So will our God rebuild mans perisht frame,
And raise him up much Better, yet the same.
So God-like Poets do past things reherse,
Not change, but Heighten Nature by their Verse.
With shame, methinks, great Italy must see
Her Conqu'erors rais'ed to Life again by Thee.
Rais'd by such pow'erful Verse, that ancient Rome
May blush no less to see her Wit o'recome.
Some men their Fancies like their Faith derive,
And think all Ill but that which Rome does give.
The Marks of Old and Catholick would find,
To the same Chair would Truth and Fiction bind.
Thou in those beaten pathes disdain'st to tred,
And scorn'st to Live by robbing of the Dead.
Since Time does all things change, thou think'st not fit
This latter Age should see all New but Wit.
Thy Fancy like a Flame its way does make,
And leave bright Tracks for following Pens to take.
Sure 'twas this noble boldness of the Muse
Did thy desire to seek new Worlds infuse,
And ne're did Heav'n so much a Voyage bless,
If thou canst Plant but there with like success.
An Answer to a Copy of Verses sent me to
Jersey.
to a Northern People (whom the Sun
Uses just as the Romish Church has done
Her Prophane Laity, and does assign
Bread only both to serve for Bread and Wine)
A rich Canary Fleet welcome arrives;
Such comfort to us here your Letter gives,
Fraught with brisk racy Verses, in which we
The Soil from whence they came, tast, smell, and see:
Such is your Present to'us; for you must know,
Sir, that Verse does not in this Island grow
No more then Sack; One lately did not fear
(Without the Muses leave) to plant it here.
But it produc'd such base, rough, crabbed, hedge
Rhymes, as ev'en set the hearers Ears on Edge.
Written by
Esquire, the
Year of our Lord six hundred thirty three.
Brave Jersey Muse! and he's for this high stile
Call'd to this day the Homer of the Isle.
Alas, to men here no Words less hard be
To Rhime with, then Mount Orgueil is to me.
Mount Orgueil, which in scorn o'th' Muses law
With no yoke-fellow Word will daign to draw.
Stubborn Mount Orgueil! 'tis a work to make it
Come into Rhime, more hard then 'twere to take it.
Alas, to bring your Tropes and Figures here,
Strange as to bring Camels and Elephants were.
And Metaphor is so unknown a thing,
"Twould need the Preface of, God save the King.
Yet this I'll say for th' honor of the place,
That by Gods extraordinary Grace
(Which shows the people'have judgment, if not Wit)
The land is undefil'd with Clinches yet.
Which in my poor opinion, I confess,
Is a most sing'ular blessing, and no less
Then Irelands wanting Spiders. And so far
From th' Actual Sin of Bombast too they are,
(That other Crying Sin o'th' English Muse)
That even Satan himself can accuse
None here (no not so much as the Divines)
For th' Motus primò primi to Strong Lines.
Well, since the soil then does not natu'rally bear
Verse, who (a Devil) should import it here?
For that to me would seem as strange a thing
As who did first Wild Beasts into 'Islands bring.
Unless you think that it might taken be
As Green did Gond'ibert, in a Prize at Sea.
But that's a Fortune falls not every day;
'Tis true Green was made by it; for they say
The Parlament did a noble bounty do,
And gave him the whole Prize, their Tenths and Fifteens too.
* The name of one of the Castles in Jersey.
That there is no Knowledge.
He sacred Tree midst the fair Orchard grew;
The Phoenix Truth did on it rest,
And built his perfum'd Nest.
That right Porphyrian Tree which did true Logick shew, Each Leaf did learned Notions give,
And th' Apples were Demonstrative.
So clear their Colour and divine,
The very shade they cast did other Lights out-shine.
Taste not, said God; 'tis mine and Angels meat;
A certain Death does sit
Like an ill Worm i'th' Core of it.
Ye cannot Know and Live, nor Live or Know and Eat.
Thus spoke God, yet Man did go
Ignorantly on to Know;
Grew so more blind, and she
Who tempted him to this, grew yet more Blind then He.
The onely Science Man by this did get,
Was but to know he nothing Knew:
He straight his Nakedness did view,
His ign'orant poor estate, and was asham'd of it.
Yet searches Probabilities,
And Rhetorick, and Fallacies,
And seeks by useless pride
With slight and withering Leaves that Nakedness to hide.
Henceforth, said God, the wretched Sons of earth
Shall sweat for Food in vain
That will not long sustain,
And bring with Labor forth each fond Abortive Birth.
That Serpent too, their Pride,
Which aims at things deny'd,
That learn'd and eloquent Lust
Instead of Mounting high, shall creep upon the Dust.
The use of it in Divine Matters.
Ome blind themselves, 'cause possibly they may
Som Be led by others a right way;
They build on Sands, which if unmov'd they find,
'Tis but because there was no Wind.
Less hard 'tis, not to Erre our selves, then know
If our Fore-fathers err'd or no.
When we trust Men concerning God, we then
Trust not God concerning Men.
Visions and Inspirations some expect
Their course here to direct,
Like senseless Chymists their own wealth destroy,
Imaginary Gold t'enjoy.
So Stars appear to drop to us from skie,
And gild the passage as they fly:
But when they fall, and meet th'opposing ground,
What but a sordid Slime is found?
Sometimes their Fancies they 'bove Reason set,
And Fast, that they may Dream of meat.
Sometimes ill Spirits their sickly souls delude,
And Bastard-Forms obtrude.
So Endors wretched Sorceress, although
She Saul through his disguise did know,
Yet when the Dev'il comes up disguis'd, she cries,
Behold, the Gods arise.
In vain, alas, these outward Hopes are try'd;
Reason within's our onely Guide.
Reason, which (God be prais'd!) still Walks, for all
It's old Original Fall.
And since it self the boundless Godhead joyn'd
With a Reasonable Mind,
It plainly shows that Mysteries Divine
May with our Reason joyn.
The Holy Book, like the eighth Sphere, does shine
With thousand Lights of Truth Divine.
So numberless the Stars, that to the Eye,
It makes but all one Galaxie.
Yet Reason must assist too, for in Seas
So vast and dangerous as these,
Our course by Stars above we cannot know,
Without the Compass too below.
Though Reason cannot through Faiths Myst'eries see, It sees that There and such they be;
Leads to Heav'ens Door, and there does humbly keep, And there through Chinks and Key-holes peep.
Though it, like Moses, by a sad command
Must not come in to th' Holy Land,
Yet thither it infallibly does Guid,
And from afar 'tis all Descry'd.
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