Classic Poem

My Brother, and much more had'st thou bin mine,
Had'st thou in one rich present with a line
Inclos'd Sir Francis (for of all thy Store
No Guift could cost thee lesse or binde mee more);
Had'st thou ( deare Churle ) imparted his returne,
I should not with a tardy welcome burne,
But had let loose my joy at him long since,
Which now will seeme but STUDIED NEGLIGENCE ;
But, I forgive thee; two things keep thee from it;
First, such a friend to gaze on, then a Comet ;
Which Comett wee discerne (though not soe true
As you of Sion ) as long-tayl'd as you.
Wee know allready how will stand the case
With Barnavelt , and Universall Grace;
Though Spayne deserves the whole Starr, if the fall
Be true of Lermas Duke and Cardinall:
Marry, in Fraunce wee feare noe bloud , but wine ;
Lesse danger's in her Sword , then in her Vine .
And thus wee leave the Legier comming over,
For our portents are wise, and end at Dover .
And though wee use noe forward censuring
Nor send our learned Proctors to the King;
Yet every morning, when the Starre doth rise,
There is no black for three howers in our Eyes :
But, like a Puritan Dreamer, to this light
All eyes turne upward , all are Zeale and White .
More, it is doubtfull too, this Prodigye:
'Twill turne ten Schooles to one Astronomy .
For the ANALYSIS wee iustly feare,
Since every Art doth seeke for rescue there:
Physitians, Lawyers, Glovers on the Stall,
The Shopp-keepers speak Mathematiques , all.
And though wee read noe Gospell in the Signes,
Yet all Professions are turn'd Divines.
All weapons from the Bodkin to the Pike ,
The Masons Rule , the Taylors Tard alike
Take Altitudes ; and th'early Fidling Knaves
Of Fluites, and Hoe-Boyes, make them Iacobs-staves .
Lastly, of fingers glasses wee contrive,
And every Fist is made a Perspective.
Burton to Gunter writes, and Burton heares
From Gunter , and th' Exchange both tongue and eares
By carriage. Thus doth mired Guy complaine
His waggon in their letters beares Charles-waine ,
Charles-waine, to which they say the tayle doth reach;
And at this distance they both heare & teach.
Now, for the peace of God and men, advise,
Thou; who hast wherewithall to make us wise,
By thy rich Studyes, and deep Harriots Minde,
In which there is noe drosse, but all's refin'd.
O! tell us what to trust to; ere wee waxe
All stiffe and stupid with this Paralax.
Say, shall the old Philosophy be true,
Or doth He ride above the Moone, thinke you?
Is hee a Meteor fired by the Sunne,
Or a FIRST BODY by Creation?
Hath this same Starr bin object of the wonder
Of our Fore-fathers? shall the same come under
The sentence of our Nephewes? write and send,
Or else this Starr a quarrell doth portend .