I'm glad that city; t' whom I ow'd before
(But, ah me! Fate hath croft that willing score)
A father, gave me a godfather too;

And I'm more glad, because it gave me you;
Whom I may rightly think, and term, to be
Of the whole city an epitome.

;

I thank my careful Fate, which found out one
(When Nature had not licensed my tongue
Farther than cries) who fhould my office do
I thank her more, because the found out you:
In whofe each look I may a fentence fee;
In whose each deed, a teaching homily.

How fhall I pay this debt to you? My fate
Denies me Indian pearl or Perfian plate ;
Which though it did not, to requite you thus,
Were to fend apples to Alcinous,

And fell the cunning'ft way.-No! when I can,
In every leaf, in every verse, write Man;

When my quill relisheth a school no more;
When my pen-feather'd Muse hath learnt to foar,
And gotten wings as well as feet; look then
For equal thanks from my unwearied pen :
Till future ages say, 'twas you did give
A name to me, and I made yours to live.

AN

On the Death of JOHN LITTLETON, Esquire, Son and Heir to Sir THOMAS LITTLETON, Who was drowned leaping into the Water to save his younger Brother.

AND must these waters fimile again, and play

About the shore, as they did yesterday?

Will the fun court them still? and shall they show
No confcious wrinkle furrow'd on their brow,
That to the thirsty traveller may fay,

I am accurft; go turn fome other way?

It is unjuft: black flood! thy guilt is more, Sprung from his lofs, than all thy watery store Can give thee tears to mourn for birds fhall be, And beafts, henceforth afraid to drink of thee.

What have I faid? my pious rage hath been
Too hot, and acts, whilst it accufeth, fin.

Thou 'rt innocent, I know, ftill clear and bright,
Fit whence fo pure a foul should take its flight.
How is angry zeal confin'd! for he

Muft quarrel with his love and piety,

That would revenge his death. Oh, I fhall fin,
And with anon he had lefs virtuous been.
For when his brother (tears for him I'd spill,
But they 're all challeng'd by the greater ill)
Struggled for life with the rude waves, he too
Leapt in, and when hope no faint beam could fhow,
Vol. I.

G

His

His charity fhone moft: "Thou shalt," faid he,
"Live with me, brother, or I'll die with thee;"
And fo he did! Had he been thine, O Rome!
Thou would't have call'd this death a martyrdom,
And fainted him. My confcience give me leave,
I'll do fo to: if Fate will us bereave

- Of him we honour'd living, there must be
A kind of reverence to his memory,

After his death; and where more just than here,
Where life and end were both fo fingular?
He that had only talk'd with him, might find
A little academy in his mind;

Where Wisdom mafter was, and fellows all
Which we can good, which we can virtuous, call:
Reason, and Holy Fear the proctors were,

To apprehend those words, those thoughts, that err.
His learning had out-run the rest of heirs,

Stol'n beard from Time, and leapt to twenty years.
And, as the fun, though in full glory bright,
Shines upon all men with impartial light,
And a good-morrow to the beggar brings
With as full rays as to the mightiest kings:
So he, although his worth just state might claim,
And give to pride an honourable name,

With courtesy to all, cloath'd virtue fo,

'That 'twas not higher than his thoughts were low. In 's body too no critique eye could find The smallest blemish, to belye his mind; He was all pureness, and his outward part -But represents the picture of his heart.

When waters fwallow'd mankind, and did cheat
The hungry worm of its expected meat;

When gems, pluckt from the shore by ruder hands,
Return'd again unto their native sands ;

"Mongst all those spoils, there was not any prey
Could equal what this brook hath stol'n away.
Weep then, fad flood; and, though thou 'rt innocent,
Weep because Fate made thee her instrument :
And, when long grief hath drunk up all thy store,
Come to our eyes, and we will lend thee more.

A TRANSLATION of

VERSES upon the BLESSED VIRGIN, Written in Latin by the Right Worshipful Dr. A,

O

AVE, MARIA.

NCE thou rejoiced'st, and rejoice for ever,
Whose time of joy fhall be expired never :
'Who in her womb the hive of comfort bears,
Let her drink comfort's honey with her ears.
You brought the word of joy in, which was born
An hail to all! let us an hail return!

From you

"God fave" into the world there cams; Our echo hail is but an empty name.

GRATIA PLENA,

HOW loaded hives are with their honey fill'd, From divers flowers by chemic bees distill'd! How full the collet with his jewel is,

Which, that it cannot take by love, doth kiss :

How full the moon is with her brother's ray,
When she drinks-up with thirsty orb the day !
How full of grace the Graces' dances are!.
So full doth Mary of God's light appear.
It is no wonder if with Graces the

Be full, who was full with the Deity..

DOMINUS TECUM.

THE fall of mankind under death's extent"
The quire of blessed angels did lament,
And wifh'd a reparation to fee

By him, who Manhood join'd with Deity.
How grateful should man's fafety then appear
T'himself, whose safety can the angels cheer!

BENEDICTA TU IN MULIERIBUS.

DEATH came, and troops of fad diseases led
To th' earth, by woman's hand folicited:
Life came so too, and troops of Graces led
To th' earth, by woman's faith folicited.

As our life's fpring came from thy blessed womb,
So from our mouths fprings of thy praise fhall come
Who did life's blessing give, 'tis fit that she,
Above all women, fhould thrice bleffed be.

ET BENEDICTUS FRUCTUS VENTRIS TUI, WITH mouth divine the Father doth proteft, He a good word fent from his stored breast; 'Twas Chrift: which Mary, without carnal thought, From the unfathom'd depth of goodness brought :

The