Obrazy na stronie
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Why do you thus th' old and new prison fill? 1 The church of England, 'tis your protestation;
When that's the only why; because you will ?

But that's “ New"-England by a small reserva-
Fain would you make God too thus tyrannous be, | tion. ?
And damn poor men by such a stiff decree.

Power of dispensing oaths the Papists claim; Is't property? Why do such numbers, then, Case hath got leave of God to do the same: From God beg vengeance, and relief from men? For you do hate all swearing so, that when Why are th' estates and goods seiz'd-on, of all You've sworn an oath, ye break it straight again. Whom coretous or malicious men miscall?

A curse upon you! which hurts must these naWhat's more our own than our own lives? But oh 'tions, Could Yeoinans or could Bourchier find it so? Cavaliers' swearing, or your protestations? The barbarous coward, always us’d to fly,

Nay, though oaths be by you so much abhor'd, Did know no other way to see men die.

Y'allow “ God damn me" in the Puritan Lord. Or is 't religion? What then mean your lyes,

They keep the Bible from laymen; but ye
Your sacrileges, and pulpit blasphemies

Avoid this, for ye have no laity.
Why are all sects let loose that ere had birth, They in a foreign and unknown tongue pray,
Since Luther's noise wak'd the lethargic Earth?

You in an unknown sense your prayers say ;

So that this difference 'twixt you does ensue, —
The Author went no further.

Fools understand not them, not wise men you.

They an unprofitable zeal have got

Of invocating saints, that hear them not: THE PURITAN AND THE PAPIST. "Twere well you did so; nought may more be feard, A SATIRE.

In your fond prayers, than that they should be

heard. So two rude waves, by storms together thrown, To them your nonsense well enough might pass, Roar at each other, fight, and then grow one. They'd ne'er see that'i'th' divine looking-glass. Religion is a circle ; men contend,

Nay, whether you 'd worship saints is not known, And run the round in dispute, without end : For ye ’ave-as yet, of your religion, none. Now, in a circle who go contrary,

They by good-works think to be justifi'd : Must, at the last, ineet of necessity.

You into the same errour deeper slide; The Roman Catholic, to advance the cause,

You think by works too justify'd to be, Allows a lye, and calls it pia fraus;

And those ill-works-lyes, treason, perjury. 'The Puritan approves and does the same,

But, oh! your faith is mighty ; that hath been, Dislikes nought in it but the Latin name:

As true faith ought to be, of things unseen: He flows with his devices, and dares lye

At Wor'ster, Brentford, and Edgehill, we see, la very deed, in truth, and verity.

Only by faith, ye 'ave got the victory. He shines, and sighs out lyes with so much ruth, Such is your faith, and some such unseen way, As if he griev'd'cause he could ne'er speak truth. The public faith at last your debts will pay. Iges bave possess'd the press so, as their due, They hold free-will (that nought their souls may Twill scarce, I fear, henceforth print Bibles true.

bind) Lyes for their next strong fort ha th' pulpit chose ; | As the great privilege of all mankind: There they throng out at th' preacher's mouth and You 're here more moderate; for 'tis your intent nose,

To make 't a privilege but of parliament. And, howe'er gross, are certain to beguile

They forbid priests to marry : you worse do; Tbe poor book-tumers of the middle isle ;

Their marriage you allow, yet punish too; Nay, to th' Almighty's self they have been bold For you 'd make priests so poor, that upon all To lye; and their blasphemous minister told, Who marry scorn and beggary must fall. They might say false to God; for if they were

They a bold power o'er sacred scriptures take, Beaten, he knew't not, for he was not there. Blot out some clauses, and some new ones make: Bat God, who their great thankfulness did see, Your great lord Jesuit Brookes publicly said, Rewards them straight with another victory, (Brookes, whom too little learning hath made mad) Just such an one as Brentford ; and, sans doubt, That to correct the Creed ye should do well, Will weary, ere 't be long, their gratitude out. And blot out Christ's descending into Hell. Not all the legends of the saints of old,

Repent, wild man ! or you 'll ne'er change, I fear, Not vast Baronius, nor sly Surius, hold

The sentence of your own descending there. Such plenty of apparent lyes as are

Yet modestly they use the Creed ; for they In your own author, Jo. Browne Cleric. Par. | Would take the Lord's Prayer root and branch Besides what your small poets said or writ,

away : Brookes, Strode, and the baron of the saw-pit: And wisely said a levite of our nation. With many a mental reservation,

The Lord's Prayer was a popish innovation, You 'll maintain liberty Reserv'd“ your own,' Take heed, you'll grant ere long it should be said, For th' public good the sums rais'd you 'll disburse; An't be but to desire your daily bread. -Reservd "the greater part, for your own purse." They keep the people ignorant : and you You 'll root the Cavaliers out, every man ;

Keep both the people and yourselves so too. - Faith, let it be reserv'd here “if ye can.”

They blind obedience and blind duty teach : You'll make our gracious Charles a glorious king; You blind rebellion and blind faction preach;

- Reservd "in Heaven”-for thither ye would bring Nor can I blame you much, that ye advance His royal head; the only secure room

That which can only save you, ignorance ; For kings; where such as you will never come. Though, Heaven be prais' ! 't has oft been proved To keep th' estates o'th' subjects you pretend;

well, -Reserv'd " in your own trunks. You will defend Your ignorance is not invincible :

VOL. VII.

[graphic]

Nay, such bold lyes to God himself ye raunt, Nay, White, who sits i' th' infallible chair,
As if you'd fain keep him too ignorant.

And most infallibly speaks nonsense there;
Linbus and Purgatory they believe,

Nay, Cromwell, Pury, Whistler, sir John Wray, For lesser sinners; that is, I conceive,

He who does say, and say, ands ay, and say; Malignants only: you this trick does please ; Nay, Lowry, who does new church-government For the same cause ye 'ave made new Limbuses,

wish, Where we may lie imprison'd long, ere we And prophesies, like Jonas, 'midst the fish; A day of judginent in your courts shall see. Who can such various business wisely sway, But Pym can, like the pope, with this dispense, Handling both herrings and bishops in one day: And for a bribe deliver souls from thence.

Nay all your preachers, women, boys, and mer, Their councils claim infallibility:

From master Calamy to mistress Ven, Such musi your conventicle-synod be;

Are perfect popes, in their own parish, grown; And teachers from all parts of th' Earth ye call, For, to out-do the story of pope Joan, To make 't a council oecumenical.

Your women preach too, and are like to be They several times appoint from meats' t' abstain The whores of Babylon as much as she. You now for th' Irish wars a fast ordain ;

They depose kings by force: by force you'd do And, that that kingdom might be sure to fast,

it, Ye take a course to starve them all at last : But first use fair means to persuade them to it. Nay, thongh ye keep no eves, Fridays, nor Lent, They dare kill kings: and 'twixt ye here's the Not to dress meat on Sundays you're content;

strife, Then you repeat, repeat, and pray, and pray, That you dare shoot at kings to save their life: Your teeth keep sabbath, and tongues working And what's the difference, pray, whether he fall day.

By the Pope's Bull or your Ox general ? They preserve relics : you have few or none, Three kingdoms thus ye strive to make your own, Unless the clout sent to John Pym be one; And, like the pope, usurp a triple crown. Or Holles's rich widow, she who carry'd

Such is your faith, such your religion ; A relic in her womb before she marry'd.

Let's view your manners now, and then I've done. They in succeeding Peter take a pride:

Your covetousness let gasping Ireland tell, So do you; for your master ye 'ave deny'd. Where first the Irish lands, and next ye sell But chiefly Peter's privilege ye choose,

The English blood, and raise rebellion here At your own wills to bind and to unluose.

With that which should suppress and quench it He was a fisherman ; you 'll be so too,

there. When nothing but your ships are left to you: What mighty sums hare ye squeezid ont o'th' city! He went to Rome; to Rome you backward ride, Enough to make them poor, and something witty, (Though both your goings are by some deny'd) Excise, loans, contributions, poll-monies, Nor is 't a contradiction, if we say,

Bribes, plunder, and such parliament priv'leges, You go to Rome the quite contrary way.

Are words which you ne'er learnt in holy writ, He dy'd o' th' cross; that death 's unusual now; Till th' spirit, and your synod, mended it. The gallows is most like 't, and that's for you. Where's all the twentieth part now, which hath They love church-music; it offends your sense,

been And therefore ye have sung it out from thence; Paid you by some, to forfeit the nineteen? Which shows, if right your mind be understood, Where's all the goods distrain'd, and plunders past? You hate it not as music, but as good :

For you're grown wretched pilferii g knaves at Your madness makes yon sing as much as they

last; Dance who are bit with a tarantula.

Descend to brass and pewter, till of late, But do not to yourselves, alas ! appear

Like Midas, all ye touch'd must needs be plate. The most religious traitors that e'er were,

By what vast hopes is your ambition fed ? Because your troops singing of psalms do go; 'Tis writ in blood, and may be plainly read : There's many a traitor has march'd Holborn so. You must have places, and the kingdom sway; Nor was't your wit this holy project bore ;

The king must be a ward to your lord Say, Tweed and the Tyne have seen those tricks before. Your innocent speaker to the Rolls must rise ;

They of strange miracles and wonders tell : Six thousand pound hath made him proud and wise. You are yourselves a kind of miracle ;

Kimbolton for his father's pla, e doth call, Ev'n such a miracle as in writ divine

Would be like him ;-would he were, face and all ! We read o'—th' Devil's hurrying down the swine. Isaack would always be lord-mayor ; and so They have made images to speak : 'tis said, May always be, as much as he is now. Yon a dull image have your speaker made; For the five members, they so richly thrive, And, that your bounty in offerings might abound, That they would always be but members five. Ye 'ave to that idol giy'n six thousand pound. Only Pym does his natural right enforce, They drive-out devils, they say: here ye begin By th' mother's side he's master of the horse. To differ, I confessm-you let them in.

Most shall have places by these popular tricks, They maintain transubstantiation ;

The rest inust be content with bishoprics. You, by a contrary philosophers-stone,

For 'tis 'gainst superstition you're intent; To transubstantiate metals have the skill,

First to root out that great church-ornament, And turn the kingdom's gold to ir'n and steel. Money and lands: your swords, alas ! are drawn l'th' sacrament ye differ; but 'tis noted,

Against the bishop, not his cap, or lawn.
Bread must be flesh, winé blood, if e'er 't be voted. O let not such lewd sacrilege begin,
They make the pope their head; y' exalt for Tempted by Henry's rich, successful sin!
him,

Henry! the monster-king of all that age;
Primate and metropolitan, master Pym; Wild in his lust, but wilder in his rage.

Expect not you his fate, though Hotham thrives We thank you for true real fears, at last,
In imitating Henry's tricks for wives;

Which free us from so many false ones past; Nor fewer churches hopes, than wives, to see We thank you for the blood which fats our coast, Buried, and then their lands his own to be.

As a just debt paid to great Strafford's ghost; Ye boundless tyrants ! how do you outvy

We thank you for the ills receiv'd, and all TW' Athenians' Thirty, Rome's Decemviry ! Which yet by your good care in time we shall; In rage, injustice, cruelty, as far

We thank you, and our gratitude's as great Abore those men, as you in number are.

As yours, when you thank'd God for being beat,
What mysteries of iniquity do we see !
New prisons made to defend liberty !
Our goods forc'd from us for property's sake;

THE CHARACTER OF AN HOLY-SISTER.
And all the real nonsense which ye make!
Ship-money was unjustly ta'en, ye say ;

Sve that can sit three sermons in a day,
L'njustlier far, you take the ships away.

And of those three scarce bear three words away; The High Commission you calld tyranny :

She that can rob her husband, to repair
Ye did! good God !, what is the High Committee ? A budget-priest, that noses a long prayer ;
Ye said that gifts and bribes preferments bought:

She that with lamp-black purifies her shoes,
By money and blood too they now are sought.

And with half-eyes and Bible softly goes ; To the king's will, the laws men strove to draw : She that her pockets with lay-gospel stuff's, The subjects' will is now become the law,

And edifies her looks with little ruffs; 'Twas feard a new religion would begin :

She that loves sermons as she does the rest, All new religions, now, are enter'd in.

Still standing stiff that longest are the best; The king delinquents to protect did strive : She that will lye, yet swear she hates a lyar, What clubs,pikes, halberts, lighters, sav'd the Five! Except it be the man that will lie by her; You think th' parl'ment like your state of grace ;

She that at christenings thirsteth for more sack, Whatever sins men do, they keep their place.

And draws the broadest handkerchief for cake; lavasions then were fear'd against the state;

She that sings psalms devoutly next the street, And Strode swore last years would be eighty-eight. And beats her maid i'th kitchen, where nong You bring-in foreign aid to your designs,

see 't; First those great foreign forces of divines,

She that will sit in shop for five hours space, With which ships from America were fraught;

And register the sins of all that pass, Rather may stinking tobacco still be brought

Damn at first sight, and proudly dares to say, From thence, I say, next, ye the Scots invite,

That none can possibly be sav'd but they Which you term brotherly-assistance, right;

That hang religion in a naked ear, For England you intend with them to share :

And judge men's hearts according to their hair; They, who, alas! but younger brothers are,

That could afford to doubt, who wrote best sense, Must have the monies for their portion;

Moses, or Dod on the commandements; The houses and the lands will be your own.

She that can sigh, and cry “Queen Elizabeth," We thank you for the wounds which we endure, Rail at the pope, and scratch-out“ sudden death :" Whilst scratches and slight pricks ye seek to cure; And for all this can give no reason why:

This is an holy-sister, verily. * viz. 1642.

ANACREONTIQUES :

OR,
SOME COPIES OF VERSES,

TRANSLATED PARAPHRASTICALLY OUT OF ANACREON.

1. LOVE.
I'LL sing of heroes and of kings,
In mighty numbers, mighty things.
Begin, my Muse! but lo! the strings
To my great song rebellious prove;
The strings will sound of nought but love.
I broke them all, and put on new;
Tis this or nothing sure will do.

These sure (said I) will me obey;
These, sure, heroic notes will play.
Straight I began with thundering Jove,
And all th' immortal powers; but Love,
Love smil'd, and from m'enfeebled lyre
Came gentle airs, such as inspire
Melting love and soft desire.
Farewell then, heroes ! farewell, kings!
And mighty numbers, mighty things!
Love tunes my heart just to my strings

II. DRINKING.

The living and the killing arrow Tug thirsty earth soaks up the rain,

Ran through the skin, the flesh, the blood,

And broke the bones, and scorch'd the marrom, And drinks, and gapes for drink again,

No trench of work or life withstood. The plants suck-in the earth, and are

In vain I now the walls maintain ; With constant drinking fresh and fair;

I set out guards and scouts in vain ; The sea itself (which one would think

Since thenemy does within remain. Should have but little need of drink)

In vain a breast-plate now I wear, Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up,

Since in my breast the foe I bear; So fill'd that they o'erflow the cup.

In vain my feet their swiftness try;
The busy Sun (and one would guess

For from the body can they fly?
By 's drunken fiery face no less)
Drinks up the sea, and, when he 'as done,
The Moon and stars drink up the Sun :

V. AGE.
They drink and dance by their own light; Ofr am I by the women told,
They drink and revel all the night.

Poor Anacreon! thou grow'st old: Nothing in nature 's sober found,

Look how thy hairs are falling åll ; But an eternal health go's round.

Poor Anacreon, how they fall! Fill up the bowl then, till it high,

Whether I grow old or no, Fill all the glasses there ; for why

By th' effects I do not know ; Should every creature drink but I ;

This, I know, without being told,
W'hy, man of morals, tell me why?

'Tis time to live, if I grow old;
Tis time short pleasures nuw to take,

Of little life the best to make,
III. BEAUTY.

And manage wisely the last stake.
LIBERAI. Nature did dispense

VI. THE ACCOUNT.
To all things arms for their defence;
And some she arms with sinewy force,

When all the stars are by thee told
And some with swiftness in the course;

(The endless sums of heavenly gold); Some with hard hoofs or forked claws,

Or when the hairs are reckon'd all, And some with hortis or tusked jaws :

From sickly Autumn's head that fall; And some with scales, and some with wings, Or when the drops that make the sea, And some with teeth, and some with stings. Whilst all her sands thy counters be ; Wisdom to man she did afford,

Thou tben, and thou alone, maya't prove Wisdom for shield, and wit for sword.

Th'arithmetician of my love. What to beauteous womankind,

An hundred loves at Athens score, What arms, what armour, has sh' assign'd ? At Corinth write an hundred more: Beauty is both; for with the fair

Fair Corinth does such beauties bear, What arms, what armour, can compare ?

So few is an escaping there. What steel, what gold, or diamond,

Write then at Chios seventy-three ; More impassible is found ?

Write then at Lesbos (let me see) And yet what flame, what lightning, e'er

Write me at Lesbos ninety down, So great an active force did bear?

Full ninety loves, and half a one, They are all weapon, and they dart

And, next to these, let me present Like porcupines from every part,

The fair Ionian regiment ; Who can, alas ! their strength express,

And next the Carian company; Arm'd, when they themselves undress,

Five hundred both effectively.
Cap-a-pie with nakedness?

Three hundred more at Rhodes and Crete;
Three hundred 'tis, I 'm sure, complete;

For arms at Crete each face does bear,
IV. THE DUEL.

And every eye's an archer there.

Go on: this stop why dost thou make? Yes, I will love then, I will love ;

Thou think'st, perhaps that I mistake. I will not now Love's rebel prove,

Seems this to thee too great a sum? Though I was once his enemy;

Why many thousands are to come ; Though ill-advis'd and stubborn I,

The mighty Xerxes could not boast Did to the combat him defy.

Such different nations in his host. An helmet, spear, and mighty shield,

On; for my love, if thou be'st weary, Like some new Ajax, I did wield.

Must find some better secretary. Love in one hand his bow did take,

I have not yet my Persian told, In th' other hand a dart did shake;

Nor yet my Syrian loves enrolld, But yet in vain the dart did throw,

Nor Indian, nor Arabian ; In vain he often drew the bow;

Nor Cyprian loves, nor African ; So well my armour did resist,

Nor Scythian nor Italian flames; So oft by flight the blow I mist:

There's a whole map behind of names But when I thought all danger past,

Of gentle loves i' th' temperate zone, His quiver empty'd quite at last,

And cold ones in the frigid one, Instead of arrow or of dart

Cold frozen loves, with which I pine, He shot himself into my heart.

And parched loves beneath the lipe,

VII. GOLD.

X. THE GRASSHOPPER. A NICHTY pain to love it is,

HAPPY Insect! what can be And 'tis a pain that pain to miss ;

In happiness compar'd to thee? But, of all pains, the greatest pain

Fed with nourishment divine, It is to love, but love in vain.

The dewy Morning's gentle wine ! Virtue now, nor noble blood,

Nature waits upon thee still, Nor wit by love is understood;

And thy verdant cup does fill; Gold alone does passion move,

'Tis fill'd wherever thou dost tread, Gold monopolizes love;

Nature's self's thy Ganymede. A curse on her, and on the man

Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing; Who this traffic first began!

Happier than the happiest king ! A corse on him who found the ore!

All the fields which thou dost see, A curse on him who digg'd the store !

All the plants, belong to thce; A curse on him who did refine it!

All that sumaner-hours produce, A curse on him who first did coin it!

Fertile made with early juice. A curse, all curses else above,

Man for thee does sow and plow; On him who us'd it first in love!

Fariner he, and landlord thou ! Gold begets in brethren hate;

Thou dust innocently joy; Gold in families debate ;

Nor does the luxury destroy; Gold does friendships seperate;

The shepherd gladly heareth thee, Gold does civil wars create.

More harmonious than he. These the smallest harms of it!

Thee country binds with gladness hear,
Gold, alas ! does love beget.

Prophet of the ripen'd year!
Thee Phoebus loves, and docs inspire;

Phæbus is bimself thy sire.
VIII. THE EPICURE.

To thee, of all things upon Earth.
Fill the bowl with rosy wine !

Life is no longer than thy mirth.

Happy insect, happy thou ! Around our temples roses twine!

Dost neither age nor winter know; And let us cheerfully awhile,

But, when thou'st drunk, and danc'd, and sung Like the wine and roses, smile.

Thy fill, the flowery leaves among Crown'd with roses, we contemn

(Voluptuous, and wise withal, Gyges' wealthy diadem,

Epicurean animal!) To day is ours, what do we fear?

Sated with thy summer feast,
To day is ours; we have it here :

Thou retir'st to endless rest.
Let's treat it kindly, that it may
Wish, at least, with us to stay.

XI. THE SWALLOJT.
Let's banish business, banish sorrow;
To the gods belongs to morrow,

Foolish Prater, what dost thou
So early at my vindow do,

With thy tuneless serenade?
IX. ANOTHER.

Well 't had been had Tereus made

Thee as dumb as Philomel; UNDERNEATH this myrtle shade,

There his knife had done but well, On flowery beds supinely laid,

In thy undiscovered nest With odorous oils my head o'er-flowing,

Thou dost all the winter rest, And around it roses growing,

And dreamest o'er thy summer joys, What should I do but drink away

Free from the stormy seasons' noise : The heat and troubles of the day

Free from th’ill thou'st done to me; In this more than kingly state

Who disturbs or seeks-out thee? Love himself shall on me wait.

Hadst thou all the charming notes Fill to me, Love, nay fill it up;

Of the wood's poetic throats, And mingled cast into the cup

All thy art could never pay Wit, and mirth, and noble fires,

What thou hast ta’en from me away. Vigorous health and gay desires.

Cruel bird ! thou'st ta'en away The wheel of life no less will stay

A dream out of my arms to-day; In a smooth than rugged way :

A dream, that ne'er must equall'd be Since it equally doth flee,

By all that waking eyes may see. Let the motion pleasant be.

l'hou, this damage to repair, Why do we precious ointments show'r? Nobler wines why do we pour?

Nothing half so sweet or fair,

Nothing half so good, canst bring, Beauteous flowers why do we spread,

Though men say thou bring'st the Spring. l'pon the monuments of the dead? Nothing they but dust can show,

ELEGY UPON ANACREON. Or bones that hasten to be so. Crown me with roses whilst I live,

WHO WAS CHOAKED BY A GRAPE-STONE, Now your wines and ointments give;

SPOKEN BY THE GOD OF LOVE,
After death I nothing crave,
Let me alive my pleasures have,

How shall I lament thine end,
All are Stoics in the grave,

My best servant and my friend

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