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Small lofs it is that thence can come unto thee,
I know my tongue but little grace can do thee:
Thou need'st not be ambitious to be first,
Believe me I have thither packt the worst :
And, if it happen as I did forecast,
The daintiett dishes shall be sery'd up
thee then deny me not thy aid.
For this same small neglect that I have made:
But haste thee ftrait to do me once a Pleasure,
And from thy wardrobe bring thy chiefeft treasure ;
Not those new fangled toys, and trimmings flight,
Which take our late fantasticks with delight ;
But cull those richest Robes, and gay'st Attire,
Which deepest Spirits and choices Wits defire.
I have some naked thoughts that rove about,
And loudly knock to have their passage out;
And weary of their place do only stay,
Till thou hast deck'd them in thy best array;
That so they may without fufpect or fears
Fly fwiftly to this fair Assembly's ears,
Yet I had rather, if I were to chuse,
Thy service in some graver subject use,
Such as may make thee search thy coffers round,
Before thou clothe my fancy in fit found :
Such where the deep transported mind may foar
Above the wheeling poles, and at Heav'n's door
Look in, and fee each blissful Deity,
How he before the thund'rous throne doth lie,
Lift'ning to what unshorn Apollo fings
To th' touch of golden wires, while Hebe brings
Immortal Nectar to her kingly Sire:
Then passing through the Sphears of watchful fire,
And mifty Regions of wide air next under,
And hills of Snow, and lofts of piled Thunder,
May tell at length how green-ey'd Neptune raves,
In Heav'n's defiance mustering all his waves ;
Then fing of secret things, that came to pass
When Beldame Nature in her cradle was;
And last of Kings, and Queens, and Hcrocs old,
Such as the wife Demodocus once told
In folemn Songs at King Alcinous' feast,
While fad Uly[es' soul and all the rest
Are held with his melodious harmony
In willing chains and sweet captivity.
But fe, my wand'ring Muse, how thou doft stray !
Expectance calls thee now another way ;
Thou know it it must be now thy only bent
To keep in compass of thy Predicament :
Then quick about thy purpos'd bufiness come,
That to the next I may resign my Room.
Then Ens is represented as Father of
the Predicaments his ten Sons, whereof, the eldest stood for Substance with his
anons; which Ens, thus speaking, explains.
OOD luck befriend thee, Son; for at thy birth
The Fairy Ladies danc'd upon the-hearth; Thy drowsie Nurse hath sworn, she did them spie Come tripping to the Room where thou didst lie; And sweetly singing round about thy Bed, Strew all their blessings on thy sleeping Head. She heard them give thee this, that thou should't still From eyes of mortals walk invisible: Yet there is something, that doth force my fear ; For once it was my dismal hap to hear A Sybil old, bow-bent with crooked Age, That far Events full wisely could presage, And in Time's long and dark Prospective Glass Fore-law'what future days should bring to pass; 7 R
Your Son, said the, (nor can you it prevent)
Shall subject be to many an Accident ;
D'er all his Brethren he shall reign as King,
Yet every one shall make him underling ;
And those, that cannot live from him asunder,
Ungratefully Mall strive to keep him under i
In worth and excellence he shall out-go them,
Yet being above them, he shall be below them ;
From others he shall stand in need of nothing.
Yet on his Brothers shall depend for Clothing
To find a Foe, it shall not be his hap,
And Peace shall lull him in her flow'ry lapi
Yet shall he live in strife, and at his door
Devouring War shall never cease to roar;
Yea, it shall be his natural property
To harbour those that are at enmity.
What pow'r, what force, what mighty spell, if not
Your learned hands, can loose his Gordian knot?
The next. Quantity and Quality spake,
in Projè, then Relation was callid by his name.
IVERS, arise; whether thou be the Son
Of utmost Treed, or Onse, or gulphie Duw,
Or Trent, who like some earth-born Giant spreads
His thirty Arms along th' indented Meads,
Oi sullen Mole that runneth underneath,
O: Severn swift, guilty of Maiden's death,
Or rocki: Avon, or of fedgy Lee,
Dr coaly Tine, or ancient hallow'd Dee,
Or Humber loud that keeps the Scythians Name,
Or Medway smooth, or royal tow'red Thame.
The rest was Proje.
RE while of Musick, and Ethereal mirth,
Wherewith the stage of Air and Earth did ring,
And joyous news of heav'nly Infant's birth,
My Mufe with Angels did divide to fing:
But headlong joy is ever on the wing,
In wintry folitice like the shorten'd light,
Soon swallow'd up in dark and long out-living night.
For now to forrow must I tune my song,
And set my Harp to notes of faddest woe,
Which on our deareft Lord did seize ere long,
Dangers, and snares, and wrongs, and worse than fo,
Which he for us did freely undergo ;
Most perfect Heroe, try'd in heaviest plight
Of labours huge and hard, too hard for human wight.
He fovoreign Priest stooping his regal head
That dropt with odorous oil down his fair eyes,
Poor Aleshly Tabernacle entered,
His starry front low-rooft beneath the skies ;
O what a mask was there, what a disguise !
Yet more ; the stroke of death he must abide, Then lies him meekly down fait by his Brethrens side.
These latter scenes confine my roving verse,
To this Horizon is my Phæbus bound :
His Godlike a&ts, and his temptations fierce,
And former sufferings, otherwhere are found
Loud' o'er the reft Cremona's Trump doth sound:
Me softer airs befit, and softer strings
Of Lute, or Viol fill, more apt for mournful things,
Befriend me, Night, beft Patroness of grief,
Over the Pole thy chickest mantle throw,
And work my flatter'd-fancy to belief,
That Heav'n and earth are colour'd with my wo;
My sorrows are too dark for day to know :
The leaves should all be black whereon I write,
And letters, where my tears have washt, a wannish whix.
See, see the Chariot, and those
That whirl'd the Prophet up at Chebar flood';
My spirit some transporting Cherub feels,
To bear me where the Tow'rs of Salem stood
Once glorious Towers, now funk in guiltless blood;
There doth my Scul in holy vision fit
In pensive trance, and anguish, and ecstatic fit.
Mine eye hath found that fad Sepulchral rock,
That was the Cafket of Heav'n's richeit store;
And here through grief my feeble hands up lock,
Yet on the softned Quarry would I score
My plaining verse as lively as before ;
For fure so well instructed are my tears,
That they would fitly fall in order'd Characters.
Or Mould I thence, hurried on viewless wing,
Take up a weeping on the Mountains wild,
The gentle neighbourhood of grove and spring
Would soon unborom all their Echoes mild,
And I (for grief is easily beguild)
Might think th' infection of my forrows loud,
Had got a race of mourners on some
This Subjeet the Author finding to be above the years he
bad, when he wrote it, and nothing' fatisfy'd with
what was begun, left it unfinisht.