TO SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT,

Upon his two first Books of GONDIBERT, Finished before his Voyage to America.

M

ETHINKS heroic poefy till now,

Like fome fantastic fairy-land did show Gods, devils, nymphs, witches, and giants' race, And all but man, in man's chief work had place. Thou, like fome worthy knight with facred arms, Doft drive the monsters thence, and end the charms: Inftead of thofe doft men and manners plant, The things which that rich foil did chiefly want. Yet ev❜n thy Mortals do their Gods excel, Taught by thy Mufe to fight and love fo well.

By fatal hands whilft prefent empires fall,
Thine from the grave past monarchies recall
So much more thanks from human-kind does merit
The Poet's fury than the Zealot's spirit:

And from the grave thou mak'st this empire rife,
Not like fome dreadful ghost, t' affright our eyes,
But with more luftre and triumphant state,
Than when it crown'd at proud Verona fate.
So will our God rebuild man's perish'd frame,
And raise him up much better, yet the fame :
So God-like poets do paft things rehearse,
Not change, but heighten, Nature by their verfe.
With shame, methinks, great Italy must see
Her conquerors rais'd to life again by thee:

VOL. I.

K

Rais'd

Rais'd by fuch powerful verfe, that ancient Rome
May blush no less to see her wit o'ercome.
Some men their fancies, like their faith, derive,
And think all ill but that which Rome does give;
The marks of Old and Catholick would find;
To the fame chair would truth and fiction bind.
Thou in those beaten paths disdain`ft to tread,
And scorn'st to live by robbing of the dead.
Since time does all things change, thou think’ft not fit
This latter age fhould fee all new but wit ;
Thy fancy, like a flame, its way does make,
And leave bright tracks for following pens to take,
Sure 'twas this noble boldness of the Mufe
Did thy desire to seek new worlds infuse;
And ne'er did Heaven so much a voyage bless,
If thou canft plant but there with like fuccess.

AN ANSWER TO

A COPY OF VERSES SENT ME TO JERSEY.

S to a northern people (whom the fun

A uses just as the has done

Her prophane laity, and does affign,

Bread only both to serve for bread and wine)
A rich Canary fleet welcome arrives;
Such comfort to us here your letter gives,
Fraught with brisk racy verses; in which we

The foil from whence they came taste, fmell, and fee:

Such

Written by

Such is your prefent to us; for you must know,
Sir, that verfe does not in this island grow,
No more than fack: one lately did not fear
(Without the Mufes' leave) to plant it here;
But it produc'd fuch base, rough, crabbed, hedge-
rhymes, as ev'n fet the hearers' ears on edge:
Efquire, the
Year of our Lord six hundred thirty-three.
Brave Jersey Mufe! and he 's for this high style
Call'd to this day the Homer of the Ifle.
Alas! to men here no words lefs hard be
To rhyme with, than * Mount Orgueil is to me;
Mount Orgueil ! which, in fcorn o' th' Mufes' law,
With no yoke-fellow word will deign to draw.
Stubborn Mount Orgueil ! 'tis a work to make it
Come into rhyme, more hard than 'twere to take it.
Alas! to bring your tropes and figures here,
Strange as to bring camels and elephants were;
And metaphor is fo unknown a thing,

'Twould need the preface of " God fave the King." Yet this I'll fay, for th' honour of the place, That, by God's extraordinary grace

(Which shows the people have judgment, if not wit) The land is undefil'd with Clinches yet;

Which, in my poor opinion, I confess,

Is a moft fingular bleffing, and no lefs

Than Ireland's wanting spiders. And, fo far
From th' actual fin of bombaft too they are,

*The name of one of the castles in Jersey.

(That other crying fin o' th' English Muse)
That even Satan himself can accufe

None here (no not so much as the divines)
For th' motus primò primi to strong lines.
Well, fince the foil then does not naturally bear
Verfe, who (a devil) should import it here?
For that to me would feem as strange a thing
As who did first wild beasts into' iflands bring;
Unless you think that it might taken be
As Green did Gondibert, in a prize at fea :
But that's a fortune falls not every day;

'Tis true Green was made by it; for they say The parliament did a noble bounty do,

[too.

And gave him the whole prize, their tenths and fifteens

THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE.

T

THAT THERE IS NO KNOWLEDGE.

Against the Dogmatists,

HE facred tree 'midst the fair orchard grew;
The Phoenix truth did on it rest,

And built his perfum'd neft;

That right Porphyrian tree which did true Logick shew.

Each leaf did learned notions give,

And th' apples were demonstrative ;

So clear their colour and divine,

The very shade they caft did other lights out-fline.

"Tafte

"Taste not," said God; " 'tis mine and angels' meat;

"A certain death doth fit,

"Like an ill worm, i' th' core of it.

"Ye cannot know and live, nor live or know and eat." Thus spoke God, yet man did go

Ignorantly on to know

Grew fo more blind, and she

Who tempted him to this, grew yet more blind than he.

The only science man by this did get,

Was but to know he nothing knew:
He ftrait his nakedness did view,

His ignorant poor eftate, and was asham'd of it.
Yet fearches probabilities,

And rhetorick, and fallacies,

And feeks by useless pride,

With flight and withering leaves that nakedness to hide.

"Henceforth," faid God," the wretched fons of earth "Shall fweat for food in vain,

"That will not long fustain;

"And bring with labour forth each fond abortive birth. "That ferpent too, their pride,

"Which aims at things deny'd;
"That learn'd and eloquent luft

"Instead of mounting high, shall creep upon the duft.”