JOHN HAMMON.

John Hammon, M.A., to whom the following “Exhortation” is addressed, was instituted to the rectory of Bibbesford and chapel of Bewdley in Worcestershire the 2d of March 1614, on the presentation of sir William Cook. The new zeal with which he was inspired arose most probably from the intrusion of the “Book of Sports,” by James, in 1618[71], in which the king’s pleasure is declared, “that, after the end of divine service, our good people be not disturbed, letted or discouraged from any lawfull recreation; such as dauncing, either men or women; archerie for men, leaping, vaulting, or any other such harmlesse recreation; nor from having of May games, Witson ales, and Morris dances, and the setting up of Maypoles and other sports therein used; and that women shall have leave to carry rushes to the church for the decoring of it, according to their old custome.”

AN EXHORTATION
TO
MR. JOHN HAMMON,
MINISTER IN THE PARISH OF BEWDLY,

For the battering downe of the Vanityes of the Gentiles, which are comprehended in a Maypole.

Written by a Zealous Brother from the Black-fryers.

The mighty zeale which thou hast new put on,

Neither by prophet nor by prophetts sonne

As yet prevented, doth transport mee so

Beyond my selfe, that, though I ne’re could go

Farr in a verse, and all rithmes have defy’d

Since Hopkins and old Thomas Sternhold dy’de,

(Except it were that little paines I tooke

To please good people in a prayer-booke

That I sett forth, or so) yet must I raise

My spirit for thee, who shall in thy praise

Gird up her loynes, and furiously run

All kinde of feet, save Satans cloven one.

Such is thy zeale, so well dost thou express it,

That, (wer ’t not like a charme,) I’de say, Christ blesse it.

I needs must say ’tis a spirituall thing

To raile against a bishopp, or the king;

Nor are they meane adventures wee have bin in,

About the wearing of the churches linnen;

But these were private quarrells: this doth fall

Within the compass of the generall.

Whether it be a pole painted, and wrought

Farr otherwise, then from the wood ’twas brought,

Whose head the idoll-makers hand doth croppe,

Where a lew’d bird, towring upon the topp,

Lookes like the calfe at Horeb; at whose roots

The unyoak’t youth doth exercise his foote;

Or whether it reserve his boughes, befreinded

By neighb’ring bushes, and by them attended:

How caust thou chuse but seeing it complaine,

That Baalls worship’t in the groves againe?

Tell mee how curst an egging, what a sting

Of lust do their unwildy daunces bring?

The simple wretches say they meane no harme,

They doe not, surely; but their actions warme

Our purer blouds the more: for Sathan thus

Tempts us the more, that are more righteous.

Oft hath a Brother most sincerely gon,

Stifled in prayer and contemplation,

When lighting on the place where such repaire,

He viewes the nimphes, and is quite out in ’s prayer.

Oft hath a Sister, grownded in the truth,

Seeing the jolly carriage of the youth,

Bin tempted to the way that’s broad and bad;

And (wert not for our private pleasures) had

Renounc’t her little ruffe, and goggle eye,

And quitt her selfe of the Fraternity.

What is the mirth, what is the melody,

That setts them in this Gentiles vanity?

When in our sinagogue wee rayle at sinne,

And tell men of the faults which they are in,

With hand and voice so following our theames,

That wee put out the side-men from their dreames.

Sounds not the pulpett, which wee then be-labour,

Better, and holyer, then doth the tabour?

Yet, such is unregenerate mans folly,

Hee loves the wicked noyse, and hates the holy.

Routes and wilde pleasures doe invite temptation,

And this is dangerous for our damnation;

Wee must not move our selves, but, if w’ are mov’d,

Man is but man; and therefore those that lov’d

Still to seeme good, would evermore dispence

With their owne faults, so they gave no offence.

If the times sweete entising, and the blood

That now begins to boyle, have thought it good

To challenge Liberty and Recreation,

Let it be done in holy contemplation:

Brothers and Sisters in the feilds may walke,

Beginning of the Holy Worde to talke,

Of David, and Uriahs lovely wife,

Of Thamar, and her lustfull brothers strife;

Then, underneath the hedge that woos them next,

They may sitt down; and there act out the text.

Nor do wee want, how ere wee live austeere,

In winter Sabbath-nights our lusty cheere;

And though the pastors grace, which oft doth hold

Halfe an howre long, make the provision cold,

Wee can be merry; thinking ’t nere the worse

To mend the matter at the second course.

Chapters are read, and hymnes are sweetly sung,

Joyntly commanded by the nose and tongue;

Then on the Worde wee diversly dilate,

Wrangling indeed for heat of zeale, not hate:

When at the length an unappeased doubt

Feircely comes in, and then the light goes out;

Darkness thus workes our peace, and wee containe

Our fyery spiritts till we see againe.

Till then, no voice is heard, no tongue doth goe,

Except a tender Sister shreike, or so.

Such should be our delights, grave and demure,

Not so abominable, not so impure,

As those thou seek’st to hinder, but I feare

Satan will bee too strong; his kingdome’s here:

Few are the righteous now, nor do I know

How wee shall ere this idoll overthrow;

Since our sincerest patron is deceas’t,

The number of the righteous is decreast.

But wee do hope these times will on, and breed

A faction mighty for us; for indeede

Wee labour all, and every Sister joynes

To have regenerate babes spring from our loynes:

Besides, what many carefully have done,

Getting the unrighteous man, a righteous sonne.

Then stoutly on, let not thy flocke range lewdly

In their old vanity, thou lampe of Bewdly.

One thing I pray thee; do not too much thirst

After Idolatryes last fall; but first

Follow this suite more close, let it not goe

Till it be thine as thou would’st have ’t: for soe

Thy successors, upon the same entayle,

Hereafter, may take up the Whitson-ale.

ANNE,
WIFE OF JAMES THE FIRST,
Daughter of Frederick the Second, king of Denmark,
died of a dropsy the 2d of March 1619.

On the 18th of November 1618, a comet (as alluded to in a foregoing poem) was seen in Libra, which continued visible till the 16th of December; and the vulgar, who think

Nunquam futilibus excanduit ignibus æther,

considered it indicative of great misfortunes; and the death of the queen which closely followed, the first object of its portentous mission.

“The queen was in her great condition,” says Wilson, “a good woman, not tempted from that height she stood on to embroyl her spirit much with things below her, only giving herself content in her own house with such recreations as might not make time tedious unto her; and though great persons’ actions are often pried into, and made envy’s mark, yet nothing could be fixed upon her that left any great impression, but that she may have engraven upon her monument a character of virtue.”

AN ELEGY
UPON
THE DEATH OF QUEENE ANNE.

Noe; not a quatch, sad poets; doubt you,

There is not greife enough without you?

Or that it will asswage ill newes,

To say, Shee’s dead, that was your muse?

Joine not with Death to make these times

More grievous then most grievous rimes.

And if ’t be possible, deare eyes,

The famous Universityes,

If bold your eyes bee matches, sleepe;

Or, if you will be loyall, weepe:

For-beare the press, there’s none will looke

Before the mart for a new booke.

Why should you tell the world what witts

Grow at New-parkes, or Campus-pitts?

Or what conceipts youth stumble on,

Taking the ayre towards Trumpington?

Nor you, grave tutours, who doe temper

Your long and short with que and semper;

O doe not, when your owne are done,

Make for my ladyes eldest sonne

Verses, which he will turne to prose,

When he shall read what you compose:

Nor, for an epithite that failes,

Bite off your unpoëticke nailes.

Unjust! Why should you in these vaines,

Punish your fingers for your braines?

Know henceforth, that griefes vitall part

Consists in nature, not in art:

And verses that are studied

Mourne for themselves, not for the dead.

Heark, the Queenes epitaph shall bee

Noe other then her pedigree:

For lines in bloud cutt out are stronger

Then lines in marble, and last longer:

And such a verse shall never fade,

That is begotten, and not made.

“Her father, brother, husband, ... kinges;

Royall relations! from her springes

A prince and princesse; and from those

Faire certaintyes, and rich hope growes.”

Here’s poetry shall be secure

While Britaine, Denmarke, Rheine endure:

Enough on earth; what purchase higher,

Save heaven, to perfect her desire?

And as a straying starr intic’t

And governd those wise-men to Christ,

Ev’n soe a herauld-starr this yeare

Did beckon to her to appeare:

A starr which did not to our nation

Portend her death, but her translation:

For when such harbingers are seene,

God crownes a saint, not kills a queene.