JOHN MILTON from Paradise Lost 1667
	from Book I [Invocation]
	OF Mans First Disobedience, and the Fruit
	Of that Forbidd’n Tree, whose mortal tast
	Brought Death into the World, and all our woe,
	With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
	Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat,
	Sing Heav’nly Muse, that on the secret top
	Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
	That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen Seed,
	In the Beginning how the Heav’ns and Earth
	Rose out of Chaos: Or if Sion Hill
	Delight thee more, and Siloa’s Brook that flowd
	Fast by the Oracle of God; I thence
	Invoke thy aid to my adventrous Song,
	That with no middle flight intends to soar
	Above th’ Aonian Mount; while it persues
	Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rime.
	And chiefly Thou O Spirit, that dost preferr
	Before all Temples th’ upright heart and pure,
	Instruct me, for Thou know’st; Thou from the first
	Wast present, and with mighty wings outspred
	Dove-like satst brooding on the vast Abyss
	And mad’st it pregnant: What in mee is dark
	Illumin, what is low raise and support;
	That to the highth of this great Argument
	I may assert Eternal Providence,
	And justifie the wayes of God to men.
	from Book I [‘Satan with his Angels now fallen into Hell’]
	Is this the Region, this the Soil, the Clime,
	Said then the lost Arch-Angel, this the seat
	That we must change for Heav’n, this mournful gloom
	For that celestial light? Be it so, since hee
	Who now is Sovran can dispose and bid
	What shall be right: fardest from him is best
	Whom reason hath equald, force hath made supream
	Above his equals. Farewel happy Fields
	Where Joy for ever dwells: Hail horrours, hail
	Infernal World, and thou profoundest Hell
	Receive thy new Possessor: One who brings
	A mind not to be chang’d by Place or Time.
	The mind is its own place, and in it self
	Can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n.
	What matter where, if I be still the same,
	And what I should be, all but less then hee
	Whom Thunder hath made greater? Here at least
	We shall be free; th’ Almighty hath not built
	Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
	Here we may reign secure, and in my choice
	To reign is worth ambition though in Hell:
	Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav’n.
	But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
	Th’ associats and copartners of our loss
	Lye thus astonisht on th’ oblivious Pool,
	And call them not to share with us their part
	In this unhappy Mansion; or once more
	With rallied Arms to try what may be yet
	Regaind in Heav’n, or what more lost in Hell?
	So Satan spake, and him Bëëlzebub
	Thus answerd. Leader of those Armies bright,
	Which but th’ Omnipotent none could have foild,
	If once they hear that voice, thir liveliest pledge
	Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft
	In worst extreams, and on the perilous edge
	Of battel when it rag’d, in all assaults
	Thir surest signal, they will soon resume
	New courage and revive, though now they lye
	Groveling and prostrate on yon Lake of Fire,
	As wee erewhile, astounded and amaz’d:
	No wonder, fall’n such a pernicious highth.
	He scarce had ceas’t when the superiour Fiend
	Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield
	Ethereal temper, massy, large and round,
	Behind him cast; the broad circumference
	Hung on his shoulders like the Moon, whose Orb
	Through Optic Glass the Tuscan Artist views
	At Ev’ning from the top of Fesole,
	Or in Valdarno, to descry new Lands,
	Rivers or Mountains in her spotty Globe.
	His Spear, to equal which the tallest Pine
	Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the Mast
	Of some great Ammiral, were but a wand,
	He walkd with, to support uneasie steps
	Over the burning Marie, not like those steps
	On Heavens Azure; and the torrid Clime
	Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with Fire;
	Nathless he so endur’d, till on the Beach
	Of that inflamed Sea, he stood and calld
	His Legions, Angel Forms, who lay intranst
	Thick as Autumnal Leaves that strow the Brooks
	In Vallombrosa, where th’ Etrurian shades
	High overarcht imbowr; or scatterd sedge
	Afloat, when with fierce Winds Orion armd
	Hath vext the Red-Sea Coast, whose waves orethrew
	Busiris and his Memphian Chivalrie,
	While with perfidious hatred they persu’d
	The Sojourners of Goshen, who beheld
	From the safe shore thir floating Carcasses
	And brok’n Chariot Wheels. So thick bestrown
	Abject and lost lay these, covering the Flood,
	Under amazement of thir hideous change.
	He calld so loud, that all the hollow deeps
	Of Hell resounded.
	from Book IX [‘The Serpent finds Eve alone’]
	For now, and since first break of dawne the Fiend,
	Meer Serpent in appearance, forth was come,
	And on his Quest, where likeliest he might finde
	The onely two of Mankinde, but in them
	The whole included Race, his purposd prey.
	In Bowre and Field he sought, where any tuft
	Of Grove or Garden-Plot more pleasant lay,
	Thir tendance or Plantation for delight,
	By Fountain or by shadie Rivulet
	He sought them both, but wishd his hap might find
	Eve separate, he wishd, but not with hope
	Of what so seldom chanc’d, when to his wish,
	Beyond his hope, Eve separate he spies,
	Veild in a Cloud of Fragrance, where she stood,
	Half spi’d, so thick the Roses bushing round
	About her glowd, oft stooping to support
	Each Flour of slender stalk, whose head though gay
	Carnation, Purple, Azure, or spect with Gold,
	Hung drooping unsustaind, them she upstaies
	Gently with Mirtle band, mindless the while,
	Her self, though fairest unsupported Flour,
	From her best prop so farr, and storm so nigh.
	Neerer he drew, and many a walk travers’d
	Of stateliest Covert, Cedar, Pine, or Palme,
	Then voluble and bold, now hid, now seen
	Among thick-woven Arborets and Flours
	Imborderd on each Bank, the hand of Eve:
	Spot more delicious then those Gardens feignd
	Or of reviv’d Adonis, or renownd
	Alcinous, host of old Laertes Son,
	Or that, not Mystic, where the Sapient King
	Held dalliance with his faire Egyptian Spouse.
	Much he the Place admir’d, the Person more.
	As one who long in populous City pent,
	Where Houses thick and Sewers annoy the Aire,
	Forth issuing on a Summers Morn to breathe
	Among the pleasant Villages and Farmes
	Adjoind, from each thing met conceaves delight,
	The smell of Grain, or tedded Grass, or Kine,
	Or Dairie, each rural sight, each rural sound;
	If chance with Nymphlike step fair Virgin pass,
	What pleasing seemd, for her now pleases more,
	Shee most, and in her look summs all Delight.
	Such Pleasure took the Serpent to behold
	This Flourie Plat, the sweet recess of Eve
	Thus earlie, thus alone; her Heav’nly forme
	Angelic, but more soft, and Feminine,
	Her graceful Innocence, her every Aire
	Of gesture or lest action overawd
	His Malice, and with rapin sweet bereav’d
	His fierceness of the fierce intent it brought:
	That space the Evil one abstracted stood
	From his own evil, and for the time remaind
	Stupidly good, of enmitie disarmd,
	Of guile, of hate, of envie, of revenge;
	But the hot Hell that alwayes in him burnes,
	Though in mid Heav’n, soon ended his delight,
	And tortures him now more, the more he sees
	Of pleasure not for him ordaind: then soon
	Fierce hate he recollects, and all his thoughts
	Of mischief, gratulating, thus excites.
	Thoughts, whither have ye led me, with what sweet
	Compulsion thus transported to forget
	What hither brought us, hate, not love, nor hope
	Of Paradise for Hell, hope here to taste
	Of pleasure, but all pleasure to destroy,
	Save what is in destroying, other joy
	To mee is lost.
	from Book XI [‘Michael sets before Adam in vision what shall happ’n till the Flood’]
	To whom thus Michael. Those whom last thou sawst
	In triumph and luxurious wealth, are they
	First seen in acts of prowess eminent
	And great exploits, but of true vertu void;
	Who having spilt much blood, and don much waste
	Subduing Nations, and achievd thereby
	Fame in the World, high titles, and rich prey,
	Shall change thir course to pleasure, ease, and sloth,
	Surfet, and lust, till wantonness and pride
	Raise out of friendship hostil deeds in Peace.
	The conquerd also, and enslav’d by Warr
	Shall with thir freedom lost all vertu loose
	And feare of God, from whom thir pietie feignd
	In sharp contest of Battel found no aide
	Against invaders; therefore coold in zeale
	Thenceforth shall practice how to live secure,
	Worldlie or dissolute, on what thir Lords
	Shall leave them to enjoy; for th’ Earth shall bear
	More then anough, that temperance may be tri’d:
	So all shall turn degenerat, all deprav’d,
	Justice and Temperance, Truth and Faith forgot;
	One Man except, the onely Son of light
	In a dark Age, against example good,
	Against allurement, custom, and a World
	Offended; fearless of reproach and scorn,
	Or violence, hee of thir wicked wayes
	Shall them admonish, and before them set
	The paths of righteousness, how much more safe,
	And full of peace, denouncing wrauth to come
	On thir impenitence; and shall returne
	Of them derided, but of God observd
	The one just Man alive; by his command
	Shall build a wondrous Ark, as thou beheldst,
	To save himself and houshold from amidst
	A World devote to universal rack.
	No sooner hee with them of Man and Beast
	Select for life shall in the Ark be lodg’d,
	And shelterd round, but all the Cataracts
	Of Heav’n set op’n on the Earth shall powre
	Raine day and night, all fountains of the Deep
	Broke up, shall heave the Ocean to usurp
	Beyond all bounds, till inundation rise
	Above the highest Hills: then shall this Mount
	Of Paradise by might of Waves be moovd
	Out of his place, pusht by the horned floud,
	With all his verdure spoild, and Trees adrift
	Down the great River to the op’ning Gulf,
	And there take root an Iland salt and bare,
	The haunt of Seales and Ores, and Sea-mews clang.
	from Book XII [‘Adam and Eve led out of Paradise’]
	but now lead on;
	In mee is no delay; with thee to goe,
	Is to stay here; without thee here to stay,
	Is to go hence unwilling; thou to mee
	Art all things under Heav’n, all places thou,
	Who for my wilful crime art banisht hence.
	This furder consolation yet secure
	I carry hence: though all by mee is lost,
	Such favour I unworthie am voutsaft,
	By mee the Promisd Seed shall all restore.
	So spake our Mother Eve, and Adam heard
	Well pleas’d, but answerd not; for now too nigh
	Th’ Arch-Angel stood, and from the other Hill
	To thir fixt Station, all in bright array
	The Cherubim descended; on the ground
	Gliding meteorous, as Ev’ning Mist
	Ris’n from a River ore the marish glides,
	And gathers ground fast at the Labourers heel
	Homeward returning. High in Front advanc’t,
	The brandisht Sword of God before them blaz’d
	Fierce as a Comet; which with torrid heat,
	And vapour as the Libyan Air adust,
	Began to parch that temperat Clime; whereat
	In either hand the hastning Angel caught
	Our lingring Parents, and to th’ Eastern Gate
	Led them direct, and down the Cliff as fast
	To the subjected Plaine; then disappeerd.
	They looking back, all th’ Eastern side beheld
	Of Paradise, so late thir happie seat,
	Wav’d over by that flaming Brand, the Gate
	With dreadful Faces throngd and fierie Armes:
	Som natural tears they dropd, but wip’d them soon;
	The World was all before them, where to choose
	Thir place of rest, and Providence thir guide:
	They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow,
	Through Eden took thir solitarie way.
	KATHERINE PHILIPS An Answer to Another Perswading a Lady to Marriage
	Forbear bold Youth, all’s Heaven here,
	And what you do aver,
	To others Courtship may appear,
	’Tis Sacriledge to her.
	She is a publick Deity,
	And were’t not very odd
	She should depose her self to be
	A petty Houshold God?
	First make the Sun in private shine,
	And bid the World adieu,
	That so he may his beams confine
	In complement to you.
	But if of that you do despair,
	Think how you did amiss,
	To strive to fix her beams which are
	More bright and large than this.
	KATHERINE PHILIPS To My Excellent Lucasia, on Our Friendship. 17th. July 1651
	I did not live until this time
	Crown’d my felicity,
	When I could say without a crime,
	I am not Thine, but Thee.
	This Carkasse breath’d, and walk’d, and slept,
	So that the world believ’d
	There was a soule the motions kept;
	But they were all deceiv’d.
	For as a watch by art is wound
	To motion, such was mine:
	But never had Orinda found
	A Soule till she found thine;
	Which now inspires, cures and supply’s,
	And guides my darken’d brest:
	For thou art all that I can prize,
	My Joy, my Life, my rest.
	Nor Bridegroomes nor crown’d conqu’rour’s mirth
	To mine compar’d can be:
	They have but pieces of this Earth,
	I’ve all the world in thee.
	Then let our flame still light and shine,
	(And no false feare controule)
	As inocent as our design,
	Immortall as our Soule.
	KATHERINE PHILIPS To my Lord Biron’s Tune of — Adieu Phillis
	’Tis true, our life is but a long disease,
	Made up of reall pain and seeming ease;
	You stars, who these entangled fortunes give,
	O tell me why
	It is so hard to dy,
	Yet such a task to live?
	If with some pleasure we our griefs betray,
	It costs us dearer then it can repay:
	For time or fortune all things so devours;
	Our hopes are cross’d,
	Or els the object lost,
	Ere we can call it ours.
	SIR JOHN DENHAM Sarpedon’s Speech to Glaucus in the 12th Book of Homer 1668
	Thus to Glaucus spake
	Divine Sarpedon, since he did not find
	Others as great in Place, as great in Mind.
	Above the rest, why is our Pomp, our Power?
	Our flocks, our herds, and our possessions more?
	Why all the Tributes Land and Sea affords
	Heap’d in great Chargers, load our sumptuous boards?
	Our chearful Guests carowse the sparkling tears
	Of the rich Grape, whilst Musick charms their ears.
	Why as we pass, do those on Xanthus shore,
	As Gods behold us, and as Gods adore?
	But that as well in danger, as degree,
	We stand the first; that when our Lycians see
	Our brave examples, they admiring say,
	Behold our Gallant Leaders! These are They
	Deserve the Greatness; and un-envied stand:
	Since what they act, transcends what they command.
	Could the declining of this Fate (oh friend)
	Our Date to Immortality extend?
	Or if Death sought not them, who seek not Death,
	Would I advance? Or should my vainer breath
	With such a Glorious Folly thee inspire?
	But since with Fortune Nature doth conspire,
	Since Age, Disease, or some less noble End,
	Though not less certain, doth our days attend;
	Since ’tis decreed, and to this period lead,
	A thousand ways the noblest path we’ll tread;
	And bravely on, till they, or we, or all,
	A common Sacrifice to Honour fall.
	JOHN MILTON from Samson Agonistes
	but chief of all,
	O loss of sight, of thee I most complain!
	Blind among enemies, O worse then chains,
	Dungeon, or beggery, or decrepit age!
	Light the prime work of God to mee is extinct,
	And all her various objects of delight
	Annulld, which might in part my grief have eas’d,
	Inferiour to the vilest now become
	Of man or worm; the vilest here excell me,
	They creep, yet see, I dark in light expos’d
	To daily fraud, contempt, abuse and wrong,
	Within doors, or without, still as a fool,
	In power of others, never in my own;
	Scarce half I seem to live, dead more then half.
	O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,
	Irrecoverably dark, total Eclipse
	Without all hope of day!
	O first created Beam, and thou great Word,
	Let ther be light, and light was over all;
	Why am I thus bereav’d thy prime decree?
	The Sun to me is dark
	And silent as the Moon,
	When she deserts the night
	Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
	Since light so necessary is to life,
	And almost life itself, if it be true
	That light is in the Soul,
	She all in every part; why was the sight
	To such a tender ball as th’ eye confin’d?
	So obvious and so easie to be quencht,
	And not as feeling through all parts diffus’d,
	That she might look at will through every pore?
	Then had I not bin thus exil’d from light;
	As in the land of darkness yet in light,
	To live a life half dead, a living death,
	And buried; but O yet more miserable!
	My self, my Sepulcher, a moving Grave,
	Buried, yet not exempt
	By priviledge of death and burial
	From worst of other evils, pains and wrongs,
	But made hereby obnoxious more
	To all the miseries of life,
	Life in captivity
	Among inhuman foes.
	(… )
	CHORUS
	Which shall I first bewail,
	Thy Bondage or lost Sight,
	Prison within Prison
	Inseparably dark?
	Thou art become (O worst imprisonment!)
	The Dungeon of thy self; thy Soul
	(Which Men enjoying sight oft without cause complain)
	Imprisond now indeed;
	In real darkness of the body dwells,
	Shut up from outward light
	To incorporate with gloomy night;
	For inward light alas
	Puts forth no visual beam.
	O mirror of our fickle state,
	Since man on earth unparalleld!
	The rarer thy example stands,
	By how much from the top of wondrous glory,
	Strongest of mortal men,
	To lowest pitch of abject fortune thou art fall’n.
	For him I reckon’d not in high estate
	Whom long descent of birth
	Or the sphear of fortune raises;
	But thee whose strength, while vertue was her mate,
	Might have subdu’d the Earth,
	Universally crowned with highest praises.
	(… )
	CHORUS
	All is best, though we oft doubt,
	What th’ unsearchable dispose
	Of highest wisdom brings about,
	And ever best found in the close.
	Oft he seems to hide his face,
	But unexpectedly returns
	And to his faithful Champion hath in place
	Bore witness gloriously; whence Gaza mourns
	And all that band them to resist
	His uncontroulable intent;
	His servants hee with new acquist
	Of true experience from this great event
	With peace and consolation hath dismist,
	And calm of mind all passion spent.
1671	THOMAS TRAHERNE from Centuries of Meditations
	The Corn was Orient and Immortal Wheat, which never should be reaped, nor was ever sown. I thought it had stood from Everlasting to Everlasting. The Dust and Stones of the Street were as Precious as GOLD. The Gates were at first the End of the World, The Green Trees when I saw them first through one of the Gates Transported and Ravished me; their Sweetnes and unusual Beauty made my Heart to leap, and almost mad with Extasie, they were such strange and Wonderfull Things: The Men! O what Venerable and Reverend Creatures did the Aged seem! Immortal Cherubims! And yong Men Glittering and Sparkling Angels and Maids strange Seraphick Pieces of Life and Beauty! Boys and Girles Tumbling in the Street, and Playing, were moving Jewels. I knew not that they were Born or should Die. But all things abided Eternaly as they were in their Proper Places. Eternity was Manifest in the Light of the Day, and som thing infinit Behind evry thing appeared: which talked with my Expectation and moved my Desire. The Citie seemed to stand in Eden, or to be Built in Heaven. The Streets were mine, the Temple was mine, the People were mine, their Clothes and Gold and Silver was mine, as much as their Sparkling Eys fair Skins and ruddy faces. The Skies were mine, and so were the Sun and Moon and Stars, and all the World was mine, and I the only Spectator and Enjoyer of it. I knew no Churlish Proprieties, nor Bounds nor Divisions: but all Proprieties and Divisions were mine: all Treasures and the Possessors of them. So that with much adoe I was corrupted; and made to learn the Dirty Devices of this World. Which now I unlearn, and becom as it were a little Child again, that I may enter into the Kingdom of GOD.
	(1908)
	THOMAS TRAHERNE Wonder
	How like an Angel came I down!
	How Bright are all Things here!
	When first among his Works I did appear
	O how their GLORY me did Crown?
	The World resembled his Eternities,
	In which my Soul did Walk;
	And evry Thing that I did see,
	Did with me talk.
	The Skies in their Magnificence,
	The Lively, Lovely Air;
	Oh how Divine, how soft, how Sweet, how fair!
	The Stars did entertain my Sence,
	And all the Works of GOD so Bright and pure,
	So Rich and Great did seem,
	As if they ever must endure,
	In my Esteem.
	A Native Health and Innocence
	Within my Bones did grow,
	And while my GOD did all his Glories shew,
	I felt a Vigour in my Sence
	That was all SPIRIT. I within did flow
	With Seas of Life, like Wine;
	I nothing in the World did know,
	But ’twas Divine.
	Harsh ragged Objects were conceald,
	Oppressions Tears and Cries,
	Sins, Griefs, Complaints, Dissentions, Weeping Eys,
	Were hid: and only Things reveald,
	Which Heav’nly Spirits, and the Angels prize.
	The State of Innocence
	And Bliss, not Trades and Poverties,
	Did fill my Sence.
	The Streets were pavd with Golden Stones,
	The Boys and Girles were mine,
	Oh how did all their Lovly faces shine!
	The Sons of Men were Holy Ones.
	Joy, Beauty, Welfare did appear to me,
	And evry Thing which here I found,
	While like an Angel I did see,
	Adornd the Ground.
	Rich Diamond and Pearl and Gold
	In evry Place was seen;
	Rare Splendors, Yellow, Blew, Red, White and Green,
	Mine Eys did evrywhere behold,
	Great Wonders clothd with Glory did appear,
	Amazement was my Bliss.
	That and my Wealth was evry where:
	No Joy to this!
	Cursd and Devisd Proprieties,
	With Envy, Avarice
	And Fraud, those Feinds that Spoyl even Paradice,
	Fled from the Splendor of mine Eys.
	And so did Hedges, Ditches, Limits, Bounds,
	I dreamd not ought of those,
	But wanderd over all mens Grounds,
	And found Repose.
	Proprieties themselvs were mine,
	And Hedges Ornaments;
	Walls, Boxes, Coffers, and their rich Contents
	Did not Divide my Joys, but shine.
	Clothes, Ribbans, Jewels, Laces, I esteemd
	My Joys by others worn;
	For me they all to wear them seemd
	When I was born.
	(1903)
	THOMAS TRAHERNE Shadows in the Water
	In unexperienc’d Infancy
	Many a sweet Mistake doth ly:
	Mistake tho false, intending tru;
	A Seeming somwhat more than View;
	That doth instruct the Mind
	In Things that ly behind,
	And many Secrets to us show
	Which afterwards we com to know.
	Thus did I by the Water’s brink
	Another World beneath me think;
	And while the lofty spacious Skies
	Reversed there abus’d mine Eys,
	I fancy’d other Feet
	Came mine to touch and meet;
	As by som Puddle I did play
	Another World within it lay.
	Beneath the Water Peeple drown’d.
	Yet with another Hev’n crown’d,
	In spacious Regions seem’d to go
	Freely moving to and fro:
	In bright and open Space
	I saw their very face;
	Eys, Hands, and Feet they had like mine;
	Another Sun did with them shine.
	’Twas strange that Peeple there should walk,
	And yet I could not hear them talk:
	That throu a little watry Chink,
	Which one dry Ox or Horse might drink,
	We other Worlds should see,
	Yet not admitted be;
	And other Confines there behold
	Of Light and Darkness, Heat and Cold.
	I call’d them oft, but call’d in vain;
	No Speeches we could entertain:
	Yet did I there expect to find
	Som other World, to pleas my Mind.
	I plainly saw by these
	A new Antipodes,
	Whom, tho they were so plainly seen,
	A Film kept off that stood between.
	By walking Men’s reversed Feet
	I chanc’d another World to meet;
	Tho it did not to View exceed
	A Phantasm, ’tis a World indeed,
	Where Skies beneath us shine,
	And Earth by Art divine
	Another face presents below,
	Where Peeple’s feet against Ours go.
	Within the Regions of the Air,
	Compass’d about with Hev’ns fair,
	Great Tracts of Land there may be found
	Enricht with Fields and fertil Ground;
	Where many num’rous Hosts,
	In those far distant Coasts,
	For other great and glorious Ends,
	Inhabit, my yet unknown Friends.
	O ye that stand upon the Brink,
	Whom I so near me, throu the Chink,
	With Wonder see: What Faces there,
	Whose Feet, whose Bodies, do ye wear?
	I my Companions see
	In You, another Me.
	They seemed Others, but are We;
	Our second Selvs those Shadows be.
	Look how far off those lower Skies
	Extend themselvs! scarce with mine Eys
	I can them reach. O ye my Friends,
	What Secret borders on those Ends?
	Are lofty Hevens hurl’d
	’Bout your inferior World?
	Are ye the Representatives
	Of other Peopl’s distant Lives?
	Of all the Play-mates which I knew
	That here I do the Image view
	In other Selvs; what can it mean?
	But that below the purling Stream
	Som unknown Joys there be
	Laid up in Store for me;
	To which I shall, when that thin Skin
	Is broken, be admitted in.
	(1910)
	RALPH KNEVET The Vote
	The Helmett now an hive for Bees becomes,
	And hilts of swords may serve for Spiders’ loomes;
	Sharp pikes may make
	Teeth for a rake;
	And the keene blade, th’arch enemy of life,
	Shall bee digraded to a pruneing knife.
	The rusticke spade
	Which first was made
	For honest agriculture, shall retake
	Its primitive imployment, and forsake
	The rampire’s steep
	And trenches deep.
	Tame conyes in our brazen gunnes shall breed,
	Or gentle Doves their young ones there shall feede.
	In musket barrells
	Mice shall raise quarrells
	For their quarters. The ventriloquious drumme
	Like Lawyers in vacations shall be dumme.
	Now all recrutes,
	(But those of fruites),
	Shall bee forgott; and th’unarm’d Soldier
	Shall onely boast of what Hee did whilere,
	In chimneys’ ends
	Among his freinds.
	If good effects shall happy signes ensue,
	I shall rejoyce, and my prediction’s true.
	(1936)
1672	SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT Song. Endimion Porter, and Olivia
	OLIVIA
	Before we shall again behold
	In his diurnal race the Worlds great Eye,
	We may as silent be and cold,
	As are the shades where buried Lovers ly.
	ENDIMION
	Olivia, ’tis no fault of Love
	To loose our selves in death, but O, I fear,
	When Life and Knowledge is above
	Restor’d to us, I shall not know thee there.
	OLIVIA
	Call it not Heaven (my Love) where we
	Our selves shall see, and yet each other miss:
	So much of Heaven I find in thee
	As, thou unknown, all else privation is.
	ENDIMION
	Why should we doubt, before we go
	To find the Knowledge which shall ever last,
	That we may there each other know?
	Can future Knowledge quite destroy the past?
	OLIVIA
	When at the Bowers in the Elizian shade
	I first arrive, I shall examine where
	They dwel, who love the highest Vertue made;
	For I am sure to find Endimion there.
	ENDIMION
	From this vext World when we shall both retire,
	Where all are Lovers, and where all rejoyce;
	I need not seek thee in the Heavenly Quire;
	For I shall know Olivia by her Voice.
	SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT The Philosopher and the Lover; to a Mistress Dying. Song
	LOVER
	Your Beauty, ripe, and calm, and fresh,
	As Eastern Summers are,
	Must now, forsaking Time and Flesh,
	Add light to some small Star.
	PHILOSOPHER
	Whilst she yet lives, were Stars decay’d,
	Their light by hers, relief might find:
	But Death will lead her to a shade
	Where Love is cold, and Beauty blinde.
	LOVER
	Lovers (whose Priests all Poets are)
	Think ev’ry Mistress, when she dies,
	Is chang’d at least into a Starr:
	And who dares doubt the Poets wise?
	PHILOSOPHER
	But ask not Bodies doom’d to die,
	To what abode they go;
	Since Knowledge is but sorrows Spy,
	It is not safe to know.