MEMORIAL-INTRODUCTION.

Poet and Saint! thy sky was darkAnd sad thy lonely vigil here;But thy meek spirit, like the larkStill showered music on the ear,From its own heaven ever clear:No pining mourner thou! thy strainCould breathe a slumber upon Pain,Singing thy tears asleep: not longTo stray by Siloa's brook was thine:Yet Time hath never dealt thee wrong,Nor brush'd the sweet bloom from thy line:Thou hast a home in every song,In every Christian heart, a shrine.

Alexander B. Grosart.

15 St. Alban's Place, Blackburn, Lancashire,4th February 1872.

Decoration D

Decoration A

In a Study of the Life and Poetry of our present Worthy, which will be found in our Volume II.—thus postponed in order that the completed Works may be before the student-reader along with it—I venture to hope new light will be shed on both, and his character as a Man and Poet—one of the richest of the minor Poets of England—vindicated and interpreted as never hitherto they have been. Some memories cannot bear the 'cruel light' of close scrutiny, some poetries when tested prove falsetto-noted.Richard Crashawgrows on us the more insight we gain. If he were as well known asGeorge Herbert, he would be equally cherished, while his Poetry would be recognised as perfumed with all his devoutness and of a diviner 'stuff' and woven in a grander loom; in sooth, infinitely deeper and finer in almost every element of true singing as differenced from pious and gracious versifying. In this hurrying-scurrying age, only twos-and-threes take time to hold communion with these ancient Worthies; and hence my Essay, as with theFletchersandLord BrookeandHenry Vaughan, may win-back that recognition and love due toCrashaw.

Then, in a much fuller and more adequate Memoir than hitherto furnished ofWilliam Crashaw, B.D.,father of our Poet—also in our Volume II.—the usually-given ancestral details will appear from new and unused sources. So that here and now I intend to limit myself to a brief statement of the few outward Facts,i.e.reserving their relation to the central thing inRichard Crashaw'slife—his passing from Protestantism to Catholicism, and to contemporaries and inner friends, and to his Poetry—to our announced Study.

Willmottin his 'Lives of the English Sacred Poets' (vol. first, 1834, vol. second, 1839), begins his fine-toned little Notice thus: 'After an anxious search in all the accessible sources of information, I am able to tell little of one of whom every lover of poetry must desire to know much. The time of his birth and of his decease is involved in equal mystery.'[3]Our 'all' is still 'little' as compared with what we yearn for; but we do not need to begin so dolorously as our predecessor, for we have discovered both the 'time of hisbirthand of hisdecease.' He was born in London in 1612-3; this date being arrived at from the register-entry of his age on admission to the University, viz. 18 in 1630-1 (as hereafter stated).Shakespearewas then retired to his beloved Stratford;Miltonwas in the sixth year of his cherub-beauty. His father being 'Preacher at the Temple' at the date would have determinedLondonto have been his birthplace; but his admission to Pembroke and his own signature at Peterhouse, 'Richardum Crashaw,Londinensem,' prove it. Who was his mother I have failed to find. The second Mrs.William Crashaw, celebrated in a remarkablecontemporary poetical tractate printed (if not published) by her bereaved husband (of which more anon and elsewhere, assupra), could not have been the Poet's mother, as she was not married toCrashaw(pater) until 1619. We should gladly have exchanged the 'Honour of Vertue or the Monument erected by the sorrowfull Husband and the Epitaphs annexed by learned and worthy men, to the immortall memory of that worthy Gentle-woman Mrs.Elizabeth Crashawe. Who dyed in child-birth, and was buried in Whit-Chappel: Octob. 8. 1620. In the 24 yeare of her age'—for a page on the first Mrs. Crashaw. Yet is it pleasant to know the motherless little lad received such a new mother as this tribute pictures. In 1620 he was in his ninth year. Thus twice a broad shadow blackened his father's house and his home. Little more than a year had he his 'second' mother.

Our after-Memoir of the elderCrashawshows that he was a man of no ordinary force of character and influence. The Epistles-dedicatory to his numerous polemical books are addressed with evident familiarity to the foremost in Church and State: and it is in agreement with this to learn (as we do) thatMaster Richardgained admission to the great 'Charterhouse' School throughSir Henry YelvertonandSir Randolph Crew—the former the patron-friend of the saintlyDr. Sibbes, the latter ofHerrick, and both of mark. The Register of Charterhouse as now extant begins in 1680. So that we know not the date of young Crashaw's entry on the 'foundation' provided so munificently bySutton.[4]Aswe shall find, one of the Teachers—Brooke—is gratefully and characteristically remembered by our Worthy in one of his Latin poems, none the less gratefully that 'the rod' is recalled. He was 'Schoolmaster' from 1627-8 to 1643. The age of admission was 10 to 14: the latter would bring us to 1627-8, or Brooke's first year of office. Probably, however, he entered sooner; but neitherRobert Grey(1624-26) norWilliam Middleton, A.M. (1626-28), nor others of the Masters or celebrities of the famous School are celebrated by him, with the exception of (afterwards)Bishop Laney.Francis Beaumontwas Head-Master in June 18, 1624, and I should have liked to have been able to associateCrashawwith the Beaumont family. ProbablyDr. Joseph Beaumontof 'Psyche' was a school-fellow.

How long the Charterhouse was attended is unknown; but renewed researches atCambridgeadd to as well as correct the usual dates of his attendance there.Willmottstates that 'he was elected a scholar of Pembroke Hall, March 26, 1632,' and remarks, 'and yet we find him lamenting the premature death of his friend, William Herrys, a fellow of the same College, which happened in the October of 1631.'[5]He quotes from theCole mss.The original register in the Admission-book of Pembroke College removes the difficulty, and is otherwise valuable, as will be seen. It is as follows:

'Julij 6. 1631. Richardus Crashawe, Gulielmi presbyteri filius, natus Londini annos habens 18, admissus est ad 2æ mensæ ordinem sub tutela MriTourney.'

He was 'matriculatedpensionerof Pembroke, March 26,1632,' but, as above, his 'admission' preceded. Belonging to Essex, it is not improbable thatCrashawandHarriswere school-fellows at the Charterhouse. His 'friendships' and associates, so winsomely 'sung' of, will demand full after-notice. In 1632-3 appearedGeorge Herbert's'Temple;' an influential event in our Poet's history. He took the degree of B.A. in 1634. In 1634 he published anonymously his volume of Latin Epigrams and other Poems; a very noticeable book from a youth of 20, especially as most must have been composed long previously. He passed from Pembroke to Peterhouse in 1636; and again I have the satisfaction to give, for the first time, the entry in the old College Register. It is as follows:

'Anno Domini millesimo sexcentesimo tricesimo sexto vicesimo die mensis Novembris Richardus Crashaw admissus fuit a Reverendo in Christo Patre ac DnoDnoFrancisco Episcopo Elæcisi ad locum sive societatem Magistri Simon Smith legitime vacantem in Collegio sive Domo StiPetri, et vicesimo secundo die ejusdem mensis coram Magistro et Sociis ejusdem Collegii personaliter constitutus, juramentum præstitit quod singulis Ordinationibus et Statutis Collegii (quantum in ipso est) reverenter obediret, et specialiter præter hoc de non appellando contra amotionem suam secundum modum et formam statutorum prædictorum et de salvando cistam Magistri Thomæ de Castro Bernardi et Magri Thomæ Holbrooke (quantum in ipso est) indemnum, quo juramento præstito admissus fuit a Magistro Collegii in perpetuum socium ejusdem Collegii et in locum supradictum. Per me Richardum Crashaw Londinensem.' (p. 500.)

He was made Fellow in 1637, and M.A. in 1638; looking forward to becoming a 'Minister' of the Gospel. His Latin Poems in honour of, and in pathetic appeal regardingPeterhouse, are of the rarest interest, and suggest much elucidatory of his great 'change' in religious matters; a change that must have been a sad shock to his ultra-Protestant father, but in which, beyond all gainsaying, conscience ruled, if the heart quivered. While at the University he was called on to contribute to the various 'Collections' issued from 1631 onward; and it certainly is once more noticeable that such a mere youth should have been thus recognised. His Verses—Latin and English—appeared thus with those ofHenry More,Joseph Beaumont,Edward King('Lycidas'),Cowley, and others; and more than hold their own. In 1635Shelford, 'priest' ofRingsfield, obtained a laudatory poem from him for his 'Five Pious and Learned Discourses.' According toAnthony a-Wood, on the authority of one who knew (notfrom the Registers), he took a degree in 1641 at Oxford.[6]

Of his inner Life and experiences during these years (twelve at least), and the influences that went to shape his decision and after-course, and his relation to theCountess of Denbigh, I shall speak fully and I trust helpfully in our Essay. We need to get at the Facts and Circumstances to pronounce a righteous verdict.For his great-brained, stout-hearted, iron-willed Father, the stormy period was congenial: but for his son the atmosphere was mephitic; as the Editor's 'Preface to the Learned Reader,' in his 'character' of him, suggests. Signatures were being put unsolemnly to the Solemn League and Covenant,' and as a political not a religious thing, by too many.Richard Crashawcould not do that, and the crash of 'Ejection' came. Here is the rescript from the Register ofPeterhouseonce more unused hitherto:[7]

'Whereas in pursuite of an ordinance of Parliament for regulating and reforming of the Universitie of Cambridge, I have ejected Mr. Beaumont, Mr. Penniman, Mr. Crashaw, Mr. Holder, Mr. Tyringham, late fellowes of Peterhouse, in Cambridge. And whereas Mr. Charles Hotham, Robert Quarles, Howard Becher, Walter Ellis, Edward Sammes, have been examined and approved by the Assembly of Divines now sitting at Westminster, according to the said Ordinance as fitt to be Fellowes: These are therefore to require you, and every of you, to receive the said Charles Hotham, Robert Quarles, Howard Becher, Walter Ellis, Masters of Arts; and Edward Sammes, Bachr, as fellowes of your Colledge in room of the said Mr. Beaumont, Mr. Penniman, Mr. Crashaw, Mr. Holder, Mr. Tyringham, formerly ejected, and to give them place according to their seniority in the Universitie, in reference to all those that are or shall hereafter bee putt in by mee accordinge to the Ordinanceof Parliament aforesaid. Given under my hand and seale the eleaventh day of June anno 1644.

'Manchester.

'To the Master, President, and Fellowes of Peterhouse, in Cambridge.' (p. 518.)

'The ejection' of 1644, like that larger one of 1662, brought much sorrow and trial to a number of good and true souls. To one so gentle, shy, self-introspective asCrashaw, it must have been as the tearing down of a nest to a poor bird. His fellow-sufferers went hither and thither. Our first glimpse of our Worthy after his 'ejection' is in 1646, when the 'Steps to the Temple' and 'Delights of the Muses' appeared, with its Editor's touching saying at the close of his Preface 'now dead to us.' A second edition, with considerable additions, was published in 1648. Previous to 1646 he had 'gone over' to Catholicism; for in the 'Steps' of that year is 'An Apologie' for his 'Hymn'—'In Memory of the Vertuous and Learned Lady Madre de Teresa, that sought an early Martyrdome.' In 1646 it is headed simply 'An Apologie for the precedent Hymne:' in the 'Carmen Deo Nostro' of 1652 it is more fully inscribed 'An Apologie for the foregoing Hymn, as hauing been writt when the author was yet among the Protestantes.' His two Latin poems, 'Fides quæ sola justificat non est sine spe et dilectione' and 'Baptismus non tollit futura peccata,' were first published in 1648.Turnbullwas either ignorant of their existence or intentionally suppressed them.

Our Worthy did not long remain in England. He retired to France; and his little genial poem on sending 'two green apricocks' toCowleysheds a gleam of lighton his residence in Paris.Cowleywas in the 'gay city' in 1646 as Secretary toLord Jermyn; and inasmuch as the volume of that year contained his own alternate-poem on 'Hope,' I like to imagine that he carried over a copy of it toCrashaw, and renewed their old friendship.Cowley, it is told, found our Poet in great poverty: butCar'sverses somewhat lighten the gloom. The 'Secretary' ofLord Jermynintroduced his friend to the Queen of Charles I., who was then a fugitive in Paris. So it usually runs: butCrashawhad previously 'sung' of and to her Majesty. From the Queen the Poet obtained letters of recommendation to Italy; and from a contemporary notice, hereafter to be used, we learn he became 'Secretary' at Rome toCardinal Palotta. He appears to have remained in Rome until 1649-50, and by very 'plain speech' on the moralities, that is immoralities, of certain ecclesiastics, to have drawn down on himself Italian jealousy and threats. His 'good' Cardinal provided a place of shelter in the Lady-chapel ofLoretto, of which he was made a Canon. But his abode there was very brief; for, by a document sent me from Loretto, I ascertained that he died of fever after a few weeks' residence only, and was buried within the chapel there, in 1650.[8]Cowleyshed 'melodious tears' over his dear friend, in which he turns to fine account his 'fever' end: and with his priceless tribute, of whichDr. Johnsonsaid, 'In these verses there are beauties which common authors may justly think not only above their attainment, but above their ambition,'[9]—I close for the present our Memoir:

Poet and Saint! to thee alone are giv'nThe two most sacred names of Earth and Heav'n,The hardest, rarest union which can beNext that of godhead with humanity.Long did the Muses banish'd slaves abide,And built vain pyramids to mortal pride;Like Moses thou (tho' spells and charms withstand)Hast brought them nobly home, back to their Holy Land.Ah, wretched we, Poets of Earth! but thouWert living, the same Poet which thou'rt now;Whilst angels sing to thee their ayres divine,And joy in an applause so great as thine.Equal society with them to hold,Thou need'st not make new songs, but say the old;And they (kind spirits!) shall all rejoice to see,How little less than they, exalted man may be.Still the old heathen gods in numbers dwell,The heav'nliest thing on Earth still keeps up Hell:Nor have we yet quite purg'd the Christian land;Still idols here, like calves at Bethel stand.And tho' Pan's death long since all or'cles broke,Yet still in rhyme the fiend Apollo spoke;Nay, with the worst of heathen dotage, we(Vain men!) the monster woman deifie;Find stars, and tie our fates there in a face,And Paradise in them, by whom we lost it, place.What diff'rent faults corrupt our Muses thus?Wanton as girls, as old wives, fabulous.Thy spotless Muse, like Mary, did containThe boundless Godhead; she did well disdainThat her eternal verse employ'd should beOn a less subject than eternity;And for a sacred mistress scorn'd to takeBut her whom God Himself scorn'd not His spouse to make:It (in a kind) her miracle did do,A fruitful mother was, and virgin too.How well (blest Swan) did Fate contrive thy death,And made thee render up thy tuneful breathIn thy great mistress's arms! Thou most divine,And richest off'ring of Loretto's shrine!Where, like some holy sacrifice t' expire,A fever burns thee, and Love lights the fire.Angels (they say) brought the fam'd chappel there,And bore the sacred load in triumph thro' the air:'Tis surer much they brought thee there; and they,And thou, their charge, went singing all the way.Pardon, my Mother-Church, if I consentThat angels led him, when from thee he went;For ev'n in error, sure no danger is,When join'd with so much piety as his.Ah! mighty God, with shame I speak't, and grief;Ah! that our greatest faults were in belief!And our weak reason were ev'n weaker yet,Rather than thus, our wills too strong for it.His faith, perhaps, in some nice tenets mightBe wrong; his life, I'm sure, was in the right:And I, myself, a Catholick will be;So far at least, great Saint! to pray to thee.Hail, Bard triumphant! and some care bestowOn us, the Poets militant below:Oppos'd by our old enemy, adverse Chance,Attack'd by Envy and by Ignorance;Enchain'd by Beauty, tortur'd by desires,Expos'd by tyrant-love, to savage beasts and fires.Thou from low Earth in nobler flames didst rise,And like Elijah, mount alive the skies.Elisha-like (but with a wish much less,More fit thy greatness and my littleness;)Lo here I beg (I whom thou once didst proveSo humble to esteem, so good to love)Not that thy sp'rit might on me doubled be,I ask but half thy mighty sp'rit for me:And when my Muse soars with so strong a wing,'Twill learn of things divine, and first of thee to sing.[10]

Ah, wretched we, Poets of Earth! but thouWert living, the same Poet which thou'rt now;Whilst angels sing to thee their ayres divine,And joy in an applause so great as thine.Equal society with them to hold,Thou need'st not make new songs, but say the old;And they (kind spirits!) shall all rejoice to see,How little less than they, exalted man may be.

Still the old heathen gods in numbers dwell,The heav'nliest thing on Earth still keeps up Hell:Nor have we yet quite purg'd the Christian land;Still idols here, like calves at Bethel stand.And tho' Pan's death long since all or'cles broke,Yet still in rhyme the fiend Apollo spoke;Nay, with the worst of heathen dotage, we(Vain men!) the monster woman deifie;Find stars, and tie our fates there in a face,And Paradise in them, by whom we lost it, place.What diff'rent faults corrupt our Muses thus?Wanton as girls, as old wives, fabulous.

Thy spotless Muse, like Mary, did containThe boundless Godhead; she did well disdainThat her eternal verse employ'd should beOn a less subject than eternity;And for a sacred mistress scorn'd to takeBut her whom God Himself scorn'd not His spouse to make:It (in a kind) her miracle did do,A fruitful mother was, and virgin too.

How well (blest Swan) did Fate contrive thy death,And made thee render up thy tuneful breathIn thy great mistress's arms! Thou most divine,And richest off'ring of Loretto's shrine!Where, like some holy sacrifice t' expire,A fever burns thee, and Love lights the fire.Angels (they say) brought the fam'd chappel there,And bore the sacred load in triumph thro' the air:'Tis surer much they brought thee there; and they,And thou, their charge, went singing all the way.

Pardon, my Mother-Church, if I consentThat angels led him, when from thee he went;For ev'n in error, sure no danger is,When join'd with so much piety as his.Ah! mighty God, with shame I speak't, and grief;Ah! that our greatest faults were in belief!And our weak reason were ev'n weaker yet,Rather than thus, our wills too strong for it.His faith, perhaps, in some nice tenets mightBe wrong; his life, I'm sure, was in the right:And I, myself, a Catholick will be;So far at least, great Saint! to pray to thee.

Hail, Bard triumphant! and some care bestowOn us, the Poets militant below:Oppos'd by our old enemy, adverse Chance,Attack'd by Envy and by Ignorance;Enchain'd by Beauty, tortur'd by desires,Expos'd by tyrant-love, to savage beasts and fires.Thou from low Earth in nobler flames didst rise,And like Elijah, mount alive the skies.Elisha-like (but with a wish much less,More fit thy greatness and my littleness;)Lo here I beg (I whom thou once didst proveSo humble to esteem, so good to love)Not that thy sp'rit might on me doubled be,I ask but half thy mighty sp'rit for me:And when my Muse soars with so strong a wing,'Twill learn of things divine, and first of thee to sing.[10]

Alexander B. Grosart.

Decoration E

The title-pages, with collation, of the original and early editions of 'Steps to the Temple' and 'The Delights of the Muses' (1646 to 1670) are here given successively:

1st edition, 1646. (1)

Sacred Poems,

With other Delights of theMuses.

Printed and Published according to Order.

LONDON,Printed by T.W. forHumphrey Moseley, andare to be sold at his shop at the PrincesArmes in StPaulsChurch-yard.1646.

(2)

Mart. Dic mihi quid melius desidiosus agas.

London,Printed by T.W. forH. Moseley, atthe Princes Armes in S.PaulsChurchyard, 1646. [12o]

Collation: Title-page; the Preface to the Reader, pp. 6; the Author's Motto and short Note to Reader, pp. 2 [all unpaged]; 'Steps to the Temple,' pp. 99; title-page of 'Delights,' assupra, and pp. 103-138; the Table, pp. 4.

2d edition, 1648.

With

The Delights of the Muses.

ByRichard Crashaw,sometimesofPembroke Hall,andlate fellow ofS. PetersColl.in Cambridge.

The second Edition wherein are added diverspieces not before extant.

London,

Printed forHumphrey Moseley, and are to besold at his Shop at the Princes Armesin St.PaulsChurch-yard.1648. [12o]

The title-page to the 'Delights of the Muses' is exactly the same with that of 1646, except the date '1648.' Collation: Engraved title-page; title-page (printed); the Preface to the Reader and the Author's Motto, pp. 6; 'Steps,' pp. 110; the Table, pp. 4; the 'Delights;' title-page; the Table, pp. 3; Poems, pp. 71.

3d edition, 1652.

Te Decet Hymnvs

Sacred Poems,

Collected,Corrected,Avgmented,Most humbly Presented.ToMy LadyThe Covntesse ofDenbighByHer most deuoted Seruant.R.C.

In heaty [sic] acknowledgment of his immortallobligation to her Goodnes & Charity.

At Paris

ByPeter Targa, Printer to the Archbishopeef [sic] Paris, in S. Victors streete atthe golden sunne.

M.DC.LII. [8vo]

Collation: Title-page; Verses byCar, pp. 3; Verse-Letter to Countess of Denbigh, pp. 3 [all unpaged]; the Poems, pp. 131. (See our Preface for more on this and preceding and succeeding volumes, and for notice of a separate edition of the Verse-Letter to the Countess of Denbigh.)

4th edition, erroneously designated 2d edition, 1670.

THEDelightsOf TheMuses,andCarmenDeo Nostro.

ByRic. Crashaw, sometimes Fellow ofPembrokeHall, and late Fellow ofSt. PetersColledgeinCambridge.

The 2d. Edition.

In the Savoy,

Printed by T.N. forHenry Herringhamat theBlew Anchorin theLower Walkof theNew Exchange. 1670. [8vo]

Collation: Engraving of a 'Temple;' title-page; the Preface to the Reader and the Author's Motto, pp. 8; the Table, pp. 6 [all unpaged]; 'Steps,' pp. 77; 'Delights,' pp. 81-137; 'Carmen Deo Nostro, Te Decet Hymnvs,' pp. 141-208. For later editions see our Preface, as before, and for details on all, early and recent, and Manuscripts; and also our Memorial-Introduction and Essay. The 'Preface' of 1646 was reprinted in 1648 without change, save a few slight orthographical differences, and these: p. xlvi. line 3, 'their' for 'its dearest:' p. xlvii. line 1, 'subburd' for 'suburb:' and ibid, line 19, 'then' for 'than:' 1648 our text. It follows this Note in its own place. G.

Decoration F

Learned Reader,

The Author's friend will not usurpe much upon thy eye: This is onely for those whom the name of our divine Poet hath not yet seized[11]into admiration. I dare undertake that whatJamblicus[12](in vita Pythagoræ) affirmeth of his Master, at his contemplations, these Poems can, viz. They shall lift thee, Reader, some yards above the ground: and, as inPythagorasSchoole, every temper was first tuned into a height by severall proportions of Musick, and spiritualiz'd for one of his weighty lectures; so maist thou take a poem hence, and tune thy soule by it, into a heavenly pitch;[13]and thus refined and borne up upon the wings of meditation, in these Poems thou maist talke freely of God, and of that other state.

Here'sHerbert's[14]second, but equall, who hath retriv'd Poetry of late, and return'd it up to its primitive use; letit bound back to heaven gates, whence it came. Thinke yeeSt. Augustinewould have steyned his graver learning with a booke of Poetry, had he fancied its dearest end to be the vanity of love-sonnets and epithalamiums? No, no, he thought with this our Poet, that every foot in a high-borne verse, might helpe to measure the soule into that better world. Divine Poetry, I dare hold it in position, againstSuarezon the subject, to be the language of the angels; it is the quintessence of phantasie and discourse center'd in Heaven; 'tis the very out-goings of the soule; 'tis what alone our Author is able to tell you, and that in his owne verse.

It were prophane but to mention here in the Preface those under-headed Poets, retainers to seven shares and a halfe;[15]madrigall fellowes, whose onely businesse in verse,is to rime a poore six-penny soule, a suburb-sinner[16]into Hell:—May such arrogant pretenders to Poetry vanish, with their prodigious issue of tumorous[17]heats and flashes of their adulterate braines, and for ever after, may this our Poet fill up the better roome of man. Oh! when the generall arraignment of Poets shall be, to give an accompt of their higher soules, with what a triumphant brow shall our divine Poet sit above, and looke downe upon pooreHomer,Virgil,Horace,Claudian, &c.? who had amongst them the ill lucke to talke out a great part of their gallant genius, upon bees, dung, froggs, and gnats, &c., and not as himself here, upon Scriptures, divine graces, martyrs and angels.

Reader, we stile his Sacred Poems, Steps to the Temple, and aptly, for in the Temple of God, under His wing, he led his life, in St. Marie's Church neere St. Peter's Colledge: there he lodged underTertullian'sroofe of angels; there he made his nest more gladly than David's swallow neere the house of God, where like a primitive saint, he offered more prayers in the night than others usually offer in the day; there he penned these Poems,STEPSfor happy soules to climbe heaven by. And those other of his pieces, intituled The Delights of the Muses, (though of a more humane mixture) are as sweet as they are innocent.

The praises that follow, are but few of many that might be conferr'd on him: he was excellent in five languages (besides his mother tongue), vid. Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, Spanish, the two last whereof he had little helpe in, they were of his own acquisition.

Amongst his other accomplishments in accademick (as well pious as harmlesse arts) he made his skill in Poetry, Musick, Drawing, Limming, Graving (exercises of his curious invention and sudden fancy) to be but his subservientrecreations for vacant houres, not the grand businesse of his soule.

To the former qualifications I might adde that which would crowne them all, his rare moderation in diet (almost Lessian temperance[18]); he never created a Muse out of distempers, nor (with our Canary scribblers[19]) cast any strange mists of surfets before the intellectuall beames of his mind or memory, the latter of which he was so much a master of, that he had there under locke and key in readinesse, the richest treasures of the best Greek and Latine poets, some of which Authors hee had more at his command by heart, than others that onely read their works, to retaine little, and understand lesse.

Enough Reader, I intend not a volume of praises larger than his booke, nor need I longer transport thee to think over his vast perfections: I will conclude all that I have impartially writ of this learned young Gent. (now dead to us) as he himselfe doth, with the last line of his poem upon Bishop Andrews' picture before his Sermons:Verte paginas,

'Look on his following leaves, and see him breath.'[20]

THE AUTHOR'S MOTTO.

Live Iesus, live, and let it beeMy life, to dye for love of Thee.

(1648),

AND

(1652).

Decoration C

Loe! where a wounded heart with bleeding eyes conspire.Is she a flaming fountain, or a weeping fire?

Hail, sister springs!1Parents of syluer-footed rills!Euer-bubling things!Thawing crystall! snowy hillsStill spending, neuer spent! I mean5Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene!

Heauens thy fair eyes be;Heauens of euer-falling starres.'Tis seed-time still with thee;And starres thou sow'st, whose haruest dares10Promise the Earth, to counter-shineWhateuer makes heaun's forehead fine.

But we' are deceiuèd all:Starres indeed they are too true;For they but seem to fall,15As heaun's other spangles doe:It is not for our Earth and vsTo shine in things so pretious.

Vpwards thou dost weep:Heaun's bosome drinks the gentle stream.20Where th' milky riuers creep,Thine floates aboue, and is the cream.Waters aboue th' heauns, what they beWe' are taught best by thy teares and thee.

Euery morn from hence,25A brisk cherub something sippes,Whose sacred influenceAddes sweetnes to his sweetest lippes;Then to his musick; and his songTasts of this breakfast all day long.30

When some new bright guestTakes vp among the starres a room,And Heaun will make a feast:phialsAngels with crystall violls comeAnd draw from these full eyes of thine,35Their Master's water, their own wine.

The deaw no more will weepThe primrose's pale cheek to deck:The deaw no more will sleepNuzzel'd in the lilly's neck;40Much rather would it be thy tear,And leaue them both to tremble here.

Not the soft gold whichSteales from the amber-weeping tree,Makes Sorrow halfe so rich45As the drops distil'd from thee.Sorrowe's best iewels lye in theseCaskets, of which Heaven keeps the keyes.

When Sorrow would be seenIn her brightest majesty:50(For she is a Queen):Then is she drest by none but thee.Then, and only then, she wearesHer proudest pearles: I mean, thy teares.

Not in the Euening's eyes,55When they red with weeping areFor the Sun that dyes;Sitts Sorrow with a face so fair.Nowhere but here did ever meetSweetnesse so sad, sadnesse so sweet.60

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