Sum cæca speculum Dea.
Sum fortune ego tessera,
Quam dat militibus suis;
Sum fortune ego symbolum,
Quo sancit fragilem fidem
Cum mortalibus Ebriis
Obsignatý tabellulas.

Sum blandum, petulans, vagum,
Pulchrum, purpureum, et decens,
Comptum, floridulum, et recens,
Distinctum nivibus, rosis,
Undis, ignibus, aëre,
Pictum, gemmeum, & aureum,
O sum, (scilicet, O nihil.)

Si piget, et longam traxisse in tædia pompam
Vivax,& nimiùm Bulla videtur anus;
Tolle tuos oculos, pensum leve defluet, illam
Parca metet facili non operosa manu.
Vixit adhuc. Čur vixit? adhuc tu nempe legebas;
Tempe fuit tempus tum potuisse mori.

Upon two greene Apricockes sent to Cowley
by Sir Crashaw.

Ake these, times tardy truants, sent by me,
To be chastis'd (sweet friend) and chide by thee.
Pale sons of our Pomona! whose wan cheekes
Have spent the patience of expecting weekes,
Yet are scarce ripe enough at best to show
The redd, but of the blush to thee they ow.
By thy comparrison they shall put on
More summer in their shames reflection,
Than ere the fruitfull Phoebus flaming kisses
Kindled on their cold lips. O had my wishes
And the deare merits of your Muse, their due,
The yeare had found some fruit early as you;
Ripe as those rich composures time computes
Blossoms, but our blest tast confesses fruits.
How does thy April-Autumne mocke these cold
Progressions 'twixt whose termes poor time grows old?
With thee alone he weares no beard, thy braine
Gives him the morning worlds fresh gold againe.
'Twas only Paradice, 'tis onely thou,

Whose fruit and blossoms both blesse the same bough.
Proud in the patterne of thy pretious youth,
Nature (methinks) might easily mend her growth.
Could she in all her births but coppie thee,
Into the publick yeares proficiencie,

No fruit should have the face to smile on thee
(Young master of the worlds maturitie)
But such whose sun-borne beauties what they borrow
Of beames to day, pay back againe to morrow,
Nor need be double-gilt. How then must these,
Poore fruites looke pale at thy Hesperides!
Faine would I chide their slownesse, but in their
Defects I draw mine owne dull character.
Take them, and me in them acknowledging,
How much my summer waites upon thy spring.

48 only

Thesaurus malorum fæmina

Q

Uis deus, O quis erat qui te, mala fæmina, finxit? Prob! Crimen superûm, noxa pudenda deûm! Quæ divùm manus est adeo non dextera mundo? In nostras clades ingeniosa manus! · Parcite; peccavi: nec enim pia numina possunt Tam crudele semel vel voluisse nefas.

Vestrum opus est pietas; opus est concordia vestrum :
Vos equidem tales haud reor artifices.
Heus inferna cobors! fætus cognoscite vestros.

Num pudet hanc vestrum vincere posse scelus?
Plaudite Tartarei Proceres, Erebig potentes

(Na mirum est tantum vos potuisse malum) Fam vestras Laudate manus. Si forte tacetis,

Artificum laudes grande loquetur opus.
Quàm bene vos omnes speculo contemplor in isto?
Pectus in angustum cogitur omne malum.
Quin dormi Pluto. Rabidas compesce sorores,
Jam non poscit opem nostra ruina tuam.
Hæc satis in nostros fabricata est machina muros,
Mortal[e]s Furias Tartara nostra dabunt.

In Apollinem depereuntem Daphnen.

Quid tua flamma parat?
Annon sole sub ipso
Accense pereunt faces?
Sed fax nostra potentior istis,

Flammas inflammare potest, ipse uritur ignis,
Ecce flammarum potens
Majore sub flammâ gemit.
Eheu! quid hoc est? En Apollo
Lyrâ tacente (ni sonet dolores)
Comâ jacente squallet æternus decor
Oris, en! domina quò placeat magis,
Languido tardum jubar igne promit.
Pallente vultu territat æthera.

Mundi oculus lacrymis senescit,

Et solvit pelago debita, quod hauserat ignibus,
His lacrymis rependit.

Noctis adventu properans se latebris recondit,
Et opacas tenebrarum colit umbras,
Namg suos odit damnans radios, nocens lumen.
An lateat tenebris dubitat, an educat diem,
Hinc suadet hoc luctus furens, inde repugnat amor.

Æneas Patris sui bajulus.

Enia Troia

Hostis & ignis

M

Hostes inter & ignes Eneas spolium pium Atg humeris venerabile pondus

Excipit, & sævæ nunc ô nunc parcite flammæ,
Parcite haud (clamat) mihi,

Sacræ favete sarcina,
Quod si negatis, nec licebit
Vitam juvare, sed juvabo funus;
Rogus fiam patris ac bustum mei.
His dictis acies pervolat hostium,
Gestit, & partis veluti trophæis
Ducit triumphos. Nam furor hostium
Jam stupet & pietate tantâ
Victor vincitur; imò & moritur
Troja libenter Funeribus gaudet,
Ac faces admittit ovans, ne lateat tenebras
Per opacas opus ingens pietatis.
Debita sic patri solvis tua, sic pari rependis
Officio. Dederat vitam tibi, tu reddis huic,
Felix! parentis qui pater diceris esse tui.