To the excellently accomplish'd
Lady, Madam Anne Strick-
land, Daughter to the Honou-
rable Sir Thomas Strickland, of
Boynton in York-shire, Baronet.

MADAM,

I Could have satisfy'd my self
with the humble Content of
a lower Patronage, were I not
more ambitious of giving some Te-
stimony of that great Service which
I owe You, than of deriving Ho-
nour upon my self from the glory
of your Protection.

But tho Ambition be not my di-
rect Aim, yet I find that the
greatness of your Quality and the

A 2

excel-

The Epistle Dedicatory.

excellency of your Personal Accomplishments will render it suspicious that in this Dedication I rather intend Honour to my self, than Service to You, so that my Devotion will appear doubtful and obscure, and my Incense, in too literal a sense, ascend in a Cloud.

But, Madam, let not the happy necessity which I lye under of advantaging my own Credit while I serve you, prejudice the sincerity of my Intentions, or make my officiousness to be thought Mercenary. 'Tis the constant Fate of all the Votaries of Greatnefs to be engaged in such a Necessity, and it happens to be so as well in Religion

The Epistle Dedicatory.

ligion as in Civil Addreſs. Thus
the Altar, which is intended mere-
ly for an Instrument of Devotion
and Religious Service, is it ſelf
made aweful and Sacred by the
Inſcription which it wears, and
becomes honourable by the Livery
of Heaven.

Madam, I wísh you could find
as many things in this Oblation
which would deferve your Patron-
age, as you will that will need it.
However, I hope your goodneſs
will pardon what your Judgment
cannot approve. Here is one Com-
poſition which has had the For-
tune to please so well, that it is in-
couraged to make a ſecond Appear-

A 3

ance

The Epistle Dedicatory.

ance upon the Stage. Whether the
rest are born under the same lucky
Planet I know not; but your ac-
ceptance (Madam) will calculate
their Nativity, for thence I shall
take the measures of my Success. I
value your single approbation more
than the Applause of a Theatre,
but if I miss of both, yet I hope you
will give me leave to promise my self
a Pardon for the Presumption of this
Address, and to assume to my self the
Honourable Title of

(Madam)

Your most humble
and devoted Servant

J. N.

[ I ]

# The Passion of our B. Saviour represented in a Pindarique Ode.

—Quis talia fando
Temperet a Lacrymis?—

## I.

SAY bold Licentious Muse,
What Noble Subject wilt thou chuse,
Of what great Hero, of what mighty thing,
Wilt thou in boundless numbers sing?
Sing the unfathom'd Depths of Love,
(For who the Wonders done by Love can tell,
By Love, which is it self all Miracle?)
Here in vast endles's Circles may'st thou rove,
And like the travelling Planet of the day
In an Orb unbounded stray.
Sing the great Miracle of Love Divine,
Great be thy Genius, sparkling every Line,
Love's greatest Mystery reherse,
Greater than that
Which on the teeming Chaos brooding fate,
And hatch'd, with kindly heat, the Universe.
How God in Mercy chose to bleed, and dye
To rescue Man from Misery,
Man, not his Creature only, but his Enemy.

A 4

II.

[ 2 ]

II.

Lo, in Gethsemane, I see him prostrate lye,
Prefs'd with the weight of his great Agony.
The common Sluces of the Eyes
To vent his mighty Passion won't suffice,
His tortured Body weeps all-o're,
And out of every Pore
Buds forth a pretious Gem of Purple Gore.
How strange the Power of afflictions rod
When in the Hand of an incensed God!
Like the commanding Wand
In Mofes Hand
It works a Miracle, and turns the Flood
Of Tears into a Sea of Blood.
See with what Pomp Sorrow does now appear!
How proud She is of being feated here !
She never wore
So rich a Dye before.
Long was he willing to decline
Th' Encounter of the Wrath Divine.
Thrice he sent for his Releafe
Pathetic Embassies of Peace,
At length his Courage overcame his Doubt,
Refolv'd he was, and so the bloody Flagg hung out.

III.

And now the Tragic Scene's di'dplaid,
Where drawn in full Battalia are laid
Before his Eyes
That numerous Hoſt of Miſeries

He

[ 4 ]

He came with Reverence profound,
And rais'd his *prostrate* Maker from the Ground;
Wiped off the bloody Sweat
With which his *Face* and *Garments* too were wet,
And comforted his dark *benighted* Mind
With sovereign Cordials of *Light* refin'd.
This done, in soft addreſſes he began
To *fortifie* his kind Deſigns for Man,
*Unfeal'd* to him the Book of Gods Decree:

And ſhew'd him what *muſt* be,
Alledg'd the Truth of *Prophecies*,
*Types, Figures, and Mysteries*,
How needful it was to ſupply
With humane Race the *ruins* of the Skie.
How this would *new* acceſſon bring
To the *Cœlestial* Quire,
And how withall it would inſpire
*New* Matter for the Praife of the great King.
How he ſhould ſee the *travail* of his *Soul*, and ble
Thoſe Sufferings which had ſo good Succes.
How great the *Triumphs* of his Victory,
How glorious his *Aſcent* would be,
What *weighty* Bliſs in Heaven he ſhould obtain
By a few Hours of Pain,
Where to *Eternal* Ages he ſhould Reign.
He ſpake, confirm'd in mind the *Champion* ſtood
A Spirit divine
Through the thick *Veil* of Fleſh did ſhine
All over *Powerful* he was, all over *Good*.

Please

[ 5 ]

Pleas'd with his successful Flight,
The *Officious* Angel pofts away
To the bright Regions of Eternal Day,
Departing in a track of Light.
In hafte for News the heavenly People ran,
And joy'd to hear the *hopeful* State of Man.

V.

And now that ftrange prodigious hour,
When God muft fubjeet be to humane Power,
That Hour is come,
The unerring Clock of Fate has ftruck,
I was heard below down to Hell's lowest Room,
And ſtrait th' Infernal Powers th' appointed ſignal
Open the Scene my Muse, and ſee (took,
Vonders of Impudence and Villany ;
How wicked Mercenary hands
Dare to invade him whom they ſhould adore,
With Swords & Staves incompaſs'd round he ſtands,
Who knew no other Guards but thofe of Heaven
Once with his powerful breath he did repell (before.

The rude affaults of Hell.
A ray of his Divinity
Shot forth with that bold Anſwer, I am He,
They reel and ſtagger, and fall to the Ground,
For God was in the Sound.
The Voice of God was once again
Walking in the Garden heard,
And once again was by the guilty Hearers fear'd ;
Trembling ſeiz'd every joynt, and chilneſs every

(Vein.
This

[6]

This little Victory he won,
Shew'd what he could have done.
But he to whom as chief was given
The whole Militia of Heaven,
That Mighty He
Declines all Guards for his defence
But that of his inseparable Incocence;
And quietly gives up his Liberty.
He's leiz'd on by the Military bands,
With Cords they bind his sacred hand.
But ah! how weak, what nothings would they prove
Were he not held by stronger ones of Love.

VI.

Once more, my weary'd Muse, thy Pinions try,
And reach the top of Calvary.
A steep Ascent: But moft to him who bore
The Burthen of a Crofs this way before.
(The Crofs ascends, there's something in it sure
That Moral is and mystical,
No Heights of Fortune are from thee secure,
Afflictions sometimes Climb, as well as fall)
Here breath a while, and view
The dolefull st Picture Sorrow ever drew,
The Lord of Life, Heavens darling Son
The Great, the Almighty one,
With out-stretch'd Arms, nail'd to a cursed Tree,
Crown'd with sharp Thorns, cover'd with Infamy

He

[ 8 ]

But now no longer able to contain
Under the great Hyperbole of pain,
He mourns, and with a strong Pathetick cry,
Laments the sad Defertion of the Diety.
Here stop my Mufe, stop and admire,
The Breather of all Life does now expire;
His Milder Father Summons him away,
His Breath obediently he does resign;
Angels to Paradice his Soul convey,
And Calm the Relients of his grief with Hymns divin

[ 10 ]

*And hatch'd with kindly heat the Universe.*

Love in the Gentile Theology, is made the
moft ancient of the Gods, and the Sire of all
things. ἵνα πράντα δι' ὁπεῖνοι μεπαγχ ζεύεσεως, fays
Plutarch. And it is defcribed by Simmias
Rhodius, in a pair of Wings, which ſuited
well with the Symbolical repreſentation of
the Chaos by an Egg, which was brooded
and hatch'd under theſe Wings of Love.
This whole matter is rarely well, and at large
exprès'd by Aristophanes in Avibus. The plain
and undisguſed meaning of it is this, That
the Creation of the World was the effect of
the Divine Love, God having no other end
in it befides the Communication of his own
Happineſs.

*As th' Elements are weighty proved,
When from their Native Station they're removed.*

This is according to the Aristotelean Hypothe-
fis, that the Elements are not heavy in their
own places, which whether it be true or no,
I shall not now dispute. However, it ſerves
for an Illustration, which is ſufficient for my
prefent purpose.

He

[ 12 ]

In haste for news the heavenly people ran,
And joy'd to hear the hopeful state of man.

It is highly reasonable to believe that those
blessed and excellent Spirits, who out of
their compassionate love and concern for
mankind, uſher'd in the news of our Savi-
our's Nativity with Anthems of Praise and
Thanksgiving; and are ſaid likewife to re-
joice at the Conversion of a Sinner, were al-
so mightily transported with joy, when they
understood that our Saviour, notwithstand-
ing the reluctance of innocent Nature, was a
length fully reſolv'd to undertake the Price
of our Redemption.

Full three long hours his Tender Body did
sustain

Most exquisite and poignant pain.

It is ſuppoſed by the Ancient Fathers, that the
Sufferings which our B. Saviour underwent
in his Body, were more affl ictive to him that
the fame would have been to another man
upon the account of the excellency and
quickneſs of his ſenſe of feeling : And this
opinion I take to be as reaſonable, as 'tis
pious. For ſince, according to the Princi-
ples of Philoſophy, the ſenſe of feeling arise
from

[ 13 ]

from the proportion of the first Qualities, it
follows, that the better the complexion or
temperament of any man is, the better his
Feeling must needs be. Now this very reasonable
to believe, that that man who was
to be substantially united to the God-head,
and who was begotten by the miraculous
over shadowings of the holy Spirit, should
have a Body endow'd with the best Compl ex-
xion, and most noble Harmony of Qualities
that could be, that so it might be a suitable
Organ for his excellent Soul. And if so,
then it follows that the flesh of our Lord's
Body was so soft and tender, and his feeling
so exquisitely quick and sensitive, as never
any man's was before: And consequently
the severe usages which he underwent, not
only at his Passion, but throughout his whole
Life, must needs be in a Singular manner af-
factive to him. And hence appears the va-
nity of their opinion, who are little or no-
thing affected with the consideration of our
Lords Passion, because they think it was made
light to him, by reason of his union with
the God-head. 'Twas easy for him (some
inconsiderate Persons are ready to say) to
suffer this or this, for he was God, and not
meer man, as we are. True, he was so,

B 2

but

[ 14 ]

but his being God did no way leffen the
punifhment he underwent as man, but only
ſupported him in his exiſtence under it, in
the fame manner as God is ſuppoſed, by an
act of his Almighty Power, to preſerve the
bodies of the Damn'd, incorruptible among
the everlaſting burnings. But this I think is
no kindneſs to them. Neither did the So-
ciety of the Divine Nature any more dimi-
nifh the Sufferings of our deareſt Lord ; nay,
in one reſpect it proved an accidental aggra-
vation to them, becauſe upon the account
of this Noble Union he had given him a
Body of a moſt admirable Complexion and
Harmonious Temperature, and conſequently
of a Fleſh exceeding tender, and moſt ex-
quiſitely perceptive of the leaſt impreſſions.

So long the Sympathizing Sun his light with-
drew,

And wonder'd how the Stars their dying
Lord could view.

The Eclipse which accompany'd the Paffion
of our Saviour was so remarkable and mira-
culous, that 'twas taken notice of by many
of the Gentile Historians: And moreover
Dionyſus Areopagita, then a Professor of
Philofophy at Heliopolis in Egypt, affirms in
an Epistle to Policarp, that he, with Apollo-
pha-

[ 16 ]

3. For the degree of it, it was a total Eclipse. The Sun was so darkened, that (as Historians report, who write of that Eclipse) the Stars appear'd. And this is another Argument that it was no Natural Phenomenon, it being impossible that the Body of the Moon, which is so infinitely less than that of the Sun, should totally eclipse it. Now all these three Remarkables are comprized in the compals of these two Veres. For in that it is said that the Sun withdrew his light, it is intimated that the light of the Sun was not intercepted by the ordinary conjunction of the Moon, but that by an Extraordinary Commission from the God of Nature, the Sun rein'd in his light, and suspended the emission of his Beams. And this denotes the time of its appearance, (viz.) when the Moon was not in Conjunction. The time of its duration is implied by the words, So long. And lastly, the Degree of it is implied in the last Verse,

> And wonder'd how the Stars their dying
> Lord could view.

Where the appearance of the Stars is not directly expressed, but only infinuated and couch'd, for the more elegancy of the thought.

And

[ 17 ]

*And calm the Relics of his grief with Hymns divine.*

It is here supposed that the Passion of our Saviour was now over, and his Father's wrath wholly appeas'd. For I can by no means approve the opinion of those who fancy that our Saviour, in the interim betwixt his Death and Resurrection, defended locally into Hell, there to suffer the torments of the damn'd. His own words upon the Crofs, *It is finished*; His promise to the penitent Thief, that he should be with him that day in Paradice, and his last resignation of his Spirit into the hands of his Father, do all of them apparently contradict it. But yet, though the bitter Cup was wholly drank off upon the Crofs, 'tis natural to imagine some little relish of it to remain behind for a time. Though all his sufferings and penal inflections were ended before his death, yet, I suppose (and I think very naturally) some little discomposures of mind, remaining like the after-droppings of a shower, which his Soul could not immediately shake off, upon her release from the Body. In allusion to that of Virgil,

B 4

Inter

[ 19 ]

# An Hymn upon the Transfiguration.

## I.

Hail King of Glory, clad in Robes of Light,
Out-shining all we here call bright:
Hail Light's divinest Galaxy,
Hail Express Image of the Deity.
Could now thy Amorous Spouse thy Beauties view,
How would her wounds all bleed anew!
Lovely thou art all o're and bright,
Thou Israel's Glory, and thou Gentile's Light.

## II.

But whence this brightness, whence this sudden day?
Who did thee thus with light array?
Did thy Divinity dispence
Its Confort a more liberal influence?
Or did some Curious Angel's Chymick Art
The Spirits of purest light impart,
Drawn from the Native Spring of day,
And wrought into an Organized ray?

## III.

AlHowe're twas done, 'tis Glorious and Divine,
Thou doft with radiant wonders shine.
The Sun with his bright Company,
Are all grofs Meteors if compar'd to thee.

Thou

[ 20 ]

Thou art the fountain whence their Light does flow,
But to thy will thine own doft owe.
For (as at first) thou didst but say,
Let there be light, and ſtrait ſprang forth this won-
(drous day.

## IV.

Let now the Eastern Princes come and bring
Their Tributary Offering.
There needs no Star to guide their flight,
They'll find thee now, great King, by thine own light.
And thou, my Soul, adore, love and admire,
And follow this bright Guide of Fire.
Do thou thy Hymns and Praises bring,
Whilft Angels with Veil'd Faces, Anthems ſing.

# The Parting.

## I.

Depart! The Sentence of the Damnd I hear ;
Compendious grief, and black deſpair.
I now believe the Schools with eafe,
(Tho once an happy Infidel)
That ſhould the ſenſe no torment ſeize,
Yet Pain of Lofs alone would make a Hell.

## II.

Take all, ſince me of this you Gods deprive,
'Tis hardly now worth while to live.
Nought

[ 21 ]

Nought in exchange can grateful prove,
No Second Friendship can be found
To match my mourning Widow'd Love;
Eden is loft, the rest's but common ground.

### III.
Why are the greatest Blessings lent in vain,
Which must be loft with greater pain ?
Or why do we fondly admire
The greatest good which life can boast ?
When Fate will have the Blifs expire,
Like Life, with painful Agonies 'tis loft.

### IV.
How fading are the Joys we dote upon,
Like Apparitions seen and gone:
But those which foonest take their flight,
Are the most exquisite and strong,
Like Angels visits, short and bright;
Mortality's too weak to bear them long.

### V.
No pleasure certainly is so divine
As when two Souls in Love combine :
He has the substance of all blifs,
To whom a Vertuous Friend is given,
So sweet harmonious Friendship is,
Add but Eternity, you'll make it Heaven.

### VI.
The Minutes in your conversation spent
Were Festivals of true content.

Here,

[ 22 ]

Here, here, an Ark of pleasing rest,
My Soul had found that restles's Dove,
My preſent State methought was beſt,
I envy'd none below, ſcarce thofe above.

VII.

But now the better part of me is gone,
My Sun is fet, my Turtle flown.
Tho here and there of leſer bliſs
Some twiſkling Stars give feeble light,
Still there a mournful darkneſs is,
They ſhine but juſt enough to ſhow 'tis night.

VIII.

Fatal divorce! What have I done amifs,
To bear ſuch miſery as this?
The World yields now no real good,
All happineſs is now become
But paſt and deluding food :
As meer a Fiftion as Elysium.

IX.

Well then, ſince nothing eſſe can pleafe my taſte,
I'll ruminate on pleaſures paſt.
So when with glorious Vifions bleſt,
The waking Hermit finds no theme
That's grateful to his thoughtful breaſt,
He ſweetly recolletſs his pleasing Dream.

To

[ 23 ]

To a Lady, who asked him,
What Life was ?

Is not because I breathe and eat,
Is not because a vigorous heat
Drives round my Blood, and does impart
Motion to my Pulse and Heart :
Is not such proofs as these can give
Any assurance that I Live.
No, no, to Live is to enjoy;
What marrs our blifs does Life destroy :
The days which pass without Content,
Are not liv'd properly, but spent.
Who says the Damn'd in Hell do Live ?
That word we to the Blessed give :
The Sum of all whose happineſs
We by the name of Life expreſs.
Well then, if this account be true,
To Live is ſtill to Live with You.

The

[ 24 ]

The third Chapter of Job Paraphrased.

I.

Curs'd, ever curs'd be that unhappy day,
When firſt the Suns unwelcome ray
I ſaw with trembling eyes, being newly come
From the dark Prifon of the womb.
When firſt to me my vital breath was lent,
That breath which now muſt all in ſighs be ſpent

II.

Let not the Sun his chearing Beams diſplay
Upon that wretched, wretched day;
But mourn in Sables, and all over ſhroud
His glories in a ſullen cloud.
Let light to upper Regions be confin'd,
And all below as black as is my mind.

III.

Curs'd be the night which firſt began to lay
The ground-work of this houſe of Clay:
Let it not have the honour to appear
In the *Retinue* of the year.
Let all the days ſhun its ſociety,
Hate, curſe, abandon it as much as I.

IV. Let

[ 25 ]

IV.

Let Melancholy call that Night her own,
Then let her sigh, then let her groan:
A general grief throughout all Nature spread,
With folded arms, and drooping head.
All Harps be still, or tun'd to such a strain
As Friends might hear, and yet not ease their pain.

V.

Let neither Moon nor Stars, with borrow'd light,
Checquer the blacknefs of that Night :

But let a pure unquestion'd darknefs rear
Her Sooty Wings all o're the Air;
Such as once on th' Abyfs of Chaos lay,
Not to be pierc'd by Stars, scarce by the edge of Day.

VI.

Why was there then, ah, why a paflage free
At once for life and misery ?

Why did I not uncloifter'd from the Womb
Take my next lodging in a Tomb?

Why with such cruel tenderneſs and care
Was I nurſ'd up to Sorrow and Despair ?

VII.

For now in ſweet repofe might I have lain
Secure from any grief or pain:

Untouch'd with care, my Bed I ſhould have made
In Death's cool and refreshing ſhade.

I ſhould have ſlept now in a happy place,
All calm and ſilent as the Empty ſpace.

VIII. There

[ 26 ]

VIII.

There where great Emperours their heads lay down,
Tir'd with the burthen of a Crown.

There where the Mighty, Popular and Great,
Are happy in a dear retreat ;

Enjoy that solid Peace which here in vain
In Grotts and shady walks they fought to obtain.

IX.

None of Hells Agents can or dare moleft
This awful Sanctuary of rest.

No Prisoners fighs, no groanings of the Slave,
Difturb the quiet of the Grave.

From toil and labour here they ever ceafe,
And keep a Sabbath of fweet rest and peace.

X.

Why then does Heaven on Mortals Life beftow
When 'tis thus overtax'd with woe ?

Why am I for'd to live againft my will,
When all the good is loft in ill ?

My fighs flow thick, my groans found from afat
Like falling waters to the traveller.

Sera

[ 27 ]

Seraphic Love.

I.

Is true, *Frail Beauty*, I did once resign
To thy *imperious* Charms this Heart of
mine:
There didst thou *undisturb'd* thy Scepter way,
And I methought was *pleas'd* to obey.
Thou seem'st so lovely, so divine,
With such sweet Graces didst thou shine,
Thou entertain'st my *Amorous* senfe
With such *Harmonious* excellence,
That, Credulous and Silly I,
With *vain*, with *impious* Idolatry,
befall'dor'd that Star which was to lead me to the Deity.

II.

But now, thou soft Enchantress of the mind,
from aMW arewel, a change, a mighty change I find;
The Empire of my Heart thou must resign,
For I can be no longer thine.
A Nobler, a Diviner Gueft,
Has took possession of my Breast,
He has, and must engroſs it all,
And yet the room is still too ſmall.
In vain you tempt my Heart to rove,
A fairer object now my Soul does move,
It must be all *Devotion*, what before was Love.

C

III. Through

[ 28 ]

### III.

Through Contemplation's Optics I have seen
Him who is Fairer than the Sons of men:
The Source of good, the light Archetypall,
Beauty in the Original.

The fairest of ten thousand, He,
Proportion all and Harmony.

All Mortal Beauty's but a ray
Of his bright ever-shining day;
A little feeble twinkling Star,

Which now the Sun's in place must disappear;

There is but One that's Good, there is but One that
(Fair)

### IV.

To thee, thou only Fair, my Soul aspires
With Holy Breathing's, languishing desires.

To thee m' inamour'd, panting Heart does move
By Efforts of Ecstatic Love.

How do thy glorious streams of Light
Refresh my intellectual fight!

Tho broken, and strain'd through a Skreen
Of envious Flesh that stands between!

When shall m' imprisonment'd Soul be free,

That she thy Native uncorrected Light may see,
And gaze upon thy Beatific Face to all Eternity?

Atlas

[ 29 ]

Atlas Britannicus denuo instauratus.

Nunc age divinum inlpira mihi Phæbe furotem,
Maxima ut Angliacæ pandatur gloria gentis,
Ingenii monumentum ingens, durique laboris,
Urq; tuum celebretur opus: Tu nempe perenni
Qui Curfu immenfi Stadium Metiris Olympi,
Unde omnes variâ perlustras lampade terras,
Ut tabulâ exprimerent quem tu face circuis orbem
Anglis Author eras. Quis enim fine Numine tantum
Moliretur opus, Cœptum aut præftare valeret?
Dux operis Deus eſt, totamque infusa per artus
Mens agitat molem, divinâ conditus arte,
Non niſi divino describitur Aufspice Mundus.

Fare age *Calliope* audacis primordia cœpti,
Quidve *Deum* impulerit tam immensâ involvere
Mortales animos, tantos aperire labores. (curâ
Forte Pater rerum à Summâ *Saturnius* arce
Vana hominum ſtudia: & curas ſpeculatus inanes,
Quamque levi infurgant Mortalia pectora faſtu,
Risit, & ad Socios Converſo lumine Divos,
Terricolifne videtis (ait) quam cæca voluptas
Decipere, atque *viam palantis* quærere vitæ?
Imperio ut certant Reges, mundique quietem
Marte agitant, Modicaque armis tellure potiti
Corde tument, capita alta gerunt, titulifq; ſuperbi

C 2

Se

[ 30 ]

Se rerum Dominos credunt Mundique Monarchas
Adque orbis metas regni procedere fines !
Cernite quantillo rudis iste superbiat Hæres.
Regali incedens paflu ; quam turget avito
Stemmate, & Augusto quantum fibi plaudit agello.
Tanquam aliquid Magnum in Noftro posſederit orbe
Neſcius in quantum pateant terreſtria Molem,
Ignarus quantilla mei pars cognita Mundi.
Quinetiam Merito O ſuperi, fraudamur honore,
Et Laudum pars magna perit, dum Climata tanta
Totque latent, tractuſque Maris Cœliq; profundi
Cimmeria tanquam Nebula & Caligine Merſi.
Quare agite immenſi pandatur Scena Theatri,
Nec Mea terricolas lateant Miracula gentes.
Unde Sciant homines quam fit fibi Curta ſupellex,
Et Noſtrum cumulent geminato Numen honore.

Eſt locus Angliacis Fama celeberrimus oris,
Muſarum ſedes, decus orbis, cura deorum,
Quem te Phæbe ſerunt terris magis omnibus unum
Poſt-habito Coluiffle Chamo—
Omnigenæ hic florent artes, hic Sidere dextro
Scire datur rerum Cauſas, Mundique receſſus,
Aereas tentare domus, animoque per omnem
Ire globum, arcanaſque omnes inquirere ſedes.
Quid ſi aliquos præſtanti animo de Gente togata
Queis ſolito melius finxerunt pectus Athenæ
Mundi hujus varios jubeam deſcribere tractus,
Et tabula Simulante Meos aperire Labores.
Nulla fit ut Noſtro pars terræ Incognita Mundo !
Aſſenſere Dii, & plaſu reboavit Olympus.

Pro-

[ 31 ]

Protinus ætherea laplus Cyllenius arce
Bellofitum nocte ingreditur, fomnoque Sepultis
Inspirat Patriam per amica infomnia Mentem
Tollite Cuncta (inquit) cœptosque auferte labores,
Grandius instat opus, cunctos terræque Marisque
Indigitare Sinus, Complectique omnia Chartis
Quemque impleviftis Fama nunc pingere Mundam.
Præcipitate Moras, nec plura effatus; at Illi
Ocyus incubuere omnes, pariterque laborem
Sortiti, artifici deſignant omnia dextra.
Fervet opus; Cœlum, & terras, Campofq; liquentes,
Urbes, Montefque inflignes, Fluvioſque pererrant,
Nullus iter prohibet Rubicon, ſpatia omnia luſtrant
Quot Sol ſigna tenens duodena volubilis anni.

Ergo iter incæptum peragant, Carolique Deique
Aufpiciis procedat opus, nec Meta labori
Ante eſto, quam defuerit quærentibus orbis.

At quæ Magna tuas Celebrare Britannia laudes
Muſa valet, quot tu palmis, quot digna tropheis,
Quot totum tuleris Viſtricia Signa per orbem,
Audacique omnes dextra deviceris oras!
Roma triumphales circum Capitolia Currus
Ducat, & ampla ſuo indicat ſolennia Marti
Quum Cruor, & Mors, & longi diſpendia belli
Viſtrices tribuere Aquilas; Inſignior Angliſ
Accumulatur honos, Solamq; hæc pulcra Britannam
Palma Manet Gentem, Calamo quod Vicerit orbem.

C 3

Ducis

[ 32 ]

Ducis Eboracenfis ad Oxonium
Proceffio.

Dum triffes Sacra refiderent fede Camænæ,
Et gemerent querulo Secli infortunia plectro,
Dum Socios miſcet gemitus, & Murmure leni
It plorans Helicon, luſtulque reciprocat unda,
Fama per Aonias volitat circumſona ripas,
Ut placida æthereos mutarent fede tumultus
Ad juga Mæonidum Cœli Statione reliſta
Adventare Deos. Adeo omnis Magna Serenæ
Pompa gravis paci eſt, placidæque inimica quieti.

Jamque nova arretas pertentant gaudia mentes
(Semper enim geſſiffe ferunt Pia Corde Camænas)
Lætitiaque micant frontes, jam flore ſuperbit
Terra novo, jubar emittit Sincerius æther,
Inque magis Festiva aptantur Carmina Nervi,
Vicinofque Helicon jam pulſat Fortius agros.

Ruricolas etiam Nymphas, pecorifque Magiſtros
Jam gregis oblitos patriis accerſit ab arvis
Ad juga Mæonidum nova fama, deoſque videndi
Ambitioſus amor. Quæ tum, quæ lumina vulgi!
Qui piaſus! plenis quæ ſtabant agmina vicis!
Terra anguſta viris, Muſiſque anguſtior amnis
Defuit, & Cœlum votis, & piaſibus aer.

Tandem

[ 33 ]

Tandem ubi Cælicole ad placidum venere receffum,
Sydereæ gentis Numeroſa aftante Caterva,
Summifſoque humiles intrarunt Vertice portas
Obvia Muſarum proceſſit turba, Deoſque
Sic affata una eſt. Reliquæ filuere Sorores
Atque audituras Volvit Fons Mollius undas.

O quæ Sidereas liquiftis Numina fedes,
Hofpitiumque humile in Noſtra Conquiritis aula,
Jam Noſtri Salvete Lares, Salvete Penates.
Nos Pia turba ſumus, Superumque addictior aris,
Quumque Minaretur Cœlo Titania pubes
Atque affectarent regnum Cœleſte Rebelles,
Nos nunquam Meritis Cumulare Altaria donis
Deſtitimus, juſtoſque diis perſolvere honores.
Nec coluiffe piget; Nos Veftro Numine tutæ
Alta in pace ſumus, trahimuſque per otia vitam.
Quinetiam hoc uno plus quam penſamur honore
Cætera ſi defint, quod magna laude feremur
Hofpitio excepiffe Deos. Sic fata, receſſit.

Inde datum feſtantur iter, Studioque Videndi
Et Sacros adeunt latices, & amœna vireta,
Pieridumque domus lauru Cingente Verendas,
Fœlicefque vocant pariter ſtudioque locoque
Mæonidas

Quumque Sat Aonios luſtraſſent Numina Colles,
Vivite Fœlices (aiunt) hac ſede Camœnæ.

Vivite concordes, & quam vix Purpura Novit
Obſervate fidem, Sacrique à Vertice Collis

C 4

Deſpicite

[ 34 ]

Despicite infanas veftri fine parte pericli
Magnatum lites, & Mundi hinc Ipernite pompam,

Protinus ad Iuperas Cefferunt Numina fedes
Pieriifque fui rediit pax alma Receffus.

The Retirement.

I.

Well, I have thought on't, and I find
This bufie World is Non-fenſe all,
I here deſpair to please my mind,
Her ſweeteſt Honey is ſo mix'd with Gall.
Come then, I'll try how 'tis to be alone,
Live to my ſelf a while, and be my own.

II.

I've try'd, and bleſs the happy change;
So happy, I could almost vow
Never from this Retreat to range,
For ſure I ne'r can be ſo bleſt as now.
From all th' allays of bleſs I here am free,
I pitty others, and none envy me.

III.

Here in this ſhady lonely Grove
I ſweetly think my hours away,
Neither with Buſineſs vex'd, nor Love,
Which in the World bear ſuch Tyrannic ſway:
No Tumults can my cloſe Apartment find, (Wind,
Calm as thofe Seats above, which know no Storm nor

IV. Let

[ 35 ]

IV.

Let Plots and News embroil the State,
Pray what's that to my Books and Me ?
Whatever be the Kingdom's Fate,
Here I am fure t' enjoy a Monarchy.
Lord of my self, accountable to none,
Like the first Man in Paradice, alone.

V.

While the Ambitious vainly fue,
And of the partial Stars complain,
I stand upon the Shore and view
The mighty Labours of the diffant Main.
I'm flush'd with silent joy, and smile to see
The Shafts of Fortune still drop short of me.

VI.

Th' uneaſie Pageantry of State,
And all the plagues to Thought and Senſe
Are far remov'd; I'm plac'd by Fate
Out of the Road of all Impertinence.
Thus, tho my fleeting Life runs ſwiftly on,
Twill not be ſhort, becauſe 'tis all my own.

The

[ 36 ]

The Infidel.

I.

Farewel Fruition, thou grand Cruel Cheat,
Which first our hopes doth raise and then de-
Farewel thou Midwife to Abortive Blif's,
(feat.
Thou Mystery of fallacies.
Distance presents the Object fair,
With Charming features and a graceful air,
But when we come to seize th' inviting prey,
Like a Shy Ghost, it vanishes away.

II.

So to th' unthinking Boy the diffant Sky
Seems on some Mountain's Surface to relie;
He with ambitious haſte climbs the aſcent,
Curious to touch the Firmament:
But when with an unweari'd pace
Arriv'd he is at the long-wiſh'd-for place,
With Sighs the ſad defeat he does deplore,
His Heaven is ſtill as diffant as before.

III.

And yet 'twas long e're I could *thoroughly* see
This grand Impoſtor's *frequent* Treachery.
Tho often Fools'd, yet I ſhould ſtill dream on
Of Pleasure in *Reverſion*.

Tho

[ 38 ]

II.

So when the Mystic Sibyl's Sacred Breast
Was with Divine Infusions possest,
'Twas Rage and Madneſs thought to be,
Which was all Oracle and Mysterie.
And so the Soul that's shortly to Commence
A Spirit free from dregs of Senſe,
Is thought to rave, when She discourſes high,
And breaſhes the lofty strains of Immortality.

III.

Muſic, thou Generous Ferment of the Soul,
Thou universal Cement of the whole,
Thou Spring of Paſſion, that doſt infuse
Religious Ardours, and Poetic Fire,
Who'd think that Madneſs ſhould b'ascrib'd to thee?
That mighty Diſcord to thy Harmony?
But 'twas ſuch ignorance that call'd the Gift Divine
Of various Tongues, Rage, and th' effects of Wine.

IV.

But thou, Seraphic Soul, do thou advance
In thy sweet Ecclety, thy pleafing Trance :
Let thy brisk paſſions mount ſtill higher,
Till they joyn to the Element of Fire.
Soar higher yet, till thou ſhalt calmly hear
The Muſic of a well-tun'd Sphere :
Then on theumpiſh maſs look down, and thou
(Thalt know the Madneſs of the World, for groveling ſtill below.

The

[39]

# The Consolation.

## I.

I Grant 'tis bad, but there is some relief
In the Society of Grief.
'Tis sweet to him that mourns to see
A whole House clad in Sorrow's Livery.
Grief in Communion does remiss appear,
Like harsher sounds in Confort, which lefts grate the

## II.

Men would not Curse the Stars, did they dispence
In common their ill Influence.
Let none be rich, and Poverty
Would not be thought so great a Mifery.
Our discontent is from comparison; (own)
Were better states unseen, each man would like his

## III.

Should partial Seas wreck my poor Ship alone,
I might with cause my Fate bemoan.
But since before I sink, I see
A Numerous Fleet of Ships descend with me,
Why don't I with content my breath resign?
I will, and in the greater ruine bury mine.

The

[ 40 ]

The Choice.

Stet quicunque volet potens
Aulæ culmine lubrico, &c.

I.

NO, I shan't envy him who're he be
That stands upon the Battlements of State,
Stand there who will for me,
I'd rather be *secure* than *great*.
Of being so high the *pleasure* is but small,
But long the Ruine if I chance to fall.

II.

Let me in some sweet shade serenely lye,
Happy in leisure and obscurity;
Whilft others place their joys
In popularity and noife.
Let my soft minutes glide obscurely on
Like subterraneous streams, unheard, unknown.

III.

Thus when my days are all in silence past,
A good plain Country-man I'll dye at last.
Death cannot chuse but be
To him a *mighty* misery,
Who to the World was *popularly* known,
And dies a *Stranger* to himself alone.

[ 41 ]

The Meditation.

I.

IT must be done (my Soul) but 'tis a strange,
A dismal and *Mysterious* Change,
When thou shalt leave this *Tenement* of Clay,
And to an *unknown* somewhere Wing away;
When *Time* shall be *Eternity*, and thou (not how.
Shalt be thou know'ft not what, & live thou know'ft

II.

*Amazing* State! no wonder that we dread
To *think* of *Death*, or *view* the *Dead*.
Thou'rt all wrapt up in Clouds, as if to thee
Our very *Knowledge* had *Antipathy*.
Death could not a more *Sad* Retinue find,
*Sicknesfs* and *Pain* before, and *Darknesfs* all behind.

III.

Some Courteous Ghoſt, tell this great Secrecy,
What 'tis you *are*, and we *muſt* be.
You warn us of *approaching* Death, and why
May we not know from you what 'tis to *Dye*?
But you, having *fhot* the Gulph, delight to see
Succeeding Souls *plunge* in with *like* uncertainty.

IV. When

[ 42 ]

IV.

When Life's close Knot by Writ from Destiny,
Disease shall cut, or Age unty;
When after some Delays, some dying Strife,
The Soul stands shivering on the Ridge of Life;
With what a dreadful Curiosity
Does she launch out into the Sea of vaft Eternity.

V.

So when the Spatious Globe was delug'd o're,
And lower holds could save no more,
On th' utmost Bough th' aftonish'd Sinners ftood,
And view'd th' advances of th' encroaching Flood.
O're-topp'd at length by th' Element's encreafe,
With horrour they resign'd to the untry'd Abyfs.

The

[ 45 ]

A Discourse of the Care and Improvement of Time.

TO be careful how we manage and employ our Time, is one of the first Precepts that is taught in the School of Wisdom, and one of the last that is learn'd. The first and leading dictate of Prudence is, That a Man propose to himself his true and best interest for his End; and the next is, That he make use of all those means and opportunities whereby that end is to be attain'd. And betwixt these two there is such a close connexion, that he who does not do the latter, cannot be supposed to intend the former. He that is not careful of his actions, shall never perfwade me that he seriously proposes to himself his best interest, as his end, for if he did, he would as seriously apply himself to the regulation of the other as the means. And so he that is not careful of his Time, cannot in reason be supposed to be careful of his Actions; for if he were, he would certainly have a special regard to the opportunity of their performance.

D 2

But

[ 46 ]

But, as I observ'd in the beginning, though
this Precept be one of the Elementary di-
states of Prudence, and stands written in
the first page of the Book of Wisdom; yet
such is the fottishneſs and ſtupidity of the
World, that there is none that is more flowely
learn'd. And 'tis a prodigious thing to con-
fider, that, although among all the Talents
which are committed to our Stewardship,
Time upon ſeveral accounts is the moſt pre-
cious, yet there is not any one of which the
generality of men are more profuſe and re-
gardleſs. Tho it be a thing of that ineſti-
mable value, that 'tis not diſtributed to us
intirely, and at once, like other Bleſſings,
but is dealt out in minutes and little parcels,
as if man were not fit to be trusted with the
intire poſſession of ſuch a choice Treaſure, yet
there are very many that think themſelves ſo
overſtock'd with it, that inſtead of husbanding
it to advantage, the main buſineſs of their
thoughts is how to rid their hands of it, and
accordingly they catch at every ſhadow and
opportunity of relief; ſtrike in at a venture
with the next Companion, and ſo the dead
Commodity be taken off; care not who be the
Chapman. Nay, 'tis obvious to obſerve, that
even those perſons who are frugal and thrifty,
in

[ 47 ]

ing, though, in every thing else, are yet extremely pro-
nary digal of their best Revenue, Time; Of which
written alone (as Seneca neatly observes) 'tis a Vertue
dom; to be Covetous.

Neither may this Cenſure be faſtned only
upon the unthinking multitude, the Sphere
to of whole Conſideration is ſuppoſed to be
very narrow, and their Apprehenſion ſhort-
ward ſighted; but I obſerve that many of thofe
who ſet up for Wits, and pretend to a more
than ordinary ſagacity, and delicacy of Senſe,
and do notwithstanding ſpend their Time very
that in unaccountably, and live away whole days,
 weeks, and ſometimes months together, to
Bleſſas little purpofe (tho it may be not ſo inno-
te pacently) as if they had been aſleep all the
d with while. And this they are ſo far from being
cauſure aſhamed to own, that they freely boaſt of
emſelve it, and pride themſelves in it, thinking that
bushat it tends to their Reputation, and commends
s of the greatneſs of their Parts, that they can
of it, ſupport themſelves upon the Natural ſtock,
adow without being beholden to the Interest that
a ver is brought in by Study and Induſtry.

But if their Parts be ſo good as they would
who be have others believe, ſure they are worth im-
ſerve, proving; if not, they have the more need
and of it. And tho it be an Argument of a rich

D 3

mind,

[ 48 ]

mind, to be able to maintain it self without
labour, and subsist without the advantages of
Study, yet there is no man that has such a
portion of Sense, but will understand the
use of his Time better than to put it to the
tryal. Greatness of Parts is so far from being
a discharge from Industry, that I find
Men of the most exquisite Sense in all Ages
were always most curious of their Time:
Nay, the most Intelligent of all Created Be-
ings (who may be allow'd to pass a true
estimate upon things than the finest Mortal
Wit) value Time at a high rate. Let me go
(finds the Angel to the importunate Patri-
arch) for the day breaketh. And therefore
very much suspect the excellency of those
mens Parts, who are diffolute and careles
mis spenders of their Time: For if they were
men of any thoughts, how is it possible but
these should be some in the number ? (viz.,
That this Life is wholly in order to anoth,
and that Time is that sole opportunity
that God has given us for transacting the
great business of Eternity: That our work
is great, and our day of working short,
much of which all is lost and render'd use
less, through the cloudiness and darknes of
the Morning, and the thick vapours and
un

[ 50 ]

Of Solitude.

IT has been urg'd as an Objection, by some
Atheistical Persons, against the existence of
a God, that if there had been such a perfect
Being, who was compleatly happy in the en-
joyment of himself, he would never have
gone about to make a World. Now, tho
this Objection contributes nothing to the
support of Atheism ( the deſign of God in
Creating the World being not to increaſe his
happineſs, but to Communicate it) yet it pro-
ceeds upon this true ſuppoſition, That So-
ciety is a Bleſſing. It is ſo, and that not on-
ly respectively, and in reference to the pre-
fent circumstances of the World, and the
Necessities of this Life, but alſo (imply, and
in its own Nature; ſince it ſhall be an Ac-
ceſtory to our blifs in Heaven, and add many
moments to the weight of Glory. Neither
will the truth of this aſſertion be at all wea-
ken'd by alledging that no benefit or advantage
accrues to God by it, for that it becomes unbe-
neſcial to him ( tho a Bleſſing in its own na-
ture) is purely by accident, becauſe God emi-
nently containing in himself all poſſible
good,

[ 51 ]

good, is uncapable of any New Acceſſion.
(And as Society is in its own nature an
inſtrument of Happineſs, ſo is it made much
more ſo by the indigencies and infirmities of
Men. Man, of all Creatures in the World,
by ſo leaſt qualify'd to live alone, becauſe there
a p[er]ts no Creature that has ſo many neceſſities
in the[er] to be reliev'd. And this I take to be one of
the great Arts of Providence, to ſecure mu-
low, t[ual] amity and the reciprocation of good turns
to in the World, it being the Nature of Indi-
ſt[and]ency, like common danger, to indear men
to one another, and make them herd toge-
ther, like Fellow-Sailors in a Storm. And
That this indeed is the true caſe of Mankind, we
not all Sail in one bottom, and in a rough Sea,
to the end and ſtand in need of one anothers help at
every turn, both for the Necessities and Re-
ſp[ply], ſrefhments of Life. And therefore I am very
o[ne] far from commending the undertaking of
a[dd] m[uch]eſe Aſſeetics, that out of a pretence of keep-
Nei[ng] themselves unſpotted from the World, take
all w[ap] their quarters in Deſarts, and utterly
d[am]abandon all Humane Society. ] This is in
nes un[short] (to ſay no more of it) to put them-
[own]ſelves into an incapacity either of doing any
God[eg]ood to the World, or of receiving any
po[ſ] from it: and certainly that can be no defi-
rable

[ 52 ]

rable state. No, this Eremetical way of Living is utterly inconsistent with the Circumstances and Inclinations of Humane Nature; he must be a God, Self-sufficient and Independent that is fit for this state of absolute and perfect Solitude, and in this rigorous senſe, It is not good for man (tho in Paradice it ſelf) to be alone.

But tho Society, as 'tis opposed to a state of perfect and perpetual Solitude, be a Blesſing, yet considering how little of it there is in the World that is good, I think it adviſable for every man that has ſenſe and thoughts enough, to be his own Companion. (for certainly there is more required to quallify a man for his own company than for other men's ) to be as frequent in his Retirements as he can, and to communicate as little with the World as is conſistent with the duty of doing good, and the discharge of the common offices of Humanity. 'Tis true indeed ( as Seneca says ) Miscendæ & alternandæ ſunt Solitudo & frequentia : Solitude and Company are to have their turns, and in be interplaced. But Wive-men use to dedicate the largeſt ſhare of their Lives to the former, and let the beſt and moſt of their Time go to make up the Canonical Hours of Study.

[ 53 ]

Study, Meditation and Devotion. And for
this, besides the practice of Wife-men, we
have the Authentic example of our B. Lord
himself, Who,(as 'tis reasonably supposed (for
he had passed the thirtieth year of his Life
before he enter'd upon the stage of Action,
and then also fought all opportunities to be
alone, and oftentimes purchasing Retirement
at the expence of Night-watches) allotted
the greatest part of his little Time here on
Earth to Privacy and Retirement; and 'tis
highly probable, would have liv'd much
more reservedly, had not the peculiar busi-
ness of his function made it necessary for him
to be conversant in the World. The incli-
nation of our Lord lay more toward the
Contemplative way of Life, than the interest
of Mankind engaged him oftentimes upon
the Active. And 'tis very observable, that
there is scarce any one thing which he vouch-
faded to grace with so many marks and in-
stances of favour and respect as he did So-
litude. Which are thus summ'd up by the
excellent Pen of a very great Ma-
fter of Learning and Language; It
was Solitude and Retirement in
which Jesus kept his Vigils; the default places
heard him pray, in a privacy he was born, in
the

[ 54 ]

the Wildernes he fed his thouſands, upon a
Mountain apart he was transfigured, upon a
Mountain he died, and from a Mountain he
ascended to his Father. In which Retirements
his Devotion certainly did receive the advan-
tage of convenient circumſtances, and himself in
ſuch dispoſitions twice had the opportunities of
Glory.

Indeed, the Satisfactions and Advantages
of Solitude ( to a perſon that knows how to
improve it) are very great, and far tran-
ſcending thoſe of a Secular and Popular Life.
First, as to Pleasure and Satisfaction, who-
foever confiders the great variety of mens hu-
mours, the peevishneſs of ſome, the pride
and conceitedneſs of others, and the imperti-
nence of moſt; he that confiders what un-
reasonable terms of Communion ſome perſons
impoſe upon thoſe that partake of their So-
ciety; how rare it is for a man to light upon
a Company, where, as his first Salutation,
he ſhall not preſently have a Bottle thrut
to his Noſe; he, I ſay, that confiders theſe
and a thouſand more grievances, wherewith
the folly and ill nature of men have conſpi-
red to burthen Society, will find, take one
time with another, Company is an occaſion
of almost as much displeaſure as pleasure.

Where-

[ 55 ]

Whereas in the mean time the Solitary and
Contemplative man fits as safe in his Retire-
ment as one of Homer's Heroes in a Cloud,
and has this only trouble from the follies and
extravagancies of men, that he pitties them.
He does not, it may be, laugh so loud, but
he is better pleas'd: He is not perhaps so
often merry, but neither is he so often dif-
tinguished; he lives to himself and God, full of
Serenity and Content.

And as the Pleasures and Satisfactions of
Solitude exceed those of a Popular Life, so
also do the Advantages. Of these there are
two forts, Moral and Intellectual; to both
which Solitude is a particular friend. As to
the first, it is plain that Solitude is the proper
opportunity of Contemplation, which is both
the Foundation and the Perfection of a Reli-
gious Life. It is (as the same excellent Person
in fore-cited says elsewhere of a single Life) the
huge advantage of Religion, the great opportunity
for the Retirements of Devotion, which being
empty of Cares is full of Prayers, being unmin-
gled with the World is apt to converse with God,
and by not feeling the warmth of a too forward
and indulgent Nature, flames out with holy Fires,
till it be burning like the Cherubim and the
most extasy'd Order of holy and unpolluted Spirits.
And
When

[ 56 ]

And for this reason 'twas that the Ancients chose to build their Altars and Temples in Groves and Solitary Recesses, thereby intimating, that Solitude was the best opportunity of Religion.

Neither are our intellectual advantages less indebted to Solitude. And here, though I have in a great measure anticipated this consideration ( there being nothing necessarily required to compleat the Character of a Wife-man, besides the knowledge of God and himself) yet I shall not confine myself to this instance, but deduce the matter further, and venture to affirm that all kinds of Speculative knowledge as well as practical, are best improved by Solitude. Indeed there is much talk about the great benefit of keeping Great men company, and thereupon 'tis usually reckon'd among the disadvantages of a Country life, that those of that condition want the opportunities of a Learned Conversation. But to confess the truth, I think there is not so much in it as people generally imagine. Indeed, were the Souls of men lodg'd in transparent cafes, that we might read their thoughts; would they communicate what they know, were it the fashion to discourage learnedly, 'twere worth

[ 57 ]

Ancient worth while to frequent the *Cabals* of Great Men: But when it shall be counted a piece by any of errant *Pedantry*, and defect of good opporpreeding to start any Question of Learning in Company; when every man is as chy of his Notions as of a *Fairy-treasure*; and makes his Head not a Repository or Exchequer of Knowledge, but a Grave to ingnoury it in: A man may be a constant attendant at the *Conclaves* of Learned men all e of his life long, and yet be no more the wiser for't than a *Book-worm* is for dwelling in Libraries. And therefore, to speak ingeanuously, I don't see for my part wherein as great advantage of great Conversation lies, as the humours of men are pleas'd to order it. Were I to inform my self in buſineſs, and the management of affairs, I would gooner talk with a plain illiterate Farmer or Trades-man than the greatest *Vertuoſo* of The Society; and as for Learning (which is the only thing they are ſuppoſed able to diſcourſe well of) that in point of *Civility* they decline: So that I find I muſt take refuge at my Study at laſt, and there redeem the Time that I have loſt among the *Learned*.

A

[ 58 ]

A Discourse concerning Heroic Piety.

Since the Practice of Religion in general is not only the Natural Instrument of our present Happineſs, but also the only and indispensable condition of our Future, one would think there were but little left for the Orator to do here, the naked efficacy of Self-love, and a ſerious consideration of our true and main Interests, being ſufficient to engage us upon Religious performances. But he that ſhall undertake to recommend the Practice of Heroic Piety, has a much heavier task, not only becauſe he perſwades to higher degrees of Vertue, but becauſe he is to addreſs himſelf wholly to a weaker Principle. For ſince our interest is ſecured by the performance of necessary Duty, there remains nothing but a Principle of Generofity to carry us on to the higher advances, the more glorious Atchievements in Religion. And what ſmall probability there is that it will often do ſo, may appear from the ill ſucces

[ 59 ]

Success of the former and more prevailing Principle. For if the greatest interest impossible can prevail with so very few to perform what is indispensably necessary to secure it, sure there is little hopes that Generosity, which is a much weaker Principle, should engage many upon greater performances.

But yet, notwithstanding these dispositions, since our Blessed Saviour has taught us to pray, not only for the performance of God's will in general, but that it be done on Earth as it is in Heaven; that is, with the greatest zeal, readinest and alacrity, with all the degrees of Seraphic ardency that frail Mortality is capable of, I think a PerPETUAL SWAP for a useful undertaking; it being very reasonable that we should make that the object of our endeavours, which our Saviour thought fit to make the matter of our Prayers.

In discourting upon this subject, I shall proceed in this Method. 1. I shall state the futility of Heroic Piety, and shew what I mean by it. 2. I shall demonstrate that there is such a thing. And 3. I shall offer some of the PerPETUAL SWAPs to recommend the practice of it.

E

The

[ 60 ]

The Notion of *Heroic Piety* will be be-
understood by considering what the Mora-
lifts mean by *Heroic Vertue*. For the one
carries the fame proportion in *Religion* that
the other does in *Morality*. But before I
proceed to explain the *Thing*, I suppoſe it
will not be amilſ to give ſome ſhort account
of the *Name*. That it is derived from the
Greek word Ἡρωσ, is very obvious, all the di-
ficulty is concerning the derivation of the
Greek word it ſelf. And here I find the
Grammarians are very much divided; ſome
derive it ἀπὸ τῆς αἰρετῆς, but that ſeems ſome-
what hard; others derive it from ἀνρ, be-
cauſe 'twas ſuppoſed by the Ancients that the
Souls of the *Heroes* had their abode in the
Air, where they had a near profpect of hu-
mane affairs; and accordingly *Xenon in La-
ertius, lib. 7*. calls *Heroes* the Souls of wife men
ſeparated from their Bodies, and ranging about
in the Air; others derive it from Ἐρα, be-
cauſe the Heroes are a kind of terreftrid
Gods, according to that definition which
*Lucian* gives of an *Hero*, ὁς μήτε ἀεὶς μήτε
ἀναρωπὸ ἀλλὰ συωμμότερον, one that is
neither God nor man, but a compound of
both. Others derive it from Ἡρα, the name
of Juno, who was the Prefident Goddeſs of the

[ 61 ]

will be the Air, intimating thereby either the Habitation, or the light aereal Nature of the Heroes. And this Etymology I remember is approved of by St. Austin, lib. 10. de Civ. Dei, cap. 21. But methinks the most natural and significant one is that of Plato, who derives it from Ἐρως, because of that ardent and passionate Love which the Heroes are supposed to have for God. And as the word Hero is very doubtful as to its Etymology, so is it I find also various in its acceptation. Sometimes it is attributed to illustrious and eminent Perseons while living, such as act and live above the ordinary strain of Mortality, and render it a very disputable Point whether they are Gods or men. A Character which Homer gives of the great Hector, Iliad ω.

— 'Ος διὸς ἔχε με τ' ἀνδράσιν, ὃδε ἐώκει Ἀνδρός γιντες παιδεῖς ἐμμεναι, ἀλλὰ δεῖον.

And in this sense the word Hero is used by Hesiod,

‘Ανδρῶν Ἠρώων δεῖον γάντ, οἱ παλεοντας Ἠμῖδει —

— sometimes by Heroes are meant the Souls of God's wife and good men departed, as is evident

E 2 from

[ 62 ]

from the fore-cited testimony in *Laertius*
But in the *Platonic Philosophy* by *Heroes*
understood a middle sort of Being, inferious
to those whom they stile the *Immortal Gods*
and superiour to Man; as is to be seen at large
in *Hierocles*.

Beyond these three acceptations of the
word, I do not know of any other. But
this is certain, that in whatsoever sense it is
used, it always denotes something great and
extraordinary. So that from hence 'tis eale
to collect what is meant by *Heroic Vertue*
(viz.) Such a vehement and intense purifi
ance of a man's last and best end, as engage
him upon such excellent and highly comment
able actions, which advance him much above
the ordinary level of humane Nature
and which he might wholly omit, and yet
still maintain the Character of a good man
*Ariftot.* in his *Ethics*, l. 7. c. 1. calls it τλω
αρετω, that Vertue that is above us. By which
I suppose, he does not mean that it is above
our reach and unattainable, but that it is
above our obligation, and that when it is
attain'd, it will elevate us above our selves.

In proportion to this Notion of Hero
Vertue, I understand by *Heroic Piety* that
excellent degrees and eminencies of Religion
which

[ 63 ]

in that which, tho to arrive at be extremely laudable, yet we may fall short of them without benefit, in God having not bound them upon us, the parts of Duty, or made them the Conditions of our Salvation, but only recommended them by way of Counsel, and left them as inno-iences of Generosity. Of this sort are those other, high and singular Exercises of Religion which, after the fruits and effects of a profound and ng great, ready contemplation of God: Such as are the passionate applications of Seraphic Love, Acts of ecstatic joy and complacency in the Perfections of the Divine Nature, holy trans-orts of Zeal and Devotion, Praise and Ado-hly cooperation: earnest contentions and very numerous returns of Prayer, actual references of our most name Natural and indifferent actions to God's glory, mit, extraordinary works of Charity, great sufferi-ables of Mortification and Self-denial, absteni-ons from many lawful Pleasures, perpetual us. By Telebacy, and whatsoever else are the excellent products of a contemplative and affectionate Religion.

at what time Thus far of the Notion of Heroic Piety. I come now to my second Undertaking, which ion of was to show that there is such a thing. Theic Pictuniversality and sincerity of Obedience be in-ns of Reliispenfably required of every Christian, and

E 3

confes-

[ 64 ]

consequently every part of Religion obliges
under the penalty of Damnation as to its
kind, yet that there may be some degrees to
the attainment of which we are not so obli-
ged, will evidently appear from the proof of
this one single Proposition, That every one
is not bound to do what is beſt. The rea-
ſonablenefs of which Propofition appears
from the very nature of the thing; for ſince
that which is Beſt is a Superlative, it neceſſa-
rily ſuppoſes the Pofitive to be good: And if
ſo, then we are not bound to that which is
beſt, for if we were, then that which is only
good would be evil, ( it being ſhort of what
we are bound to ) which is contrary to the
ſuppoſition.

This Argument I take to be Demonſtra-
tive, and therefore 'twould be a kind of Su-
pererogation in me to alledge any more. But
however, for the clearer evicſion and ſtrong-
er confirmation of this Aſſertion, I farther
confider, that the Scripture conſiſts of Coun-
fels as well as Commands. This diſtinction,
however denied by ſome in the heat of their
ingagements against Popery, is plain-
ly intimated in ſeveral places of the
New Teſtament, and allow'd by the
beſt of our Divines. Now if
ſome

[65]

obliged to conclude two things. 1. From their being *counsell'd*, that they are good (no-

some things are matter of Counsel onely, 'tis
obvious to conclude two things. 1. From
their being *counsell'd*, that they are good (no-
thing being matter of Counsel but what is
so) and secondly, from their being *only*
*con*sell'd, that they do not oblige, and con-
sequently, that there are some degrees of good
that we are not obliged to.

for in
necesitate
And
which
is of
by to
monday
of the
end of
in the
is part
of Cor.
and of
in the
is plan
of his
by far
low

It is farther observable, that in Scripture
there is mention made of a threefold Will of
God. Rom. 12. 2. τὸ δὲ λημμὰ τὸ αὐτοῦ, ὃ ἐν ἀρετεῖν ἡ τέλειον, That Will which is good, that which is well-pleasing, and that which is perfect. The first of these denotes absolute Duty, the two last the various degrees of Perfection and Heroic Excellence. Thus for St. Paul to preach the Gospel to the Corinthians, was an Act of strict Duty which he could not leave undone without incurring that woe which he annexes to the omission of it. 1 Cor. 9. 16. ποδε ἀδαπάνως ἀριστεῖν ἀριστεῖν ἡ σοφία, φιλοσοφία, ἡ διατῆρον καθημένη ἐστι. But to preach without charging them was an instance of Generosity, and in that respect there was room for boasting.

Theophylact.

Thus again, for a Jew to allot the tenth part
of his Revenue every third year toward the
relief of the Poor, was an act of exprefs Du-
ty, and in doing of that, he would but fatis-
fie

E 4

[ 66 ]

fie the obligation of the Law; But now in his charitable contributions he should exceed that proportion, according to the degrees of the excefs, so would the degrees of his Perfection be. Thus again in the matter of Devotion, daily Prayer is generally concluded to be a Duty, and by some Criticks that it be twice perform'd, in proportion to the returns of the Jewish Sacrifices, Morning and Evening; But now if a more generally dispoſed Christian should add a third time, or out of abundance of zeal should come up to the Psalmist's resolution of (Seven times a day will I praise thee) this would be a free-will Offering, well pleasing and of sweet favour, but not commanded.

From these and many other instances, which, if necessary, I could easily produce, it plainly appears that Religion does not conſist in an indivisible point, but has a Latitude, and is capable of more and less, and consequently there is room for voluntary Oblations and Acts of Heroic Piety.

I know it is usually objected here, that what is ſuppoſed to be thus Heroically perform'd, is inclusively enjoyn'd by vertue of those comprehensive words, (Thou ſhalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy

[ 67 ]

thy Soul, &c.) But, I conceive, that all which
is intended by that phrase, will amount to
no more than, First, a sincere love of God, as
'tis opposed to that which is partial and divided;
and secondly, such a degree of loving him,
as admits of nothing into Competition with him.
And thus far reach the Boundaries of indispensable Duty,
it being impossible that he who does not love God in
this sense and degree, should keep his Commandments.
But beyond this, there are higher degrees,
which, because we may fall short of without sin,
are the more excellent when attain'd.
So that in this Precept of loving God,
as in all other instances of Religion, there
is a great latitude, it being very possible for
two Persons to love God sincerely and with
their whole Soul, and yet in different measures
( which is observed even among the
Angels, the Seraphins having their name
from their excess of Love ) nay, for the same
Person always to love God sincerely, and
yet at some times to exceed himself, and with
his Saviour ( who to be sure never fail'd of
necessary Duty ) to pray yet more earnestly.

There is another Objection yet behind,
which I think my self concern'd to answer,
as well in my own defence as that of my Argument.

[ 68 ]

gument. Some perhaps may be so weak to
imagine, that by afferting such a thing as
Heroick Piety, and that a Christian may do
more than he is commanded, I too much fa-
vour the Doctrine of Supererogation. I con-
fess the word Supererogation, however inno-
cent as to its primitive acceptation, does now
found somewhat odly, and therefore I am the
more willing to decline it; tho I very much
question whether the Papists are not some-
thing odiously represented in this point. But
my busines is not to vindicate them, but my
self, in order to which I confider, that for a
Man to do more than he is commanded, is an
ambiguous expression, and may denote either
that he can perform the whole Law of God
and more, or that, tho he fail of his Duty in
many Instances, and consequently with the
rest of Mankind, is concluded under Sin; Yet
in some others he may exceed it, by press-ing
forward to some degrees of excellency he is
not obliged to. I do not affert the former of
these, but the latter, and if the Doctors of the
Roman Church mean no more by their Super-
erogation than this latter Notion of the word
imports (and I must ingenuously confess it
does not yet appear to me that they do) I
cannot but acknowledge that I am so far a
Papist,

[ 69 ]

Papist, for I really believe, and I think I have
sufficiently proved, that there are certain de-
grees in Religion, which weare not obliged to
under Pain of Sin, and consequently that he
who arrives so far, does (according to the
latter notion of the Phraſe) do more then he is
commanded.

Having in the foregoing Periods ſtated the
Notion of Heroick Piety, and demonstrated
that there is ſuch a thing, I proceed now to
my third and last undertaking, which was to
offer ſome Perſwasives to recommend the Pra-
ciſe of it. Firſt then, I confider that Religi-
on is the Perfection of a Man, the improve-
ment and accompliſhment of that part of him
wherein he reſembles his Maker, the purſuance
of his beſt and last end, and conſequently his
Happineſs. And will a man ſet bounds to his
Happineſs ? Will he be no more happy than
he is commanded, no more than what will juſt
ſerve to ſecure him from a miſerable Eternity?
Is not Happineſs desirable for it ſelf, as well as
for the avoiding of Miſery ? Why then do we
deal with it as with dangerous Phyſick, weigh-
ing it by Grains and Scruples and nice Pro-
portions ? Why do we drink so moderately
of the River of Paradife, so sparingly of the

Well

[ 70 ]

Well of Life ? Are we affraid of making too
nigh advances to the State of Angels, of be-
coming too like God, of antedating Heaven ?
Are we affraid our Happineſs will flow in too
thick upon us, that we ſhall not bear up againſt
the Tide, but ſink under the too powerful en-
joyment ? Hereafter indeed, when we are bleſt
with the Beatific Vision, and the Glories of the
Divine Brightneſs ſhall flash too strong upon
our Souls, ſo that our Happineſs begins to be
leſſen'd by its greatneſs; We may then with
the Angels that attend the Throne, veil our
Faces, and divert ſome of the too exuberant
bleſſedneſs : But now in this Region we are
far enough from being under the Line, there
is no danger of ſuch Extremity, but rather
the contrary, and therefore it would be now
moſt advisable for us to be as Happy, and to
that end, as Religious as we can.

Secondly, I confider, that ſince God, out of
the abundance of his overflowing and commu-
nicative Goodneſs, was pleas'd to create and
design man for the beſt of Ends, the fruition
of himſelf in endleſs Happineſs, and ſince he
has preſcribed no other Conditions for the
attainment of this Happineſs; but that we
would live happily here in this State of Pro-
bation, having made nothing our Duty but
what

[ 71 ]

what would have been best for us to do whether he had commanded it or no, and has thereby declared, that he is so far only pleased with our Services to him as they are beneficial to our selves; this must needs be a most indearing engagement to one that has the least spark of Generosity or Ingenuity, to do something for the sake of so good a God, beyond the Measures of Necessity, and the regards of his main and final interest. This is the only Tribute of Gratitude we are capable of paying God for giving us such good, such reasonable, and righteous Laws. Had the conditions of our eternal welfare been never so hard, arbitrary, and contradictory to our present Happiness, yet mere interest would engage us to perform necessary Duty, and shall we do no more out of a principle of Love to our excellent Lawgiver, for making our present Happiness the Condition of our future? Shall the Love of God constrain us to do no more then what we would do merely for the Love of our selves? shall weštint our Performances to him, who lets no Measures to his Love of us? Can our Generosity be ever more feasonably employ'd than in endeavouring to please him in extraordinary Measures, whose Pleasure is to see us happy even while

we

[ 72 ]

we please him? For so is the will of the wife
and good Governour of the World, that in
serving him we should serve our selves, and
like Adam in his dressing and cultivation of
Paradise, at the same time discharge the Em-
ployment which God sets us about, and con-
sult our own Convenience: So that it fares
with us in our religious Exercises as with
the Votary that sacrifices at the Altar, who
all the while he pleases and serves his God,
enjoys the perfumes of his own Incense.

Thirdly, I consider, that every Man has a
reftlefs Principle of Love implanted in his
Nature, a certain Magnetism of Paffion, where-
by (according to the Platonic and true noti-
on of Love) he continually aspires to som-
thing more excellent than himself, either really
or apparently, with a design and inclination
to perfect his Being. This affection and dif-
position of Mind all Men have, and at all times.
Our other Paffions ebb and flow like the Tide,
have their Seasons and Periods like intermit-
ting Feavers. But this of Love is as constant
as our Radical heat, as inseparable as thought,
as even and equal as the Motions of Time.
For no man does or can desire to be happy
more at one time than at another, because he
desires it always in the highest degree possible.

'Tis

[ 73 ]

the which is true, his Love, as to particular objects, that may increase or decrease, according to the various apprehensions he has of their excellence; but then, like *Motion* in the Universe, the Vice, what it loses in one part it gains in and another; so that in the whole it remains always alike, and the same. Now this *Amorous* Principle which every man receives with his Soul, and which is breath'd into him with the breath of Life, must necessarily have an object about which it may exercise it self, there being no such thing in Love (if it be in Nature) as an *Element* of Self-sufficient Fire. For though we may easily and truly frame an abstract notion of Love or Desire in general, yet if we respect its real existence, we shall as soon find *First Matter* without *Form*, as Love without a particular *Object*. And, though as 'tis necessary to the very being of Love all tim that it have an object, so is it to our content. The Vice and happiness, that it be a proportionate and satisfying one; for otherwise that passion which was intended as an instrument of happiness, will prove an *affliction* and torment to us. Now there is but one such object to be found, and that is God. In the application of our Passions to other things, the advice of the Poet is exceeding necessary.

Quic-

[ 74 ]

Quicquid amas cupias non placuiffe ninias,
Martial.

That we should be very cautious how far we
suffer our selves to be engaged in the love of
any thing, because there is nothing but dif-
appointment in the enjoyment, and uncertainty
in the possession. We must needs therefore be
miserable in our Love, unlefs God be the
object of it. But neither is our happineſs
sufficiently ſecured by making God the object
of our Love, unleſs we concenter our whole
affections upon him, and (in the ſtrictest
ſense of the Phraſe) love him with all our
Heart and with all our Soul. For otherwife,
whatever portion of our Love does not run
in this Channel, muſt neceſſarily fix upon
disproportionate and unsatisfying objects,
and conſequently be an inſtrument of diſcon-
tent to us. 'Tis neceſſary therefore to the
compleating of our happineſs, that that ob-
ject ſhould engroſs all our affections to it
ſelf, which only can ſatisfie them; and (ac-
cording to the comparifon of an
ingenious Platoniſt ) that our
minds ſhould have the fame ha-
bitude to God that the Eye has to
Light

Marſilius Fici-
nus, Tom. 2.
pag. 315.

[ 76 ]

ronets of Glory are prepared for Eminent Saints. Indeed, all hearty and sincere lovers of God and Religion shall partake of the glories of the Kingdom; but some shall fit nearer the Throne than others, and enjoy a more intimate perception of the Divine Beauty. All the true Followers of Jesus shall indeed feast with him at the great Supper, but some shall be placed nearer to him than others, and still there shall be a Beloved Disciple that shall lean on his Bosom. I know this Doctrine concerning different degrees of Glory, is (and indeed what is there that is not) very much questioned by some, and peremptorily deny'd by others; but since it is so highly agreeable to the goodneſs and bounty of God, and to the Catholic Measures of Senſe and Reafon; and is so mightily favour'd, if not expreſſly aſſerted in many places of Scripture, I ſhall not here go about to eſtablish the truth of it, but taking it for granted, do urge this as another consideration of great moment, toward encouraging the practice of Heroic Piety.

Fifthly, and lastly, I confider, that We have indeed but very little time to ſerve God in. The Life of man at longeſt is but ſhort,

[ 77 ]

short, and considering how small a part
of it we live, much shorter. If we de-
duct from the Computation of our Years
(as we must do, if we will take a
true estimate of our Life) that part of our
time which is spent in the incogitancy of
Infancy and Childhood, the impertinence and
heedlessefs of Youth, in the necessities of
Nature, Eating, Drinking, Sleeping, and
other Refreshments; in businefs and world-
ly Concerns, engagements with Friends and
Relations, in the offices of Civility and mu-
tual intercourse; besides a thousand other
unnecessary avocations: we shall find that
there is but a small portion left even for the
Retirements of Study, for our improvement
in Arts and Sciences, and other intellectual
accomplishments. But then if we consider
what great disbursements of our time are made
upon them also, we shall find that Religion
is crowded up into a very narrow compass;
so narrow, that were not the rewards of
Heaven matter of exprefs Revelation, 'twould
be the greatest Prefumption imaginable to
hope for them upon the condition of such
inconsiderable Services. Since then our time
of serving God is so very short, so infinitely
dif-

F 2

dif-

[ 78 ]

disproportionate to the rewards we expect from him, 'tis but a reasonable piece of ingenuity to work with all our might, and do as much in it as we can: to supply the poverties of Time by frugal management and intension of affection, to serve God earnestly, vigorously, and zealously; and in one day's Devotion to abbreviate the ordinary Piety of many years. 'Tis said of the Devil, that he prosecuted his malicious designs against the Church with greater earnestness and vigour, because he knew he had but a short time. And shall not the fame of consideration prevail with a generous Soul to do as much for God and Religion, as the Devil did against them? 'Tis a shame for him that has but a short part to act upon the Stage, not to perform it well, especially when he is to act it but once. Man has but one state of Probation, and that of an exceeding short continuance, and therefore, since he cannot serve God long, he should serve him much, employ every minute of his life to the best advantage, thicken his Devotions, hallow every day in his Kalendar by Religious exercises, and every action in his Life by holy references and designments; for let

Upon a Treatise called The Idea
of Happineſs.

Some Truths there are of so refin'd a strain,
They all Commerce with vulgar Souls diff.
And nobler Spirits only entertain ; (dain,)
Who, while the Sordid Croud feed gross beneath,
The Purer Element exalted breath.
To such alone our Author does prepare
An Intellectual Treat of Heavenly fare;
Rich Manna, true Elixir, drawn with art
More exquisite than Hermes could impart;
Substantial Happineſs, Joys uncreate,
Beyond the reach of Time, beyond the power of fate;
Foretaſts of Bliſs which in this life commence
To the pure Intellect, abſtract from ſense;
Such Extaſties as raiſe the human Soul,
In trance ineffable, above the Starry Pole ;
Uniting, Man by ways not underſtood,
To God, the universal Spring of Good.
Great Mystery ! which tho it foars above
My groveling Reaſon, I adore and love.
Bleſt Union, which mankind advances more
Than by the Fall it was debas'd before.
Man was at first below the Angels made,
But now with higher Glory is array'd.

They

They for their Errours found no offer'd Grace,
For ever banish'd from their Makers Face.
But God himself in Human Form descends,
And man's Redemption by his Death commends.
By which vaft Merit happy we receive
Both in and with the Deity to Live.
Who that his Dignity did truely know,
Would fix his fond defites on things below?
All the huge Boast of Life is but a Dream
Compar'd with even a thought of this high Theme,
The great Idea, which so nobly Shines
In the rich habit of thy wondrous Lines.
Farewell vain World, and all thy empty Pride,
With which it glitters only till 'tis try'd,
When the false Lustre vanishing away
The banefels of the Metal does betray.
For I, directed by thy light Divine,
To true and lasting Joys my Soul resign,
Which here on Earth begin in lefs degree,
And higher run to all Eternity.

London, Fcb. 12.
1684.

G. P.

To the admir'd (though to me un-
known) Author, on his ingenious
Treatise, The Idea of Happi-
ness.

Some Ages of the World had pafs'd, before
Our Fathers found the use of Sail and Oar:
Embark'd securely in a hollow Tree,
They rudely wentur'd first to Plough the Sea.
With Branches they Suppli'd the use of Oar,
Their Rule and Compafs was the ajdacent Shore.
But still Experience taught them, and they grew
Both Wiser every day, and Bolder too.
And every Generation found out something new.
At length by some Great Hero was made known,
To men, the Art of Navigation.
And now in foreign Goods the Merchants trade,
Islands begin to be inhabited.
But still their Knowledge did contracted lye
In little room, lame was their Geography,
And to affirm Antipodes was Herefie.
Till the Great Drake resolv'd the weighty doubt
By compassing the spatious World about.
The mighty Drake, who Regions did explore,
Known only to One greater Traveller, the Sun,

(before.
So