No More Learning

But as with riper years her virtue grew,
And every minute adds a lustre new ;



* Elizabeth, Lady Claypole, the Protector's favorite daugh-
ter, died on Friday, 6th August, 1658. ** But as to his High-
ne. sfi, it was observed that his sense of her outw;ir<l misery
ill the pains she endured, took deep impression . ni him. "
Mjiiilstoii, quoted in Carl3'Ie's Cromwell, v<>! . ii. p. 402,
(American edition. )



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OF MARVELL. 157

When with meridian height her beauty shined,
And thorough that sparkled her fairer mind ;
When she with smiles serene, in words discreet,
His hidden soul at every turn could meet ;
Then might youVe daily his affection spied.
Doubling that knot which destiny had tied,
While they by sense, not knowing, comprehend
How on each other both their fates depend.
With her each day the pleasing hours he shares,
And at her aspect ciilms his growing cares ;
Or with a grandsire's joy her children sees.
Hanging about her neck, or at his knees :
Hold fast, dear infants, hold them both, or none ;
This will not stay, when once the other's gone.
A silent fire now wafts those limbs of wax,
And him within his tortured image racks.
So the flower withering, which the garden

crowned,
The sad root pines in secret under ground.
Each groan he doubled, and each sigh she sighed,
Repeated over to the restless night ;
No trembling string, composed to numbers new,
Answers the touch in notes more sad, more true.
She, lest he grieve, hides what she can, her pjiins,
And he, to lessen her*s, his sorrow feigns ;
Yet both perceived, yet both* concealed their

skills.
And so, diminishing, increased their ills.
That whether by each other's grief they fell.
Or on their own redoubled, none can tell.



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15S THE rOK. MS

And now Eliza's purple locks were shorn,
AVhere she so long h<;r fatlier's fate had worn ;
And frequent lightning to lier soul that flies,
Divides the air and opens all the skies.
And now his life, suspended by her breath,
Ran out impetuously to hastening Death.
Like polished mirroi*s, so his steely breast
Had every figure of her woes exprest,
And with the damp of her hist gasps obscured.
Had drawn such stains as were not to be cured.
Fate could not either reach with single stroke,
But, the dear image fled, the mirror broke.
"Who now shall tell us more of mournful swans.
Of halcyons kind, or bleeding pelicans ?
No downy breast did e*er so gently beat.
Or fan with airy plumes so soft a heat ;
For he no duty by his height excused.
Nor, though a prince, to be a man refused ;
But rather than in his Eliza's pain
Not love, not grieve, would neither live nor

reign;
And in himself so ofl immortal tried.
Yet in compassion of another died.

So have I seen a vine, wiiose lasting age,
Of many a winter hath survived the rage.
Under whose shady tent, men every year,
At its rich blood's exp«ii>e their sorrows cheer;
If some dear branch where it extends its life,
Chance to be pruned by an untimely knife.



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OP MARVELL. 159

The parent tree unto the grief succeeds,
And through the wound its vital humour bleeds,
Trickling in watery drops, whose flowing shape
Weeps that it falls ere fixed into a grape ;
So the dry stock, no more that spreading vine.
Frustrates the autumn, and the hopes of wine.

A secret cause does sure those signs ordain.
Foreboding princes' falls, and seldom vain :
Whether some kinder powers, that wish us well,
What they above cannot prevent, foretell ;
Or the great world do by consent presage.
As hollow seas with future tempests rage ;
Or rather Heaven, which us so long foresees.
Their funerals celebrates, while it decrees.
But never yet was any human fate
By nature solemnized with so much state :
He unconcerned the dreadful passage crost.
But oh ! what pangs that death did Nature cost !

First the great thunder was shot off, and

sent
The signal from the starry battlement :
The winds receive it, and its force outdo.
As practising how they could thunder too ;
Out of the binder's hand the sheaves they tore.
And thrashed the harvest in the airy floor ;
Or of huge trees, whose growth with his did

rise,
The deep foundations opened to the skie? * ;



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160 THE POEMS

Tlien bear J Bhower>t the winged tempests lead,
And |KHir (he deluge o'er the chaon' bead.
Tlie race of warlike hor^H^ at hi« tomb,
Offer theiDiielvetf in many a hecatomb ;
With pensive head towards the ground they fall.
And helpless languii^h at the tainted stall.
Numbers of men decrease with pains unknown.
And hasten (not to see his deatli) their own.
Huch tortures all the elements unfixed,
Troubled to part where so exactly mixed ;
And as through air his wasting spirits flowed.
The world with throes laboured beneath their
load.

Nature, it seemed, with him would nature vie,
lie with Eliza, it with him would die.

He without noise still travelled to his end.
An silent suns to meet the night descend ;
Tiic Htars that for him fought, had only power
Left to determine now his fatal hour.
Which since they might not hinder, yet they

cast
To choose it worthy of his glories past.
No part of time but bart; his mark away
Ol' lionour, — all the yfur was Cromwell's day;
Hut this, of all the most auspicious found,
Twice had in open tielil hi in victor crowned,
Whoii up the armed nuxintains of Dunbar
lie marched, and through (h(;p Severn, ending wai*:



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OP MARYELL. IGl

What day should him eternize, but the same
That had before immortalized his name,
That so whoe'er would at his death have joyed,
In their own griefs might find themselves em-
ployed,
But those that sadly his departure grieved,
Yet joyed, remembering what he once achieved ?
And the last minute his victorious ghost
Gave chase to Ligny on the Belgic coast :.
Here ended all his mortal toils, he laid
And slept in peace under the laurel-shade.

O Cromwell ! Heaven's favourite, to none.
Have such high honours from above been

shown,
For whom the elements we mourners see.
And Heaven itself would the great herald be,
Which with more care set foith his obsequies
Than those of Moses, hid from human eyes ;
As jealous only here, lest all be less
Than we could to his memory express.

Then let us too our course of mourning keep ;
Where Heaven leads, His piety to weep.
Stand back ye seas, and shrunk, beneath the veil
Of your abyss, with covered head bewail
Your monarch : we demand not your supplier
To compass-in our isle, — our tears suffice,
Since him away the dismal tempest rent,
Who once more joined us to the continent ;
11



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162 THE POEMS

Who planted England on the Flanderic shore,
And stretched our frontier to the Indian ore ;
Whose greater truths obscure the fables old,
Whether of British saints or worthies told.
And in a valour lessening Arthur^s deeds,
For holiness the Confessor exceeds.

He first put arms into Religion's hand,
And timorous conscience unto courage manned ;
The soldier taught that inward mail to wear.
And fearing God, how they should nothing

fear ;
Those strokes, he said, will pierce through all

below.
Where those that strike from Heaven fetch their

blow.
Astonished armies did their flight prepare,
And cities strong were stormed by his prayer ;
Of that forever Preston^s field shall tell
The story, and impregnable Clonmel,
And where the sandy mountain Fenwick scaled,
The sea between, yet hence his prayer prevailed.
What man was ever so in Heaven obeyed
Since the coraraanded sun o*er Gibeon stayed ?
In all his wars needs must he triumph, when
He coFujuered God, still ere he fought with men :
Hence, though in battle none so brave or fierce,
Yet him the adverse steel could never pierce ;
Pity it s( tijied to hurt him more, that felt
Each wuuikI himself which he to others dealt.



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OP MARVEL L. 163

Danger itself refusing to offend

So loose an enemy, so fast a friend.

Friendship, that sacred virtue, long does daim

The first foundation of his house and name :

But within one its narrow limits fall,

His tenderness extended unto all,

And that deep soul through every channel flows,

Where kindly Nature loves itself to lose.

More strong affections never reason served,

Yet still affected most what best deserved.

If he Eliza loved to that degree,

(Though who more worthy to be loved than

she? )
If so^ indulgent to his own, how dear
To him the children of the Highest were !
For her he once did Nature's tribute pay ;
For these his life adventured every day ;
And 'twould be found, could we his thoughts have

cast,
Their griefs struck deepest, if Eliza's last.
What prudence more than human did he need
To keep so dear, so differing minds agreed ?
The worser sort, so conscious of their ill,
Lie weak and easy to the ruler's will ;
But to the good (too many or too few)
All law is useless, all reward is due.
Oh ! ill-advised, if not for love, for shame,
Sparc yet your own, if you neglect his fame ;
Lest oihei-s dare to think your zeal a mask,
And you to govern only Heaven's task.



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164 THE POEMS

Valour, Religion, Friendship, Prudence died
At once with him, and all that's good beside ;
And we, Death's refuge, Nature's dregs, confined
To loathsome life, alas ! are left behind.
Where we (so once we used) shall now no more,
To fetch day, press about his chamber-door,
From which he issued with that awful state,
It seemed Mars broke through Janus' double

gate.
Yet always tempered with an air so mild.
No April suns that e'er so gently smiled ;
No more shall hear that powerful language

charm,
Whose force oft spared the labour of bis arm ;
No more sliall follow where he spent the days
In war, in counsel, or in prayer and praise,
Whose meanest acts he would himvSelf advance.
As ungirt David to the ark did dance.
All, all is gone of oui*s or his delight
In horses fierce, wild deer, or armour bright
Francisca fair can nothing now but weep.
Nor with soft notes shall sing his cares asleep.

I saw him dead: a leaden slumber lies.
And mortal sleep over those wakeful eyes ;
Those gentle rays under the lids were fled.
Which through his looks that piercing sweetness

siied ;
That port, vvliich so majestic was and strong.
Loose, and deprived of vigour, stretched along j



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OF MARVRLL. 165

All withered, all discoloured, pale and wan,
How much another thing, no more that man !
O, human glory vain ! O, Death ! O, wings I
O, worthless world ! O, transitory things !
Yet dwelt that greatness in his shape decayed,
That still though dead, greater than death he laid.
And in his altered face you something feign
That threatens Death, he yet will live again.
Not much unlike the sacred oak, which shoots
To Heaven its branches, and through earth its

roots.
Whose spacious boughs are hung with trophies

round,
And honored wreaths have ofl the victor

crowned.
When angry Jove darts lightning through the air
At mortal sins, nor his own plant will spare,
It groans and bruises all below, that stood
So many years the shelter of the wood,
The tree, erewhile foreshortened to our view,
When fairn shows taller yet than as it grew ;
So shall his praise to after times increase.
When truth shall be allowed, and faction cease ;
And his own shadows with him fall ; the eye
Detracts iVom objects than itself more high ;
But when Death takes them from that envied stuto,
Seeing how little, we confess how great.

Thee, many ages hence, in martial verse
Shall the English soldier, ere he charge, rehearse ;



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166 THE POEMS

Singing of thee, inflame himself to fight,
And, with the name of Cromwell, armies fright.
As long as rivers to the seas shall run,
As long as Cynthia shall relieve the sun,
While stags shall fly unto the forests thick,
While sheep delight the grassy downs to pick.
As long as future time succeeds the past,
Always thy honour, praise and name, shall last !

Thou in a pitch how far beyond the sphere
Of human glory tower'st, and reigning there
Despoiled of mortal robes, in seas of bliss
Plunging, dost bathe, and tread the bright abyss !
There tiiy great soul yet once a world doth see,
Spacious enough and pure enough for thee.
How soon thou Moses hast, and Joshua found.
And Daviti, for the sword and hai-p renowned ;
How straight canst to each happy mansion go,
(Far better known above than here below,)
And in those joys dost spend the endless day.
Which in expressing, we ourselves betray !

For we, since thou art gone, with heavy

doom,
Wander like ghosts about thy loved tomb,
And lost in tears, have neither sight nor mind
To guid»j us upward through this region blind ;
Since thou art gone, who best that way couldst

tracli,
Only our >ighs, perhaps, may thither reach.



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OP MARVELL. . 167

And Richard yet, where his great parent led,
Beats on the rugged track : he virtue d^ad
Revives, and by his milder beams assures ;
And yet how much of them his grief obscures I
He, as his father, long was kept from sight
In private, to be viewed by better light ;
But opened once, what splendour does he throw !
A Cromwell in an hour a prince will grow.
How he becomes that seat, how strongly strains,
How gently winds at once the ruling reins !
Heaven to this choice prepared'a diadem,
Richer than any Eastern silk, or gem,
A pearly rainbow, where the sun inchased,
His brows like an imperial jewel graced.

We find already what those omens mean,
EaHh ne'er more glad, nor Heaven more serene.
Cease now our griefs, calm peace succeeds a war.
Rainbows to storms, Richard to Oliver.
Tempt not his clemency to try his power,
He threats no deluge, yet foretells a shower.



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SATIRES.



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SATIRES



THE CHARACTER OF HOLLAND,

Holland, that scarce deserves the name of

land,
As but the oflf-scouring of the British sand,
And so much earth as was contributed'
By English pilots when they heaved the lead,
Or what by the ocean's slow alluvion fell
Of shipwrecked cockle and the muscle-shell, —
This indigested vomit of the sea
Fell to the Dutch by just propriety.

Glad then, as miners who have found the ore.
They, with mad labour, fished the land to shore,
And dived as desperately fpr each piece
Of earth, as if 't had been of ambergreese.
Collecting anxiously small loads of clay.
Less than what building swallows bear away.
Or than those pills which sordid beetles roll.
Transfusing into them their dunghill soul.



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172 THE POEMS

How did they rivet, with gigantic piles,
Thorough the centre their new-catched miles,
And to the stake a struggling country bound,
Where barking waves still bait the forced

ground.
Building their watery Babel far more high
To reach the sea, than those to scale the sky !

Yet still his claim the injured ocean laid,
And oft at leap-frog o*er their steeples played,
As if on purpose it on land had come
To show them what's their mare liberum.
A daily deluge over them does boil ;
The earth and water play at level coil.
The fish ofttimes the burgher dispossessed,
And sat, not as a meat, but as a guest,
And oft the Tritons and the sea-nymphs saw
Whole shoals of Dutch served up for Cabillau,
Or, as they over the new level ranged
For pickled herring, pickled heerin changed.
Nature, it seemed, ashamed of her mistake.
Would throw their laud away at duck and drake ;
Therefore necessity, that first made kings,
Something like government among them brings ;
For, as with pygmies, who best kills the crane,
Among the hungry he that treasures grain.
Among the blind the one-eyed blinkard reigns.
So rules among the drowned he that drains :
Not who first see the rising sun, commands,
But who could first discern the rising lands ;



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OP MARVELL. 173

Who best could know to pump an earth so leak,
Him they their Lord, and Country's Father,

speak ;
To make a bank, was a great plot of state ;
Invent a shovel, and be a magistrate.
Hence some small dike-grave, unperceived, in-
vades
The power, and grows as 'twere a king of

spades ;
But, for less envy, some joined states endures,
Who look like a commission of the sewei*s :
For these Half-anders, half wet, and half dry.
Nor bear strict service, nor pure liberty.

• 'Tis probable religion, after this.
Came next in order, which they could not miss ;
How could the Dutch but be converted, when
The Apostles were so many fishermen ?
Besides, the waters of themselves did rise.
And, as their land, so them did re-baptize.
Though Herring for their God few voices missed.
And Poor-John to have been the Evangelist,
Faith, that could never twins conceive before.
Never so fertile, spawned upon this shore
More pregnant than their Marg*ret, that laid

down
For Hans-in-Kelder of a whole Hans-Town.

Sure when religion did itself embark.
And from the east would westward. steer its urk,



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174 THE POEMS

It Struck, and splitting on this unknown ground,
Each one thence pilhiged the first piece he

found :
Hence Amsterdam, Turk-Christian-Pagan-Jew,
Staple of sects, and mint of schism grew.
That bank of conscience, where not one so

strange
Opinion but finds credit, and exchange.
In vain for Catholics ourselves we bear ;
The universal church is only there.
Nor can civility there want for tillage,
Where wisely for their court they chose a

village :
How fit a title clothes their governors.
Themselves the hogs, as all their subjects boors I

Let it suffice to give their countiy fame,
That it had one Civilis called by name.
Some fifteen hundred and more years ago,
But surely never any that was so.

See but their mermaids, with their tails of fish,
Reeking at church over the chafing-dish !
A vestal turf, enshrined in earthen ware.
Fumes through the loopholes of a wooden

square ;
Each to the temple with these altars tend.
But still does place it at her western end.
While the fat steam of female sacrifice
Fills the priest's nostrils, and puts out his eyes.



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OF MARYBLL. 175

Or what a spectacle the skipper gross,
A water Hercules, butter Coloss,
Tunned up with all their several towns of beer ;
When, staggering upon some land, snick and

sneer,
The J try, like statuaries, if they can.
Cut out each other's Athos to a man.
And carve in their large bodies, where they

please,
The arms of the United Provinces.
But when such amity at home is showed.
What then are their confederacies abroad ?
Let this one courtesy witness all the rest,
When their whole navy they together pressed,
Not Christian captives to redeem from bands.
Or intercept the western golden sands,
No, but all ancient rights and leagues must fail.
Rather than to the English strike their sail ;
To whom their weather-beaten province owes
Itself, when, as some greater vessel tows
A cock-boat, tossed with the same wind and fate,
We buoyed so often up their sinking state.
Was this^i^ belli et pctcisf Could this be
Cause why their burgomaster of the sea.
Rammed with gunpowder, flaming with brand

wine
Should raging hold his linstock to the mine?
While, with feigned treaties, they invade by

stealth
Our i>ore new-circumcised commonwealth.



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176 THE POEMS

Yet of his vain attempt no more be sees.
Than of case-butter shot, and bullet cheese ;
And the torn navy staggered with him home.
While the sea laughed itself into a foam ;
'Tis true, since that (as fortune kindly sports)
A wholesome danger drove us to our ports,
While half their banished keels the tempest

tossed,
Half bound at home in prison to the frost ;
That ours, meantime, at leisure might careen,
In a calm winter, under skies serene,
As the obsequious air and waters rest,
'Till the dear Halcyon hatch out all its nest
The commonwealth doth by its losses grow,
And, like its own seas, only ebbs to flow ;
Besides, that very agitation laves.
And purges out the corruptible waves.

And now again our armed Bucentore
Doth yearly their sea-nuptials restore ;
And now the Hydra of seven provinces
Is strangled by our infant Hercules.
Their tortoise wants its vainly stretched neck,
Their navy, all our conquest, or our wreck,
Or, what is left, their Carthage overcome,
Would render fain unto our better Rome ;
Unless our senate, lest their youth disuse
The war, (but who would ? ) peace, if begged refuse.
For now of nothing may our state despair.
Darling of heaven, and of men the care.



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OP MARVELL. 177

Provided that they be, what they have been,
Watchful abroad, and honest still within ;
For while our Neptune doth a trident shake,
Steeled with those piercing heads, Dean, Monk,

and Blake,
And while Jove governs in the highest sphere.
Vainly in hell let Pluto domineer.



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178 THE POEMS



FLECNO, AN ENGLISH PKIEST AT ROME.

Obliged by freqaent visits of this maiiy
Whom as priest, poet, and musician,
I for some branch of Melchisedek took,
(Though he derives himself from my Lord

Brooke)
I sought his lodging which is at the sign
Of the sad Pelican, — subject divine
For poetry ; — there, three stair-cases high.
Which signifies his triple property,
I found at last a chamber, as 'twas said.
But seemed a coffin set on the stair's head ;
Not higher than seven, nor larger than three feet,
There neither was or ceiling, or a sheet,
Save that the ingenious door did, as you come.
Turn in, and show to wainscot half the room :
Yet of his state no man could have complained,
There being no bed where he entertained ;
And though within one cell so narrow pent,
He*d . stanzas for a whole apartiment



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OP MARVELL. 179

Straight without farther information,
In hideous verse, he in a dismal tone,
Begins to exorcise, as if I were
Possessed, — and sure the devil brought me

there.
But I, who now imagined myself brought
To my last trial, in a serious thought
Calmed the disorders of my youthful breast,
And to my martyrdom prepared rest.
Only this frail ambition did remain,
The last distemper of the sober brain,
That there had been some present to assure
The future ages how I did endure,
Arid how I, silent, turned my burning ear
Towards the verse, and when that could not

hear.
Held him the other and unchanged yet.
Asked him for more and prayed him to repeat,
Till the tyrant, weary to pei^secute,
Left off, and tried to allure me with his lute.

Now as two instruments to the same key
Being tuned by art, if the one touched be.
The other opposite as soon replies,
Moved by the air and hidden sympathies,
So while he with his gouty finger:? crawls
Over the lute, his murmuring belly calls,
Whose hungry guts, to the same straitness

twined,
In echo to the trembling strings repined.



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180 THE POEMS

I that perceived now what his music meant,
Asked civilly, if he had eat his Lent ?
lie answered yes ; with such, and such a one,
For he has this of generous, that alone
He never feeds, save only when he tries
With gristly tongue to dart the passing flies.
I asked if he eat flesh, and he, that was
So hungry, that though ready to say mass,
Would break his fast before, said he was sick.
And the ordinance was only politic.
Nor was I longer to invite him scant,
Happy at once to make him Protestant
And silent. Nothing now dinner stayed.
But till he had himself a body made,
I mean till he were dressed ; for else so thin
He stands, as if he only fed had been
With consecmted wafers, and the host
Hath sure more flesh and blood than he can boast.
This basso-relievo of a man.
Who, as a camel tall, yet easily can
The needle's eye thread without any stitch,
(His only impossible is to be rich,)
Lest his too subtle body, growing rare,
Should leave his soul to wander in tlie air,
He therefore circumscribes himself in rliymes.
And swaddled in's own papers sewn times,
Wears a close jacket of poetic buff.
With which he doth his third dirnonsiun stuff.
Thus armed underneath, he over ail
Does make a primitive Sotana fail.



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OP MARVELL. 181

And above that yet casts an antique cloak,
Worn at the first council of Antioch,
Which by the Jews long hid, and disesteemed,
He heard of by tradition, and redeemed.
But were he not in this black habit decked,
This half transparent man would soon reflect
Each colour that he past by, and be seen.
As the chameleon, yellow, blue, or green.

He dressed, and ready to disfumish now
His chamber, whose compactness did allow
No empty place for complimenting doubt,
But who came last is forced first to go out ;
I meet one on the stairs who made me stand,
Stopping the passage, and did him demand ;
I answered, " he is here. Sir, but you see
You cannot pass to him but thorough me. '*
He thought himself affronted, and replied,
" I, whom the palace never has denied.
Will make the way here;" I said, "Sir,

you'll do
Me a great favour, for I seek to go. "
He, gathering fury, still made sign to draw.
But himself closed in a scabbard saw
As narrow as his sword's ; and I that was
Delighted, said, " there can no body pass
Except by penetration hither where
To make a crowd, nor can three persons here
Consist but in one substance. " Then, to fit
Our peace, the priest said 1 too had some wit ;



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182 THK POEMS

To prov% I said, ** the place doth us inrite.
By its own nairowDess, Sir, to unite. **
He atked me pardon ; and to make me waj
Went down, as I him foUowed to obey.
Bat the propitiatory priest had straight
Obliged OS, when below, to celebrate
Together oor atonement ; so increased
Betwixt OS two, the dinner to a feast.

Let it soffice that we could eat in peace,
And that both poems did, and quarrel cease
During the table, though my new made friend
Did, as he threatened, ere 'twere long intend
To be both witty and valiant ; I loath.
Said 'twas too late, he was already both.

But now, alas I my first tormentor came,
Who, satisfied with eating, but not tame,
Turns to recite : though judges most severe,
After the assizes' dinner, mild appear,
And on full stomach do condemn hut few.
Yet he more strict my sentence dotli renew,
And draws out of the black box of his breast
Ten quire of paper, in which he was dressed.
Yet that which was a greater cruelty,
Than Nero's poem, he calls charity :
And so the Pelican, at his door hung,
Picks out the tender bosom to its* young.

Of all his poems there he stain Is ungirt,
Save only two foul copies for his shirt ;



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OF MARVELL. 183

Yet these he promises as soon as clean :
But how I loathed to see my neighbour glean
Those papers, which he peeled from within
Like white flakes rising from a leper's skin !
More odious than those rags which the French

youth
At ordinaries after dinner show'th,
When they compare their chancres and poulains !
Yet he flrst kissed them, and after takes pains
To read, and then, because he understood
Not one word, thought and swore that they were

good.
But all his praises could not now appease
The proroked author, whom it did displease
To hear his verses, by so just a curse,
That were ill made, condemned to be read worse :
And how (impossible ! ) he made yet more
Absurdities in them than were before ;
For his untuned voice did fall or raise
As a deaf man upon a viol plays,
Making the half-points and the periods run
Confuseder than the atoms in the sun.
Thereat the poet swelled with anger full.
And roared out like Perillus in*s own bull ;
Sir, you read false. That any one, but you,
Should know the contrary. Whereat, I now
Made mediator in my room^ said why ?
To say that you read false^ Sir, is no lie.
Thereat the waxen youth relented straight.
But saw with sad despair that 'twas too late ;



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184 THE POEMS

For the disdainful poet was retired
Home, his most furious satire to have fired
Against the rebel, who, at tit is struck dead,
Wept bitterly as disinherited.
Who would commend his mistress now ? O who
Praise him ? both difficult indeed to do
With truth. I counselled him to go in time.
Ere the fierce poet's anger turned to rhyme.

He hasted ; and I, finding myself free.
As one 'scaped strangely from captivity,
Have made the chance be painted ; and go now
To hang it in Saint Peter's for a vow*



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OF MARVELL. 185



TOM MAY'S DEATH.

As one put drunk into the packet-boat,

Tom Mat was hurried hence, and did not

know't ;
But was amazed on the Elysian side,
And, with an eye uncertain gazing wide,
Could not determine in what place he was,
(For whence, in Steven's alley, trees or

grass? )
Nor where the Pofie's-Head, nor the Mitre lay,
Signs by which still he found and lost his way
At last, while doubtfully he all compares.
He saw near hand, as he imagined, Abes.
Such did he seem for corpulence and port.
But 'twas a man much of another sort ;
'Twas Ben, that in the dusky laurel shade.
Amongst the chorus of old poets, laid.
Sounding of ancient heroes, such as were
The subject's safety, and the rebel's fear,
And how a double-headed vulture eats
Brutus and CAi^sius, the people's cheats;



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186 THE POEMS

But, seeing Mat, he varied straight his song,
Gently to signify that he was wrong.
* Cups more than civil of Ematbian wine,
I 8ing (said he) and the Pharsalian sign,
Where the historian of the commonwealth.
In his own howels sheathed the conquering

health.
By this Mat to himself and them was come.
He found he was translated, and by whom.
Yet then with foot as stumbling as his tongue.
Pressed for his place among the learned throng ;
But Ben, who knew not either foe or friend.
Sworn enemy to all that do pretend.
Rose more than ever he was seen severe.
Shook his gray locks, and his own bays did tear
At this intrusion ; then, with laurel wand,
The awful sign of his supreme command.
At whose dread whisk Virgil himself does

quake.
And HoBACE patiently its strokes does take.
As he crowds in, he whipped him o'er the pate,
Like Pembroke at the miisque, and then did

rate:

Far from these blessed shades tread back
agen,
Most servile wit, and mercenary pen.



* AUnding to the beginning of May's tnuulation of Lu
CA2«*8 Phanalia.



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OP MARVELL. 187

Polydore, Lucan, Alan, Vandal, Gotb,
Malignant poet and historian both.
Go seek the novice statesmen, and obtrude
On them some Roman cast similitude ;
Tell them of liberty, the story's fine,
Until you all grow consuls in your wine,
Or thou, dictator of the glass, bestow
On him the Cato, this the Cickro,
Ti*ansferring old Rome hither in your talk,.
As Bethlem house did to Loretto walk.
Foul architect ! that hadst not eye to see
How ill the measures of these states agrees .
And who by Rome's example England lay.
Those but to Luc an do continue May ;
But thee, nor ignorance, nor seeming good
Misled, but malice fixed and undei'stood.
Because some one than thee more worthy wears
The sacred laurel, hence are all these tears.
Must therefore all the world be set on flame,
Because a Gazette-writer missed, his aim ?
And for a tankard-bearing muse must we,
As for the basket, Guelphs and Ghibelines be ?
When the sword glitters o'er the judge's head,
And fear has coward churchmen silenced,
Then is the poet's time, *tis then he draws,
And single fights forsaken virtue's cause.
He, when the wheel of empire whirleth back,
And though the world's disjointed axle crack,
Sings still of ancient rights and better times.
Seeks wretched good, arraigns successful crimes ;



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188 THE POBMS

But thou, base man, first prostituted hast.
Our spotless knowledge and the studies chaste,
Apostatizing from our arts and us,
To turn the chronicler to Spabtacus ;
Yet wast thou taken hence with equal fate,
Befgre thou couldst great Chablbs's death re-
late,
But what will deeper wound thy little mind,
Hast lefl surviving Dayenant still behind.
Who laughs to see in this thy death renewed.
Right Roman poverty and gratitude.
Poor poet thou, and grateful senate they.
Who thy last reckoning did so largely pay,
And with the public, gravity would come.
When thou hadst drunk thy last, to lead thee

home.
If that can be thy home where Spexseb lies,
And reverend Chauceb; but their dust does

xise
Against thee, and expels . thee from their side.
As the eagle's plumes from other birds divide :
Nor here thy shade must dwell, return, re-
turn.
Where sulphury Fulegethon does ever burn !
There Cerberus with all his jaws shall gnash,
Megj^ra thee with all her serpents lash ;
Thou, riveted unto Ixion's wheel,
Shalt break and the perpetual vulture feel !
'Tis just what torments poets e'er did feign,
Thou first historically shouldst sustain.



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OF BIARVELL. 189

Thus-, by irrevocable sentence cast,
Mat only master of these revels passed,
And straight he vanished in a cloud of pitch,
Such as unto the sabbath bears the witch.



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190 THE POEMS



OCEANA AND BRITANNIA.

Non ego sum votes, sed prisci conscius isvi.
OCEANA.

Whither, O whither, wander I forlorn,
Fatal to friends, and to my foes a scorn ?
My pregnant womb is laboring to bring forth
Thy offspring, Archon, heir to thy just worth.
Archon, O Archon, hear my groaning cries !
Lucina, help, assuage my miseries !
Saturnian spite pursues me thi-ough the earth.
No corner's left to hide my long wished birth.
Great queen of isles, yield me a safe retreat
From the crowned gods, who would my infants

eat ;
On me, O Delos, on my child-bed, smile.
My happy seed shall fix thy floating isle ;
I feel fierce pangs assault my teeming womb :
Xiucina, O Britannia, mother come !

BRITANNIA.

What doleful shrieks pierce my affrighted ear ?
Shall I ne*er rest for this lewd ravisher?



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OP MARVBLL. 191

Rapes, burnings, murders, are his royal sport,
These modish monsters haunt his peijured court.
No tumbling player so oft e'er changed his shape,
As tliis goat, fox, wolf, timorous French ape.
True Protestants, in Roman habits dressed.
With Scroggs* he baits, that rav'nous butcher's

beast;
Tresilian Jones,t that fair-faced crocodile.
Tearing their hearts, at once doth weep and

smile :
Neronian flames at London do him please,^
At Oxford plots,^ to act A^gathocles.
His plots revealed, his mirth is at an end,
And *6 fatal hour Bhall know no foe nor friend.
Last martyr's day I saw a cherub stand
Across my seas, one foot upon the land,
The other on the enthralled Gallic shore,
Proclaiming loud their time shall be no more.
This mighty power heaven's equal balance swayed,
And in one scale, crowns, crosiers, sceptres, laid ;



* Sir Williftm Scroggs was a judge, of whom Bishop Bur-
net gives this account. ** In ail the trials he set himself,
even with indecent earnestness, to get the prisoners to be
always cast"

t One of the same principles with Scroggs. He was pre-
ferred when Jeffreys was made Lord Chief Justice.

J The fire of London.

^ In the time of the plague, in the year 1665, the court
resided at Oxford, where the parliament wns then held ; at
which time were several private cabals, formed against the
Protestants.



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192 THE POEMS

In ibe other a sweet smiling babe did lie.
Circled with glories, decked with majesty.
With steady hand he poised the golden pair ;
The gilded gewgaws mounted in the air.
The ponderous babe, descending in its scale,

Leaped on my shore

! Nature triumphed, joy echoed through the eai*th,
The heavens bow down to see the blessed birth.
What's that I hear? A new bom babe's soft

cries.
And joyful mother's tender lullabies.
'Tis so ; behold, my daughter's passed all harms,
Cradling an infant in her fruitful arms ;
The very same the angelic vision showed,
In mien, in majesty, how like a god !
What a firm health does on her visage dwell !
Her sparkling eyes immortal youth foretell.
Eome, Sparta, Venice, could not all bring forth
So strong, so temperate, such lasting worth.
Marpesia, from the north with speed advance,
Thy sister's birth brings thy deliverance.
Fergusian founders this just babe exceeds,
In tlie arts of peace, and mighty martial d(3eda.
Kneel, Panopeians, to your equal queen,
Safe from the foreign sword, and barbarous

skene.
Transports of joy divert my yearning heart,
For my dear child, my soul, my better part.
Heaven shower her choicest blessings on thy womb,
Our present help, our stay in time to come !



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OF MiRTELL. 193

Thou best of daughters, mothers, matrons, say
What forced thy birth, and got this glorious day ?

OCEANA.

'Scaped the slow jaws o' the grinding pensioners,
I fell i' the trap of Rome's dire murderers ;
Twice rescued by my loyal senate's power, "
Twice I expected my babe's happy hour.
Malignant force twice checked their pious aid,
And to my foes as oft my state betrayed.
Great, full of pain, in a dark winter's night.
Threatened, pursued, I 'scaped by sudden flight.
Pale fear gave speed to my weak trembling feet.
And far I fled ere day our world could greet.
That dear loved light, which the whole globe

doth cheer,
Spurred on my flight, and ^ded to my fear ;.
Whilst black conspiracy, that child of night,
In royal purple clad, outdares the light ;
By day herself the faith's defender styles.
By night digs pits, and spreads her papal toils :
By day she to the pompous chapel goes.
By night, with York, adores Rome's idol-shows.
Witness, ye stars, and silent powers of night.
Her treacheries have forced my guiltless flight.
With the broad day my danger too drew near ;
Of help, of counsel void, how should I steer !
In pulpit damned, strumpet at court proclaimed,.
Where should I hide, where should I rest

defamed ?
13



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194 THE POEMS

Tortured in thought, I raised mj weeping eyes,

And sobbing voice, to the all-helping skies.

As by heaven sent, a reverend sire appears.

Charming my grief, stopping my flood of tears.

His busy circling orbs, two restless spies.

Glanced to and fro, outranging Argos' eyes ;

Like fleeting Time, on*s front one lock did grow,

From his glib tongue torrents of words did flow ;

Propose, resolve, Agrarian, forty-one,

Lycurgus, Brutus, Solon, Harrington.

He said he knew me in my swaddling bands,

Had often danced me in his careful hands.

He knew Lord Archon too, then wept, and swore,

Enshrined in me, his fame he did adore.

His name I asked ; he said, Politico,

Descended from the divine Nicolo.

My state he knew, my danger seemed to dread,

And to my safety vowed hand, heart, and head.

Grateful returns I up to heaven send.

That in distress Iiad sent me such a friend.

I asked him where I was ? Pointing he showed

Oxford's old towers, once the learned arts'

abode ;
Once great in fame, now a piratic port.
Where Romish priests, and elvish monks

resort.
He added ; near a new-built college stood.
Endowed by Plato, for the public good ;
Thither allured by learned honest men,
Plato vouchsafed once more to live njxaiii.



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OP MARVELL. 195

Securely there I might myself repose,

From ray fierce griefs, and my more cruel foes.

Tired with long flights, e'en hunted down with

fear,
The welcome news my drooping soul did cheer.
His pleasing words shortened the time and way.
And me beguiled at Plato's house to stay.
When we came in, he told me after rest,
He'd show me Plato, and's Venetian guest :
I scarce replied, with weariness oppressed ;
To my desired apartment I repaired,
Invoking sleep, and heaven's almighty guard.
My waking cares, and stabbing frights recede,
And nodding sleep dropped on my drowsy head.
At last the summons of a busy bell.
And glimmering lights did sleep's kind mists

dispel.
From bed I stole, and creeping by the wall.
Through a small chink I spied a spacious hall ;
Tapers, as thick as stai*s, did shed their light
Around the place, and made a day of night.
The curious art of some great master's hand
Adorned the room : Hyde, CliiFord, Danby, stand
In one large piece ; next them, the two Dutch

wars
In bloody colours paint our fatal jars ;
Here London flames in clouds of smoke aspire,
Done to tlie life, I'd almost cried out fire !
But living figures did my eyes divert
From these, and many more of wond'rous art.



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196 THE rOEMS

There entered in three mercenary bands :
The different captains had distinct commands.
The beggar's desperate troop did first appear,

Littleton led, proud S re had the rear.

The disguised papists under Garroway,
Talbot lieutenant, none had better pay.