SOME VERSES And that great Pompey (all the world's delight) Whom of his theater then th' applauses pleas'd, Whil'st, praise-transported eyes endeer'd his sight, Who by youth's toyles should have his age then WRITTEN TO HIS MAJESTIE BY THE AUTHOUR AT THE TIME eas'd, Then by how many sundry sorts of men, OF HIS MAIESTIES FIRST ENTRIE INTO ENGLAND. STAY, tragick Muse, with those vntimely verses, Raze all the monuments of horrours past, And pardon (olde heroes) for O I finde, I had no reason to admire your fates: And with rare guiftes of body and of minde, Th'vnbounded greatnesse of euill-conquerd states. More glorious actes then were achieu'd by you, Do make your wonders thought no wonders now. For yee the potentates of former times, Making your will a right, your force a law: Hath this great state beene rul'd? though now by Staining your conquest with a thousand crimes, none, Which first obey'd but one, then two, then ten, What revolutions huge have hapned thus, By secret fates all violently led, Though seeming but by accident to us, Still raign'd like tyrants, but obey'd for awe : And whilst your yoake none willingly would beare, Dyed oft the sacrifice of wrath and feare. But this age great with glorie hath brought forth A matchlesse monarke whom peace highlie raises, Who as th' vntainted ocean of all worth As due to him hath swallow'd all your praises. Whose cleere excellencies long knowne for such, Yet in the depths of heavenly breasts first bred, All men must praise, and none can praise too much. As arguments demonstrative to prove Loe, prosprous Cæsar charged for a space, Both with strange nations, and his countrey's spoyls, Even when he seem'd by warre to purchase peace, And roses of sweet rest, from thornes of toils; Then whil'st his minde and fortune swell'd most high, Hath beene constrain'd the last distresse to trie. What warnings large were in a time so short, Of that darke course which by his death now shines? It, speechlesse wonders plainly did report, It, men reveal'd by words, and gods by signes, Yet by the chaynes of destinies whil'st bound, He saw the sword, but could not scape the wound, What curtaine ore our knowledge errour brings, Now drawn, now open'd, by the heavenly host, Which makes us sometime sharpe to see small things, And yet quite blinde when as we should see most, That curious braines may rest amaz'd at it, Whose ignorance makes them presume of wit. Then let us live, since all things change below, When rais'd most high, as those who once may fall, And hold when by disasters brought more low, The minde still free, what ever else be thrall: "Those (lords of fortune) sweeten every state, Who can command themselves, though not their fate." For that which others hardly could acquire, That thrist t'enioy the fruites of his blest raigne: But what a mightie state is this I see? A little world that all true worth inherites, Strong without art, entrench'd within the sea, Abounding in braue men full of great spirits: It seemes this ile would boast, and so she may, To be the soueraigne of the world some day. O generous Iames, the glorie of their parts, In large dominions equall with the best: But the most mightie monarke of men's harts, That euer yet a diadem possest: Long maist thou liue, well lou'd and free from dangers, The comfort of thine owne, the terrour of strangers. SOME VERSES WRITTEN SHORTLY THEREAFTER BY REASON OF AN INUNDATION OF DOUEN, A WATER NEERE VNTO THE AUTHOR'S HOUSE, WHEREVPON HIS MAIESTIE WAS SOMETIMES WONT TO HAWKE. WHAT Wonder though my melancholious Muse, To what perfection can my lines be rais'd, [fires: | And since our sunne shines in another part, No Helicon her treasure here vnlockes, Of all the sacred band the chiefe refuge: But dangerous Douen rumbling through the rockes, Would scorne the raine-bowe with a new deluge. As Tiber, mindefull of his olde renowne, [place: So doth my Douen rage, greeu'd in like sort, Had but begotten to his bankes neglect: Thus all the creatures of this orphand boundes, Liue like th' antipodes depriu'd of light: Whilst those to whom his beames he doth impart, Begin their day whilst we begin our night. This hath discourag'd my high-bended minde, VERSES PREFIXED TO BISHOP ABERNETHY'S "CHRISTIAN AND HEAVENLY TREATISE, CONTAINING PHYSICKE FOR THE SOUL.' 1622. Or known effects, grounds too precisely sought, move, Scorn mediate means, as wonders still were wrought: Who souls and bodies help'st, dost here design Who wise and holy ends, and causes scan. |