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That to give the world encrease,
Song. On May Morning.
OW the bright morning Star, Dayes har
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
Hill and Dale doth boast thy blessing.
On Shakespear. 1630.
HAT needs my Shakespear for his ho
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,
Those Delphick lines with deep impression took,
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
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.
Another on the same.
ERE lieth one who did most truly prove,
He had been an immortal Carrier.
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:
Hopes thee; of flattering gales
Unmindfull. Hapless they
My dank and dropping weeds