Part 10

My frighted flesh trembles to dust, My blood ebbes fearefully away: Both guilty that they did to lust, And vanity, my youth betray.

My eyes, which from each beautious sight Drew Spider-like blacke venome in: Close like the marigold at night Opprest with dew to bath my sin.

My eares shut up that easie dore Which did proud fallacies admit: And vow to heare no follies more; Deafe to the charmes of sinne and wit.

My hands (which when they toucht some faire Imagin'd such an excellence, As th' Ermines skin ungentle were) Contract themselves, and loose all sence.

But you bold sinners! still pursue Your valiant wickednesse, and brave Th' Almighty Justice: hee'le subdue And make you cowards in the grave.

Then when he as your judge appeares, In vaine you'le tremble and lament. And hope to soften him with teares, To no advantage penitent.

Then will you scorne those treasures, which So fiercely now you doate upon: Then curse those pleasures did bewitch You to this sad illusion.

The neighb'ring mountaines which you shall Wooe to oppresse you with their weight: Disdainefull will deny to fall, By a sad death to ease your fate.

In vaine some midnight storme at sea To swallow you, you will desire: In vaine upon the wheels you'le pray Broken with torments to expire.

Death, at the sight of which you start, In a mad fury then you'le Court: Yet hate th' expressions of your heart, Which onely shall be sigh'd for sport.

No sorrow then shall enter in With pitty the great judges eares. This moment's ours. Once dead, his sin Man cannot expiate with teares.

_Militia est vita hominis._ To Sir _Hen. Per._

_Sir_

Were it your appetite of glory, (which In noblest times, did bravest soules bewitch To fall in love with danger,) that now drawes You to the fate of warre; it claimes applause: And every worthy hand would plucke a bough From the best spreading bay, to shade your brow. Since you unforc'd part from your Ladies bed Warme with the purest love, to lay your head Perhaps on some rude turfe, and sadly feele The nights cold dampes wrapt in a sheete of steele. You leave your well grown woods; and meadows which Our _Severne_ doth with fruitfull streames enrich. Your woods where we see such large heards of Deere Your meades whereon such goodly flockes appeare. You leave your Castle, safe both for defence And sweetely wanton with magnificence With all the cost and cunning beautified That addes to state, where nothing wants but pride. These charmes might have bin pow'rful to have staid Great mindes resolv'd for action, and betraid You to a glorious ease: since to the warre Men by desire of prey invited are, Whom either sinne or want makes desperate, Or else disdaine of their owne narrow fate. But you, nor hope of fame or a release Of the most sober government in peace, Did to the hazard of the armie bring Onely a pure devotion to the King In whose just cause whoever fights, must be Triumphant: since even death is victory. And what is life, that we to wither it To a weake wrinckled age, should torture wit To finde out Natures secrets; what doth length Of time deserve, if we want heate and strength? When a brave quarrell doth to arms provoke Why should we feare to venter this thin smoke This emptie shadow, life? this which the wise As the fooles Idoll, soberly despise? Why should we not throw willingly away A game we cannot save, now that we may Gaine honour by the gift? since haply when We onely shall be statue of men And our owne monuments, Peace will deny Our wretched age so brave a cause to dye. But these are thoughts! And action tis doth give A soule to courage, and make vertue live: Which doth not dwell upon the valiant tongue Of bold Philosophie, but in the strong Undaunted spirit, which encounters those Sad dangers, we to fancie scarce propose. Yet tis the true and highest fortitude To keepe our inward enemies subdued: Not to permit our passions over sway Our actions, not our wanton flesh betray The soules chaste Empire: for however we To th' outward shew may gaine a victory And proudly triumph: if to conquour sinne We combate not, we are at warre within.

_Vias tuas Domine demonstra mihi._

Where have I wandred? In what way Horrid as night Increast by stormes did I delight? Though my sad soule did often say Twas death and madnesse so to stray.

On that false ground I joy'd to tread Which seemed most faire, Though every path had a new snare, And every turning still did lead, To the darke Region of the dead.

But with the surfet of delight I am so tyred That now I loath what I admired, And my distasted appetite So 'bhors the meate, it hates the sight.

For should we naked sinne discry Not beautified By th' ayde of wantonnesse and pride Like some mishapen birth, 'twould lye A torment to th' affrighted eye.

But cloath'd in beauty and respect. Even ore the wise, How powerfull doth it tyrannize! Whose monstrous storme should they detract They famine sooner would affect.

And since those shadowes which oppresse My sight begin To cleere, and show the shape of sinne, A Scorpion sooner be my guest, And warme his venome in my brest.

May I before I growe so vile By sinne agen, Be throwne off as a scorne to men! May th' angry world decree, t' exile Me to some yet unpeopled Isle.

Where while I struggle, and in vaine Labor to finde Some creature that shall have a minde, What justice have I to complaine If I thy inward grace retaine?

My God if thou shalt not exclude Thy comfort thence: What place can seeme to troubled sence So melancholly darke and rude, To be esteem'd a solitude.

Cast me upon some naked shore Where I may tracke Onely the print of some sad wracke; If thou be there, though the seas rore, I shall no gentler calme implore.

Should the _Cymmerians_, whom no ray Doth ere enlight But gaine thy grace, th' have lost their night: Not sinners at high noone, but they 'Mong their blind cloudes have found the day.

_Et Exultavit Humiles._

How cheerefully th' unpartiall Sunne Gilds with his beames The narrow streames Oth' Brooke which silently doth runne Without a name? And yet disdaines to lend his flame To the wide channell of the Thames?

The largest mountaines barren lye And lightning feare, Though they appeare To bid defiance to the skie; Which in one houre W' have seene the opening earth devoure When in their height they proudest were.

But th' humble man heaves up his head Like some rich vale Whose fruites nere faile With flowres, with corne, and vines ore-spread. Nor doth complaine Oreflowed by an ill season'd raine Or batter'd by a storme of haile.

Like a tall Barke with treasure fraught He the seas cleere Doth quiet steere: But when they are t' a tempest wrought; More gallantly He spreads his saile, and doth more high By swelling of the waves, appeare.

For the Almighty joyes to force The glorious tide Of humane pride To th' lowest ebbe; that ore his course (Which rudely bore Downe what oppos'd it heretofore) His feeblest enemie may stride.

But from his ill-thatcht roofe he brings The Cottager And doth preferre Him to th' adored state of Kings: He bids that hand Which labour hath made rough and tand The all commanding Scepter beare.

Let then the mighty cease to boast Their boundlesse sway: Since in their Sea Few sayle, but by some storme are lost. Let them themselves Beware, for they are their owne shelves. Man still himselfe hath cast away.

_Dominus Dominantium._

Supreame Divinitie! Who yet Coulde ever finde By the bold scrutinie of wit, The treasurie where thou lock'st up the wind?

What Majesty of Princes can A tempest awe; When the distracted Ocean Swells to Sedition, and obeyes no Law?

How wretched doth the Tyrant stand Without a boast? When his rich fleete even touching land He by some storme in his owne Port sees lost?

Vaine pompe of life! what narrow bound Ambition Is circled with? How false a ground Hath humane pride to build its triumphs on.

And Nature how dost thou delude Our search to know? When the same windes which here intrude On us with frosts and onely winter blow:

Breath temprate on th' adjoyning earth; And gently bring To the glad field a fruitfull birth With all the treasures of a wanton Spring.

How diversly death doth assaile; How sporting kill? While one is scorcht up in the vale The other is congeald oth' neighboring hill.

While he with heates doth dying glow Above he sees The other hedg'd in with his snow And envies him his ice although he freeze.

Proud folly of pretending Art, Be ever dumbe, And humble thy aspiring heart, When thou findest glorious Reason overcome.

And you Astrologers, whose eye Survayes the starres! And offer thence to prophesie Successe in peace, and the event of warres.

Throw downe your eyes upon that dust You proudly tread! And know to that resolve you must! That is the scheme where all their fate may read.

_Cogitabo pro peccato meo._

In what darke silent grove Profan'd by no unholy love Where witty melancholy nere Did carve the trees or wound the ayre, Shall I religious leasure winne To weepe away my sinne?

How fondly have I spent My youthes unvalued treasure, lent To traffique for Cœlestiall joyes? My unripe yeares pursuing toyes; Judging things best that were most gay Fled unobserv'd away.

Growne elder I admired Our Poets as from heaven inspired What Obeliskes decreed I fit For _Spencers_ Art, and _Sydnyes_ wit? But waxing sober soone I found Fame but an Idle sound.

Then I my blood obey'd And each bright face an Idoll made: Verse in an humble Sacrifice, I offer'd to my Mistresse eyes, But I no sooner grace did win But met the devill within.

But growne more polliticke I tooke account of each state tricke: Observ'd each motion, judg'd him wise, Who had a conscience fit to rise. Whome soone I found but forme and rule And the more serious foole.

But now my soule prepare To ponder what and where we are How fraile is life, how vaine a breath Opinion, how uncertaine death: How onely a poore stone shall beare Witnesse that once we were.

How a shrill Trumpet shall Us to the barre as traytors call. Then shall we see too late that pride Hath hope with flattery bely'd And that the mighty in command Pale Cowards there must stand.

_Recogitabo tibi omnes annos meos._ ISAY.

Time! where didst thou those years inter Which I have seene decease? My soules at war and truth bids her Finde out their hidden Sepulcher, To give her troubles peace.

Pregnant with flowers doth not the Spring Like a late bride appeare? Whose fether'd Musicke onely bring Caresses, and no Requiem sing On the departed yeare?

The Earth, like some rich wanton heire, Whose Parents coffin'd lye, Forgets it once lookt pale and bare And doth for vanities prepare, As the Spring nere should dye.

The present houre, flattered by all Reflects not on the last; But I, like a sad factor shall T' account my life each moment call, And onely weepe the past.

My mem'ry trackes each severall way Since Reason did begin Over my actions her first sway: And teacheth me that each new day Did onely vary sin.

Poor banckrout Conscience! where are those Rich houres but farm'd to thee? How carelessely I some did lose, And other to my lust dispose As no rent day should be?

I have infected with impure Disorders my past yeares. But Ile to penitence inure Those that succeed. There is no cure Nor Antidote but teares.

_Cupio dissolvi._ PAULE.

The soule which doth with God unite, Those gayities how doth she slight Which ore opinion sway? Like sacred Virgin wax, which shines On Altars or on Martyrs shrines How doth she burne away?

How violent are her throwes till she From envious earth delivered be, Which doth her flight restraine? How doth she doate on whips and rackes, On fires and the so dreaded Axe, And every murd'ring paine?

How soone she leaves the pride of wealth, The flatteries of youth and health And fames more precious breath. And every gaudy circumstance That doth the pompe of life advance At the approach of death?

The cunning of Astrologers Observes each motion of the starres Placing all knowledge there: And Lovers in their Mistresse eyes Contract those wonders of the skies, And seeke no higher sphere.

The wandring Pilot sweates to find The causes that produce the wind Still gazing on the Pole. The Politician scornes all Art But what doth pride and power impart. And swells the ambitious soule.

But he whom heavenly fire doth warme, And 'gainst these powerful follies arme, Doth soberly disdaine All these fond humane misteries As the deceitfull and unwise Distempers of our braine.

He as a burden beares his clay, Yet vainely throwes it not away On every idle cause: But with the same untroubled eye Can resolve to live or dye, Regardlesse of th' applause.

My God! If 'tis thy great decree That this must the last moment be Wherein I breath this ayre; My heart obeyes joy'd to retreate From the false favours of the great And treachery of the faire.

When thou shalt please this soule t' enthrone, Above impure corruption; What shall I grieve or feare. To thinke this breathlesse body must Become a loathsome heape of dust And nere againe appeare.

For in the fire when Ore is tryed, And by that torment purified: Doe we deplore the losse? And when thou shalt my soule refine, That it thereby may purer shine Shall I grieve for the drosse?

_FINIS._

A List of WORKS

_Edited by Professor_ EDWARD ARBER

_F.S.A.; Fellow of King's College, London; Hon. Member of the Virginia and Wisconsin Historical Societies; late English Examiner at the London University; and also at the Victoria University, Manchester; Emeritus Professor of English Language and Literature, Mason College, Birmingham._

An English Garner English Reprints The War Library The English Scholar's Library The first Three English Books on America The first English New Testament, 1526 The Paston Letters, 1422-1509. Edited by JAMES GAIRDNER. 3 vols. A List of 837 London Publishers, 1553-1640

_All the Works in this Catalogue are published at net prices._

ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO., 14, PARLIAMENT ST., WESTMINSTER.

Detailed Transcriber's Note

Archaic, dialectical and other spellings not in current usage have been left as in the original book. Obvious misprints have been fixed. Text that was originally printed in blackletter has been changed to all capitals without further comment. Details of the text changes are below.

P. 003: our Poet's grand-father, Originally: our Poet's grandfather,

P. 005: Formatting of the entries in the list of published works has been standardized.

P. 005: the battle of Varna, 1444; Originally: the battle of Varma, 1444;

P. 005: i. The Author. [A Prose Preface] Originally: i. The Authour. [A Prose Preface]

P. 008: 137. ... Phil. i. 23. The soule which Originally: 137. ... Phil. 1. 23. The soule which

P. 011: (I meane onely as she is externally faire) Originally: (I meane onlye as she is externally faire)

P. 013: me, I am armed to endure. Originally: me, I an armed to endure

P. 014: than good Poet, a good man. Originally: than good Poët, a good man.

P. 017 inserted chapter title from TOC: _Fifty-seven Poems, chiefly on Love and Courtship._

P. 017: their bright flames: which Originally: their bright flâmes: which

P. 019: _To my honoured Friend_, Mr. E. P. Originally: _To my honoured Friend_, M^r. E. P.

P. 023: Then th' Indians boast: Originally: The th' Indians boast:

P. 023: When Poets weepe some Virgins death Originally: When Poëts weepe some Virgins death

P. 034: My soule imparadis'd, for 'tis with her. Originally: My soule impardis'd, for 'tis with her.

P. 039: _To the honourable my honoured kinsman_, Mr. G. T. Originally: _To the honourable my honoured kinsman_, M^r. G. T.

P. 044: NIGHT _and_ ARAPHILL. Originally: NIGHT _and_ ARAPHIL.

P. 047: _To the Honourable Mr._ Wm. E. Originally: _To the Honourable M^r._ W^m. E.

P. 048: _To the Honourable my most honoured friend_, Wm. E. Originally: _To the Honourable my most honoured friend_, W^m. E.

P. 050: _To my most honoured Friend and Kinsman_ Originally: _To my_ [_most_] _honoured Friend and Kinsman_

P. 051: dote without Philosophie Originally: dote without Phisosophie

P. 051: in your dull propagation. Originally: in your dull progagation.

P. 053: _To_ CASTARA, Originally: TO CASTARA,

P. 059 changed chapter title to match TOC: _Fifty Poems, chiefly on Wedded Happiness._ Originally: _The Second Part._

P. 059: Thou wept a Virgin, Originally: Thou wepst a Virgin,

P. 060: Or hoist up saile; Originally: Or hoish up saile;

P. 063: To-day will give you Originally: To day will give you

P. 064: in some dead mans eare, Originally: in some deads mans eare,

P. 072-73, footnotes 23 & 24: Unlike other footnotes showing wording in previous versions, these do not contain the publication dates when the other wording appeared.

P. 074: From the angry North-wind. Originally: From the angry Northwind.

P. 078: Who liv'd a solitary Phœnix free Originally: Who liv'd a solitary Phænix free

P. 078: _To my worthy Cousin_ Mr. E. C. Originally: _To my worthy Cousin_ M^r. E. C.

P. 083: With the stolen pleasure of one night. Originally: With the stolne pleasure of one night.

P. 088: Henry Cambell, _sonne to the Earle of_ Arg. Originally: Henry Cambell, _sonne to the Earle of_ Ar[g].

P. 100: so little peremptory is his opinion Originally: so little peremptory is his opiuion

P. 113: and when the prosperitie of the impious Originally: and when the prosteritie of the impious

P. 114: antidote against sinne, Originally: antidote aga[i]nst sinne,

P. 114: and the onley balsome powerfull Originally: and the onely balsome powerfull

P. 115 Inserted chapter title from the TOC: _Twenty-two Poems, chiefly Sacred, with Scripture Text._

P. 126: Universum stratum ejus Originally: Universum st[r]atum ejus

P. 135: Of the most sober government in peace, Originally: Of the most sober goverment in peace,

P. 137: And warme his venome in my brest. Originally: And warme his enome in my brest.

P. 137: Where while I struggle, Originally: Where while I straggle,

P. 144: And 'gainst these Originally: Amd 'gainst these