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Death was half glad when he had got him down;
For he had, any time this ten years full,
Dodg'd with him betwixt Cambridge and The Bull.
And surely Death could never have prevail'd,
Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd;
But lately finding him so long at home,
And thinking now his journey's end was come,
And that he had ta'en up his latest inn,

In the kind office of a chamberlin

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Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night, 15
Pull'd off his boots, and took away the light:

If any ask for him, it shall be said,
'Hobson has supt, and 's newly gone to bed.'
Another on the same.

HERE lieth one, who did most truly prove
That he could never die while he could move;
To hung his destiny, never to rot

While he might still jog on and keep his trot,
Made of sphere-metal, never to decay
Until his revolution was at stay.

Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime
'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time:
And, like an engine, mov'd with wheel and weight,
His principles being ceas'd, he ended straight.
Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death,
And too much breathing put him out of breath;
Nor were it contradiction to affirm,

Too long vacation hasten'd on his term.
Merely to drive the time away he sicken'd,

Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd;
Nay,' quoth he, on his swooning bed outstretch'd,
'If I mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetch'd,

But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers,
For one carrier put down to make six bearers. ›
Ease was his chief disease; and, to judge right,
He died for heaviness that his cart went light:
His leisure told him that his time was come,
And lack of load made his life burdensome,

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That ev'n to his last breath (there be that say't),

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As he were press'd to death, he cried, 'More weight;'

But, had his doings lasted as they were,

He had been an immortal carrier.

Obedient to the moon he spent his date

In course reciprocal, and had his fate

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Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas,

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Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase:
His letters are deliver'd all and gone,

Only remains this superscription,

ON THE NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE,
Under the Long Parliament.

BECAUSE you have thrown off your Prelate lord,
And with stiff vows renounc'd his Liturgy,

Liturg 03

To seize the widow'd whore Plurality
From them whose sin ye envied, not abhorr'd;
Dare ye for this adjure the civil sword

To force our consciences that Christ set free,
And ride us with a classic hierarchy

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Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rotherford?
Men, whose life, learning, faith, and pure intent,
Would have been held in high esteem with Paul, 10
Must now be nam'd and printed Heretics

By shallow Edwards and Scotch what d'ye call:
But we do hope to find out all your tricks,
Your plots and packing worse than those of Trent,
That so the Parliament

May, with their wholesome and preventive shears,
Clip your phylacteries, though balk your ears,
And succour our just fears,
When they shall read this clearly in your charge,
New Presbyter is but Old Priest writ large.

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TRANSLATIONS.

THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE, Lib. I.

WHAT slender youth, bedew'd with liquid odours,
Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave,

Pyrrha? For whom bind'st thou

In wreaths thy golden hair,

Plain in thy neatness? O, how oft shall he

On faith and changed gods complain, and seas
Rough with black winds, and storms
Unwonted shall admire!

Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold,

Who always vacant, always amiable,

Hopes thee, of flattering gales

Unmindful. Hapless they,

To whom thou untried seem'st fair! Me, in my vow'd

Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung

My dank and dropping weeds

To the stern god of sea.

FROM GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH.

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Brutus thus addresses Diana in the Country of Leogecia.
GODDESS of shades, and huntress, who at will
Walk'st on the rolling spheres, and through the deep;
On thy third reign, the earth, look now, and tell
What land, what seat of rest, thou bidd'st me seek,
What certain seat, where I may worship thee
For aye, with temples vow'd and virgin quires.

To whom, sleeping before the Altar, Diana answers in a
Vision the same Night.

BRUTUS, far to the west, in the ocean wide,
Beyond the realm of Gaul, a land there lies,
Sea-girt it lies, where giants dwelt of old;
Now void, it fits thy people: thither bend
Thy course; there shalt thou find a lasting seat;
There to thy sons another Troy shall rise,

And kings be born of thee, whose dreadful might
Shall awe the world, and conquer nations bold.
FROM DANTE.

AH Constantine, of how much ill was cause,
Not thy conversion, but those rich domains
That the first wealthy pope receiv'd of thee!
FROM DANTE.

FOUNDED in chaste and humble poverty,
'Gainst them that rais'd thee dost thou lift thy horn?
Impudent whore, where hast thou placed thy hope?
In thy adulterers, or thy ill-got wealth?
Another Constantine comes not in haste.

FROM ARIOSTO.

THEN pass'd he to a flow'ry mountain green,
Which once smelt sweet, now stinks as odiously:
This was the gift, if you the truth will have,
That Constantine to good Sylvester gave.

FROM HORACE.

WHOM do we count a good man? Whom but he
Who keeps the laws and statutes of the senate,
Who judges in great suits and controversies,
Whose witness and opinion wins the cause?
But his own house, and the whole neighbourhood,
Sees his foul inside through his whiteď skin.

FROM EURIPIDES.

THIS is true liberty, when freeborn men,
Having t' advise the public, may speak free;
Which he who can, and will, deserves high praise:
Who neither can, nor will, may hold his peace;
What can be juster in a state than this?

FROM HORACE.

LAUGHING, to teach the truth, What hinders? As some teachers give to boys Junkets and knacks, that they may learn apace. FROM HORACE.

JOKING decides great things, Stronger and better oft than earnest can.

FROM SOPHOCLES.

'Tis you that say it, not I. You do the deeds, And your ungodly deeds find me the words.

FROM SENECA,

THERE can be slain

No sacrifice to God more acceptable,
Than an unjust and wicked king.

PSALM S.

PSALM I.

(Done into verse 1653.)

BLESS'D is the man who hath not walk'd astray
In counsel of the wicked, and i' the way
Of sinners hath not stood, and in the scat
Of scorners hath not sat. But in the great
Jehovah's law is ever his delight,

And in his law he studies day and night.
He shall be as a tree which planted grows
By watery streams, and in his season knows
To yield his fruit, and his leaf shall not fall,
And what he takes in hand shall prosper all.
Not so the wicked, but as chaff which fann'd
The wind drives, so the wicked shall not stand
In judgement, or abide their trial then,
Nor sinners in the assembly of just men;
For the Lord knows the upright way of the just,
And the way of bad men to ruin must.

PSALM II.

(Done August 8, 1653.)
Terzetti.

WHY do the Gentiles tumult, and the nations
Muse a vain thing, the kings of the earth upstand
With power, and princes in their congregations
Lay deep their plots together through each land
Against the Lord and his Messiah dear?

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Let us break off, say they, by strength of hand Their bonds, and cast from us, no more to wear,

Their twisted cords. He, who in heaven doth dwell, Shall augh; the Lord shall scoff them; then severe,

Speak to them in his wrath, and in his fell

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And fierce ire trouble them. But I, saith he,
Anointed have my King (though ye rebel)

On Sion my holy hill. A firm decree

I will declare: the Lord to me hath said, Thou art my Son, I have begotten thee This day; ask of me, and the grant is made: As thy possession I on thee bestow

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The Heathen; and, as thy conquest to be sway'd,

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Earth's utmost bounds: them shalt thou bring full low
With iron scepter bruis'd, and them disperse
Like to a potter's vessel shiver'd so.
And now be wise at length, ye kings averse,
Be taught, ye judges of the earth; with fear
Jehovah serve, and let your joy converse
With trembling; kiss the Son, lest he appear
In anger, and ye perish in the way.

If once his wrath take fire, like fuel sere,
Happy all those who have in him their stay.

PSALM III.

(August 9, 1653.)

When he fled from Absalom.

LORD, how many are my foes!

How many those

That in arms against me rise!

Many are they,

That of my life distrustfully thus say:

No help for him in God there lies.

But thou, Lord, art my shield, my glory,
Thee through my story,

The exalter of my head I count:
Aloud I cried

Unto Jehovah, he full soon replied,

And heard me from his holy mount.

I lay and slept; I wak'd again;
For my sustain

Was the Lord. Of many millions

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The populous rout

I fear not, though, encamping round about,

They pitch against me their pavilions.

Rise, Lord; save me, my God; for Thou

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Hast smote ere now

On the cheek-bone all my foes,

Of man abhorr'd

Hast broke the teeth. This help was from the

Lord;

Thy blessing on thy people flows.

PSALM IV.

(August 10, 1653.)

ANSWER me when I call,
God of my righteousness;
In straits and in distress,
Thou didst me disenthrall

And set at large; now spare,

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Now pity me, and hear my earnest prayer.

Great ones, how long will ye

My glory have in scorn?

How long be thus forborn

Still to love vanity?

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