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That to give the world encrease,
Shortned hast thy own lives lease;
Here, besides the sorrowing
That thy noble House doth bring,
Here be tears of perfect moan
Weept for thee in Helicon,
And som Flowers, and some Bays,
For thy Hears to strew the

ways,
Sent thee from the banks of Came,
Devoted to thy vertuous name;
Whilst thou bright Saint high fit'st in glory.
Next her much like to thee in story,
That fair Syrian Shepherdess,
Who after

yeers

of barrenness,
The highly favour'd Joseph bore
To him that serv'd for her before,
And at her next birth much like thee,
Through pangs fed to felicity,
Far within the boosom bright
Of blazing Majesty and Light,
There with thee, new welcom Saint,
Like fortunes may her soul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant sheen,
No Marchioness, but now a Queen.

70

Song. On May Morning.

(with her

OW the bright morning Star, Dayes har

binger,

Comes dancing from the East, and leads The Flowry May, who from her green lap throws The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose.

Hail bounteous May that dost inspire
Mirth and youth and warm desire,
Woods and Groves are of thy dressing,

Hill and Dale doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we falute thee with our early Song,
And welcom thee, and with thee long.

10

On Shakespear. 1630.

HAT needs my Shakespear for his ho

nour'd Bones,

The labour of an age in piled Stones, Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid ? Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thy self a live-long Monument. For whilft to th’shame of low-endeavouring art, Thy easie numbers flow, and that each heart Hath from the leaves of thy unvalu'd Book,

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Those Delphick lines with deep impression took,
Then thou our fancy of it self bereaving,
Dost make us Marble with too much conceaving;
And so Sepulcher'd in such pomp

doft lie, That Kings for such a Tomb would wish to die.

On the University Carrier, who sickn'd in the time of his vacancy, being forbid to go to London,

by reason of the Plague.

ERE lies old Hobson, Death hath broke

his girt,

And here alas, hath laid him in the dirt, Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one, He's here stuck in a flough, and overthrown. 'Twas such a shifter, that if truth were known, Death was half glad when he had got him down; For he had any time this ten yeers full, , Dodg'd with him, betwixt Cambridge and the Bull. And surely, Death could never have prevaild, Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd; But lately finding him so long at home, And thinking now his journeys end was come, And that he had tane up his latest Inne, In the kind office of a Chamberlin Shew'd him his room where he must lodge that night, Pulld off his Boots, and took away the light: If any ask for him, it shall be sed, , Hobson has supt, and’s newly gon to bed.

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ERE lieth one who did most truly prove,
That he could never die while he could

move,
So hung his destiny never to rot
While he might still jogg on and keep his trot,
Made of sphear-metal, never to decay
Untill his revolution was at stay.
Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime
'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time:
And like an Engin mov'd with wheel and waight,
His principles being ceast, he ended strait,
Rest that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath;
Nor were it contradiction to affirm
Too long vacation hastned on his term.
Meerly to drive the time away he fickn’d,
Fainted, and died, nor would with Ale be quickn’d,
Nay, quoth he, on his swooning bed out-stretch'd,
If I may not carry, sure I'le ne're be fetch'd,
But vow though the cross Doctors all stood hearers,
For one Carrier put down to make fix bearers. 20
Ease was his chief disease, and to judge right,
He di'd for heaviness that his Cart went light,
His leasure told him that his time was com,
And lack of load, made his life burdensom,
That even to his last breath (ther be that say't)
As he were prest to death, he cry'd more waight;
But had his doings lasted as they were,

He had been an immortal Carrier.
Obedient to the Moon he spent his date
In cours reciprocal, and had his fate
Linkt to the mutual flowing of the Seas,
Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase :
His Letters are deliver'd all and gon,
Only remains this superscription.

30

The Fifth Ode of Horace. Lib. I.

Quis multa gracilis te puer in Rosa, Rendred almost word for word without Rhyme according to the Latin Measure, as near as the Language will permit.

HAT flender Youth bedew'd with liquid odours

[Cave, Courts thee on Roses in some pleasant Pyrrha for whom bindst thou

In wreaths thy golden Hair, Plain in thy neatness; O how oft shall he On Faith and changed Gods complain : and Seas

Rough with black winds and storms

Unwonted shall admire:
Who now enjoyes thee credulous, all Gold,
Who alwayes vacant alwayes amiable

Hopes thee; of flattering gales

Unmindfull. Hapless they
Towhom thou untry'd seem'st fair. Mein my vow'd
Picture the sacred wall declares t'have hung

My dank and dropping weeds
To the stern God of Sea.

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