The smoking mountains melt like wax away,
Else sink for feare (O more than fearfull things!)
They which the fields with rivers did array,
As if to quench their heat, drink up their springs;
Like faded flowers, their drouping tops decay,
Which (crown'd with clouds) stretch'd through the
aire their wings,

As did the raine, whil'st fire doth seize all bounds,
What last the first, the last at first confounds.

Then of that birth hills shall delivered be,
Which big by Nature they so long have borne,
Though it fond mortals (slaves by being free)
To make abortives have their bellies torne:
Gold (as when Midas wish, O just decree!)
Shall flow superfluous avarice to scorn.
What of all else did measure once the worth,
Shall then lye loath'd by th'aguous Earth spu'd forth.
The godly king's wise sonne from Ophir brought,
With ethnicks joyn'd (all welcome are for gaines)
What Spanyards now in other worlds have sought,
That golden fleece still wonne, and worne with paines:
And yet at last what all this trouble wrought,
From molten mountains shall ore-flow the plains.
Ah, ah curst gold, what mak'st thou men not do,
Since sought over all the Earth, and in it too?

Fond curiousnesse made our first parents fall,
And since the same hath still held downe their race;
Whose judgments were to senselesse things made

thrall,

Which God most low, and they most high do place;
Nought in themselves, to us by us made all,
The which we first, and then they all things grace;
But (straight dissolv'd) they shall to Hell repaire,
To brave a multitude, by them drawne there.

At Heaven (when hence) if certaine to arrive,
Then these barbarians what could much annoy,
Who naked walke, eate hearbes, for nothing strive,
But scorne our toyls, whose treasure is their toy?
As Adam first (when innocent) they live,
And goldlesse thus the golden age enjoy;
We barbarous are in deeds, and they in show,
Too little they, and ah, too much we know.
What huge deluge of flames enflames my minde,
Whil'st inward ardour that without endeeres?
A light (ore-flowing light) doth make me blinde,
The sea a lanterne, th' earth a lampe appeares:
That cristall covering burn'd which it confin'de,
The way to ruin fatall lightning cleares.
Dust equals all that unto it return:

All creatures now one funerall fire doth burne.

The stately birds which sacred were to love,
Whose portraits did great emperours'powers adorne,
Whil'st generously their race they strive to prove,
Which Titan's beames with bended eyes had borne,
Shall fall downe headlongs burning from above,
(As Phaeton was fayn'd) ambition's scorne.

"As fit to fall who of themselves presumé,
Those raging wrath doth at the first consume."
The sixth and last of that unmatched kinde,
(If each of them doth live a thousand yeares)
Shall sabbath have in ashes still confin'd,
Whose birth, death, nest, and tombe all one appeares,
That only bird which ore all others shin'd,
(As ore small lights that which night's darknesse
He from renewing of his age by fire, [cleares.)
Shall be prevented ere that it expire.

The salamander which still Vulcan lov'd,
And those small wormes which in hot waters dwell,
They live by fire, or dye, if thence remov'de,
But those last flames shall both from breath expell;
Those creatures thus by burning heat oft prov'd,
Show tortur'd souls may pine, yet breath in Hell:
If those in fire (and with delight) remaine,
May not the wicked live in fire with paine.

That pompous bird which still in triumph beares,
Rould in a circle his ostentive taile,

[dyes,

With starres (as if to brave the starry spheares)
Then seemes at once to walk, to flie, to saile,
His flesh (which to corrupt so long forbeares)
Against destruction shall not now prevaile.
Those painted fowls shall then be baits for fire,
As painted fools be now for endlesse ire.
The Indian griphon, terrour of all eyes,
The scalie dragon which in ambush lyes
That flying giant, Nimrod of the ayre,
To watch his enemy with a martiall care,
Though breathing flames, touch'd by a flame straight
And all wing'd monsters made (since hurtfull) rare:
"Types of strong tyrants which the weake oppresse,
Those ravenous great ones pray upon the lesse."
Which with their wings both levell sea and land,
Their nimble feathers then shall nought import,
The falcon fierce, and all that active sort,
And (they for pray, their bearers bent for sport)
Which by their burden grace a prince's hand:
Ere falne on earth their ashes quenched be,
Do thrall great monarchs which even men command:
Whom soar'd of late aloft men scarce could see.

Those birds (but turn'd to dust) again shall raine,
Which mutinous Israel with a curse receiv'd;
For which (what shame) some belly-monsters crav'd,
And those for sport so prodigally slaine,
Long necks (like cranes) their tastes to entertaine,
From which the phenix hardly can be sav'd.
"In bodies base whose bellies still are full, [dull.”
The souls are made (choak'd with grosse vapours)

The feather'd flocks which by a notion strange,
(I know not how inspir'd, or what they see)
Or if their inward following outward change,
As true astrologues gathering stormes forsee,
In quaking clouds their murmuring troups which
range,

To waile, or warne the world, hiv'd on some tree.
Nought unto them this generall wrack foreshows,
Men, angels, no, not Christ (as man) fore-knows.
The rage of time these changelings to appease,
Like fained friends who fortune only woo:
[ease,
Which haunt each soile whil'st there they finde their
Though I confesse this shows their greatnesse too,
Who at their will use kingdomes as they please;
Even more then monarchs with great hosts can do.

The halting Lemnian highly shall revenge
The ancient scorne of other equall powers: [strange)
Both strong and swift, though lame, (what wonder
He then (turn'd furious) all the rest devoures,
Whose fiercenesse first his mother toils to change,
But (having him embrac'd) she likewise loures,
And with her sonne doth furiously conspire,
Straight from pure ayre, then all transform'd in fire.

This heat with horrour may congeale all hearts,
Life's bellows toss'd by breath which still do move;
That fanne which doth refresh the inward parts,
Even it shall make the breast a fornace prove.
That signe of life which oft arrives and parts,
Boils all within, elsé burnes it selfe above.
At that dread day denouncing endlesse night,
All smoke, not breath, whil'st flames give onely light.

That stormie tyrant which usurpes the ayre,
Whil'st wooll (rain'd down from Heaven) doth him
A liquid pillar hanging at each haire, [enfold;
Sneez'd fiercely forth when shaking all for cold:
He clad with flames a fierie leader there,
Makes feeble Vulcan by his aid more bold;
Whose bellows, fostred by the other's blast,
May soone forge ruine, instruments to waste.

The land's great creature, nurceling of the east,
Which loves extremely, and with zeale adores,
In sprite and nature both above a beast, [roares:
Whil'st charg'd with men he through the battell
And his arm'd match (of monsters not the least)
Whose scales defensive, horne invasive goares,
Whil'st foming flames, (as other to provoke)
Straight joyn'd in dust, their battell ends in smoke.

The craftic fox, which numbers do deceive,
To get, not be, a prey, shall be a prey;
The embrion's enemy, women's that conceive,
As who might give him death, their birth to stay:
That ravenous woolfe which bloud would always
All then a thought more quickly shall decay. [have,
No strength then stands, such weaknesse went before,
And subtill tricks can then deceive no more.

The hart whose bornes (as greatnesse is to all)
Do seeme to grace, are burdens to the head, [pall,
With swift (though slender) legges, when wounds ap-
Which cures himselfe where nature doth him leade;
Then with great eyes, weake heart, oft danger's thrall,
The warie hare (whose feare oft sport hath made)
Doth seek by swiftnesse death in vaine to shunne,
As if a flight of flames could be out-runne.

The painted panther which not fear'd doth gore,
Like some whose beauteous face foule mindes de-
The tyger tygrish, past expressing more, [fame;
Since cruelty is noted by his name;

The able ounce, strong beare, and foming boare,
(Man's rebels, since God did man his proclaime)
Though fierce are faint, and know not where to turne:
They see the forrests, their old refuge, burne.

The mildest beasts importing greatest gaine,
Which others' crimes made altars onely touch,
By whom they clothe, and feed, not crying slaine,
The Christian's image onely true when such,
Their growing snowes which art's fraile colours staine,
Were wrong'd, when fain'd of gold, since worth more

much: VOL. V.

But pretious things the owners' harmes oft breed,
The fleeces' flames the bodies' doe succeed.

The flocks for profit us'd in every part,
Though them to serve they make their masters bow,
And are the idols of a greedy heart,
Which (like old Egypt) doth adore a cow,
Like Hannibal's, which Fabius mock'd by art,
As walking torches, all runne madding now:
By Phebus tickled they to startle us'd,
But Vulcan ruder makes them rage confus'd.

Their martiall chieftan mastive's rage to stay,
(Pasiphae's lover, Venus' daily slave,) [stray,
With brandish'd hornes (as mustering) first doth
Then throwes them down in guard a match to crave;
Straight (like the Colchian buls, ere Iason's prey)
He flames (not fain'd) doth breath, but not to brave;
Like that of Phalaris, whom one did fill,
He tortur'd (bellowing) doth lye bullering still.

Of all the beasts by men domesticke made,
The most obsequious, and obedient still,
The fawning dog, which where we list we leade,
And wants but words to doe all that we will,
Which loves his lord extremely, even when dead,
And on his tombe, for griefe, himselfe doth kill,
He doth with tongue stretch'd forth, to pant begin,
Which straight when fir'd drawn back, burns all
within.

The generous horse, the gallant's greatest friend,
In peace for ease, and in effect for warre,
To flye, or chase, in sport, or earnest farre,
Which to his lord (when weary) legges doth lend,
A Pegasus he through the ayre would bend,
Till that his course (turn'd Centaure) man doth
marre;

He first the winde out-runnes, and then his breath.
His waving treasures fir'd, to flye from death,

This squadrons' king that doth for fight prepare,
(As threatning all the world) doth raging goe,
His foot doth beat the earth, his tayle the ayre,
Mad to be hurt, and yet not finde a foe,

But soone his shoulders rough the fire makes bare,
Death doth to rest, arrest his rowling eyes;
And melts his strength which was admired so:
Loe, in a little dust the lyon lyes.

Those poys'nous troupes in Africk's fields which
stray,

In death all fertile, as the first began,
By looke, by touch, by wound, and every way,
True serpent's heires in hatred unto man,
Which God (still good) in deserts makes to stay,
To waste the world, though doing what they can :
But whil'st they houle, scritch, barke, bray, hurle,
hisse, spout,

Their inward fire soon meets with that without.

The crocodile with running deepes in love,
By land and water of tyrannicke pow'r,
With upmost iawes which (and none else) do move,
Whose cleansing first is sweet, oft after sow'r;
And oft his crime his punishment doth prove,
Whil'st a devouring bait train'd to devoure:
He neither now can fight, nor yet retire,
His scaly armour is no proofe for fire.

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