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- Baccare frontem
Cingite, ne vati noceat mala lingua futuro.

Virgil, Eclog. 7.

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To the first edition of the author's poems printed in 1645 was prefixed the following advertisement of

The STATIONER to the READER. Ti is not any private respect of gain, gentle Reader, for I the lightest bambhlet is now a days more vendible than the works of learnedest men; but it is the love I have to our own language, that hath made me diligent to colleat and set forth such pieces both in prose and verse, as may renew the wonted honor and esteem of our English tongue: and it's the worth of these both Englisand Latin poems, not the florijh of any prefixed encomiums that can invite thee to buy them, though these are not without the highest commendations and applause of the learnedestAcademics, both domestic and foreign; and amongs those of our own country, the unparalleľd attestation of that renowned Provost of Eton, Sir Henry Wotton. I know not thy palate how it relishes fuch dainties, nor how harmonious thy Joul is; perhaps more trivial airs may please thee better. But howsoeverthy opinion isspent upon these, that encouragement | have alreadyreceived from the most ingeniousmenintheirclear and courteous entertainment of Mr.Wallerslate choice pieces, halhonce more made me adventure into the world, presenting it with these ever-green, and not to be blasted laurels. The Āuthor's more peculiar excellency in these studies was too well known to conceal his papers, or to keep me from attempting to folicit them from him. Let the event guide itself which way it will, I Mall deserve of the age, by bringing into the light as true a birth, as the Muses have brought forth fince our famous Spenser wrote; whose poems in these English ones are as rarely imitated, as sweetly excelld. Reader, if thou art eagle-ey'd to censure their worth, I am not fearful to expose them to thy exactes perusal. Thine to command,





On the death of a fair Infant, dying of a cough.

Fairest flow'r no sooner blown but blasted,

Soft silken primrose fading timelesly, Summer's chief honor, if thou hadft out-lasted Bleak Winter's force that made thy blossom dry; For he being amorous on that lovely dye 5

That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss, But kill'd, alas, and then bewaild his fatal bliss.

II. For since grim Aquilo his charioteer By boistrous rape th’Athenian damsel got, He thought it touch'd his deity full near, 10 If likewise he fome fair one wedded not, Thereby to wipe away th’infamous blot

Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld, (held. Which’mongst the wanton Gods a foul reproach was


So mounting up in icy-pearled car,

Through middle empire of the freezing air
He wander'd long, till thee he spy'd from far;
There ended was his quest, there ceas'd his care.
Down he descended from his snow-foft chair,

But all unwares with his cold-kind embrace 20 Unhous'd thy virgin soul from her fair biding place.

IV. Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate; For fo Apollo, with unweeting hand, Whilome did slay his dearly-loved mate, Young Hyacinth born on Eurota’s strand, 25 Young Hyacinth the pride of Spartan land; .

But then transform’d him to a purple flower: Alack that fo to change thee Winter had no power. . . .

V.. Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead, Or that thy corse corrupts in 'earth's dark womb, Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed, 31 Hid from the world in a low delved tomb; Could Heav’n for pity thee so strictly doom?

Oh no! for something in thy face did shine Above mortality, that show'd thou wast divine. 35

VI. .
Resolve me then, oh Soul most surely blest,
(If so it be that thou these plaints doft hear)
Tell me bright Spirit where'er thou hoverest,


Whether above that high first-moving sphere,
Or in th' Elysian fields (if such there were) 40

Oh say me true, if thou wert mortal wight, And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy flight.

· VII.

Wert thou some star which from the ruin'd roof,
Of shak'd Olympus by mischance didst fall ;
Which careful Jove in nature's true behoof 45.
Took up, and in fit place did reinstall ?
Or did of late earth's sons besiege the wall

Of sheeny Heav'n, and thou some Goddess fled Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head ?

VIII. . Or wert thou that just Maid who once before 50 Forsook the hated earth, O tell me footh, , And cam'st again to visit us once more? Or wert thou that sweet smiling Youth ? Or that crown'd matron sage white-robed Truth?

Or any other of that heav'nly brood 55 Letdown in cloudy throne to do theworld some good?

- IX. Or wert thou of the golden-winged host, Who having clad thyself in human weed, To earth from thy prefixed seat didft poft, :.. And after short abode fly back with speed, 60 As if to show what creatures Heav'n doth breed,

Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire : To fcorn the sordid world, and unto heav'n aspire ?


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