THE

THIRD ELEGIE.

Ich, churlish LAND! that hid'st so long in thee,

R My treasures, rich, alas, by robbing mee.

Needs must my miseryes owe that man a spite
Who e're he be was the first wandring knight.
O had he nere been at that cruell [c]ost
NATURE'S virginity had nere been lost.
Seas had not bin rebuk't by sawcy oares

But ly'n lock't up safe in their sacred shores.

Men had not spurn'd at mountaines; nor made warrs

With rocks; nor bold hands struck the world's strong barres.

Nor lost in too larg bounds, our little Rome

Full sweetly with it selfe had dwell't at home.
My poor ALEXIS, then in peaceful life,

Had under some low roofe lov'd his plain wife
But now, ah me, from where he has no foes
He flyes; & into willfull exile goes.
Cruell return. Or tell the reason why
Thy dearest parents have deserv'd to dy.
And I, what is my crime I cannot tell,
Unlesse it be a crime to have lov'd too well.
If Heates of holyer love & high desire
Make bigge thy fair brest with immortall fire,
What needes my virgin lord fly thus from me,
Who only wish his virgin wife to be?

Wittnesse, chast heavns! no happyer vowes I know
Then to a virgin GRAVE untouch't to goe.
Love's truest Knott by venus is not ty'd;

Nor doe embraces onely make a bride.

The QUEEN of angels, (and men chast as You)
Was MAIDEN WIFE & MAIDEN MOTHER too.
CECILIA, Glory of her name & blood

With happy gain her maiden vowes made good.
The lusty bridegroom made approach: young man
Take heed (said she) take heed, VALERIAN!

My bosome's guard, a SPIRIT great & strong,
Stands arm'd, to sheild me from all wanton wrong.
My Chastity is sacred; & my sleep

Wakefull, her dear vowes undefil'd to keep.

PALLAS beares armes, forsooth, and should there be
No fortresse built for true VIRGINITY?

No gaping gorgon, this.

Of your learn'd lyes.

None, like the rest

lyes. Here you'l find no such jest.
I'am yours, O were my God, my CHRIST so too,
I'd know no name of love on earth but you.
He yeilds, and straight Baptis'd, obtains the grace
To gaze on the fair souldier's glorious face.
Both mixt at last their blood in one rich bed
Of rosy MARTYRDOME, twice Married.
O burn our hymen bright in such high Flame.
Thy torch, terrestriall love, have here no name.
How sweet the mutuall yoke of man & wife,
When holy fires maintain love's Heavnly life!
But I, (so help me heavn my hopes to see)
When thousand sought my love, lov'd none but Thee.
Still, as their vain teares my firm vowes did try,
ALEXIS, he alone is mine (said I)

Half true, alas, half false, proves that poor line.
ALEXIS is alone; But is not mine.

N

DESCRIPTION

OF

A RELIGIOUS HOUSE

AND CONDITION

OF LIFE

(OUT OF BARCLAY.)

O roofes of gold o're riotous tables shining

Whole dayes & suns devour'd with endlesse dining;
No sailes of tyrian sylk proud pavements sweeping;
Nor ivory couches costlyer slumbers keeping;

False lights of flairing gemmes; tumultuous joyes;
Halls full of flattering men & fris[k]ing boyes;
Whate're false showes of short & slippery good
Mix the mad sons of men in mutuall blood.
But WALKES & unshorn woods; and soules, just so
Unforc't & genuine; but not shady tho.

Our lodgings hard & homely as our fare.

That chast & cheap, as the few clothes we weare.
Those, course & negligent, As the naturall lockes
Of these loose groves, rough as th'unpolish't rockes.
A hasty Portion of præscribed sleep;

Obedient slumbers; that can wake & weep,
And sing, [&] sigh, & work, and sleep again;
Still rowling à round spear of still-returning pain.

Hands full of harty labours; doe much, that more they may,
And work for work, not wages; let to morrow's

New drops, wash off the sweat of this daye's sorrows.
A long & dayly-d[y]ing life, which breaths

A respiration of reviving deaths.

But neither are there those ignoble stings

That nip the bosome of the world's best things,

And lash Earth-laboring souls.

No cruell guard of diligent cares, that keep
Crown'd woes awake; as things too wise for sleep.
But reverent discipline, & religious fear,
And soft obedience, find sweet biding here;
Silence, & sacred rest; peace, & pure joyes;
Kind loves keep house, ly close, make no noise,
And room enough for Monarchs, while none swells
Beyond the kingdomes of contentfull Cells.
The self-remembring SOUL sweetly recovers
Her kindred with the starrs; not basely hovers
Below; But meditates her immortall way

Home to the originall sourse of LIGHT & intellectuall Day.

ΑΝ

EPITAPH

UPON

A YOUNG MARRIED COUPLE

DEAD AND BURYED

TOGETHER.

To these, whom DEATH again did wed,

This GRAVE's their second Marriage-bed;
For though the hand of fate could force
'Twixt SOUL & BODY à Divorce,
It could not sunder man & WI[F]E,
'Cause They Both lived but one life.
Peace, good Reader. Doe not weep.
Peace, The Lovers are asleep.
They, sweet Turtles, folded ly
In the last knott love could ty.
And though they ly as they were dead,
Their Pillow stone, their sheetes of lead,
(Pillow hard, & sheetes not warm)

Love made the bed; They'l take no harm
Let them sleep: let them sleep on.
Till this stormy night be gone,
Till the 'Eternall morrow dawn;
Then the curtaines will be drawn
'And they wake into a light.
Whose day shall never dy in Night.