For all the Ship-wracks, and the liquid graves
Lost men have gain'd within the furrow'd waves
The Sea hath fin'd, and for our wrongs paid use
When its wrought foam a Venus did produce.
But what repair wilt thou unhappy Thames
Afford our losse? Thy dull unactive streames
Can no new beauty raise, nor yet restore
Her, who by thee was ravisht from our shore:
Whose death hath stain'd the glory of thy flood
And mixt the guilty Channel with her blood.
O Neptune! was thy favour onely writ
In that loose Element where thou dost sit?

  Graves ! Where in Dust are laid our dearest Hopes !
 Pay, Passengers , your Tributary Drops .
Your Tears Allow'd, yea, Hallowed now become,
Since Tears were drop't by JESUS on a Tomb .
Churches, Weep on; & Wounded yield your Tears ;
Tears use to flow from hack't New-English Firrs .
  Zion , Thy Sons are gone; Tho' men might see
This and that Man , brave Men, were born in thee .
Tell, what they were; Let thy True Trumpet tell
Truth of the Sons of Truth , and how they fell.
Sure, when our Sev'n did to their Seats retire,

Move on thou Floating Trophee built to Fame!
And bid Hir Trump spread Thy Majestick Name;
That the blew Tritons, and those petty Gods
Which sport themselves upon the dancing Floods,
May bow as to their Neptune, when they feele
The awfull pressure of thy potent Keele.
Great Wonder of the Time! whose Forme unites
In one aspect Two warring Opposites,
Delight and Horrour; and in them portends
Diff'ring events both to thy Foes and Friends.
To These thy Radiant brow, Peace's bright Shrine,
Doth like that Golden Constellation shine

Flow on, Just Tears , and let such Dues be paid:
Tears were at first, for these Occasions made.

Long did I Vex in Vain at Stupid Man,
That e're Men found out Painting, so long Ages ran.
Fain would I Painted to the Life have seen
The Heroines that in past Times have been.
O could we Present that bright SARAH View,
Who Mortals charm'd, and who pleas'd Angels too.
Or that brave MIRIAM, She of whom tis said,
The Israels Daughters in Devotions Led :
Could glorious DEBORAH appear agen,

Pluck the quince
to serve a prince,
by isle, and pool.

Plucking quinces
in service of princes,
in vale, pluck again
and carry to fane.

In high wimple
bear to the temple
ere dawn light,
then home
for the night, leisurely, leisurely.

Sir I must ever owne my self to be
Possest with humane curiositee
Of seeing all that might the Sense invite
By those two baites of profit and delight.
And since I had the witt to understand
The Termes of Native or of Forraine land;
I have had strong and oft desires to tread
Some of those Voyages which I have read.
Yet still so fruitlesse have my wishes prov'd
That from my Countrye's smoak I never mov'd:
Nor ever had the fortune (though design'd)
To satisfy the wandrings of my mind.
Therfore at last I did with some content,

And wherefore does the student trim his lamp,
And watch his lonely taper, when the stars
Are holding their high festival in heaven,
And worshipping around the midnight throne?
And wherefore does he spend so patiently,
In deep and voiceless thought, the blooming hours
Of youth and joyance, when the blood is warm,
And the heart full of buoyancy and fire?

The sun is on the waters, and the air
Breathes with a stirring energy; the plants
Expand their leaves, and swell their buds, and blow,
Wooing the eye, and stealing on the soul

When two complaining spirits mingle,
Saintly and calm their woes become:
Alas the grief that bideth single,
Whose heart is drear, whose lips are dumb!

My drooping lily, when the tears
Of morning bow thy tender head,
Oh scatter them, and have no fears:
They kill sometimes if cherished.

Dear Girl, the precious gift you gave
Was of yourself entire and free.
Why front alone Life's gloomy wave,

At this glad Triumph, when most Poits use
Their Quill, I did not bridle up my Muse
For sloath or lesse devotion. I am one
That can well keep my Holy-dayes at home;
That can the blessings of my King and State
Better in Pray'r then Poims gratulate;
And in their fortunes beare a Loyall part,
Though I no bon-fires light, but in my heart.
Truth is, when I receav'd the first report
Of a New Starr Risen and seene at Court,
Though I felt joy enough to give a tongue
Unto a Mute, yet duty strook mee dumbe:
And thus surpriz'd by rumour, at first sight

Ware, ware, snares for hares,
Peg 'em down, tack, tack:
Fair, fair, the warriors
My Lord's
Bucklers and Bastions!

Ware, ware, snares for hares,
Spread 'em in the tracks:
Fair, fair, the warriors
My Lord's
Dearest companions!

Ware, ware, snares for hares,
Spread 'em in the woods:
Fair, fair, the warriors
My Lord's
Soul and opinions!