If witt may be the Childe of chance and rise
From love and the inspiration of fair eyes,
If an enthusiastick cup can fire
Cold blood, and raise low brains to storyes higher,
Create a fancy, pollish every part
Joine Venus beauty to Minerva's art,
And write what all the sober nine cann't doe?
Why may not Joy dub me a poet too?
Tis not impossible, all our good newes
Are wonders, and those wonder will infuse
Becomming Raptures, who is he can't sing?
Without a Muse whose Subject is a king?
Come unincumbred thoughts from those soft beds
Where silence dwells and the fat olive spreads
His peace-emblematizing-branches, where
No eye e're spoke the language of a teare
Noe hand hath learn't to write in blood, noe tongue
To argue for a profitable wrong:
Come and inspire my pen that I may write
Wonders, a victory with out a fight:
A flood restrain'd by an invisible power
And what was sea made dry-land the next hour.
…
With noble straines or teach me to be dumbe
My lynes goe not a fishing for great friends
For end they'le have, but they will have no ends
This is a royall taske deserves your oyle
And here the greatest labour is noe toyle
Tis duty guides my pen, nor doe I run
With flattring lines to court the riseing Sun:
For when my prince labour'd against the streame
He was my prayers that is now my theame
But how I shall present him thats the doubt
Sunbeames with Sunbeames must be coppyed out.
Colours shew onely shaddows to our sight
But art ne're found a counterfeit for light
Soe majesty that shines in its high ranck
Cannot be figur'd but with a great blanck.
Words must grow dumbe to speake, it to aspire
As high as thoughts can reach it is t'admire
I am not eagle-sighted, he that pryes
Into too glorious light hazards his eyes
My quill soars noe such heights, my walke shall be
To blaze on th'outward skirts of Majesty
Sing of his royall person his great blood
And valour when he fought against the flood
His vertue, his religion and what hopes
We have of plenty of more things than Ropes
His wisedome his experience bought soe dear
His justice void, both of revenge and fear:
His mercy to forgive whats done amiss
All the prognosticks of our future bliss:
The peoples love, their joy, at his returne
As if from hell to heaven they'd adjourne
This is the course I steer, envy stand bare
My lines are streight and will not interfere
Truth needs noe factor, doe but right, and then
To all I write, thy-selfe shall say Amen
As after a black tempest hath disturb'd
The quiet of the element and curb'd
With cloudy-mufflers the allseeing light
(For mischiefe if it want, will make a night)
Unkennel'd all the windes from their strong Caves
And curl'd the peacefull sea with boistrous waves
Dissolu'd the ayer into a stormy rain
And frozen't to bulletts of haile again
Fir'd the great Guns of heauen with such a noise
That the eccho dare not to repeat the voice:
Amaze both men, and beasts that nothing hear
But a good conscience can be void of fear.
Yet when the world's bright eye appeares, his rayes
Open the clouds, and his kinde heat allayes
The now digested windes, the heavens will weep
Noe more, all thunder too will fall asleep.
Natur's recover'd and is (let art not flout her)
Fayre, tho' shee hath not one black patch about her.
From love and the inspiration of fair eyes,
If an enthusiastick cup can fire
Cold blood, and raise low brains to storyes higher,
Create a fancy, pollish every part
Joine Venus beauty to Minerva's art,
And write what all the sober nine cann't doe?
Why may not Joy dub me a poet too?
Tis not impossible, all our good newes
Are wonders, and those wonder will infuse
Becomming Raptures, who is he can't sing?
Without a Muse whose Subject is a king?
Come unincumbred thoughts from those soft beds
Where silence dwells and the fat olive spreads
His peace-emblematizing-branches, where
No eye e're spoke the language of a teare
Noe hand hath learn't to write in blood, noe tongue
To argue for a profitable wrong:
Come and inspire my pen that I may write
Wonders, a victory with out a fight:
A flood restrain'd by an invisible power
And what was sea made dry-land the next hour.
…
With noble straines or teach me to be dumbe
My lynes goe not a fishing for great friends
For end they'le have, but they will have no ends
This is a royall taske deserves your oyle
And here the greatest labour is noe toyle
Tis duty guides my pen, nor doe I run
With flattring lines to court the riseing Sun:
For when my prince labour'd against the streame
He was my prayers that is now my theame
But how I shall present him thats the doubt
Sunbeames with Sunbeames must be coppyed out.
Colours shew onely shaddows to our sight
But art ne're found a counterfeit for light
Soe majesty that shines in its high ranck
Cannot be figur'd but with a great blanck.
Words must grow dumbe to speake, it to aspire
As high as thoughts can reach it is t'admire
I am not eagle-sighted, he that pryes
Into too glorious light hazards his eyes
My quill soars noe such heights, my walke shall be
To blaze on th'outward skirts of Majesty
Sing of his royall person his great blood
And valour when he fought against the flood
His vertue, his religion and what hopes
We have of plenty of more things than Ropes
His wisedome his experience bought soe dear
His justice void, both of revenge and fear:
His mercy to forgive whats done amiss
All the prognosticks of our future bliss:
The peoples love, their joy, at his returne
As if from hell to heaven they'd adjourne
This is the course I steer, envy stand bare
My lines are streight and will not interfere
Truth needs noe factor, doe but right, and then
To all I write, thy-selfe shall say Amen
As after a black tempest hath disturb'd
The quiet of the element and curb'd
With cloudy-mufflers the allseeing light
(For mischiefe if it want, will make a night)
Unkennel'd all the windes from their strong Caves
And curl'd the peacefull sea with boistrous waves
Dissolu'd the ayer into a stormy rain
And frozen't to bulletts of haile again
Fir'd the great Guns of heauen with such a noise
That the eccho dare not to repeat the voice:
Amaze both men, and beasts that nothing hear
But a good conscience can be void of fear.
Yet when the world's bright eye appeares, his rayes
Open the clouds, and his kinde heat allayes
The now digested windes, the heavens will weep
Noe more, all thunder too will fall asleep.
Natur's recover'd and is (let art not flout her)
Fayre, tho' shee hath not one black patch about her.