Ingentes fartas ad moenia Montalbana, 
I])sam continuo townam dingasset in yerdam. 

* Magnus Ludovicus is Louis XIII., who besieged the 
Huguenot town of Montauban unsuccessfully in 162 1. 
The town was surrendered to him in 1629. 


Exit corngrevius, wracco omnia lendere videns 
Consiliumque meum si non accipitis, inquit, 
Pu'lchras scarbabo facies, et vos worriabo. iC5 

Sed needlo per seustram broddatus, inque privatas 
Partes stobbatus, greitans, lookansque grivate, 
Barlafumle clamat, et dixit, O Deus, O God ! 
Quid multis ? Sic fraya fuit, sic guisa peracta est, 
Una nee interea spillata est droppa cruoris. i7» 



Though il halh Ijccn doubted if there be in the 
soul such imperious and super-excellent power, as that 
il can, by the vehement and earnest working of it, 
deliver knowledge to another without bodily organs, 
and by only conceptions and ideas produce real effects ; 
yet it hath been ever, and of all, held, as infalliljle 
and most certain, that it often (either by outward 
inspiration or some secret motion in itself) is augur 
of its own misfortunes, and hath shadows of approach- 
ing dangers presented unto it before they fall forth. 
Hence so many strange apparitions and signs, true 
visions, uncouth heaviness, and causeless languishings : 
of which to seek a reason, unless from the sparkling 
of God in the soul, or from the God-like sparkles 
of the soul, were to make reason unreasonable, by 
reasoning of things transcending her reach. 

Having, when I had given myself to rest in the 

* Transcribed, the punctuation occasionally corrected, 
and the spelling modernised, from the second edition of 
Flowers of S ion, 1630. Here and there the text differs 
from that of the first edition, but the variations are of 
no importance. 



quiet solitariness of the night, found often my imagi- 
nation troubled with a confused fear, no, sorrow or 
horror, which, interrupting sleep, did astonish my 
senses, and rouse me, all appalled and transported, 
in a sudden agony and amazedness ; of such an un- 
accustomed perturbation, not knowing, nor being able 
to dive into any apparent cause, carried away with 
the stream of my (then doubting) thoughts, I began to 
ascribe it to that secret foreknowledge and presaging 
power of the prophetic mind, and to interpret such an 
agony to be to the spirit, as a sudden faintness and 
universal weariness useth to be to the body, a sign of 
following sickness ; or, as winter lightnings, earth- 
quakes, and monsters prove to commonwealths and 
great cities, harbingers of wretched events, and 
emblems of their hidden destinies. 

Hereupon, not thinking it strange if whatsoever is 
human should befall me, knowing how Providence 
overcometh grief, and discountenances crosses ; and 
that as we should not despair in evils which may happen 
us, we should not be too confident, nor too much 
lean to those goods we enjoy ; I began to turn over 
in my remembrance all that could afflict miserable 
mortality, and to forecast every accident which could 
beget gloomy and sad apprehensions, and with a 
mask of horror show itself to human eyes. Till in 
the end (as by unities and points mathematicians are 
brought to great numbers, and huge greatness), after 
many fantastical glances of the woes of mankind, and 
those encumbrances which follow upon life, I was 
brought to think, and with amazement, on the last 
of human terrors, or, as one termed it, the last of 
all dreadful and terrible evils— Death. For to easy 


censure it would appear that the soul, if it can 
foresee that divorcement which it is to have from the 
body, should not without great reason be thus over- 
grieved, and plunged in inconsolable and unaccus- 
tomed sorrow ; considering their near union, long 
familiarity and love, with the great change, pain, 
ugliness, which are apprehended to be the inseparable 
attendants of Death. 

They had their being together ; parts they are of 
one reasonable creature ; the harming of the one is 
the weakening of the working of the other. What 
sweet contentments doth the soul enjoy by the 
senses ! They are the gates and windows of its 
knowledge, the organs of its delight. If it be tedious 
to an excellent player on the lute to endure but a 
few months the want of one,* how much more must 
the being without such noble tools and engines be 
plaintfultothe soul ! And if two pilgrims which have 
wandered some little piece of ground together, have 
an heart's-grief when they are near to part, what 
must the sorrow be at the parting of two so loving 
friends and never-loathing lovers as are the body 
and soul ! 

Death is the sad estranger of acquaintance, the 
eternal divorcer of marriage, the ravisher of the 
children from their parents, the stealer of parents 
from the children, the interrer of fame, the sole 
cause of forgetfulness, by which the living talk of 
those gone away as of so many shadows, or fabulous 
Paladins. All strength by it is enfeebled, beauty 

* Drummond himself, as the reader mny remember, 
was a pkiyer on the lute. 


turned in deformity and rottenness, honour in con- 
tempt, glory into baseness : it is the unreasonable 
breaker-off of all the actions of virtue ; by which we 
enjoy no more the sweet pleasures on earth, neither 
contemplate the stately revolutions of the heavens ; 
sun perpetually setteth, stars never rise unto us. It 
in one moment depriveth us of what with so great 
toil and care in many years we have heaped together. 
By this are successions of lineages cut short, kingdoms 
left heirless, and greatest states orphaned. It is not 
overcome by pride, smoothed by gaudy flatteiy, 
tamed by entreaties, bribed by benefits, softened by 
lamentations, diverted by time. Wisdom, save this, 
can alter and help anything. By Death we are 
exiled from this fair city of the world ; it is no 
more a world unto us, nor we any more people 
into it. The ruins of fanes, palaces, and other 
magnificent frames, yield a sad prospect to the 
soul : and how should it consider the wrack of 
such a wonderful masterpiece as is the body, with- 
out horror ? 

Though it cannot well and altogether be denied 
Ijut that death naturally is terrible and to be abhorred; 
it being a privation of life, and a not being, and 
every privation being abhorred of nature and evil in 
itself, the fear of it too being ingenerate universally 
in all creatures ; yet I have often thought that even 
naturally, to a mind by only nature resolved and 
prepared, it is more terrible in conceit than in verity, 
and at the first glance than when well pried into ; 
and that rather by the weakness of our fantasy, than 
by what is in it ; and that the marble colours of 
obsequies, weeping, and funeral jximp (with which 

vui- II. y 


we ourselves limn it forth) did add much more fjhast- 
Hncss unto it than otherwise it hath. To aver which 
conclusion, when I had recollected my overcharged 
spirits, I began thus with myself. 

If on the great theatre of this earth, amongst the 
numberless number of men, to die were only proper 
lothee and thine, then undoubtedly thou hadst reason 
to grudge at so severe and partial a law. But since 
it is a necessity, from the which never an age by-past 
hath l)cen exempted, and unto which these which be, 
and so many as are to come, are thralled (no conse- 
(juent of life being more common and familiar), why 
shouldst thou, with unprofitable and nothing availing 
stubbornness, oppose to so unevitable and necessary 
a condition ? This is the highway of mortality, our 
general home : behold, what millions have trod it 
before thee, what multitudes shall after thee, with 
them which at that same instant run ! In so uni- 
versal a calamity, if Death be one, private complaints 
cannot be heard : with so many royal palaces, it is 
small loss to see thy poor cabin burn. Shall the 
heavens stay their ever-rolling wheels (for what is 
the motion of them but the motion of a swift and 
ever-whirling wheel, which twinneth forth and again 
up-windeth our life?) and hold still time, to prolong 
thy miserable days, as if the highest of their working 
were to do homage unto thee ? Thy death is a 
piece of the order of this All, a part of the life of 
this world ; for while the world is the world, some 
creatures must die, and others take life. Eternal 
things are raised far above this orb of generation and 
corruption, where the first matter, like a still flowing 
and ebbing sea, with diverse waves, but the same 


water, keepeth a restless and never tiring current.* 
What is below, in the universality of the kind, not in 
itself, doth abide ; Miin a long line of years hath 
continued, //it's man every hundredth is swept away. 
This air-encircled globe is the sole region of Death, 
the grave, where everything that taketh life must rot, 
the lists of fortune and change, only glorious in the 
inconstancy and varying alterations of it ; which, 
though many, seem yet to abide one, and being 
a certain entire one, are ever many. The never- 
agreeing Ixjdies of the elemental brethren turn one 
in another : the earth changeth her countenance with 
the seasons, sometimes looking cold and naked, 
other times hot and flowery : nay, I can not tell 
how, but even the lowest of those celestial bodies, 
that mother of months, and empress of seas and 
moisture, as if she were a mirror of our constant 
mutability, appeareth (by her great nearness unto 
us) to participate of our alterations, never seeing us 
twice with that same face, now looking black, then 
pale and wan, sometimes again in the perfection and 
fulness of her beauty shining over us. Death here 
no less than life doth act a part ; the taking away of 
what is old being the making way for what is young. 

* This is the Platonic doctrine. Since Matter is the 
farthest from real Being, its nature is said to be ever 
flowing, in opposition to tl;e stable nature of true Being. 
Hence, also, matter is properly non-being. Soul im- 
parts form to matter, and thence arises Body, which is 
apparent tjeing. But from the flowing nature of mattci*, 
the forms which arc in it are always changing, and 
thus it is said that the sensible universe is always 
becoming, but never really is. 


This earth is as a lablc-l)ookj and men are the notes : 
the first are wasnen out, that new may be written in. 
They which forewent us did leave a room for us, and 
should wc grieve to do the same to those which 
should come after us ? Who, being admitted to see 
the exquisite rarities of some antiquary's cabinet, is 
grieved, all viewed, to have the curtain drawn, and 
give place to new pilgrims ? And when the Lord of 
this universe hath showed us the various wonders of 
his amazing frame, should we take it to heart, when 
he thinketh time to dislodge ? This is his unalterable 
and unevitable decree : as we had no part of our will in 
our entrance into this life, we should not presume of any 
in our leaving it, but soberly learn to will that which 
he wills, whose very willing giveth being to all that 
it wills ; and adoring the Orderer, not repine at the 
order and laws, which ail-where, and all-ways, are 
so perfectly established, that who would essay to alter 
and amend any of them, he should either make theni 
worse, or desire things beyond the level of possibility. 
All that is necessary and convenient for us they have 
bestowed upon us, and freely granted ; and what the) 
have not bestowed nor granted us, neither is it 
necessary nor convenient that we should have it. 

If thou dost complain that there shall be a time in 
the which thou shalt not be, why dost thou not too 
grieve that there was a time in the which thou wast 
not, and so that thou art not as old as that enlifening 
planet of time ? For, not to have been a thousand 
years before this moment, is as much to be deplored, 
as not to be a thousand after it, the effect of them 
both being one : that will be after us which long long 
ere we were was. Our children's children have that 


same reason to murmur that they were not young 
men in our days, which we now, to complain that we 
shall not be old in theirs. The violets have their 
lime, though they empurple not the winter, and the 
roses keep their season, though they discover not 
their beauty in the spring. 

Empires, states, kingdoms, have, by the doom of 
the supreme providence, their fatal periods ; great 
cities lie sadly buried in their dust ; arts and sciences 
have not only their eclipses, but their wanings and 
dea'.hs ; the ghastly wonders of the world, raised by 
the ambition of ages, are overthrown and trampled ; 
some lights above, deserving to be entitled stars, are 
loosed and never more seen of us ; the excellent 
fabric of this universe itself shall one day suffer ruin, 
or a change like a ruin ; and poor earthlings thus to 
be handled complain ! 

But is this life so great a good that the loss of it 
should be so dear unto man ? If it be, the meanest 
creatures of nature thus be happy, for they live no 
less than he. If it be so great a felicity, how is it 
esteemed of man himself at so small a rate, that for 
so poor gains, nay, one disgraceful word, he will not 
>tand to lose it ? What excellency is there in it, for 
the which he should desire it perpetual, and repine 
10 be at rest, and return to his old Grandmother 
Dust ? Of what moment are the labours and actions 
of it, that the interruption and Jeaving-off of them 
should be to him so distasteful, and with such 
grudging lamentations rcceivcfl ? 

Is not the entering into life weakness? the con- 
linuing .sorrow? In the one he is exposed to all the 
injuries of the elements, and like a condemned tres- 


passer (as if it were a fault to come to light), no 
sooner born than fast manacled and bound : in the 
other he is restlessly, like a ball, tossed in the tennis- 
court of this world ; when he is in the brightest 
meridian of his glory there ncedeth nothing to destroy 
him but to let him fall his own height ; a reflex of 
the sun, a blast of wind, nay, the glance of an eye is 
sufficient to undo him. How can that be any great 
matter, of which so small instruments and slender 
actions are masters ? 

His body is but a mass of discording humours, com- 
posed and elemented by the conspiring influences of 
superior lights,* which, though agreeing for a trace of 
lime, yet can never be made uniform and kept in a 
just proportion. To what sickness is it subject unto, 
beyond those of the other sensible creatures ! no part 
of it being which is not particularly infected and 
afflicted by some one ; nay, every part with many, 
yea, so many tliat the masters of that art can scarce 
number or name them. So that the life of divers of 
the meanest creatures of nature hath with great 
reason by the most wise been preferred to the natural 
life of man ; and we should rather wonder how so 
fragile a matter should so long endure, than how so 
soon dissolve and decay. 

Are the actions of the most part of men much 
differing from the exercise of the spider, that pitchetli 
toils and is tapist,t lo prey on the smaller creatures, 
and for the weaving of a scornful web eviscerateth 

* "The whole of generation," says Proclus, "is 
governed by the Sun and Moon." 
t Tapist : concealed. 


itself many days ; which when with much industry 
finished, a little puff of wind carrieth away both the 
work and the worker? Or are they not like the 
plays of children, or (to hold them at their highest 
rate) as is a May-game, a masque, or, what is more 
earnest, some study at chess ? Every day we rise and 
lie down, apparel our bodies and disapparel them, 
make them sepulchres of dead creatures, weary them 
and refresh them ; which is a circle of idle travails 
and labours, like Penelope's task, unprofitably re- 
newed. Some time we are in a chase after a fading 
beauty ; now we seek to enlarge our bounds, increase 
our treasure, living poorly, to purchase what we must 
leave to those we shall never see, or, haply, to a fool 
or a prodigal heir. Raised with the wind of ambi- 
tion, we court that idle name of honour, not consider- 
ing how they mounted aloft in tlie highest ascendant 
of earthly glory are but tortured ghosts, wandering 
with golden fetters in glistering prisons, having fear 
and danger their unseparable executioners, in the 
midst of multitudes rather guarded than regarded. 
They whom opacjue imaginations, and inward thought- 
fulness, have made weary of the world's eye, though 
they have withdrawn themselves from the course of 
vulgar affairs, by vain contemplations, curious searches, 
think their life away, are more disquieted, and live 
worse than others, their wit being too sharp to give 
them a true taste of present infelicities and to aggra- 
vate their woes ; * while they of a more shallow and 
blunt conceit have want of knowledge and ignorance 

• /.e. , The over-sharpness of their wit giving them a 
true taste, &;c. 


of themselves, for a remedy and antidote against all 
the grievances and encumbrances of life. 

What chameleon, what Euripe,* what rainbow, 
what moon doth change so oft as man ? He scemeih 
not the same person in one and the same day ; what 
pleascth him in the morning is in the evening dis- 
tasteful unto him. Young, he scorneth his childish 
conceits, and wading deeper in years (for years are 
a sea, into which he wadeth until he drown) he 
csteemeth his youth unconstancy, rashness, folly ; 
old, he beginneth to pity himself, plaining, because 
he is changed, that the world is changed ; like those 
in a ship, which, when they launch from the shore, 
are brought to think the shore doth fly from them. 
He hath no sooner acquired what he did desire, but he 
beginneth to enter into new cares, and desire what 
he shall never be able to acquire. When he seemeth 
freed of evil in his own estate, he grudgeth and 
vexeth himself at the happiness and fortunes of 
others. He is pressed with care for what is present, 
with grief for what is past, with fear for what is 
to come, nay, for what will never come ; and as in 
the eye one tear draweth another after it, so maketh 
he one sorrow follow upon a former, and every day 
lay up stuff of grief for the next. 

The air, the sea, the fire, the beasts be cruel 
executioners of man ; yet beasts, fire, sea, and air, 
are pitiful to man in comparison of man, for more 
men are destroyed by men; than by them all. What 

* Euripus ; a narrow channel between Bccotia and 
the island of Eubcea, celebrated for the frequent and 
irregular changes of its current. 


scorns, wrongs, contumelies, imprisonments, tor- 
ments, poisons, receiveth man of man ! What 
engines and new works of death are daily found 
out by man against man ! What laws to thrall his 
liberty, fantasies and bugbears to infatuate and in- 
veigle his reason ! Amongst the beasts is there any 
that hath so servile a lot in another's behalf as 
man ? Yet neither is content, nor he who reigneth, 
nor he who serveth. 

The half of our life is spent in sleep ; which hath 
such a resemblance to death, that often it separates 
the soul from the body, and teacheth it a sort of 
being above it, making it soar beyond the sphere 
of sensual delights, and attain to knowledge unto 
which, while the body did awake, it dared scarce 
aspire. And who would not, rather than remain 
chained in this loathsome galley of the world, sleep 
ever (that is, die), having all things at one stay, be 
free from those vexations, disasters, contempts, in- 
dignities, and many many anguishes, unto which this 
life is envassaled and made thrall ? And, well looked 
unto, our greatest contentment and happiness here 
seemeth rather to consist in an absence of misery, 
than in the enjoying of any great good. 

What have the dearest favourites of the world, 
created to the patterns of the fairest ideas of mortality, 
to glory in ? Is it greatness ? Who can be great on 
so small a round as is this earth, and bounded with so 
short a course of time ? IIow like is that to castles 
or imaginary cities raised in the skies liy chance- 
meeting clouds ; or 10 giants modelled, for a sport, 
of snow, which at the hotter looks of the sun melt 
away, and lie drowned in tlieir own moisture ! Such 


an impetuous vicissitude louzclh the estate of this 
world. But we have not yet attained to a perfect 
understanding of the smallest flower, and why 
the grass should rather be green than red. The 
element of fire is quite put out, the air is but 
water rarefied, the earth is found to move, and is 
no more the centre of the universe, is turned into a 
magnet ; stars are not fixed, but swim in the ethereal 
spaces, comets are mounted above the planets. 
Some affirm there is another world of men and 
sensitive creatures, with cities and palaces, in the 
moon : the sun is lost, for it is but a light made of 
the conjunction of many shining bodies together, 
a cleft in the lower heavens, through which the 
rays of the highest diffuse themselves ; is observed to 
have spots. Thus sciences, by the diverse motions 
of this globe of the brain of man, are become 
opinions, nay, errors, and leave the imagination in 
a thousand labyrinths.* What is all we know, com- 
pared with w hat we know not ? We have not yet 
agreed aljout the chief good and felicity. It is 
perhaps artificial cunning.f How many curiosities 
be framed by the least creatures of nature (who like a 
wise painter showeth in a small portrait more ingine 

* Drummond here uses the term "opinion'' in its 
I'latonic sense. Opinion (5o^a) is that power of the soul 
which reasons upon the impressions of sense, knowing the 
essence of sensibles, but not the cause. " For," says 
Proclus, " the object of its knowledge is external to, and 
not within it." According to this meaning, that which 
we now call science is in fact opinion. But true science 
is the knowledge of real Being. 

t Cunning : skill ; ingenuity. 


than in a great) unto which the industry of the most 
curious artizans doth not attain ! Is it riches ? 
What are they, but the idols of fools, the casting out 
of friends, snares of liberty, bands to such as have 
them, possessing rather than possessed, metals which 
nature hath hid (foreseeing the great harms they 
should occasion), and the only opinion of man hath 
brought in estimation? They are like to thorns, 
which laid on an open hand are easily blown away, 
and wound the closing and hard-gripping. Prodigals 
mis-spend them, wretches * mis-keep them : when 
we have gathered the greatest abundance, we our- 
selves can enjoy no more of them than so much as 
belongs to one man. They take not away want, but 
occasion it : what great and rich men do by others, 
the meaner and more contented sort do by them- 
selves. Will some talk of our pleasures ? It is not, 
though in the fables, told out of purpose, that 
Pleasure, being called up to heaven, to disburthcn 
herself and become more light, did here leave her 
apparel, which Sorrow (then naked, forsaken, and 
wandering) fmding, did afterwards attire herself with. 
And if we would say the truth of most of our joys, 
we must confess them to be but disguised sorrows : 
remorse ever ensuelh them, and (being the heirs of 
displeasure) seldom do they appear, except sadness 
and some wakening grief hath really preceded and 
forewent them. Will some ladies vaunt of their 
beauty ? That is but skin-thick, of two senses only 
known, short even of marlile statues and pictures ; 
not the same to all eyes, dangerous to the beholder, 

• Wretches : misers. 


and hurtful to the possessor ; an enemy to chastity, a 
frame made to delight others more than those which 
have it, a superficial varnish hiding hones and the 
brains, things fearful to be looked upon : growth 
in years doth blast it, or sickness or sorrow pre- 
venting them. Our strength, matched with that of 
the unreasonable creatures, is but weakness. All 
we can set our eyes upon in these intricate mazes of 
life is but alchemy, vain perspective, and deceiving 
shadows, appearing far otherwise afar off, than when 
(-■njoyed and looked upon at a near distance. O ! 
who, if before he had a being he could have know- 
ledge of the manifold miseries of it, would enter this 
woeful hospital of the world, and accept of life upon 
such hard conditions ? 

If death be good, why should it be feared, and if 
it be the work of nature, how should it not be good ? 
P"or nature is an ordinance, disposition, and rule which 
VioA hath established in creating this universe, as is 
the law of a King which can not err. For how should 
the maker of that ordinance err, sith in him there is 
no impotency and weakness, by the which he mighl 
bringforth what is unperfect, no perverscness of will, of 
which might proceed any vicious action, no ignorance, 
by the which he might go wrong in working ; l^eing 
most powerful, most good, most wise, nay, all-wise, 
all-good, all-powerful ? He is the first orderer, and 
marshalleth every other order ; the highest essence, 
giving essence to all other things ; of all causes the 
cause. He worketh powerfully, bounteously, wisely, 
and maketh nature, his artificial organ, do the same. 
How is not death of nature, sith what is naturally 
generate is subject to corruption, and sith such an 


harmony, which is life, arising of the mixture of the 
four elements, which are the ingredients of our bodies, 
can not ever endure ; the contrarieties of their quali- 
ties, as a consuming rust in the baser metals, being 
an inward cause of a necessary dissolution ? O of 
frail and instable things the constant, firm, and 
eternal order ! For even in their changes they keep 
ever universal, ancient, and uncorruptible laws. 

^\gain, how can death be evil, sith it is the thaw 
of all these vanities which the frost of life bindeth 
together? If there be a satiety in life, then must 
there not be a sweetness in death ? Man were an 
intolerable thing, were he not mortal ; the earth were 
not ample enough to contain her offspring, if none 
died. In two or three ages, without death, what an 
unpleasant and lamentable spectacle were the most 
flourishing cities! For, what should there be to be 
seen in them, save bodies languishing and curving 
again unto the earth, pale disfigured faces, skeletons 
instead of men ? And what to be heard, but the 
exclamations of the young, complaints of the old, 
with the pitiful cries of sick and pining persons ? 
There is almost no infirmity worse than age. 

If there be any evil in death, it would appear to 
be that pain and torment which we apprehend to arise 
from the breaking of those strait bands which keep 
the soul and body together ; which, sith not without 
great struggling and motion, seenieth to prove itself 
vehement and most extreme. The senses are the 
only cause of pain, but before the last trances of 
tleath they are so brought under, that they have no, 
or very little, strength ; and their strength lessening, 
the strength of pain too must be lessened. How 


should wc doubt but the weakness of sense lesseneth 
pain, sith we know that weakened and maimed parts 
whicli receive not nourishment, are a great deal less 
sensil)le than the othur parts of the body ; and see 
that old, strengthless, decrepit persons leave this world 
almost without pain, as in a sleep? If bodies of the 
most sound and wholesome constitution be those which 
most vehemently feel pain, it must then follow that 
they of a distempered and crazy constitution have 
least feeling of pain ; and by this reason, all weak 
and sick bodies should not much feel pain ; for if 
they were not distempered and evil complexioned, 
they would not be sick. That the sight, hearing, 
taste, smelling, leave us without pain, and unawares, 
we are undoubtedly assured ; and why should we not 
think the same of the feeling? That ])y which we are 
capable of feeling, is the vital spirits animated by the 
brain, which, in a man in perfect health, by veins and 
arteries are spread and extended through the whole 
l)ody, and hence it is that the whole body is capable 
of pain ; but in dying bodies we see that by pauses 
and degrees those parts which are furthest removed 
from the heart become cold, and being deprived of 
natural heat, all the pain which they feel, is that they 
do feel no pain. Now, even as, ere the sick be aware, 
the vital spirits have withdrawn themselves from the 
whole extension of the body, to succour the heart 
(like distressed citizens which, finding their walls 
battered down, fly tf) the defence of their citadel), so 
do they abandon the heart without any sensible touch ; 
as the flame, the oil failing, leaveth the wick, or as 
the light the air which it doth invest. As to those 
shrinking motions and convulsions of sinews and 


members, which appear to witness great pain, let one 
represent to himself the strings of a high-tuned lute, 
which, breaking, retire to their natural windings, or 
a piece of ice, that without any outward violence 
cracketh at a thaw : no otherwise do the sinews of 
the body, finding themselves slack and unbended 
from the brain, and their wonted labours and motions 
cease, struggle, and seem to stir themselves, but 
without either pain or sense. Swooning is a true 
portrait of death, or rather it is the same, being a 
cessation from all action, motion, and function of 
sense and life ; but in swooning there is no pain, but 
a silent rest, and so deep and sound a sleep, that the 
natural is nothing in comparison of it. What great 
pain then can there be in death, which is but a con- 
tinued swooning, a sweet ignorance of cares, and a 
never again returning to the works and dolorous 
felicity of life ? The wise and all-provident Creator 
hath made death by many signs of pain appear 
terrible, to the effect, that if man, for relief of miseries 
and present evils, should have unto it recourse, it 
Ijeing apparently a worser, he should rather constantly 
endure what he knowelh, than have refuge unto that 
which he feareth and knoweth not. The terrors of 
death seem the guardians of life. 

Now although death were an extreme pain, sith it 
comes in an instant, what can it be? Why should 
we fear it, for, while we are, it comcth not, and it 
being come, we are no more ? Nay, though it were 
most painful, long continuing, and terrible-ugly, why 
.should we fear it, sith fear is a foolish passion but 
where it may preserve ? But it cannot preserve us 
from death ; yea, rather fear maketh us to meet with 

256 APPENDIX 11 

that which wc would shun, and banishing the com- 
forts of present contentments, bringeth death more 
near unto us. That is ever terrible which is un- 
known ; so do little children fear to go in the dark, 
and their fear is increased with tales. 

But that, perhaps, which anguisheth thee most, is 
to have this glorious pageant of the world removed 
from thee in the prime and most delicious season of 
thy life ; for, though io die be usual, to die young may 
appear extraordinary. If the present fruition of these 
things be unprofitable and vain, what can a long con- 
tinuance of them be ? If God had made life happier, 
he had also made it longer. Stranger and new halcyon, 
why wouldst thou longer nestle amidst these uncon- 
stant and stormy waves ? Hast thou not already 
suffered enough of this world, but thou must ycl 
endure more ? To live long, is it not to be long 
troubled ? But number thy years, which are now 

, and thou shalt find, that whereas ten have 

over-lived thee, thousands have not attained this age. 
One year is sufficient to behold all the magnificence 
of nature, nay, even one day and night ; for more, 
is but the same brought again. This sun, that moon, 
these stars, the varying dance of the spring, summer, 
autumn, winter, is that very same which the golden 
age did see. They which have the longest time lent 
them to live in, have almost no part of it at all, 
measuring it either by that space of time which is 
past, when they were not, or by that which is to 
come. Why shouldst thou then care whether thy days 
be many or few, which, when prolonged to the utter- 
most, prove, paralleled with eternity, as a tear is to 
the ocean ? To die young, is to do that soon, and in 


some fewer clays, which once thou must do ; it is but 
the giving over of a game that, after never so many 
hazards, must be lost. When thou hast lived to that 
age thou desirest, or one of Plato's years, so soon as the 
last of thy days riseth above thy horizon, thou wilt 
then as now demand longer respite, and expect more 
to come. The oldest are most unwilling to die. It 
is hope of long life that maketh life seem short. Who 
will behold, and with the eyes of judgment behold, 
the many changes depending on human affairs, with 
the after-claps of fortune, shall never lament to die 
young. Who knoweth what alterations and sudden 
disasters in outward estate, or inward contentments, in 
this wilderness of the world, might have befallen him 
who dieth young, if he had lived to be old ? Heaven, 
foreknowing imminent harms, taketh those which it 
loveth to itself, before they fall forth. Death in 
youth is like the leaving a superfluous feast, before 
the drunken cups be presented and walk about. Pure 
and (if we may so say) virgin souls carry their bodies 
with no small agonies, and delight not to remain long 
in the dregs of human corruption, still burning with a 
desire to turn back to the place of their rest ; for this 
world is their inn, and not their home. That which 
may fall forth every hour, can not fall out of time. 
Life is a journey in a dusty way, the furthest rest is 
death ; in this some go more heavily burthened than 
others : swift and active pilgrims come to the end of 
it in the morning, or at noon, which tortoise-paced 
wretches, clogged with the fragmentary rubbish of 
this world, scarce with great travail crawl unto at 
midnight. Days are not to be esteemed after the 
number of them, but after the goodness : more com- 



pass maketh not a sphere more complete, but as 
roimd is a little as a large ring ; nor is that musi- 
cian most praiseworthy who hath longest played, but 
he in measured accents who hath made sweetest 
melody ; to live long hath often been a let to live 
well. Muse not how many years thou might'st have 
enjoyed life, but how sooner thou might'st have lost 
it ; neither grudge so much that it is no better, as 
comfort thyself that it hath been no worse : let it suffice 
that thou hast lived till this day, and (after the course of 
this world) not for nought ; thou hast had some smiles 
of fortune, favours of the worthiest, some friends, and 
thou hast never been disfavoured of the heaven. 

Though not for life itself, yet that to after worlds 
thou might'st leave some monument that once thou 
wast, haply in the clear light of reason it would 
appear that life were earnestly to be desired : for sith 
it is denied us to live ever (said one), let us leave 
some worthy remembrance of our once here being, 
and draw out this span of life to the greatest length 
and so far as is possible. O poor ambition ! to 
what, I pray thee, mayst thou concredit it ? Arches 
and stately temples, which one age doth raise, doth 
not another raze? Tombs and adopted pillars lie 
buried with those which were in them buried. Hath 
not avarice defaced what religion did make glorious ? 
All that the hand of man can uprear, is either over- 
turned by the hand of man, or at length by standing 
and continuing consumed : as if there were a secret 
opposition in Fate (the unevitable decree of the 
Eternal) to control our industry, and countercheck 
all our devices and proposing. Possessions are not 
enduring, children lose their names, families glorj'ing. 


like marigolds in the sun, on the highest top of wealth 
and honour, no better than they which are not yet 
born, leaving off to be. So doth heaven confound 
what we endeavour by labour and art to distinguish. 
That renown by papers,* which is thought to make 
men immortal, and which nearest doth approach the 
life of those eternal bodies above, how slender it is, 
the very word of paper doth import ; and what is it 
when obtained, but a flourish of words, which coming 
times may scorn ? How many millions never hear the 
names of the most famous writers; and amongst them 
to whom they are known, how few turn over their 
pages ; and of such as do, how many sport at their 
conceits, taking the verity for a fable, and oft a fable 
for verity, or (as we do pleasants) use all for recrea- 
tion ? Then the arising of more famous, doth darken, 
put down, and turn ignoble the glory of the former, 
being held as garments worn out of fashion. Now, 
when thou hast attained what praise thou couldst 
desire, and thy fame is emblazoned in many stories, 
never after to be either shadowed or worn out, it is 
but an echo, a mere sound, a glow-worm, which, 
seen afar, casteth some cold beams, but approached 
is found nothing, an imaginary happiness, whose good 
depends on the opinion of others. Desert and virtue 
for the most part want monuments and memory, 
seldom are recorded in the volumes of admiration, 
nay, are often branded with infamy, while statues and 
trophies are erected to those whose names should 
have l)een buried in their dust, and folded up in the 
darkest clouds of oblivion : so do the rank weeds in 

* Papers : literature. 


this garden of the world choke and over-run the 
sweetest flowers. Applause whilst thou livest, servelh 
but to make thee that fair mark against which envy 
and malice direct their arrows, and when thou ait 
wounded, all eyes are turned towards thee (like the 
sun, which is most gazed on in an eclipse), not for pity 
or praise, but detraction. At the best, it but resem- 
bleth that Syracusan's * sphere of crystal, not so fair 
as frail ; and, born after thy death, it may as well 
be ascribed to some of those were in the Trojan 
horse, or to such as are yet to be born an hundred 
years hereafter, as to thee, who nothing knows, and 
is of all unknown. What can it avail thee to be 
talked of, whilst thou art not ? Consider in what 
bounds our fame is confined, how narrow the lists 
are of human glory, and the furthest she can stretch 
her wings. This globe of the earth and water, which 
seemeth huge to us, in respect of the universe, com- 
pared with that wide, wide pavilion of heaven, is 
less than little, of no sensible quantity, and but as 
a point : for the horizon, which boundelh our sight, 
divideth the heavens as in two halves, having always 
six of the Zodiac signs above, and as many under it, 
which, if the earth had any quantity compared to it, 
it could not do. More, if the earth were not as a 
point, the stars could not still in all parts of it appear 
to us as of a like greatness ; for where the earth 
raised itself in mountains, we being more near to 
heaven, they would appear to us of a greater quan- 
tity, and where it is humbled in valleys, we being 

* That Syracusan : Archimedes ; his sphere was a 
machine for representing the movements of the heavenly 


further distant, they would seem unto us less : but 
the stars in all parts of the earth appearing of a like 
greatness, and to every part of it the heaven imparting 
to our sight the half of its inside, we must avouch it 
to be but as a point. Well did one compare it to an 
ant-hill, and men (the inhabitants) to so many pis- 
mires and grasshoppers, in the toil and variety of 
their diversilied studies. Now of this small indivi- 
sible thing, thus compared, how much is covered with 
waters ? How much not at all discovered ? how much 
uninhabited and desert ? and how many millions of 
millions are they, which share the remnant amongst 
them, in languages, customs, divine rites differing, 
and all almost to others unknown ? But let it be 
granted that glory and fame are some great matter, 
are the life of the dead, and can reach heaven itself; 
sith they are oft buried wth the honoured, and pass 
away in so fleet a revolution of time, what great 
good can they have in them ? How is not glory 
temporal, if it increase with years and depend on 
time ? Then imagine me (for what can not imagi- 
nation reach unto ?) one could be famous in all times 
to come, and over the whole world present ; yet 
shall he be for ever obscure and ignoble to those 
mighty ones, which were only heretofore esteemed 
famous, amongst the Assyrians, Persians, Romans. 
Again, the vain affectation of man is so suppressed, 
that though his works abide some space, the worker 
is unknown : the huge Egyptian pyramids, and that 
grot in I'ausilipo, though they have wrestled with time, 
and worn upon the vast of days, yet are their authors 
no more known, than it is known by what strange 
earthquakes and deluges isles were divided from the 


continent, or hills hursted forth of the valleys. Days, 
months, and years are swallowed up in the great gulf 
of time, which puts out the eyes of all their glory, 
and only a fatal oljlivion remains : of so many ages 
past, we may well figure to ourselves some likely 
appearances, but can affirm little certainty. 

But, my soul, what aileth thee, to be thus backward 
and astonished at the remembrance of death, sith it 
doth not reach thee, more than darkness doth those 
far-shining lamps above? Rouse thyself for shame ; 
why shouldst thou fear to be without a body, sith thy 
Maker, and the spiritual and supercelestial inhabi- 
tants have no bodies? Hast thou ever seen any 
prisoner, who, when the jail gates were broken up, 
and he enfranchised and set loose, would rather plain 
and sit still on his fetters than seek his freedom ? Or 
any mariner, who, in the midst of storms arriving 
near the shore, would launch forth again unto the 
main, rather than strike sail and joyfully enter the 
lees of a safe harbour? If thou rightly know thy- 
self, thou hast but small cause of anguish ; for, if 
there be any resemblance of that which is infinite 
in what is finite (which yet by an infinite imperfec- 
tion is from it distant), if thou be not an image, thou 
art a shadow of that unsearchable Trinity, in thy 
three essential powers. Understanding, Will, Memory ; 
which, though three, are in thee InU one, and 
abiding one, are distinctly three. But in nothing 
more comest thou near that sovereign Good than 
by thy perpetuity, which who strive to improve,* by 
that same do it prove: like those that by arguing 

* Improve : disprove. 


themselves to be without all reason, by the very 
arguing show how they have some. For, how can 
what is wholly mortal more think upon, consider, or 
know that which is immortal, than the eye can know 
sounds, or the ear discern of colours ? If none 
had eyes, who would ever dispute of light or 
shadow ? And if all were deaf, who would descant 
of music ? To thee nothing in this visible world is 
comparable : thou art so wonderful a beauty, and so 
beautiful a wonder, that if but once thou couldst be 
gazed upon by bodily eyes, every heart would be 
inflamed with thy love, and ravished from all servile 
baseness and earthly desires. Thy being depends 
not on matter ; hence by thine understanding dost 
thou dive into the being of every other thing ; and 
therein art so pregnant, that nothing by place, simili- 
tude, subject, time, is so conjoined, which thou canst 
not separate ; as what neither is, nor any ways can 
exist, thou canst feign and give an abstract being 
unto. Thou seemest a world in thyself, containing 
heaven, stars, seas, earth, floods, mountains, forests, 
and all that lives : yet rests thou not satiate with 
what is in thyself, nor with all in the wide universe 
(because thou knowest their defects), until thou raise 
thyself to the contemplation of that first illuminating 
Intelligence, far above time, and even reaching 
eternity itself, into which thou art transformed ; 
for, by receiving, thou, beyond all other things, art 
made that which thou receivest.* The more thou 

• How deeply Drummond was influenced by the Pla- 
tonic philosophy is manifest in this address to the soul. 
The " first illuminating Intelligence" is the source from 
whence the soul proceeds, as light proceeds from the 


knowest the more apt thou art to know, not being 
amated * with any object that excelleth in predomi- 
nance, as sense by objects sensible. Thy will is un- 
compellable, resisting force, daunting necessity, de- 
spising danger, triumphing over affliction, unmoved by 
pity, and not constrained by all the toils and disasters 
of life. What the arts-master of this universe is in 
governing this universe, thou art in the body ; and as 
he is wholly in every part of it, so art thou wholly 
in every part of the body : t like unto a mirror, every 

sun, and to which it ultimately returns ; and in which 
being established, it contemplates that which is beyond 
Intellect, viz., the One itself. For this, says Plotinus, 
"is the true end to the soul, to come into contact with 
His light, and to behold Him through it ; not by the 
light of another thing, but to perceive that very thing 
itself through which it sees." Compare also the follow- 
ing passage from Proclus (On the Timcsus, Book I.): 
"Man is a microcosm, and all such things subsist in 
him partially as the world contains divinely and totally. 
For there is an intellect in us which is in energy, and a 
rational soul proceeding from the same father and the 
same vivific Goddess, as the soul of the universe ; also 
an ethereal vehicle analogous to the heavens, and a 
terrestrial body derived from the four elements." 

* Amated : associated. 

+ Every incorporeal nature, such as intellect and soul, 
is impartible, without magnitude, and has no subsis- 
tence in place. Hence it is everywhere totally present. 
Nor is that soul which animates the body of a certain 
man separate from the one soul ; since the one soul 
contains in itself all souls, distinct, but without division. 
For the one is many, and the many are one. But see 
Plotinus, Ennead VI., 4. 


small parcel of which apart doth represent and do the 
same, what the whole did entire and together. By 
thee man is that Hymen of eternal and mortal things, 
that chain, together binding unbodied and bodily 
substances, without which the goodly fabric of this 
world were unperfect. Thou hast not thy beginning 
from the fecundity, power, nor action of the elemen- 
tal qualities, being an immediate masterpiece of that 
great Maker : hence hast thou the forms and figures 
of all things imprinted in thee from thy first original.* 
Thou only at once art capable of contraries : t of the 
three parts of time thou makest but one ; thou 
knowest thyself so separate, absolute, and diverse an 
essence from thy body, that thou disposest of it as it 
jileaseth thee, for in thee there is no passion so weak 
which mastereth not the fear of leaving it. Thou 
shouldst be so far from repining at this separation, 
that it should be the chief of thy desires ; sith it is 
the passage and means to attain thy perfection and 
happiness. Thou art here, but as in an infected and 
leprous inn, plunged in a flood of humours, oppressed 
with cares, suppressed with ignorance, defiled and 
distained with vice, retrograde in the course of virtue ; 
small things seem here great unto thee, and great 
things small, folly appeareth wisdom and wisdom 
folly. Freed of thy fleshly care, thou shalt rightly 
discern the beauty of thyself, and have i)erfect fruition 

• The intelligible world, which is real being, is the 
true home and source of the soul ; and it contains those 
forms of which the forms in the sensible universe are 
l)Ut the images or reflections. 

+ Thus, in the Timaus, soul is said to be composed 
oi same, different, and essence. 


of that all-sufficient and all-sufficing happiness, which 
is God Himself: to whom thou owest thy being, to 
Him thou owest thy well being ; He and happiness 
arc the same.* For, if God had not happiness, 
He were not God, because happiness is the highest 
and greatest good : if then God have happiness, it 
can not be a thing differing from Him, for, if there 
were anything in Him differing from Him, He should 
be an essence composed and not simple. More, what 
is differing in anything, is either an accident or a part 
of itself: in God happiness can not be an accident, 
because He is not subject to any accidents ; if it 
were a part of Him (since the part is before the whole) 
we should be forced to grant that something was 
before God. Bedded and bathed in these earthly 
ordures, thou canst not come near this sovereign 
Good, nor have any glimpse of the far-off dawning 
of his unaccessible brightness, no, not so much as 
the eyes of the birds of the night have of the sun. 
Think then, by death that thy shell is broken, 
and thou then but even hatched ; that thou art a 
pearl, raised from thy mother, to be enchased in 
gold, and that the deathday of thy body is thy 
birthday to eternity. 

* Compare Pico's definition of happiness, which is 
truly Platonic: — " Felicitatem ego sic definio, reditum 
uniuscujusque rei ad suum principium. Felicitas enim 
est sunimum bonum ; summum bonum, id est, quod 
omnia appelant ; quod autem omnia appetunt, id ipsum 
est, quod omnium est principium. . . . Idem igitur finis 
omnium quod omnium principmm, Deus unus omni- 
potens et benedictus " (Pico della Mirandola, Heptaflus, 

Lib. vn.). 


WTiy shouldst thou be fear-stricken and discom- 
forted for thy parting from this mortal bride, thy 
body ; sith it is but for a time, and such a time as she 
shall not care for, nor feel anything in, nor thou have 
much need of her ; nay, sith thou shalt receive her 
again more goodly and beautiful than when in her 
fullest perfection thou enjoyed her; being by her 
absence made like unto that Indian crystal, which 
after some revolutions of ages is turned into purest 
diamond ? * If the soul be the form of the body, and 
the form separated from the matter of it can not ever 
so continue, but is inclined and disposed to be re- 
united thereinto ; what can let and hinder this desire, 
but that some time it be accomplished, and ob- 
taining the expected end, rejoin itself again unto the 

* After the sublime Platonism of the preceding para- 
graph, it is rather disappointing to find Drummond 
supporting a dogma so grossly materialistic as that of 
the ultimate reunion of soul and body — a dogma too, 
which directly contradicts much that he has already 
said. But the attempt to reconcile two opposite sys- 
tems leads inevitably to inconsistency. Compare Ploti- 
nus (Ennead III., 6) : — " Sense is alone the employment 
of the dormant soul ; since as much of the soul as is 
merged in body, so much of it sleeps. But true wake- 
fulness is a true resurrection from, and not together 
with, body. For indeed a resurrection with body is a 
transmigration from sleep to sleep, as of one going from 
bed to bed ; but the true resurrection is that which is 
wholly apart from bodies. For these possessing a 
nature contrary to soul, have also that which is contrary 
to essence. And this also is testified by their generation, 
their flowing and corruption ; all which are foreign to 
the nature of real being." 


hody ? * The soul separate hath a desire, because it 
hath a will, and knoweth it shall by this reunion re- 
ceive perfection : too, as the matter is disposed, and 
inclineth to its form when it is without it,t so would 
it seem that the form should be towards its matter in 
the absence of it. How is not the soul the form of 
the body, sith by it it is, sith it is the beginning and 
cause of all the actions and functions of the body? 
For though in excellency it pass every other form, yet 
doth not that excellency take from it the nature of a 
form. If the abiding of the soul from the body be 
violent, then can it not be everlasting, but have a 
regress. How is not such an estate of being and 
abiding not violent to the soul, if it be natural to it 
to be in its matter, and, separate, after a strange 
manner, many of the powers and faculties of it, which 
never leave it, are not duly exercised ? This union 

* It is not well said that soul is the form of the body, 
since the form which is in body does not partake of real 
being, but is a reflection only of intelligible form. As 
the artist, looking to the idea within his mind, imparts 
to his canvas forms which are the image or reflection of 
that idea ; so also soul, looking to intellect, imparts to 
matter forms which arc the reflection of those which it 
there perceives. But as real being is characterised by 
eternal stability, so matter, which is non- being, is 
characterised by infinite change : hence the forms in 
matter are apparent only, and continually changing. 
For the rest of Drummond's sentence it must be said, 
that so long as the soul desires to be reunited to Vjody, 
nothing can hinder the accomplishment of its desire. 

t It is evident, on the contrary, that matter flies from 
form ; otherwise, form in matter would l)e stable, and 
not liable to corruption. 


seemeth not above the "horizon of natural reason, far 
less impossible to be done by God ; and though 
reason can not evidently here demonstrate, yet hath 
she a misty and groping notice. If the body shall 
not arise, how can the only and sovereign Good be 
perfectly and infinitely good ? For, how shall lie 
be just, nay, have so much justice as man, if lie suffer 
the evil and vicious to have a more prosperous and 
happy life than the followers of religion and virtue, 
which ordinarily useth to fall forth in this life ? For 
the most wicked are Lords and Gods of this earth, 
sleeping in the lee port of honour, as if the spa- 
cious habitation of the world had been made only 
for them ; and the virtuous and good are but forlorn 
castaways, floating in the surges of distress, seem- 
ing here either of the eye of Providence not pitied 
or not regarded ; being subject to all dishonours, 
wrongs, wracks ; in their best estate passing away 
their days, like the daisies in the field, in silence 
and contempt.* Sith then He is most good, most 
just, of necessity there must be appointed by Ilim 
another time and place of retribution, in the which 
there shall be a reward for living well, and a pun- 
ishment for doing evil, with a life whereinto l)oth 
shall receive their due, and not only in their souls 

* The Platonists, referring this to the doctrine of 
reincarnation, assert that either such evils are the result 
of actions in a previous life, or that they are not in 
fact evils, but only in seeming, since sorrow is often- 
times the cause of good to the soul. But, as Plato says, 
the man who earnestly endeavours to follow justice 
and a virtuous life is never at any time neglected by 
the Gods. 


divested ; for, sith Ix^th the parts of man did act 
a part in the right or wrong, it carrieth great reason 
with it that they both (entire man) be arraigned 
before that high justice, to receive their own : man 
is not a soul only, but a soul and body, to which 
either guerdon or punishment is due.* This seemetli 
to be the voice of nature in almost all the religions of 
the world ; this is that general testimony, charactered 
in the minds of the most barbarous and savage 
people ; for all have had some roving guesses at 
ages to come, and a glow-worm light of another 
life, all appealing to one general judgment throne. 
To what else could serve so many expiations, sacri- 
fices, prayers, solemnities, and mystical ceremonies? 
To what such sumptuous temples, and care of the 
dead ? To what all religion, if not to show that they 
expected a more excellent manner of being, after 
the navigation of this life did take an end ? And 
who doth deny it, must deny that there is a Provi- 
dence, a God ; confess that his worship, and all 
study and reason of virtue are vain ; and not believe 
that there is a world, are creatures, and that he 
himself is not what he is. 

But it is not of death, perhaps, that we complain, 
but of time, under the fatal shadow of whose wings 
all things decay and wither. This is that tyrant, 
which, executing against us his diamantine laws, 

* It is better, however, to say with Plotinus, that soul 
is the man himself, and that body is the instrument of 
soul. But until the soul has freed itself from the ties 
which attach it to body (which, say the Platonists, is by 
no means accomplished by death), it must return to 
body, and there receive its " guerdon or punishment." 


altereth the harmonious constitution of our bodies, 
benumbing the organs of our knowledge, turneth our 
best senses senseless, makes us loathsome to others, and 
a burthen to ourselves ; of which evils death relieveth 
us. So that, if we could be transported (O happy 
colony !) to a place exempted from the laws and 
conditions of time, where neither change, motion, 
nor other afi'ection of material and corruptible things 
were, but an immortal, unchangeable, impassible, 
all-sufficient kind of life, it were the last of things 
wishable, the term and centre of all our desires.* 
Death maketh this transplantation ; for the last 
instant of corruption, or leaving-off of anything to be 
what it was, is the first of generation, or being of 
that which succeedeth. Death then, being the end 
of this miserable transitory life, of necessity must be 
the beginning of that other all excellent and eternal: 
and so causelessly of a virtuous soul it is either feared 
or complained on. 

As those images were limned in my mind (the 
morning star now almost arising in the east) I found 
my thoughts in a mild and quiet calm ; and not long 
after, my senses one by one forgetting their uses, 
began to give themselves over to rest, leaving me 
in a still and peaceable sleep ; if sleep it may be 
called, where the mind awaking is carried with 
free wings from out fleshly bondage. For heavy lids 
had not long covered their lights, when methoughl, 

• This is the intelligible world, the true home and 
parent of the soul. Hut how did Drummond think to 
tak<; thither the body, which, being generated in lime, is 
subject to the laws of time, and must therefore, as he 
says, "decay and wither" ? 


nay, sure I was, where I might discern all in this 
great All ; the large compass of the rolling circles, 
the brightness and continual motion of those rubies 
of the night, which, by their distance, here below 
can not be perceived ; the silver countenance of 
the wandering moon, shining by another's light ; the 
hanging of the earth, as environed with a girdle of 
cr)-stal ; the sun enthronized in the midst of the 
planets, eye of the heavens, gem of this precious 
ring the world. But whilst with wonder and amaze- 
ment I gazed on those celestial splendours, and the 
beaming lamps of that glorious temple (like a poor 
countryman brought from his solitary mountains and 
flocks, to behold the magnificence of some great 
city), there was presented to my sight a man, as in 
the spring of his years, with that self-same grace, 

comely feature, majestic look, which the late was 

wont to have : * on whom I had no sooner fixed 
mine eyes, when, like one planet-struck, I became 
amazed : but he, with a mild demeanour, and voice 
surpassing all human sweetness, appeared, methought, 
to say : 

What is it doth thus pain and perplex thee ? Is it 
the remembrance of death, the last period of wretched- 
ness, and entry to these happy places ; the lantern 
which lighteneth men to see the mystery of the blessed- 
ness of spirits, and that glory which transcendeth the 
curtain of things visible ? Is thy fortune below on 
that dark globe (which scarce by the smallness of it 

* Drummond's allusion is probably to Henry, Prince 
of Wales, the ' ' Mceliades " of his elegy. It is he same 
in the first edition, 1623. 


appeareth here) so great, that thou art heart-broken 
and dejected to leave it ? What if thou wort to 

leave behind thee a * so glorious in the eye of 

the world (yet but a mote of dust encircled with 

a pond) as that of mine, so loving ,t such 

great hopes ? These had been apparent occasions 
of lamenting, and but apparent. Dost thou think 
thou leavest life too soon ? Death is best young ; 
things fair and excellent are not of long endurance 
upon earth. Who liveth well, liveth long : souls 
most beloved of their Maker are soonest relieved 
from the bleeding cares of life, and with almost a 
spherical swiftness wafted through the surges of 
human miseries. Opinion (that great enchantress 
and peiseri of things, not as they are, but as they 
seem) hath not in anything more than in the conceit 
of death abused man ; who must not measure himself, 
and esteem his estate, after his earthly being, which 
is but as a dream : for, though he be born on the 
earth, he is not born for the earth, more than the 
embrj'on for the mother's womb. It plaineth to be 
relieved of its bands, and to come to the light of this 
world, and man waileth to be loosed from the chains 
with which he is fettered in that valley of vanities : 
it nothing knoweth whither it is to go, nor ought of 
the beauty of the visible works of God, neither doth 
man of the magnificence of the intellectual world 
above, unto which (as by a midwife; he is directed 
by death. Fools, which think that this fair and 
admirable frame, so variously disposed, so rightly 
marshalled, so strongly maintained, enriched with so 
• Kingdom? t Subjects? 

* Peisor : weiglicr ; poiser. 
VOI-. 11. s 


many excellencies, not only for necessity, but for 
ornament and delight, was by that Supreme Wisdom 
brought forth, that all things in a circulary course 
should be and not be, arise and dissolve, and thus 
continue, as if they were so many shadows carelessly 
east out and caused by the encountering of those 
superior celestial bodies, changing only their fashion 
and shape, or fantastical imageries, or shades of faces 
into crystal. But more [fools] they, which believe 
that lie doth no otherwise regard this His work than 
as a theatre, raised for bloody sword-players, wrestlers, 
chasers of timorous and combatters of terrible beasts, 
delighting in the daily torments, sorrows, distress 
and misery of mankind. No, no, the eternal Wisdom 
created man an excellent creature, though he fain 
would unmake himself and return into nothing ; and 
though he seek his felicity among the reasonless 
wights. He hath fixed it above. He brought him 
into this world as a master to a sumptuous, well- 
ordered, and furnished inn, a prince to a populous 
and rich empcry, a pilgrim and spectator to a stage 
full of delightful wonders and wonderful delights. 
And as some emperor or great monarch, when he 
hath raised any stately city, the work being achieved, 
is wont to set his image in the midst of it, to be 
admired and gazed upon ; no otherwise did the 
sovereign of this world, the fabric of it perfected, 
place man, a great miracle, formed to His own pat- 
tern, in the midst of this spacious and admirable city, 
by the divine splendour of his reason to be an inter- 
preter and trunchman * of His creation, and admired 

* Trunchman : perhaps one who holds the truncheon, 
as a symbol of command. 


and reverenced by all His other creatures. God con- 
taineth all in Ilim, as the beginning of all ; Man 
containeth all in him, as the midst of all ; inferior 
things be in man more nobly than they exist, superior 
things more meanly ; celestial things favour him, 
earthly things are vassaled unto him, he is the knot 
and band of both ; neither is it possible but that both 
of them have peace with man, if man have peace 
with Him who made the covenant between them and 
him.* He was made that he might in the glass of the 
world behold the infinite goodness, power, magnifi- 
cence, and glory of his Maker, and beholding know, 
and knowing love, and loving enjoy, and to hold the 
earth of Him as of his Lord paramount, never ceasing 
to remember and praise Him. It exceedeth the 
compass of conceit, to think that that wisdom 
which made everj'thing so orderly in the parts, 
should make a confusion in the whole, and the chief 
masterpiece ; how bringing forth so many excel- 
lencies for man, it should bring forth man for 
baseness and misery. And no less strange were it 

* This is borrowed from the Heptaplus of Pico della 
Mirandola, Lib. V. : — " Est autem hjec diversitas inter 
Deum ct hominem, quod Deus in se omnia continet, uti 
omnium principium, homo autem in se omnia continet 
uti omnium medium, quo sit ut in Deo sint omnia 
meliore nota quam in scipsis, in homine inferiora nobi- 
liori sint conditione, superiora autem degenerent. . . . 
Homini niancipantur lerrcslria, hoinini favent coulestia, 
quia et crx-lestium ct terrestrium vinculum et nodus est ; 
nee possunt utraquc ha;c non habere cum co pacem, si 
modo ipse sccum pacem habuerit, qui illorum in scipso 
pacem et foudera sancit." 


that so long life sliould be given to trees, beasts, 
and the birds of the air, creatures inferior to man, 
wliich have less use of it, and which cannot judge 
of this goodly fabric, and that it should be denied 
to man ; unless there were another manner of 
living prepared for him, in a place more noble and 

But, alas ! said I, had it not been better that for tlie 

good of his country a ,* endued with so many 

peerless gifts, had yet lived upon earth ? How long will 
ye, replied he, like the ants, think there are no fairer 
palaces than their hills ; or like to purl^lind moles, 
no greater light than that little which they shun ? As 
if the master of a camp knew when to remove a 
sentinel, and He who placeth man on the earth knew 
not how long He had need of him ? Life is a govern- 
ment and office, wherein man is so long continued as 
it pleaseth the installer ; of the administration and 
charge of which, and what hath passed during the 
time of his residence, he must render an account, so 
soon as his term expireth, and he hath made room 
for others. As men's bodies differ in stature, which 
none can make more long or short after their desire, 
so do they vary in that length of time which is ap- 
pointed for them to live upon the earth. That Pro- 
vidence which prescribeth causes to every event, hath 
not only determined a definite and certain number of 
days, but of actions, to all men, which they cannot go 

Most then, answered I, death is not such an 

evil and pain as it is of the vulgar esteemed. Death, 
said he, nor jiainful is nor evil, except in contem- 
* Prince ? 


plation of the cause,* being of itself as indifferent as 
birth ; yet can it not be denied, but amidst those 
dreams of earthly pleasures, the uncouthness of it, 
with the wrong apprehension of what is unknown in 
it, are noisome : but the soul sustained by its Maker, 
resolved, and calmly retired in itself, doth find that 
death, sith it is in a moment of time, is but a short, 
nay, sweet sigh; and is not worthy the remem- 
brance, compared with the smallest dram of the in- 
finite felicity of this place. Here is the palace royal 
of the Almighty King, in which the uncomprehen- 
sible comprehensibly manifesteth Himself; in place 
highest, in substance not subject to any corruption 
or change, for it is above all motion, and solid 
tumeth not ; in quantity greatest, for if one star, 
one sphere, be so vast, how large, how huge in ex- 
ceeding dimensions, must those bounds be which 
do them all contain ! In quality most pure and 
orient, heaven here is all but a sun, or the sun all 
but a heaven. If to earthlings the footstool of God, 
and that stage which He raised for a small course 
of time, seemeth so glorious and magnificent, how 
highly would they prize (if they could see) His 
eternal habitation and throne ! And if these be so 
dazzling, what is the sight of Him, for whom and 
by whom all was created ; of whose glory to be- 
hold the thousand thousand part, the most pure 
intelligences are fully satiate, and with wonder and 
<lelight rest amazed ; for the beauty of His light and 
the light of His beauty arc uncomprehensible. Here 

* This cause being the descent of the soul into 
generation, or, in other words, the fall and expulsion 
from Paradise. 


doth that earnest appetite of the understanding con- 
tent itself, not seeking to know any more ; for it 
seeth before it, in the vision of the divine essence (a 
mirror in the which not images or shadows, but the 
true and perfect essence of every thing created, is 
more clear and conspicuous than in itself), all that 
is known or understood : * and whereas on earth our 
senses show us the Creator by His creatures, here we 
see the creatures by the Creator. Here doth the will 
pause itself, as in the centre of its eternal rest, glow- 
ing with a fervent affection of that infinite and all- 
sufiicient Good ; which, being fully known, cannot 
(for the infinite motives and causes of love which are 
in Him) but be fully and perfectly loved : as He is 
only true and essential bounty, so is He only essential 
and true beauty, deserving alone all love and admira- 
tion, by which the creatures are only in so much fair 
and excellent, as they participate of his beauty and 
excelling excellencies. Here is a blessed company, 
every one joying as much in another's felicity, as in 
that which is proper, because each seeth another 
equally loved of God : thus their distinct joys are no 
fewer than the copartners of the joy ; and as the 
assembly is in number answerable to the large 
capacity of the place, so are the joys answerable to 
the numljcrless number of the assembly. No poor 
and pitiful mortal, confined on the globe of earth, 
who hath never seen but sorrow, or interchange- 
ably some painted superficial pleasures, and had but 
guesses of contentment, can rightly think on, or be 

* This again is the Platonic doctrine : intellect, look- 
ing to the divine essence (viz. the intelligible), sees there 
the paradigms of all things. 


sufficient to conceive, the termless delights of this 
place. So many feathers move not on birds, so 
many birds dint not the air, so many leaves tremble 
not on trees, so many trees grow not in the solitary 
forests, so many waves turn not in the ocean, and so 
many grains of sand limit not those waves ; as this 
triumphant court hath variety of delights, and joys 
exempted from all comparison. Happiness at once 
here is fully known and fully enjoyed, and as infinite 
in continuance as extent. Here is flourishing and 
never-fading youth without age, strength without 
weakness, beauty never blasting, knowledge without 
learning, abundance without loathing, peace without 
disturbance, participation without envy, rest without 
labour, light without rising or setting sun, perpetuity 
without moments ; for time (which is the measure 
of motion) did never enter in this shining eternity. 
Ambition, disdain, malice, difference of opinions, 
cannot approach this place, resembling those foggy 
mists which cover those lists of sublunary things. 
All pleasure, paragoned with what is here, is pain, 
all mirth mourning, all beauty deformity : here one 
day's abiding is above the continuing in the most 
fortunate estate on the earth many years, and suf- 
ficient to countervail the extremest torments of life. 
But, although this bliss of souls be great, and their 
joys many, yet shall they admit addition, and be more 
full and perfect, at that long wished and general re- 
union with their bodies. 

Amongst all the wonders of the great Creator, 
not one appeareth to be more wonderful, nor more 
dazzle the eye of leason, replied I, than that our 
bodies should arise, having suffered so many changes. 


and nature denying a return from privation to a 

Such power, said he, being aloove all that that the 
understanding of man can conceive, may well work 
such wonders ; for, if man's understanding could 
comprehend all the secrets and counsels of that 
eternal IMajesty, it would of necessity be equal unto 
it. The Author of nature is not thralled to the laws 
of nature, Ijut worketh with tliem, or contrary to 
them, as it pleaseth Him : what He hath a will to 
do, He hath power to perform. To that power 
which brought all this round All from nought, to 
bring again in one instant any substance which ever 
was into it, unto what it was once, should not be 
thought impossible ; for, who can do more, can do 
less ; and His power is no less, after that which was 
by Him brought forth is decayed and vanished, than 
it was before it was produced ; being neither restrained 
to certain limits or instruments, or to any determinate 
and defmite manner of working : where the power is 
without restraint, the work admitteth no other limits 
than the worker's will.* This world is as a cabinet 
to God, in which the small things (liowever to us hid 
and secret) are nothing less keeped than the great. 
?"or, as He was wise and powerful to create, so doth 

* All this, however, is not to the point, for the ob- 
jection lies, not in the impossibility of reassembling the 
scattered atoms of the body, but in the irrationality of 
binding the body in eternity to the soul. The soul 
indeed employs its energies in time, but its essence 
is eternal ; whereas the body, l)eing generated in time, 
is necessarily also in time corrupted, and its very nature 
is continual change. 


His knowledge comprehend His own creation ; yea, 
every change and variety in it, of which it is the 
very source. Not any atom of the scattered dust 
of mankind, though daily flowing under new fonns, 
is to Him unknown ; and His knowledge doth distin- 
guish and discern what once His power shall awake 
and raise up. ^Vhy may not the arts-master of the 
world, like a moulder, what he hath framed in divers 
shapes, confound in one mass, and then severally 
fashion them again out of the same? Can the 
spagyric by his art restore for a space to the dry and 
withered rose the natural purple and blush ; and 
cannot the Almighty raise and refine the body of 
man, after never so many alterations in the earth ? 
Reason herself finds it more possible for infinite 
power to cast out from itself a finite world, and 
restore anything in it, though decayed and dissolved, 
to what it was first ; than for man, a finite piece of 
reasonable misery, to change the form of matter made 
to his hand : the power of God never brought forth 
all it can, for then were it bounded, and no more 
infinite. That time doth approach (O haste ye times 
away I) in which the dead shall live, and the living 
be changed, and of all actions the guerdon is at 
hand : then shall there be an end without an end, 
time shall finish, and place shall l)e altered, motion 
yielding unto rest, and another world of an age 
eternal and unchangealjle shall arise. Which when 
he had said, methought, he vanished, and I all 
astonished did awake. 




The Book of the World (p. 6). 

Translated from the following sonnet by Marino 
{Rime, Venice, 1602 : Part I., p. 178) : — 
" Se di questo volume ampio le carte, 
Che mondo ha nome, e 'n cui chiaro si legge 
Del Autor, che '1 compose, e che '1 corregge, 
L'alto saver, la providentia, e I'arte, 
Volgesse altri con studio : a parte a parte 
La 'nfinila bonta, I'eterna legge 
Impareria di lui, che lutto regge, 
Quasi ascose dottrine in lor consparte. 
Ma I'huom de' fregi suoi purpurei, e d'oro, 
Qual semplice fanciul, che nulla intcnde, 
S'arresta sol nel publico lavoro, 
E dele note sue non ben comprende 
Gli occulti sensi : e de' secreti loro 
(V'aneggiante, ch' egli e) cura non prende." 

The Miserable Estate ok the World, &c. 
(p. 7). 

Lines 9-14 allude to the vulgar belief that the an- 
cient oracles ceased with the birth of Jesus. Compare 
the beautiful verses on the same suljjcct in Milton's 

Hymn to the Nativity. The belief was, of course, 


286 NOTES 

erroneous ; the oracles, from whatever cause, decayed 
gradually, but were not altogether extinct till about 
the fourth century. Maximus Tyrius, who wrote in 
the latter part of the second century, mentions several 
oracles as existing in his time, among them the famous 
oracles of Deljahi and Dodona {Dissert. XXVI.). 

For the Nativity of our Lord (p. 8). 

Translated from the following sonnet by Marino 
(AVwt', Part I., ji. 190) : — 

"Felice notte, ond' a noi nasce il giorno 
Di cui mai piu sereno altro non fue, 
Che fra gli horrori, e sotto Tombre tue 
Copri quel Sol, ch' al' altro Sol fa scorno. 
Felici voi, che 'n povero soggiorno, 
Pigro asinello, e mansueto bue, 
Al pargoletto Die le membre sue 
State a scaldar co' dolci fiati intorno. 
Felici voi, degnate a tanti honori, 
Aride herbette, e rustica cappanna, 
Ch' aprir vedete a mezo 'I verno i fiori. 
Cos! diceano a suon di roza canna 
Innanzi al gran bambin chini i paslori, 
E sudo I'elce e '1 pin nettare e manna'." 

For thk Prodigal (p. 10). 

Translated from the following sonnet by Marino 
(/iVw<?, Part I., p. 200): — 

"Cangiai contrada, e 'n procurar diletto 

Altronde, unqua non hebbi altro ch' affanno, 
Volgendo in signoria d'empio tlranno 
I dolci imperi del paterno affetto. 


Di ricche mense, e piume, e d'aureo tetto, 
D'accorti servi in vece (ahi duolo, ahi danno !) 
Questi, ch' io guardo, hor compagnia mi fanno, 
E son herbe il mio cibo, e sassi il letto. 
Hor, che la dura fame e '1 giogo io sento, 
Tomo, Padre e Signor : tua pieta grande 
Scusi le colpe, ond' io mi lagno e pento. 
Cosi la 've gran querela i rami spande 
Pensava 11 garzon folle : e '1 sozzo armento 
Udia da presso ruminar le ghiande." 

Man's Knowledge, Ignorance, &c. (p. 25). 

This very beautiful sonnet is a translation from 
Marino, and an expression of the most mystic moods 
both of the Italian poet and of his Scottish imitator. 
The original is as follows <^Rime, Part I. , p. 1 59) : — 

" Sotto caliginose ombre profonde 
Di luce inaccessibile sepolti, 
Tra ncmbi di silentio oscuri, e folti, 
L'eterna Mente i suoi secreti asconde. 
E s'altri spia per queste nebbie immonde 
I suoi giudici in nero velo avolti, 
Gli humani ingegni temerari, e stolti, 
Col lampo abbaglia, e col sue tuon confonde. 
O invisibil Sol, ch' a noi ti celi 
Dentro 1' abisso luminoso, e fosco, 
E de' tuoi propri rai te stesso veli ; 
Argo * mi fai, dov' io son cieco c Iosco, 
Nda niia notte il tuo splendor riveli, 
(Juanto t' intendo men, piu ti conosco. 

* Argo: i.e., hundred-eyed, like Argus. 

288 NOTES 

The reader will be interested to compare the 
following beautiful extract from Damascius {llepl 
apxio"), quoted in Taylor's Introduction to the 
Parmenides of Plato : — 

"This highest God is seen afar off as it were 
obscurely ; and if you approach nearer, he is beheld 
still more obscurely ; and lastly, he takes away the 
ability of perceiving other objects. He is, therefore, 
truly an incomprehensible and inaccessible light, an<l 
is profoundly compared to the sun : upon which the 
more attentively you look, the more you will be 
darkened and blinded ; and will only bring back with 
you eyes stupefied with excess of light." 

The Blessedness of Faithful Souls by 
Death (p. 31). 

By ruining the jail (line 6). The "jail" is the 
body, in which we are placed " as in a certain 
prison " (Plato's Fhado). 

An Hymn of True Happiness (p. 32). 

That, if sense saw her gleams, All lookers-on woicld 
pine and die for love {Vm^s loi, 102). Drummond 
had doubtless in his mind the following passage from 
the F/urdrus : " For sight is the most acute of all our 
corix)real senses ; though even through this, wisdom 
cannot be perceived. If indeed it could, what vehe- 
ment love would it excite, by presenting to the eye 
some perspicuous image of itself! " 

This poem is a beautiful epitome of Drummond's 

NOTES 289 

An Hymn of the Fairest Fair (p. 36). 

In this beautiful hymn Drummond again combines 
the phantasy of a poet with the exaltation of a philo- 
sopher, in a manner interesting, but not altogether 
convincing. The picturesque imagery and graceful 
versification will at once appeal to every reader of 
poetic susceptibility ; but in substance the poem is an 
attempt to reconcile two things in their nature irre- 
concilable — the theology of Plato and that of the 
Christian Church. 

jFro/n deep eternity who called forth time (line 4). 
Together with the universe, the Demiurgus generates 
Time, as a flowing image of F.ternity, adapted to the 
flowing condition of generated natures. See Plato's 

That essence which not nibv'd 7nakes each thing 
move (line 5) is properly Intellect (NoOs), the second 
of the three hypostases, or principles of all things ; 
since the first, or the One, is superessential ; and the 
third principle is Soul {"^-'vxh)-) which is self-motive. 
Intellect is the Creator, the "Fairest Fair" of the 
poet "With respect to all beings, it is necessary 
that some should move or be motive only, and that 
others should be moved only ; and that between these 
there should be two mediums, the self-motive natures, 
and those which move and at the same time are 
moved. Now, that which is motive only, and con- 
sequently essentially immovable, is Intellect, which 
possesses both its essence and energy in eternity ; 
the whole intelligence of which is firmly established 
in indivisible union, and which through a cause prior 
to itself participates of deific illumination. . . . liut 

YOU 11. T 



that which is self-motive is Soul, which, on account of 
possessing its energy in transition and a mutation of 
life, requires the circulations of time to the perfection 
of its nature, and depends on Intellect as a more 
ancient and consequently superior cause. But that 
which moves and is at the same time moved is 
Nature, or that corporeal life which is distributed 
about body, and confers generation, nutrition, and 
increase to its fluctuating essence. And lastly, that 
which is moved only is Body, which is naturally 
passive, imbecile, and inert " (Taylor's Introduction 
to the Timcrus). 

World-containing King ^\Xi& 13). The Demiurgic 
Intellect creates, not by a reasoning process, but by 
its very essence : it therefore produces that which is 
similar to itself, and contains in itself the paradigms 
of the things that are generated. 

Lines 17-98, and 163-180, relate to the Intelligible 
World, which Drummond allegorises in language 
more poetical than j^hilosophical. Lines 1 13-146, 
upon the Trinity, are tinged, but tinged only, with 
Platonism. For the intelligible triad of the Platonists 
(viz.. Being, Life, and Intellect) has no real analogy 
with the Christian Trinity, since it is a triad posterior 
to the First Cause. Nor is the Trinity analogous, as 
some have supposed, to the three hypostases of Plo- 
tinus — the One, Intellect, and Soul ; since the One, 
being superessential, cannot be consubsistent with 
Intellect and Soul. 

Intellectual p(nuers. . . . In numbers passing other 
creatures far (lines 165-168). The intelligible world 
contains, indeed, multitude, since there abide the 
ideas, or archetypal causes of things ; but it contains 

NOTES 291 

multitude in union, since it is the first emanation 
from the One Itself, and nearest to the nature of the 
One. Hence Plotinus says of the Gnostics: "De- 
nominating the intelligible multitude, they fancy that 
they have accurately discovered its nature ; though, 
at the same time, by the multitude which they intro- 
duce, they draw down the intelligible nature into a 
similitude with that which is sensible and subordi- 
nate. But it is necessary to consider intelligible 
multitude as subsisting according to the least pos- 
sible number." 

J^ds^ ravished with still beholding thee (line 178). 
Drummond confuses the Demiurgic Intellect with the 
first cause, which is beyond intellect and beyond 
essence. Here it is Intellect which beholds the One. 
For, says Plotinus, "it is necessary that intellect 
should look to the highest God, in order that it may 
be intellect. . . . But the vision itself is intellect ; 
for that which apprehends another thing is either 
sense or intellect." 

Low under them, &C. (lines 1S1-1S6). This con- 
ception of Nature is generally in accord with the 
Platonic doctrine. Nature is placed between soul 
and body, is inseparable from body, and is there- 
fore "the last of the causes which fabricate this 
corporeal-formed and sensible essence. And she is 
a goddess indeed, in consequence of Ijeing deified ; 
but she has not immediately the subsistence of a 
deity. For we call divine bodies Gods, as being the 
statues of Gods. But she gtjvcrns the whole world 
by her powers, containing the heavens indeed in the 
summit of herself, but ruling over generation tiirough 
the heavens, and everywhere weaving together partial 



natures wiih wholes " (Proclus's Commentaries on the 
Tiiiucus, Book I.)- 

Heart of this All, Sec. (lines 225-226). The sun is 
the heart of the solar system, as the source of its life. 
But compare what Socrates in the Republic (Book 
VI.) says of the sun : that it is "the offspring of the 
Good, which the Good generates, analogous to itself ; 
and that what this is in the intelligible place, with 
respect to intellect, and the objects of intellect, that 
the sun is in the visible place with respect to sight 
and visible things." 

Or, dotard, shall I so from reason swerve, &c. (lines 
251-257). This arrogant opinion is directly contrary 
to the doctrine of Plato ; nor is it consonant with 
reason to suppose that the heavenly bodies are moved 
by souls inferior to those which animate our own 
bodies. See Plato's Laivs, Book X. 

Whole and entire, all in thyself thou art, Ail-where 
diffused, yet of this All no part (lines 285-286). This 
conception is truly Platonic. Compare Plotinus 
{Ennead, VI. 5, c. 4) : " Survey, therefore, if you are 
willing, this God \i.e., truly existing being], which we 
say docs not so subsist as to be present in one place 
and not present in another, but is everywhere equally 
present. For it is acknowledged by all men who 
have a conception of the Gods, that not only this 
God, but likewise all the Gods, are everywhere pre- 
sent ; and reason says it is necessary that this should 
be admitted. If, therefore, Divinity is everywhere, it 
is not possible that this could be the case if he were 
distributed into parts : for thus he would no longer 
be everywhere ; but of his parts, one would be in this 
place, but another in that. Thus, however, he will 

NOTES 293 

no longer be one thing. . . , If, however, these 
things are impossible, again, that which may appear 
to be incredible will be manifest, viz., that in all 
human nature it must be admitted that Divinity is 
simultaneously present, and that the same thing exists 
everywhere an undivided whole" (Taylor's Transla- 

Here, where, as in a fiiirror, we but see Shadows of 
shadows (lines 330-331). This sentence seems to 
have been suggested by Plotinus. Oampare E7inead, 
III. 6, c. 7 : The forms which appear to exist in 
matter are " empty shows, shadows in a shadow, 
just as in a mirror the object appears to be there, 
which is indeed elsewhere." And lastly, compare 
with this paragraph of the poem the following 
passage from Eniiead, V. 5, c. 10 : "For from Him 
all things proceed : from Him is first motion, but not 
in Him ; from Him station, for that He needed it 
not. He is neither moved nor at rest, for lie has 
nothing wherein He may either rest or be moved." 

The Shadow of the Judgment (p. 50). 

Amidst those throngs of old prepared for hell, &c. 
(lines 359-363). This passage certainly seems to point 
to the Calvinistic doctrine of predestination. But 
Drummond was so far superior to the cruel bigotry 
of his countrymen ; his religion, even when most 
orthodox, was usually so hopeful and humane, that 
I think we may fairly look for some less incongruous 
interpretation. Thus, "prepared" may perhaps be 
taken in the sense of self-prepared; while "chosen 
out " (line 362) docs not necessarily imply /r^-elec- 

294 NOTES 

lion. Afler all, the whole poem is rather a play of 
the phantasy than a serious allegor}'. 

On the Report ok the Death of the 
Author (p. 66), 

These verses, by Alexander, and the beautiful 
sonnet by Drummond immediately following them, 
undoubtedly belong to the year 1620, in which year 
Drummond suffered a long and serious illness. 

The words " sacred cares," in Drummond's sonnet 
(line 5), refer to the translation of the Psalms which 
King James and Alexander were executing in 
l^artnership, and which was published at Oxford in 
1 63 1, under the title of TAe Fsabns of King David, 
ti-anslated by King James, 

CHARLES (p. 11). 

The occasion of this pageant was the entry of King 
Charles into " his ancient and royal city of Edin- 
burgh," on Saturday, the 15th of June 1633. It was 
his coronation visit ; and its long deferment had given 
much discontent to his Scottish subjects. He was 
received, however, with lavish display. The words 
of the " Entertainment " were from the pen of 
Drummond, incontestably the first Scottish poet of 
the age ; while the profuse decorations had been 
superintended by the most eminent Scottish painter 
then living, George Jamesone. On the following 
Tuesday the coronation was duly performed in the 
Church of Ilolyrood ; and on Thursday, the 20th, the 
King opened Parliament in state. 

NOTES 295 

The original text of this " Entertainment," reprinted 
in the Maitland Club edition of Drummond's Poems, 
appears to have been published without revision ; and 
I have been obliged in some places to adopt the 
amended text of Edward Phillips's edition (London, 
1656), in order to secure an intelligible reading. 

Ancie7ii -worthies of Scotland for learning (p. 84). 
Sedulius, the first of these worthies, was a Christian 
priest and poet of the fifth century. Nothing is 
known of his life, nor is it at all certain that he 
was a Scot. Of the extant works of Sedulius, the 
principal is an heroic poem in five books, called 
Paschale Carmen. 

Joannes Duns Scotus, the famous schoolman, 
known as the Doctor Subtilis. He died about 1308- 

William Elphinstone (1431-1514), Bishop of Aber- 
deen, and founder of Aberdeen University. 

Hector Boece (1465 ?-i536), a native of Dundee, 
who studied in Paris, and became the first Rector of 
Aberdeen University. His chief work was a History 
of Scotland, in Latin, published 1527. 

John Major (1469- 15 50), historian and schoolman. 
His best known work was a History of Greater 
Britain, both England and Scotland, in Latin, pub- 
lished 1 52 1. 

Gawain Douglas (1475-1521), Bishop of Dunkeld, 
famous by his translation of Virgil's Aineid into 
Scottish heroics — the earliest English translation of 

Sir David Lindsay (l490-i555). one of the best of 
the earlier Scottish poets. He was employed about 
the person of James V., and greatly attached to him ; 
in one of his poems, however, " he gives His Majesty 

296 NOTES 

advice, and censures his numerous instances of mis- 
conduct, with incredible boldness and asperity" 
( IVartoii). Why did not Drummond follow so ex- 
cellent an example 1 

George Buchanan (1506- 1 582), born at Killeam, in 
Stirlingshire, and studied in Paris. Celebrated as a 
writer of Latin verse. His last work, the History of 
Scotland, was published in 1582. He is less honour- 
ably remembered by the part which he took in 
relation to Mary Queen of Scots. 


Sonnet to Sir \V. Alexander (p. 103). 

Doomsday is the most ambitious of Alexander's 
poems. As originally published, in 1614, it con- 
sisted of four books, in stanzas of eight lines ; each 
book describing the events of a several hour of the 
Day of Judgment. It was subsequently completed 
in twelve books or hours, in which form it appeared 
in the collection of Alexander's poetical works, pub- 
lished in 1637 under the title of Recreatiotis with 
the Muses. The first four lines of the sonnet refer to 
Alexander's Monarchic Tragedies, \\z., Darius, Crasus, 
The Alexandrian, zxiA Julius Ccesar ; published at 
various dates from 1603 to 1607. 

To THE Author [of Penardo and Laissa], 
Sonnet (p. 104). 

Only two copies of this " famous history " are now 
known to exist, of which one is in the Jkitish 

NOTES 297- 

Museum. It is entitled The First booke of tJie famotts 
Historye of Penardo and Laissa, other ways callid 
tJie ivarres of Lozx a7td Ambitione. . . . Dootie in 
Heroik verse. Patrick Gordon was also the author 
of a History of Kins:; Robert Bruce, in heroic verse, of 
which the British Museum possesses copies of three 

On the Book [Heptameron] (p. 106). 

The title of the book to which these ingenious 
verses are prefixed is Heptatneron ; the Seven Dayes : 
that is, Meditations and Prayers nfon the Worke of 
the Lord's Creation. The author, Archibald Symson, 
was minister at Dalkeith. 

On these Locks (p. 106). 

For the elucidation of this sonnet also, it will be 
sufficient to quote the title of the book to which it is 
prefixed. Samsot^ s seaven Lockes of Haire : Allegori- 
cally expounded, and compared to the seaven Spirit iiall 
Vertnes, wliereby we are able to overcome our Spirit iiall 
Philistims \sic\. By M. A. Symson, Minister of t/ie 
Euangell at Dalkeith. 

Paraineticon (p. 107). 

Prefixed to Pallas Arniata ; or, Militarie Instruc- 
tions for the learned ; And all generous .Spirits, 'vho 
affect the Profession of Armes. By Sir Thomas- 
Kellic : Edinburgh, 1627. The book itself is ujjoii 
tlie exercise of infantry ; but there is an address to- 
the reader, wherein the author sheds tears of elo- 
quence over the misfortunes of Elizabeth, Queen of 


Bohemia, sister of Charles I., and calls upon his 
■countrymen to rouse up their spirits, and take arms 
in her behalf; "or at least to dedicate yourselves 
to a daily understanding and exercise of arms at 
home." Drummond's verses were suggested by this 
exhortation, or paraineticon, of Kellie's. 

But seek to reacquire your Pampelone (line 20). 
Pampeluna, the capital of tiie ancient kingdom of 
Navarre, was annexed to Spain, together with the 
southern portion of that kingdom, in 1 5 12. The rest 
of Navarre was united to the French crown in 1589, 
when the King of Navarre became Henry IV. of 
France. Drummond intimates that, since Navarre 
was now a portion of France, the French would be 
better employed in re-establishing its ancient boun- 
daries than in St. Bartholomew massacres and such- 
like atrocities. 

Of the Book [the True Crucifixe] (p. 108). 

The full title of the book is The True Crucijixe for 
True Catholickes, or The Way for True Catholickes to 
have the True Crucifixe. BySr. William Moore, Yo: of 
Roivallane, Knight. Edinburgh, 1629. It is inverse, 
and consists, in great part, of an attack upon the 
Roman Catholics and "their antichristian crucifix." 
"My principal aim and purpose," says the author, 
in his address to the reader, "is to show that whoso- 
ever doth love to see the true portrait of Jesus Christ 
our Lord, must verse himself in holy Scripture, ex- 
cept he will choose to lie open to delusion." 

The author, Sir William Mure the younger, of 
Rowallan, was one of the Covenanters of 1638, and 

NOTES 299 

served with the Scottish army in England in 1644. 
His literary productiveness was considerable, al- 
though he published little. One of his unpublished 
works was a metrical version of the Psalms. ' ' This 
Sir William was pious and learned, and had an ex- 
cellent vaine in poyesie : he delyted much in build- 
ing and planting. . . . He lived religiouslie, and died 
christianlie in the yeare of [his] age 63, and the yeare 
of [our] Lord 1 657" {Historic and Descent of the 
House of Rowallane : Glasgow, 1825). 

On the Death of Lady Jane Maitland 
(p. 109k 

This poem of Drummond's is one of about fifty 
effusions in verse, by various hands, subjoined to the 
funeral sermon preached at the burial of Lady Jane 
Maitland, and published in 1633. The young lady 
whose early death evoked so many expressions of 
regret was the daughter of John Maitland, first Earl 
of Lauderdale. She was born on the ist of October 
161 2, and died on the 8th of December 1631. Her 
body was interred in the burial-place of the Maitlands 
at Haddington. A sonnet to her memory will be 
found among Drummond's posthumous poems. 

Of Person's Varieties (p. no). 

Prefixed to Varieties : or, A Sitrveigh of rare and 
excellent matters, necessary and delectable for all sorts 
of persons. Wherein the principall Heads of diverse 
Sciences are illustrated, rare secrets of Naturall things 
tinfoulded, &c. . . . By David Person, of Loghlands 
in Scotland, Gentleman. London, 1635. This quaint 

300 NOTES 

and not unentertaining work treats, as the title indi- 
cates, of many subjects. Amongst other things, it 
contains a treatise on alchemy, with full directions 
for making the philosopher's stone. On this account 
Drummond recommends the book to the Rosicrucians, 
among whose pursuits that of alchemy held a prin- 
cipal place. In one of the chapters relating to 
astronomy, Person remarks upon "the franticke and 
strange opinion of Copernicus," viz., that the earth 
moves round the sun. 


Sir Anthony Alexander, the subject of this elegy, 
was the second son of Drummond's old friend Sir 
William Alexander, Earl of Stirling since 1633. 
Sir Anthony died in London, on the 17th of Sep- 
tember 1637 ; and his body, having been embalmed, 
was brought by sea to Scotland, and interred, by 
torchlight, in the church at Stirling. He had 
married a daughter of Sir Henry Wardlaw, of Pit- 
reavie, in Fifeshire, but died without issue. 

The Pastoral Elegy was published in 1638, 
being the last of Drummond's poems which ap- 
peared during his life. Upon the whole, it is also 
the worst ; for its sentiment is obviously forced, and 
the artificiality of the plan is nowhere redeemed by 
happy images or memorable lines. One conjectures 
that Drummond but slightly acquainted with 
the young Alexander, and that he laboured this 
memorial as a duty imposed by his long friendship 
with the father. A certain resemblance to Lyctdas, 

NOTES 301 

which was published in the same year, will not fail 
to strike the reader ; but Drummond's Pastoral is to 
^niton's immortal Monody as brass to purest gold. 
Professor Masson has pointed out, that while the 
shepherd who speaks in Lycidas is really Milton 
himself, Idmon can by no possibility be identified 
with Drummond, but is a purely fictitious character, 
a supposed fellow-swain of the dead Alcon, invented 
for the purpose of the poem. 


Of the posthumous poems, fifty-nine were j^rinted 
for the first time in Edward Phillips's edition of the 
Poems of William Drummond, London, 1656. Two 
more poems, which Phillips wrongly attributed to 
Drummond, and included in his edition, are now 
omitted. These are (l) a Hymn by George Sandys, 
beginning "Saviour of mankind, Man Emanuel," 
which may be found at p. 167 of Sandys' Relation of 
a Journey begun An. Doin. 161O: London, 1615, fob; 
and (2) a sonnet by Daniel {To Delia, LI.), begin- 
ning, "Cares charming Sleep, son of the sable night." 
A short commendatory poem, entitled Clorus, which 
appears in Phillips's edition, among other poems " to 
the author," has been printed as Drummond's in 
some later editions. It is obviously addressed to 
Drummond, and is probably by Sir William Alex- 
ander, to whom it has elsewhere been ascriljcd. 

In addition to the poems previously printed, the 
folioeditionof Drummond's collected works, published 
at Edinburgh in 171 1, contains forty-two new poems» 

302 NOTES 

many of them of doubtful authenticity. Besides these 
it inchides, as Drummond's, an Elegy on Gustavits 
Aiiolpkus, written by Henry King, Bishop of Chi- 
chester. Of the forty-two, twenty-one were new only 
in the sense of then first appearing in an edition of 
Drummond's works. These twenty-one include twenty 
translations of Catholic hymns, and a "macaronic" 
or dog- Latin poem, entitled Polemo-AIiddinia inter 
Vitarvam et Nebcrnam ; which twenty-one I have 
placed in an appendix to the present edition, as 
being, in all likelihood, not by Drummond. 

The remaining po.sthumous poems, with one ex- 
ception, were first published from the Hawthornden 
MSS. by Mr. David Laing, in the fourth volume of 
Archaologia Scotica, Edinburgh, 1831. The one 
exception, a satire entitled Lines on the Bishops, 
appeared originally in the edition of Drummond's 
Poems printed for the Maitland Club in 1832. 

As the posthumous poems have been very imper- 
fectly classified hitherto, I have thought it desirable 
to adopt a new arrangement, and have distributed 
the whole under four headings, viz. , Sonftets, Miscel- 
lanies. Epitaphs, and Satires and Epigrams. Each 
poem is referred in the notes to the publication in 
which it originally appeared. 


Nine of these sonnets appeared originally in Edward 
Phillips's edition of Drummond's Poems : viz. — Ay 
Die, and I am now; Comparison of his Thoughts to 
Fearls ; Five Sonnets to Galatea ;All Good hath left this 

NOTES 305 

Age; and DofA then the World go thus, ^v^th the 
appended Reply. The others were first printed in 
Archceologia Scotica, vol. iv. 

SONETTO (p. 121), and Sonetto del Bembo 
(p. 123). 

I have placed these translations at the bet^inning 
of the present section, as they appear to have been 
written at an earlier date than any of the sonnets 
which here follow them. ^Ir. David Laing, who 
edited them from the Hawthornden MSS., pronounced 
them early works of Drummond's. The first sonetto 
(C chiome, &c.) is entitled by Drummond himself, 
" Sonnet qu' un Poet Italien fit pour un bracelet de 
cheveux, qui luy avoit este donne par sa Maistresse" 
{Arch. Scot., IV. p. 226, note). I have not been able 
to discover its author. The second {So7tetto del 
Bembo) is the fourth sonnet in the Rime di Pietro 
Bembo — the celebrated Cardinal Bembo {1470-1547). 

To THE Honourable Author, Sir John 
Skene (p. 130). 

The following note is prefixed to this sonnet in 
Archceologia Scotica, IV. p. 100 : — "This sonnet was 
addressed to Sir John Skene of Curriehill, Clerk 
Register, on the publication, probably, of his trans- 
lation of the * Regiam Majestatem : The Auld Laws 
and Constitutions of Scotland,' &c., in 1609, although 
not found among the commendatory verses prefixed 
to that work." 

304 NOTES 

Sonnet [to Colonel Halkerston] (p. 131). 

Colonel James Halkerston is described by Dempster 
(Hist. Eccles. Gentis Scotorum) as "a brave soldier 
and a learned man," who, having served with varying 
fortune in Germany, France, and Flanders, was at 
last reduced to extreme poverty. It is said that he 
actually died of want in the streets of London, in 
1615 (viJd Arch. Scot., IV. p. 225, note). lie was 
the author of some Latin epigrams published in 
Deliticc Poetarum Scotorum, 1637. 

Sonnet ["First in the Orient"] (p. 131). 

The following note is prefixed to this sonnet in 
Archccologia Scotica, IV. p. loi : — " This sonnet evi- 
dently alludes to the four ' Monarchicke Tragedies,' 
by Sir William Alexander, Earl of Stirling, on the 
subjects of Croesus, Darius, Alexander the Great, and 
Julius CcEsar ; and probably was intended to have 
been prefixed to the edition printed at London in 
1616 (the third edition), and consequently addressed 
to King James." 

All Good hath left this Age (p. 133), 

This sonnet, as well as the following ("Doth then 
the world," &c.), is ascribed by Professor Masson to 
the last year of Drum mond's life, i6^() {DrummonJ of 
Hauithornden, p. 444). But see the following note. 

NOTES 305 

Doth then the World go thus (p. 133). 

Professor Masson finds in this, and in the preceding 
sonnet, expressions of the deep despondency which 
settled upon Drummond after the execution of King 
Charles. There is no reason for disputing the date 
which he assigns to them, and the first sonnet, at 
least, seems particularly applicable to those "most 
shameless times," as they would appear to the poet. 
But the despondency which glooms throughout the 
second sonnet is not Drummond's, inasmuch as the 
sonnet is a translation from Sanazzaro ; and that 
Drummond by no means intended it as an indication 
of his own frame of mind, is evident from the verses 
entitled ^ Reply, which are appended to this sonnet 
in Phillips's and all subsequent editions. I subjoin 
the original of the sonnet, from the Opere volgari di 
J acopo Sanazzaro, Padova, 1723: p. 342: — 

" Cosl dunque va '1 mondo, O fere stelle? 
Cosi giustizia il cicl govcrna e regge ? 
Quest' e '1 decreto dell' ijnmota legge ? 
Queste son I'influenze cterne, e liclle? 
L'anime ch' a virtii son piii ribelle, 
Fortuna esalta ognor tra le sue grcgge ; 
E quelle, per che '1 vizio si corregge, 
.Suggette esponc a venli, ed a procellc. 
Or non devria la rara alma beltade, 
Li divini coslumi, e '1 sacro ingegno, 
Alzar costei sovr' ogni umana sorte ? 
Deslino il victa ; c tu perverse, indcgno 
Mondo, il consenli. Ahi cicca nostra ct.idc ! 
Ahi menti de' mortali oblique c torte ! " 
vol.. II. u 

-,o6 NOTES 


Of these pieces, twenty were first published in the 
fourth voUime of ArcJueologia Scotica: viz., the first 
nineteen, as they stand here, to An Image to the 
Pilgrim inclusive ; and the translation of Arthur 
Johnston's verses on Edinburgh. Seven appeared 
originally in the folio edition of Drummond's Works, 
Edinburgh, 171 1 : viz., A Speech at Linlithgoiu ; A 
Country Maid ; The Statue of Alcides ; Phyllis, on 
the Death of her Sparrow ; A Pastoral Song; Peter, 
after the Denial of his Master; and On the Virgin 
Mary. All the remaining poems in this section are 
from Phillips's edition, London, 1656, 

Sextain (p. 136). 

While Craig his Kala ivotild to pity move (line 2). 
Mr. Laing observes that the person intended is " pro- 
bably Alexander Craig of Rose-Craig, one of the 
minor Scottish poets of the earlier part of the seven- 
teenth century." 

On the Image of Lucrece (p. 136). 

Mr. Laing prefixed the following note to this 
madrigal {Arch. Scot., iv. p. 103) : "Probably sug- 
gested by the painting of Tarquin and Lucretia, by 
Titian." The poem, however, relates to a picture of 
the death of Lucretia, and clearly not to the engraved 
picture of Tarquin and Lucretia, by Titian. In a 
letter dated "Paris, Feb. 12, 1607," part of which 



I have quoted in the Introductory Memoir, Drum- 
mond, in describing the pictures at the Fair of St. 
Germains, mentions one of Lucretia, "showing her 
bleeding breast." It is not improbable that this 
picture occasioned the madrigal. Two versions of 
the last line are given in Archaologia Scotica : the one 
as in our text, the other as follows : — 

" If death her stayed not, killing her best part." 

Nero's Image (p. 137). 

Translated from the following madrigal by Marino 
{^Rime, Venice, 1602 : Part II., p. 132) :— 

*' Fu dotta mano, che finse 
In si viva scoltura 
Del superbo Neron I'empia figura. 
Ne gia meglio il potca 
Per pareggiar natura 

L'arte formar, che 'n fredda pietra, e dura. 
Ch' ancor quando vivea, 
E la patria, e la madre arse, et estinse, 
Di senno, di pieta, di senso casso, 
Altro non fu, ch' un duro e freddo sasso." 

Ampiiion of Marble (p. 137). 

Suggested, no doubt, by the following madrigal 
by Marino (/'/'///^•, Part II., p. 133), although Druni- 
mond has given it a different turn : — 

" Non e di vita privo, 
Non e di spirlo casso, 


Quest' Anfion di sasso ; 

Anzi si vive, e spiia, 

Che, se '1 plctro movesse insu la lira, 

Quand' ei non fusse vivo, 

La sua stessa armonia 

Avivar lo poria." 

A Sigh (p. 139). 

From the following madrigal by Marino (Hime, 
Part II., p. 77) : — 

" Sospir, che del bel petto 
Di Madonna esci fore, 
Dimmi, che fa quel core? 
Serba I'antico affetto ? 
O pur messo se' tu di novo amore ? 
Deh no, piu tosto sia 
Sospirata da lei la morte mia." 

Stolen Pleasure (p. 140). 

From the following madrigal by Tasso (J^ime, 
Venice, 1608 : Part II., p. 215) : — 

" Dolcemente dormiva la mia Clori, 
E 'ntorno al suo bel volto 
Givan scherzando i pargoletti Amori 
Mirav' io da me tolto 
Con gran diletlo lei, 
Quando dirmi senti, Stolto, che fai ? 
Tempo perduto non s' acquista mai. 
Allor' io mi chinai cosi plan piano, 
E baciandole 11 viso 
Trovai quanta dolcezza ha il paradiso." 

NOTES 309 

For Dorus (p. 145). 

For the suggestion of this little piece Drummond 
was indebted to a madrigal by Marino (Kttne, Part 
II,, p. 40), entitled Scherzo sopra il canto cTntt 
vecchio sdentato ; to whom his mistress replies : — 

" Che, se mi baci, i baci 

Temer non degcdo almen che sien mordaci." 

Love Vagabonding (p. 145). 

The subject of these verses has been a favourite 
with Greek and Italian poets since Moschus wrote 
his well-known idyll. The turn which Drummond 
gives to the argument in the last line of his poem 
may have been suggested by the following lines 
from an epigram by Sanazzaro {Epig., Lib. II.) :^ 

" QuDeritat hue illuc raptum sibi Cypria nalum : 
Ille sed ad nostri pectoris ima latet." 

This conceit is also to be found in an epigram by 
Giraldi Cinthio {Deiiticz Poet. Ital., vol, i, p. 1238), 
which begins thus : — 

" Ne gnatum in triviis fugitivum, Cypris, qu3eras. 
IIuc propera ; in nostro pectore regnat Amor." 

To A Swallow, Bun.niNr. nkar thk Statue 
ok Medea (p, 148). 

From the following epigram by Angclo Politiano 
{DditLc Poet, Jtal., vol, ii. p. 360) :— 

;io NOTES 


" Medea; statua est, misella hirundo, 
Sub qua nidificas. Tuosne credas 
riuic natos, rogo, quse suos necavit?" 

There is, however, an epigram on this subject in 
the Grcelc Anthology (^;z///('/. Palat., vol. ii. p- 69), 
from which Polilian's is evidently borrowed. The 
Greek epigram by Leonidas of Alexandria is as 
follows : — 

" Alai' ^\r\v vi\<To\)% re SCCirraixivT] av xcX'Ocbi', 
M7;5ei'rjs 'ypaTTTrj irvKTiOL voaaorpocpetz' 
tKirr) opToXixw vIcttlv <jio Trjvoe (^vKa^iLV 
KoXx'Sa, fj.rjo' ioLwv <pei(ra/j,^pr]j> tck^uv ; " 

Progne, or Procne (line i), was ICing Pandion's 
daughter, who was metamorphosed into a swallow. 

Venus Armed (p. 148). 

A favourite subject with the Greek and Italian 
epigrammatists. Drummond here imitates the follow- 
ing epigram by Sanazzaro {Epigram. Lib. II.) : — 

' ' Inducrat thoraca humeris, galeamque decoro 
Aptarat capili, Marte jubente, Venus. 
Nil opus his, Sol, Diva, inquit : sumenda fuerunt. 
Cum vos ferratas circuiere plagce." 

NOTES 311 

SiLENus TO King Midas (p. 151). 

See the story of Silenus and Midas in Ovid's 
Metamorphoses, Book XI. Silenus, being drunk, was 
made prisoner by certain peasants of Phrygia, and 
carried by them to their king, Midas. But Midas, 
recognising the God, honoured him with feasts 
during ten days, and thereafter restored him to 
Bacchus. And being promised a gift of Bacchus, in 
reward for his piety, Midas desired that whatsoever 
he touched should be turned into gold. But how 
his desire was granted him, and how he repented 
thereof, and how Bacchus took compassion on him 
and freed him from the fatal gift, may be read in 
Ovid. Drummond's verses were perhaps suggested 
by the following passage, from the first book of 
Cicero's lusculancz Qucrstioues : — "AfTertur etiam 
de Sileno fabella qucedam ; qui cum a Mida captus 
esset, hoc ei muneris pro sua missione dedisse scribi- 
tur : docuisse regem, non nasci homini longe optimum 
esse; proximum autem, quam primum mori." 

Verses on the late William, Earl of 
Pembroke (p. 152). 

William IIerlx;rt, third Earl of Pembroke, born in 
1580, died in 1630. Clarendon says he was "the 
most universally beloved and esteemed of any man 
of that age ; and, having a great office in the court, 
he made the court itself better esteemed and more 
rcvcrcDccd in the country." Pembroke's mother was 

312 NOTES 

the sister of Sir Philip Sidney. He was a lover of 
poets and poetry, himself a poet. To him and his 
l^rother Philip, the First Folio Shakespeare was dedi- 
cated. I am unable to identify E. P., the author of 
these verses. The verses read as if they might be 
the production of Pembroke himself ; but they do not 
occur in the little volume of his poems published in 

A Translation from thk Greek (p. 155). 

This poem appeared originally in Phillips's edition, 
under the title of A Translation of S. John Scot his 
verses, beginning Quod vitic sectabor iter ; which title 
lias been retained by all the subsequent editors of 
Drummond. It is, however, a pretty close translation 
of the following epigram, attributed to Posidippus, 
{Ajithol. Palat., vol. ii. p. 71) : — 

" \\oi-f\v TLS fiLOTOLo rdfj.7] rpipof ; itv dyoprj 

veiKea Kal xaAeTrai 7r/3^|ies* iv 8i 56/xots 
(ppovTiSes' iv 5' ay pots Kap-druv aXij" iv Si daXdffcrri 

Tdpl3os' eiri ^eiVt^s 0', 7)1/ /xef ixv^ "> ^^os" 
^ 5' dTToprjs, dvLTjpov. "Ex"S yd/xov ; 6vk dfiipifivos 

iaaeai' 6v yapLieis ; fijs ^t' (prj/xdrepos. 
T^Kva TTuvoi, TT-Zipuffis ciTTais /St'os" dt vedTTjTej 

d<f>poves, at vroXiai 5' ^/XTrdXip dSpav4es. 
*Hc &pa TOLv oiacroiv ev6s alpecris, fi rb yev^cOai 

/j.t]d£7roT' y rj TO daveiv dvriKO. TiKTSpLevov." 

Sir John Scot's elegy is a very free paraphrase of 
the same epigram, extending the ten verses of Greek 


into thirty-eight of Latin. It is printed in DelitiiC 
Poetarum Scotoruiii (vol. ii. pp. 482-483), with other 
pieces by the same author, Scot of Scotstarvet, 
Drummond's brother-in-law. There exists a French 
translation of the Greek epigram, by Ronsard, begin- 
ning, "Quel train de vie est-il bon que je suive" 
{^CEtivres computes de Ronsard, Paris, 1866 : vol. vi. 
p. 409). 

It is a pity Dnnnmond did not also translate, as a 
corrective, the reply by Metrodorus to this epigram, 
which follows in the Anthology, and asserts the 
contrary in every particular. To supply this defi- 
ciency, I quote the following? translation from Putten- 
ham's Arie of English Poesie (Lib. III., c. 19), 
where, by the way, the epigram of Posidippus is 
attributed to Crates the Cynic. Aleirodorus the philo- 
sopher Stoick, says this author, was of a contrary 
opinion, reversing all the former suppositions against 
Crates, thus : — 

" \Miat life list ye to lead ? In good Citie and townc 
Is wonne both wit and wealth ; Court gets us great 

renowne : 
Countrey keepes us in heale, and quietnesse of mynd, 
Where wholesome aires and exercise and pretie sports- 

we find : 
Traffick it turnes to gain, by land and eke by seas. 
The land-borne lives safe, the forreine at his ease : 
Housholder hath his home, the roge romes with 

And makes moe merry mcalcs, then doth the lordly 

wight : 

314 NOTES 

Wed and thou hast a bed, of solace and of joy, 
Wed not and have a bed, of rest without annoy : 
The setled love is safe, sweete is the love at large, 
Children they are a store, no children are no charge, 
Lustie and gay is youth, old age honour'd and wise : 
Then not to dye or be unborne, is best in myne 

Edinburgh (p. 155). 

Arthur Johnston, M.D., physician to King Charles, 
was l:)orn near Aberdeen in 1587, and died at Oxford 
in 1 64 1. He attained some celebrity as a writer of 
Latin verse. Many of his poems, including a short 
commendatory piece on Drumniond, are to be found 
in Deliticc Poetarum Scotoriim, a collection of Latin 
poems by the most distinguished Scottish Latinists of 
the day, in two thick duodecimo volumes, edited by 
Arthur Johnston, and published at Amsterdam in 
1637. A complete edition of his poems appeared in 
J 642. His verses on Edinburgh are printed, among 
the extracts from the Hawthornden MSS., in the 
fourth volume of Archcvologia ScoHca (p. 239), from 
which I transcribe them : — 


*'Collibus assurgens geminis, caput inserit astris, 

Et tutelares cernit Edina deos. 
Sceptra thronique pedem firmantet regia ad ortum, 

Solis ad occasum Mars tegit arce caput ; 
Claro mille animos exercet Phoebus ab Austro, 

Ad Boream Pallas daedala mille manus. 

NOTES 315 

Templa tenent %acina dece Pietasque Themisque, 

Enthea qua puro pectore vita salit : 
Ancillatricem Cererem, Nymphasque ministras, 

Et vectigalem despicit inde Thetin. 
Romuleam Tibris, Venelam mare territat urbem, 

Quas regit undarum ridet Edina minas. 
Crede mihi, nusquam vel sceptris aptior urbs est, 

Vel rerum domina dignior urbe locus. 
Verum ut sint multis istosc communia, soli 

Privus et insignis hie tibi cedit honos : 
Nemo unquam nisi scurra levis, vel tressis agaso, 

Est ausus famam contemerare tuam." 

Phyllis, on the Death of her Sparrow (p. 158). 

This curious piece was probably suggested by 
Skelton's Lttle Boke of Philip Sparrow. 

Divine Poems (p. 160). 

Of the three Divine Poems which I have placed 
at the end of the Miscellanies, the first and second 
appeared in the Folio of 171 1, together with trans- 
lations of twenty hymns from the Roman Brevi- 
ary, under the general title of Divine Poems. The 
third, entitled A Translation, is from Phillips's 

On the Virgin Mary (p. 161). 

This poem is jiartly translated from a canzone by 
Marino {.Rime, 1602 : Part II., p. 164) on the theme 

3i6 NOTES 

of the Stabat Mater. Marino's poem is, however, 
longer than Drummond's, and contains other matter. 
The chief points of resemblance are indicated below. 
Like to a plaintful nightingale did stand (line 4). 
In the original — 

" Sconsolata IMaria 

Qual tortorella vedova, languia." 

Long fixing downcast eyes on earth, &c. (lines 
13-18). Compare Marino : — 

" Tutta struggeasi in pianto, 
Mirando (ahi scempio crudo) 
Lo 'nsanguinato ignudo, 
Ignudo, senon quanto 
Dun negro velo ombroso 
Cinto I'havea d'intorno il Ciel pietoso." 

And g7-ief her only suffer' d sigh, O my (line 24). 

" E pianse, e disse, O mio : 

Ma I'interruppe il pianto, e non finio." 

IVho b mis' d thy face, &c. (lines 31-32). 

" Chi d'atro sangue ha tinto 
Quegli occhi (oime), quel viso, 
Specchi di Paradiso?" 

Was it for this thou bred wast in my womb, &C. 
(lines 37-42). 

" Te dunque in sen portal, 
Te lieta in fasce avinsi, 
Te dolce in braccio strinsi, 

NOTES 317 

Te di latte cibai, 

Sol perche stratio e scempio 

Fesse di te si crudo il popol' empio ? " 

Looi but if thy dear pledge, &c. (lines 53-54). 

" Mira in che strania guisa 
Pende dal crudo legno, 
Ricunosci (se sai) I'amato pegno." 

Is this the promise that celestial herald inade, &c. 
(lines 61-66). 

" Son queste (ahi lassa), sono 
Le tue proniesse queste, 
Messaggiero celeste ? 
Gia non son' io, non sono 
Fra I'altre benedetta, 
Ma sovr' ogni allra misera, e negletta." 

How true and of choice oracles, <S:c. (lines 67-69). 

" Quanto del vecchio hebreo, 
Che chiuse i lumi in jjace, 
Fu I'oracol verace." 

Come, cruel squadrons, kill the mother, &c. (lines 

'* Voi pronle al' altrui danno, 
Crudclissime squadre, 
Che non ferir col figlio anco la madre ? " 

Earth trembled then, and she did hold her peace 
(line 90). 

" E la terra si scossc, ct clla tacque." 



A Translation (p. 164). 

A translation, namely, of the Dies Ira, with four 
introductory stanzas prefixed. 


Of the thirty epitaphs included in this section, 
ten were first printed in Arclucologia Scotica, vol. iv. : 
viz., To the Memory of his Master, John Ray; On 
the Lady of Craigmillar ; On W, Ramsay ; To the 

Memory of ; If JMomiments were lasting ; Epitaph 

of a Judge ; On Rixus ; Epitaph on Sanquhar ; On 
Fomponatius ; Here covered lies with Earth. Tlie 
remaining twenty appeared originally in Phillips's 
edition of Drummond's Poems, London, 1656. 

[On the Earl of Linlithgow] (p. 168). 

The subject of this epitaph has not been identified 
in any previous edition, but from certain allusions in 
the text it appears beyond question that it was written 
upon Alexander, seventh Lord Livingston, and first 
Earl of Linlithgow, who died in April 1622. Thus 
Drummond calls him "a queen's dear foster, father 
to three earls;" and to Livingston was committed 
the care of the infant Princess Elizabeth, who became 
Queen of Bohemia in 1619. The " three earls" were 
his son, Alexander, who succeeded him as Earl of 
Linlithgow, and his two sons-in-law, the Earls of 
Eglinton and Wigton. In line 17 the word "sire" 

NOTES 319 

is used in the sense of forefather. During the mino- 
rity of James II. of Scotland the government of the 
realm was intrusted to Sir Alexander Livingston of 
Callander, from whom the Earl of Linlithgow was. 

On Lady Jane Maitland (p. 169). 

Lady Jane Maitland died on the 8th of December 
1 63 1. Another poem by Drummond on the same 
subject will be found on p. 109 of the present volume. 
See also note, p. 299. 

To THE Memory of his Master, John 
Ray (p. 170). 

The following note is prefixed to this epitaph in 
Archaologia Scotica, vol iv. p. 113 : — 

"Mr. John Ray was appointed Professor of Hu- 
manity in the College of Edinlmrgh in 1597, and con- 
tinued for upwards of eight years, and consequently 
during the time that Drummond attended the Uni- 
versity. Ray was removed to the High School in 
1606, where he continued as Rector of the Grammar 
School till February 1630, and died probably about 
the year 1636." 

Drummond bestows in this epitaph such unquali- 
fied praise upon the Latin compositions of his dead 
master, that the reader may perhaps be interested to 
see a specimen. The following verses by J(jhn Ray 
are printed among Mr. Laing's extracts from the 
Hawthornden MSS., in Archu:ologia Scoiica, vol. iv. 

320 NOTES 

p. 236. They possess an additional interest for us 
here, inasmuch as they were written upon the death 
of Druinmond's mother, Dame Susanna Fowler. 
This lady is described by Bishop Sage as " a woman 
of excellent breeding, and of a good and virtuous 
life." That she was the sister of William Fowler, 
and the wife of Sir John Drummond, is all we know 
of her, except that after her husband's death there 
seems to have been some (doubtless, transient) un- 
pleasantness between her and her eldest son in 
relation to the estate ; William Drummond even 
taking legal proceedings against his mother for the 
delivery of certain documents.* One conjectures 
that the lady's virtues were of a somewhat un- 
obtrusive kind, or Mr. Ray would surely have found 
something more to say of her than that she was 
the mother of her son ; for this is the whole scope 
of his epitaph. 


" Inclyta magnarum, fuit olim gloria matrum 

Quae dederant patriae pignora clara suce. 
Quis Semelem nosset, si non genuisset lacchum? 

Latona; laus est Cynthius atque soror ; 
Lucida Ledaeos decorarunt sidera partus, 

Alcmena ex nato est nobilitata sue. 
P'ouleriam exornat natorum mascula virtus, 

Natarumque amplis tradita tasda viris. 

* See Register of the Privy Council of Scotland, voL 
ix. pp. 686, 704-705. 

NOTES 321 

Drummondus superesse dabit post funera vitam, 
Acceplam matri cui ferat ipse suam : 

• Equsevum Musis natum prasstabit Apollo, 
.iiquxvani matrem reddit et ille sibi." 

To THE Memory of the Countess of 
Lauderdale (p. 170). 

Isaljel, wife of John Maitland, first Earl of Lauder^ 
dale, and mother of Lady Jane Maitland. She died 
in November 1638. 

On Thomas Dalyei.l (p. 171). 

The poetical part of this epitaph was printed 
in J'hillips's edition, the name of Dalyell being 
■imitted. The entire epitaph, prose and verse, was 
lirst printed from the MS, in Arcluiologia Scotica, 
vol. iv. Phillips's text differs slightly from that of 
ArchiCo!ogia, which is followed in the present edition. 

The " son renowned by the wars," mentioned in 
the epitaph, was the celebrated General Thomas 
Dalyell or Dalzell, equally notorious for his loyalty 
.ind his inhumanity. Readers of Old Mortality will 
recall the picture;>f[ue figure of the old soldier, with 
the long while beartl, which he would never suffer 
to be cut after the execution of his royal master, 
'lliis Dalyell was l>orn alxnit 1599. During the civil 
wars he fought for the King, and after Charles's 
death, entered the Russian service. Returning to 
England in 1O65, he was appointed, the next year, 
conmiander-in-chief in .Scotland, to act ngainst the 

VOL. 11. X 

322 NOTES 

Covenanters, whom he treated with Muscovite 
barbarity. And, says Burnet, "the clergy were so 
delighted with it that they used to speak of that 
time as the poets do of the golden age." Among 
the Covenanters, Dalyell got the reputation of a 
wizard. He died in 1685. 

UvoN John, Eai^l of Lauderualk (p. 172). 

Three sonnets to the memory of John Maitland, 
^rst Earl of Lauderdale, who died on the 20th (jf 
January 1645, and was buried in the church at 
Haddington. He was one of the Lords of Session, 
and a member of the Privy Council ; a Presbyterian, 
for all Dnimmond's eulogy, and was chosen, in 1644, 
President of the Scottish Parliament. The " three 
grave justiciars" mentioned in the second sonnet 
were doubtless Lauderdale, his father, and grand- 
father. The father, Sir John Maitland, first Lord 
Maitland of Thirlestane, was Secretary of State and 
Chancellor: he died on the 3rd of October 1595, 
and was commemorated in an epitaph written by 
King James, which was engraved upon his monu- 
ment in Haddington church. To this epitaph 
Drummond alludes in the third of these sonnets, 
lines 5-8. The grandfather of Lauderdale, and 
father of Maitland of Thirlestane, was Sir Richard 
Maitland of Lethington, the poet. He was a Lord 
of Session and Keeper of the Privy Seal, and died 
in 1586. 

Lauderdale is said to have been a man of literary 
culture, as well as a statesman. His son, the second 

NOTES ^23 

Earl, afterwards Duke of Lauderdale, earned an 
unenvied notoriety as minister of Charles II. In a 
letter to this son, Drumniond writes : "Of thai duly 
I owe to your Lordship, and love to your Honour- 
able Father, I have adventured to bear a part in his 
obsequies, — a work, I must confess, profuse ; no 
verses of mine, or any others, having power to add 
anything to his noble memory, being so strongly 
upholden by your Lordship and his other excellent 
children, that it is likely to be contemporary with 
the world." 

To THE Memory oi- Rachel Lindsay (p. 174). 

The verses from this epitaph were printed in 
Phillips's edition, without the name of the lady to 
whom they relate. The entire epitaph was first 
printed in Ankccolo^ia Scotica. Phillips's te.xt does 
not difier from that of Arclucologia Scotica, except in 
the last two lines, which he gives thus — 

" Is here pent up within a marble frame, 

Whose parallel no tinies, no climates claim.' 

O.N THE Lauy ok Craigmillak (p. 174). 

This epitaph belongs to the year i64y. The Lady 
of Craigmillar was probably the mother of George 
I'reston, laird of Craigmillar, one of the persons to 
whom Drumniond in his will commits the tutelage 
and education of his children, in the event of the 
death or second marriage of iheir mother during 
their nonage. 

324 NOTES 

On W. Ramsay (p. 175). 

The first four vtrses are Ijorrowed from Tears on 
the Death of Mccliades, lines 21-24. 

To THE Memory of (p. 176). 

The subject of this epitaph is unknown, but I 
am strongly inclined to refer it to Lady Jean Ker, 
Countess of Perth, and wife of the second Earl. To 
this lady, living, Drummond addressed three sonnets 
(sec vol. i. pp. 176-177, and note, p. 242). The little 
that we know of her seems to concur with what is 
expressed in this epitaph — " Pure, fruitful, modest, 
virgin, mother, wife.'' She died much regretted, we 
are told, about the year 1622 — still young, although 
the mother of seven children. Her husband survived 
her some forty years, dying in 1662. A sonnet by 
Drummond to her memory was published, with 
Floivcrs of Sion, in 1623 (see ante, p. 68). 

Lines 15-16 allude to the derivation of the names 
of the autumnal months from imber. a shower. 

Far from these Banks (p. 177). 

Ainphrysian shepherd (line 6). Apollo, so called 
from the river Amphrysus in Thessaly, on the banks 
of which he ke^it the flocks of King Admctus. 

Verses Frail Records are (p. 178). 

And how for Coilaitrs' children we wage wars [yvaa 
26). Drummond uses this expression, in Irene, of 



the causes of religious dissensions : " Opinions and 
problems which ye are conscious to yourselves are but 
Centaurs' children, the imaginations and fancies of 
your own brains." The Centaurs were the children 
of Ixion and the Cloud, i.e., of Ambition and Illusion. 
The causes of strife on earth, and especially of strife 
which is carried on in the name of religion, are, as 
Drummond rightly suggests, of that family. 

Three Epitaphs (p. i8o). 

These three epitaphs arc printed in Phillips's and 
all subsequent editions as a single poem in three 
stanzas, with the title of A'osc. They are quite un- 
connected, nevertheless, and evidently relate to dif- 
ferent persons. The third was written upon James 
Drummond, first Earl of Perth. He died young, in 
December 1611, and was buried in Seton Chapel, 
where his wife caused a marble monument to be 
raised to his memory. .See Genealogy of the House 
of Driiniiiioiid, by William Drummond, Viscount 
.Slralhallan : Edinburgh, 1S31 : pp. 249, 301-303. 

In less than three years after her husband's death, 
the lady, whose love no time could Ixjund, married 
Francis Sluart, Earl of Bolhwell. 

Epitaph on Sanquhar (p. 183). 

Rol)crt Crichton, Ix)rd .Sanquhar, was hanged at 
Westminster on the 29tli of June 1612, for the 
murder of a lenciiiginasler name<l Turnei. 

326 NOTES 

On a Drunkard (p. 183). 

Among the extracts from tlic Ilawthornden MSS., 
in ArcIhTolo^q'ia Scolica (vol. iv. p. 79), is printed the 
following note by Drummond, containing a different 
version of this epitaph : — ■ 

"Guazzo hatli this Epitaph on a Drunkard: 

" 'Ne Rose, ne Amaranthi, ma qui presso 
Di me versate vino, che da sete 
Son cosi in morte, come in vita oppresso.' 

Which is, 
Nor Roses to my tomb, nor Llllics give, 
But nappye Aile, or Bacchus' strongest wine ; 
For that same thirst doth yet even dead me pine, 
Which made me so carowse when I did live." 

I have given this epitaph in the form in which it 
appears in Phillips's and all the .subsequent editions ; 
but considering Phillips's extreme inaccuracy, I think 
it far from improbable that the version given in the 
above note may be the only version for which Drum- 
mond is properly responsible. 

Epitaph (p. 183). 

Tliis is an adaptation by Drummond of the well- 
known epitaph on Aretino, the Italian poet and 
satirist. "The enemies of Aretino, not appeased by 
his death, have commemorated him by an epitaph as 
profane as his own writings, which has been repeated 
with several variations in the Italian, French, and 

NOTES 327 

Latin languages, and is erroneously supposed to have 
been engraven on his tomb in the church of S. Luca, 
in Venice: — 

' Qui giace I'Arelin, poeta Tosco, 

Che disse mal d'ognun, fuorche di Dio, 
Scusandosi col dir, Nonlo conosco.'" 

{Roscoe's Life of Leo X., third ed. vol. iv. p. 135.) 

In Phillips's edition, where it originally appeared, 
this epitaph has the title Areiinus Epitapli, and the 
first line is given as follows : — 

" Here Arctine lies most bitter gall." 

Subsequent editors have followed Phillips, The 
text as it stands in Drummond's manuscript con- 
tains, however, no mention of Aretino, and the 
person referred to is indicated only by the initial 
letter S — . .See the article by Mr. W. E. Buckley 
in Notes and Queries (April 27, 1889), where the 
epitaph is for the first time correctly printed, accord- 
ing to the manuscript. 

On Pomponatius (p. 184). 

Pietro Pomponazzi, a celebrated Aristotelian philo- 
sopher, was born at Mantua in 1462, and died about 
1525 at Bologna. He lectured at Padua, and after- 
wards at Bologna, where he caused a terrible flutter 
among the orthodox by the publication of his treatise 
On the Immortality of the Soul. Pomponazzi main- 
tained that the doctrine of the soul's immortality 


was not countenanced by Aristotle ; that it was, in 
fact, nowhere established, save as a Christian dogma. 
As such, he professed to accept it ; but his profession^ 
were suspected, and he would have fallen a victim to 
the Inquisition but for the protection of Cardinal 


Of the longer pieces in this section, two, viz., T/ie 
Five Senses and The Character of an Anli-Covenanter, 
were first printed in the Folio of 171 1. The verses 
beginning " Momus, with venom'd tooth," and the 
Encomiastic Verses, appeared originally in Atxhcrologia 
Scotica, vol. iv. Lines on the Bishops first appeared 
in the Maitland Club edition of Drummond's Poems, 
Edinburgh, 1832. 

Epigrams I-4, 8-9, II-13, 18-20, 23-25, 28-29, 
are taken from Archccologia Scotica, vol. iv. ; epigrams 
5-7, 10, 15-17, 21-22, 26-27, from theFoHo of 1711. 
Epigrams 14 and 30 are reprinted from Bishop Sage's 
Memoir of Drummond, prefixed to the Folio of 17 11. 

The Five Senses (p. 185). 

A very intimate and severe exposure of the vices 
of King James ; so severe, indeed, that I have some 
difficulty in persuading myself that it was written by 
Drummond. But its authenticity has never, I believe, 
been disputed. 

NOTES 329 

Lines on the Bishops (p. 192). 

Ascribed to Drummond by his contemporary, Sir 
James Balfour, Lyon King of Arms. I think, doubtful. 

An Apology (p. 195). 

This is obviously an apology for some previous 
writing of the author's, not now extant — at least, if 
the author be Drummond. Archaohgia Scotica gives 
the following version of lines 9-10, in addition to 
that in the text : — 

" The noble town might elsewhere have been raised, 
In place more fair, for sky, air, freedom, praised." 

Encomiastic Verses (p. 196). 

Carousel the horse's spring (line 4). I.e., cultivated 
poetr}'. The horse's spring is Ilippocrene. 

Epigram I. Upon the Duke of Buckingham's dis- 
astrous expedition to La Rochelle, and attack upon 
the Isle of Rhe, in 1627. A " drake " was a species 
of cannon : the duck is, of course, the Duke, being 
similarly pronounced in .Scottish. 

Epigram III. Upon Andrew Ramsay, a minister 
of Edinburgh, and an active Covenanter. 

Epigram VI. Probably refers to the General As- 
sembly which met at Glasgow, November 21, 1638. 

Epigram Vlf. This jierhaps alludes to the Mar- 
quis of Hamilton's unsuccessful attemjU to veto the 
proceedings of the Glasgow Assembly, in the King's 

330 NOTES 

Epigram VIII. Perhaps refers to the abolition of 
episcopacy by the same Assembly. 

Epigram IX. In 1631 King Charles granted to 
William Alexander, Viscount Stirling, the profits 
arising from the coining of copper money in Scotland 
for a period of nine years. As there were no profits 
to speak of, in 1634 Alexander, then Earl of Stirling, 
recalled the copper farthing, and issued a new coin of 
the same weight, which was made to pass as of the 
value of two farthings. These coins were greatly 
disliked loy the people, and were commonly called 
"lurners." (See Memorials of the Earl of Stirling 
a7id of the House of Alexander, by Charles Rogers : 
Edinburgh, 1877 = vol. i. pp. 144-146, 154-156.) The 
affair gave rise to a witty parody of the Earl's motto, 
upon the occasion of its being carved upon his new 
mansion at Stirling. Per mare, per terras was the 
motto ; Per fiietre, per turners ran the popular version. 

Epigram X. Preparations were now going forward 
for the first Bishops' War. Lines 19-22 refer "to 
the taking of Dalkeith Palace on Sunday the 22nd of 
March 1639, by a band of a thousand armed Covenan- 
ters, led by the Earls of Rothes, Home, and Lothian, 
and Lords Yester, St. Clair, and Balmerino. Edin- 
burgh Castle had been seized the day before, and 
other castles and places of strength were being seized 
about the same time in other parts of Scotland ; but 
this taking of Dalkeith Palace was particularly impres- 
sive from the fact that the keeper who surrendered it 
was Traquair himself, 'that lieutenant fame did so 
extol,' and who was now the King's chief minister in 
Scotland ; and also from the fact that among the spoil 
taken from the Palace were the Scottish regalia, or, 

NOTES 33, 

as the nnnalist Balfour calls them, ' the royal ensigns 
of the kingdom, crown, sword, and sceptre.' They 
were conveyed the same night to Edinlnirgh Castle — 
'the Capitol,' as Drummond calls it — and deposited 
there with great ceremony " (Masson's Druvivioud of 
Hawihoriiden, pp. 301-302). 

Epigrarn XI. There being no help for it, Drum- 
mond subscribed the Covenant, probably in the spring 
of 1639. 

Epigram XIV. Relates to the first Bishops' War, 
May and June 1639. Drummond "was forced to 
-end men to the army which fought against the King ; 
and his estate lying in three diffeicnl shires, he had 
not occasion to send one entire man, but halves and 
quarters, and such-like fractions"' (.Memoir prefixed 
to the Kolio, 1711). 

Epigrcuns XV. and XVL By "rebellion," in 
Epigram XV., he probably intends the Edinlnirgli 
riot and revolt of July 1637. The King's waking, 
in the Reply, would then refer to the first Bishops' 
War, nearly two years later. Ficld-mar.shal Lesley 
was the Scottish commander-in-chief. 

Epigram XVIII. Zanzummines appears to have 
been a nickname bestowed by the I'rcsbylcrians upon 
their opponents, and is evidently to be referred to the 
giant Zamzummim of Deuteronomy (II. 20). The 
.ord occurs also in a poem called The Black Battel, 
v.ritten by James Melville in 1611, and printed in 
I'ugitive Srcttish i'octry of the Sevcitlcetith Ceulury, 
Kdinhurgh, 1825 : 

'• Tims knocked first my Knox, antl terrified 
Tiic /,anzummin<i and all the hounds of hell." 

332 NOTES 

Epigram XX. First Bishops' War again. Lines 
3-4 refer to the Earl of Holland's march into Scotland, 
June 3, 1639, and his instant retreat at sight of the 
Scottish army. The Scots encamped on Dunse Law, 
June 4, and remained there until the conclusion of 
the treaty. 

Epigram XXV. Alludes to the honours bestowed 
by King Charles upon the Presbyterian leaders during 
his conciliatory visit to Edinljurgh in the autumn of 
1 64 1. In Archicologia Scotica a second version of 
the first line is also given, as follows : — 

" Britons, admire the extravagancies of our King." 

Epigram XXVI. John Pym died December 8, 

Epigram XXVII. The last line probably alludes 
to the plague which raged in Scotland in the year 

Epigram XXIX. The Scottish Parliament met at 
St. Andrews, November 26, 1645. Montrose was 
still threatening, although his power had been broken 
at Philiphaugh. 

Epigram XXX. See Introductory Memoir, vol. 
i. p. cxi. 




ABuVii those Ixjundless bounds where stars do move 

A country maid Aniazon-Hkc did ride . 

A cunning hand it was ..... 

A Daidal of my death ..... 

-Against the king, sir, now why would ye fight 

A good that never satisfies the mind 

Ah ! burning thoughts, now let me take some rest 

Ah ! if ye ask, my friends, w!iy this salt shower 

..\h ! napkin, ominous present of my dear 

Ah ! of that cmel bee 

A horse I am, whom bit 

Ah ! billy soul, what wilt thou say 

.\h ! who can see those fruits of I^aradise 

Aithen, thy pearly coronet let fall . 

Ale.xis, here she slay'd ; among these pines . 

.Ml good hath left this age, all tracks of shame 

All l.iws but cobwebs are, but none such right 

AH other Ijcautics, howsoe'er they shine 

All that a dog could have .... 

All you that seek Christ, let your sight 

Amidst a pleasant green 

Amidst tile azure cl''ar . 

Amidst the waves profound .... 



















Amintas, now at last 

And wilt thou then, Alexis mine, depart . 
And would ye, lovers, know .... 
And would you then shake off love's golden chain 
Aonian sisters, help my Phraene's praise to tell 
A passing glance, a lightning 'long the skies 
Are not those locks of gold .... 
Are these the flow 'ry lianks, is this the mead 

As an audacious knight 

As are those apples, pleasant to the eye 

Ascalaphus, tell me 

As, in a dusky and tempestuous night . 
.As nought for splendour can with sun compare 
As the young fawn, when winter's gone away 
.■\s the young hart, when sun with golden beams 
As the young stag, w hen winter hides his face 

Astrea in this lime 

As when it happ'ncih that some lovely town . 
At ease I read your work, and am right sorry 
At length we see those eyes .... 
Ay me, and I am now the man whose muse . 

Riaioi.ij, O Scots ! the reveries of your king . 
Beneath a sable veil and shadows deep . . 
Benign Creator of the stars .... 
Bishops are like the turners, most men say . 
Bold Scots, at Bannockburn ye kiird your king 
Break not my sweet repose .... 

Bright meteor of day 

Bright portals of the sky .... 

Charles, would ye quail yoiu- foes, have l>etter luck 11. 197 
Christ, whose redemption all doth free . . . II. 216 
Come forth, come forth, ye blest triumphing bands I. 138 



Come forth, come forth, ye blest triumphing bands 
Come forth, Laissa, spread thy locks of gold 
Come, let us live and love .... 
Creator, Holy Ghost, descend 

D.VMETAS dream'd he saw his wife at sport . 
Dear eye, which deign'st on this sad monument 
Dear life, while 1 do touch .... 
Dear night, the ease of care .... 
Dear quirister, who from those shadows sends 
Dear wood, and you, sweet solitary place 
Delight of heaven, sole honour of thr> earth . 
Do all pens slumber still, dare not one try 
Do not repine, blest soul, that humble wits . 
Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move 

Fair Dian, from the height .... 
Fair is my yoke, though grievous be my pains 
Fair Moon, who with thy cold and silver shine 
Fair Paphos' wanton queen .... 
Fame, register of time ..... 
Fame, who with golden pens abroad dost rangi- 
Far from these banks exiled be all joys . 
Fierce robbers were of old .... 
First in the Orient reign'd the /Vssyrian kings 
Floods cannot quench my flames ! ah ! in this well 
Flora Uf>on a tim<; . . . . • 

Flower, whi";!! of .Adon's blood 
Hyting no reason hath, for at this time 
Fond Prognc, chattering wretch . 
Fond wight, who dream st of greatness, glory, state 
Fool, still to be alone, all night m heaven to wander 
Forth from green Thetis' bowers . . . . 
From such a face, whose excellence 


II. 14 

II. 104 

I. 167 

II. 229 

I- 155 
I- 6£ 

II. 146 

I. 114 





II. 192 
II. 173 
II- 133 

I. 181 
I. 24 
I. 30 
I. 150 
II. 182 

I. 95 
II, 177 

II. 143 
II. 131 

I- 157 
II. 157 

I. 169 
II. 198 
II. 148 
II. 170 
II. 147 
II. 138 
II. 185 



Gem of the mountains, glory of our plains . 
God, binding with hid tendons this great All 
God, from whose work mankind did spring . 
God never had a church but there, men say . 
God's judgments seldom use to cease, unless 
Great Atlas' nephew shall the works of peace 
Great God, whom we with humble thoughts adore 
Great God, whom we with humble thoughts adore 
Great lies they tell, preach our church cannot err 
Great Maker of man's earthly realm 
Great Maker of the heavens wide . 

Hail, you sweet babes, that are the flowers . 
Hair, precious hair, which Midas' hand did strain 
Hair, sweet hair, touched by Midas' hand 
Hnppy to be, truly is in some school- 
Hard laws of mortal life 
Hark, happy lovers, hark 
Here covered lies with earth, without a 
Here dear lolas lies 
Here Rixus hes, a novice in the laws 

Here S lies, most bitter gall . 

Him whom the earth, the sea, and sky 

How conies it. Sleep, that thou 

How happier is that flea 

How is the Creed now stolen from us away . 

How many times night's silent queen her face 

How that vast heaven intilled First is roll'd . 

I coLfNTRiES chang'd, new pleasures out to find 
I curse the night, yet do from day me hide . 
If, Acidalia's queen ..... 

If all but ice thou be 

If crost with all mishaps be my poor life 


I. i8o 
H. io6 
II. 226 
II. 197 
II. 204 

n- 95 
I- 143 
II. 48 
II. 202 
II. 223 
II. 222 

II. 217 

I. 89 

II. 123 

II. 200 

II. 154 

I- 159 
II. 184 

I. 151 
II. 183 
II. 183 
II. 214 

n. 154 

I- 173 

II. 199 

I- 93 

I- 25 

II. 10 

I. 97 
I. 162 

I- 175 
I. 66 



If cruel Death had ears .... 

I fear not henceforth death . 

I fear to me such fortune be assign'd 

r feel my bosom glow with wontless fires 

I f for one only horn .... 

If for to be alone, and all the niglit to wander 

If heaven, the stars, and nature did her grace 

If in this storm of joy and pompous throng 

If it be love to wake out all the night 

If monuments were lasting, we would raise 

If sight be not beguil'd .... 

If that the world doth in a maze remain 

If that were true which whispered is by Fame 

If thou would'st see threads purer than tiie gold 

If when far in the east ye do behold 

If with such passing beauty, choice delights 

If with such passing beauty, choice delights 

I know that all beneath the moon decays 

Illustrious topj-bough of heroic stem 

In a most holy church a holy man 

I never long for gold 

[n fields Ribaldo stray'd 

Ingenious was that bue . 

In midst of silent night . 

In mind's pure glass when I myself behold 

In my first years, and prime yet not at height 

In parliament one voted for the king 

In petticoat of green .... 

In shells and gold pearls are not kept alone 

Install'd on hills, her head near starry hoiwcrs 

Instead of epitaphs and airy praise 

In sweetest prime and blooming of his age 

In this world's raging sea 

Into Briarcus huge 




























In vain 1 haunt the cold and silver springs 
In waves of woe thy sighs my soul do toss 
In woods and desert bounds . 
I rather love a youth and childish rhyme 
Is it not too, too niucli .... 
Is "t not enough, ay nie ! me thus to see 
It autumn was, and cheerful chanticleer 
It autumn was, and on our hemisphere 
It was the time when to our northern pole 


I. 52 
I. 3 
II. 150 
II. 144 
I. 158 
I. 78 

II. 135 
I. 124 
I. 32 

Jerusalem, that place divine 
Jesu, our prayers with mildness hear 
Justice, truth, peace, and hospitality 

II. 218 
II. 219 
II. 171 

Kal.\, old Mopsus" wife 

I. 172 

Lamp of heaven s crystal hall that brings the hours 

Leave, page, that slender torch 

Let fortune triumph now, and lo sing . 

Let holy David, Solomon the wise 

Let us each day inure ourselves to die . 

Life a right shadow is . 

Life, to give life, deprived is of life 

Like Sophocles, the hearers in a trance 

Like the Idalian queen .... 

Like to the garden's eye, the flower of flow'rs 

Like to the solitary pelican . 

Lips, double port of love 

Locks, ornament of angels, diadems 

Look how in May the rose . 

Look how the flower which ling'ringly doth fade 

Love, Cypris, Phoibus, will feed, deck, and crown 

Love, K thou wilt once more .... 






1 1. 














1 1. 







1. 16s 




Love which is here a care .... 
Love which is here a care .... 

Maker of all, we thee entreat 

Mine eyes, dissolve your globes in briny streams 

Monius, with venom'd tooth, why wouldst thou tear 

More oft than once Death whispered in mine car 

Mourn not, fair Greece, the ruin of thy kings 

My lute, be as thou wast when thou didst grow 

My sweet did sweetly sleep . 

My tears may well Numidian lions tame 

My thoughts hold mortal strife 

My wanton, weep no more . 

Near to a crystal spring 
Near to this eglantine .... 
New doth the sim appeal- 
Nisa, Palemon's wife, him weeping told 
No more with candied words infect mine ears 
Nor amaranths, nor roses do bequeath . 
Nor Ame, nor Mincius, nor stately Tiber 
Now Daphnis' arms did grow 
No wonder now, if mists becloud our day 
Now Phoebus whipp'dhis horse with all his might 
Now while the night her sable veil hath spread 
Nympha;, quae colitis highissima monta Fifxa 
Nymphs, sister nymphs, which haunt this crystal 
brook . . ...... 





I. 130 


I. 123 

i- 153 














O BLEST Creator of the light 

O chiome, parte de la ireccia d'oro 

O cruel beauty, meekness inhumam: 

O ! do not kill that bee .... 

Of all these forces raised against the king 




O Fate ! conspir'd to pour your worst on me 

Of Cytherea's birds, that milk-white pair 

Of death some tell, some of the cruel pain 

Of jet, or porphyry, or that white stone 

Of mortal glory, O soon darken'd ray . 

Of that Medusa strange 

Of this fair volume which we world do name 

Of those rare worthies who adorn'd our north 

Oft ye me ask, whom my sweet fair can be 

O God, whose forces far extend 

O hair, fair hair ! some of the golden threads 

O hair, sweet hair ! part of the tress of gold 

O Heavens ! then is it true that thou art gon 

O holy God of heavenly frame 

O how the fair Queen with the golden maids 

O ! it is not to me, bright lamp of day . 

O Jesu, who our souls dost save 

Old oak, and you thick grove 

O merciful Creator, hear 

Once did I weep and groan . 

O night, clear night, O dark and gloomy day 

On stars shall I exclaim 

On this cold world of ours 

O sacred blush, impurpling cheeks' pure skies 

O sight too dearly bought 

O than the fairest day, thrice fairer night 

O times ! O heaven, that still in motion art 

O Trinity, O blessed light 

Over a crystal source .... 

O woful life ! Life ? No, but living death 

Passenger, vex not thy mind 

Peace, passenger, here sleepeth under ground 

Phoebus, arise ... 


I. 103 

I- 73 
I. 98 

I. IS 

I. lOI 

I. 149 
II. 6 
II. 172 
II. 136 
II. 225 
II. 122 
II. 121 

I. S 
II. 224 
II. 96 

I. 108 
II. 228 

I. 169 
II. 227 





I. 154 
II. 8 
11. 132 
II. 227 

I. 159 
I. 104 

II. 144 

II. 182 

I. 70 



Place me where angry Titan burns the Moor 
Poor flea ! then thou didst die 
Poor painter, whilst I sought 
Poor Rhine, and canst thou see 
Poor turtle ! thou bemoans . 
Prometheus am I . 

I. lOO 

Rams aye run backward when they would advance II 
Relenting eye, which deignest to this stone . .II 

Rise from those fragrant climes thee now embrace II 

Rise to my soul, bright Sun of Grace, O rise . II 

Rous'd from tiie Latmian cave, «liere many years II 

Run, shepherds, run where Bethlem blest appears II 

Sad Damon being come I. 109 

St. Andrew, why docs thou give up thy schools . II. 205 

Sanquhar, whom this earth scarce could contain . II. 183 

Scarce I four lustres had enjoyed breath II. 104 

See, Chloris, how the clouds ..... I. 175 
Shepherd, dost thou love me well . . . .II. 159 

She whose fair flow'rs no autumn makes decay . I. 80 

.Show me not locks of gold ..... II. 141 

.Si come suol, poi che '1 verno aspro e rio II. 123 
Sigh, stolen from her sweet breast . .11. 139 

Silh gone is my delight and only pleasure 1. 83 

•Sith it hath p'.eas'd that First and only Fair . I. 12? 

.Sith she will not that I 1. 170 

.Sleep, Silence' child, sweet father of .soft rest I. 29 

Slide soft, fair Forth, and make a crystal plain I. 76 

So falls by northern blast a virgin rose . . II. 175 

.So grievous is my pain, so pamful lifi: . . . 1. 94 

.Some, ladles wed, some love, and some adore them I. 160 

Son of the lion, thou of loathsome bands . II. 93 
.Soul, which to hell wast thrall .1. 139 



O Fate ! conspir'd to pour your worst on me 

Of Cytherea's birds, that milk-white pair 

Of dnath some tell, some of the cruel pain 

Of jet, or porphyry, or that white stone 

Of mortal glory, O soon darken'd ray . 

Of that Medusa strange 

Of this fair volume which we world do name 

Of those rare worthies who adorn'd our north 

Oft ye me ask, whom my sweet fair can be 

O God, whose forces far extend 

O hair, fair hair ! some of the golden threads 

O hair, sweet hair ! part of the tress of gold 

O Heavens ! then is it true that thou art gone 

O holy God of heavenly frame 

O how the fair Queen with the golden maids 

O ! it is not to me, bright lamp of day . 

O Jesu, who our souls dost save 

Old oak, and you thick grove 

O merciful Creator, hear 

Once did I weep and groan . 

O night, clear night, O dark and gloomy day 

On stars shall I exclaim 

On this cold world of ours 

O sacred blush, impurpling cheeks' pure skies 

O sight too dearly bought 

O than the fairest day, thrice fairer night 

O times ! O heaven, that still in motion art 

O Trinity, O blessed light 

Over a crystal source .... 

O woful life ! Life? No, but living death 

Passenger, vex not thy mind 

Peace, passenger, here sleepeth under ground 

Phoebus, arise ... 


I. 103 

I- 73 
I. 98 

I- 15 
I. lor 

I. 149 
II. 6 
II. 172 
II. 136 
II. 225 
II. 122 
II. 121 

I. S 
II. 224 
II. 96 

I. 108 

II. 228 
I. 169 

II. 227 
I. 174 







II. 132 
II. 227 

I- 159 
I. 104 

II. 144 

II. 182 

I. 70 



Place me where angry Titan burns the Moor 
Poor flea ! then thou didst die 
Poor painter, whilst I sought 
Poor Rhine, and canst tliou see 
Poor turtle ! thou bemoans . 
Prometheus am I . 

Rams aye run backward when they would advance 
Relenting eye, which deignest to this stone . 
Rise from those fragrant climes thee now embrace 
Rise to my soul, bright Sun of Grace, O rise 
Rous'd from the Latmian cave, where many years 
Run, shepherds, run where Bethlem blest appears 

Sad Damon being come .... 
St. Andrew, why docs thou give up thy schools 
Sanquhar, whom tliis earth scarce could contain 
Scarce I four lustres had enjoyed breath 
See, Chloris, how the clouds .... 
Shephi-rd, dost thou love me well . 
She whose fair flow'rs no autumn makes decay 
Show me not locks of gold .... 
Si come suol, poi che '1 verno aspro e rio 
Sigh, stolen from her sweet breast 
.Sith gone is my delight and only pleasure 
.Sith it halli pleasd that First and only Fair . 

.Sith she will not that I 

.Sleep, Silence' child, sweet father of soft rest 

.Slide soft, fair Forth, and make a crystal plain 

So falls by northern blast a virgin rose . 

.So grievous is my pain, so painful life . 

.Some, ladles wed, some love, and some adore them 

.Son of the lion, thou of loathsome bands 

.Soul, which to hell wast thrall 



1. 120 


. 198 








[. 183 












Soul, which to hell wasl thrall 

Sound hoarse, sad lute, true witness of my woe 

Stay, passengei", see where enclosed lies 

Strephon, in vain thou bring'sl thy rhymes and songs 

Such Lida is, that who her sees 

Ssvaddl'd is the baby, and almost two years . 

Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours 

Sweet brook, in whose clear crystal I mine eyes 

Sweet nymphs, if, as ye stray 

Sweet rose, whence is this hue 

Sweet soul, which in the April of thy years . 

Sweet spring, thou turn'st with all thy goodly train 

Sweet wanton thought, who art of beauty bom 

That heretofore to thy heroic mind 
That I so slenderly set forth my mind . 
That learned Grecian, who did so excel 
That space, where raging waves do now divide 
That which so much the doating world doth prize 
The Acidalian queen amidst thy bays . 
The angry winds not aye .... 
The bawd of justice, he who laws controU'd . 
The beauty, and the life .... 

The daughter of a king, of princely parts 
The doubtful fears of change so fright my mind 
The flower of virgins, in her prime of years . 
The goddess that in Amathus doth reign 
The greatest gift that from their lofty thrones 
The grief was common, common were the cries 
The heaven doth not contain so many stars . 
The heavens have heard our vows, our just desires 
The Hyperborean hills, Ceraunus' snow 
The ivory, coral, gold ..... 
The king a negative voice most justly hath . 


II. 15 

I. 62 

I. 14 

II. 127 

I. 167 

II. 202 

11. 30 

I. 48 

II. 145 

I. 79 

I. 106 

I. 116 

11. 151 

H. 97 
I. 61 
I. 27 

II. 26 
I. 178 

II. 95 

II. 150 

II. 182 

I. 118 

II. 174 

II. 152 

II. 109 

I. 176 

II. 151 

n. 7 



I. 69 

I. 96 

II. 199 



The king gives yearly to his senate gold 
The king good subjects cannot save : then tell 
The king nor band, nor host had him to follow 
The Kirrimorians and Forfarians met at Muirmoss 
The kiss with so much strife .... 
The last and greatest herald of heaven's King 
The lawyer here may learn divinity 
The love Alexis did to Damon bear 
The mother stood with grief confounded 
Then death thee hath beguil'd 
Then is she gone? O fool and coward I 
The parliament lords have sitten twice five weeks 
The parliament the first of June will sit 
The Scottish kirk the English church do name 
These eyes, de?r Lord, once brandons of desn'e 
The sister nymphs who haunt the Thespian springs 
The sun is fair %\hen he witli crimson crown . 
The weary mariner so fast not flies 
The woful Mary, midst a blubber'd band 
This Amphion, Phidias' frame 
This beauty, which pale death in dust did turn 
This book a world is ; here if errors be . 
This dear, though not respected earili dotli hold 
This is no work of stone .... 
This life, which seems so fair 
This marble needs no tears ; let them In- pour'd 
This strange eclipse, one says 
This virgin lock of hair . . . . ■ 
This world a huntmg is .... 

Those eyes, dear eyes, be spheres . 
Those eyes, those sparkling sjippliires of dcliglit 
Those stars, nay, suns, which turn 
Those stones which once had 
Though I have twice been at the doors of dealli 
vol.. 11. 

II. 198 
II. 200 
II. 203 
I- 154 

II. 9 
II. no 

I. i8s 

II. 215 

I. 171 

I. 57 
II. 204 
II. 204 
II. 198 
II. 9 
I- 133 
I. 74 

n. 5 
II. 161 

n. 137 

II. 68 
II. no 

I. 167 
II. 144 

I. 107 

n. «74 

II. 143 

I. 166 

II. 27 

1. 153 

I. I03 

I. r <;o 

I. 171 

n. 67 




Though I with strange desire 

Though marble, porphyry, and mourning touch 

Thou window, once which served for a sphere 

Thrice happy he, who by some shady grove 

Thrice happy he, who by some shady grove 

Thrice royai sir, here I do you beseech . 

Thy muse not-able, full, il-lustred rhymes 

'lime makes great states decay 

To fair hopes to give reins now is it time 

To forge to mighty Jove 

To hear my plaints, fair river crystalline 

Too long I follow'd have my fond desire 

Too long 1 follow'd have on fond desire 

To practise new alarms . 

To sing as was of old, is but a scorn 

To spread the azure canopy of heaven 

To spread the azure canopy of heaven 

To the delightful green . 

To thee, O Christ, thy Father's light 

To this admir'd discoverer give place 

To worship me why come ye, fools, abroad 

Tread softly, passenger, upon this stone 

Trees happier far than I . , . 

Tritons, which bounding dive 

Triumphant arches, statues crown'd with bays 

Triumphing chariots, statues, crowns of bays 

Trust not, sweet soul, those curled waves of gold 

Turn, citizens, to God ; repent, repent . 

Unhappy light 

Vaunt not, fair heavens, of your two glorious lights 
Venus doth love the rose ..... 
Verses frail records are to Keep a name . 



Goodness, by thee 
to walk straight and 

Wealth, wisdom, glory, pleasure, stoutest hearts 
M'hat blust'ring noise now interrupts my sleep 
What course of life should wretched mortals take 
What cruel star into this world me brought . 
What doth it serve to sec sun's burning face . 
What hapless hap had 1 now to be bom 
What others at their ear .... 
What serves it to be good ? 
Whenas she smiles I find 
When Charles was young, 


When death to deck his trophies stopp'd thy breath 
When discord in a town the tocsin rings 
When first the cannon from her gaping throat 
When her dear bosom clips .... 
When Idmon saw the eync .... 
When lately Pym descended into hell . 
When misdevotion everywhere shall take place 
When nature now had wonderfully wrought . 
When sun doth bring the day 
When Venus 'longst that plain 
When with Vjrave art the curious painter drew 
While thou dost praise the roses, lilies, gold . 
Whilst, sighing forth his wrongs 
Whilst with audacious wings 
Who do in good delight .... 

Who hath not seen into her saffron l)ed 
Who Lina weddcth, shall most liajjpy be 
Who love enjoys, and placed hath his mind . 
Whom raging dog doth bite .... 
Who would perfection's fair idea see 
Why, Nais, stand yc nice .... 
Why, worldlings, do yc trust frail honour's dreams 
Why, worldlings, do ye trust frail honour's <lroanis 


11. 94 

I. 189 

n. 15s 

I. 64 
1. 117 
1. 140 
1. 152 
1. 142 
1. 75 

II. 201 
II. 168 
II. 203 


I. 158 

IT. 142 
II. 204 

II. 172 

I. 50 
1. 163 
I. 168 
I. 177 
I. 19 
I. 166 
1. isz 

II. 134 
I. 72 

I- 173 

11. 153 

I. 150 

1. 164 

n- 145 

1. 141 
II. 27 



Wise hand, which wisely wrought 
With elegies, sad songs, and niouming lays . 
With flaming horns the Bull now brings the year 
With grief in heart, and tears in swooning eyes 
Within the closure of this narrow grave 
With open shells in seas, on heavenly dew . 
World, wonder not that I . . . . 
Would you know these roj'al knaves 
Wretched Niobe I am ..... 

Ye who so curiously do paint your thoughts . . I. 23 

Ye who with curious numbers, sweetest art . . II. 128 

You restless seas, appease your roaring waves . I. 63 

You that with awful eyes and sad regards . . II. 108 

Zanzummines to obey the king do swear . . II. 202 


II. 136 

II. 136 

I. 49 

I. 91 

II. T82 

II. 125 

I- 153 

II. 189 

1. 174 






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