Upon the Gunpowder-Treason.

Grow plumpe, leane Death; his Holinesse a feast
Hath now præpar'd, & you maist be his guest.
Come grimme Destruction, & in purple gore
Dye seu'n times deeper than they were before
Thy scarlet robes: for heere you must not share
A com̄on banquett: noe, heere's princely fare.
And least thy blood-shott eyes should lead aside
This masse of cruelty, to be thy guide
Three coleblack sisters, (whose long sutty haire,
And greisly visages doe fright the aire;
When Night beheld them, shame did almost turne
Her sable cheekes into a blushing morne,
To see some fowler than herselfe) these stand,
Each holding forth to light the aery brand,
Whose purer flames tremble to be soe nigh,
And in fell hatred burning, angry dy.
Sly, lurking treason is his bosome freind,
Whom faint, & palefac't Feare doth still attend.
These need noe invitation, onely thou
Black dismall Horro^r, come; make perfect now
Th' epitome of Hell: oh lett thy pinions
Be a gloomy canopy to Pluto's minions.
In this infernall Majesty close shrowd
Your selues, you Stygian states; a pitchy clowd
Shall hang the roome, & for your tapers bright,
Sulphureous flames, snatch'd from æternall night.
But rest, affrighted Muse; thy siluer wings
May not row neerer to these dusky rings.[60]
Cast back some amorous glances on the cates,
That heere are dressing by the hasty Fates,
Nay stopp thy clowdy eyes, it is not good,
To drowne thy selfe in this pure pearly flood.
But since they are for fire-workes, rather proue
A phenix, & in chastest flames of loue
Offer thy selfe a virgin sacrifice
To quench the rage of hellish deities.
But dares Destruction eate these candid breasts,
The Muses, & the Graces sugred neasts?
Dares hungry Death snatch of one cherry lipp?
Or thirsty Treason offer once to sippe
One dropp of this pure nectar, w^ch doth flow
In azure channells warme through mounts of snow?
The roses fresh, conseruèd from the rage,
And cruell ravishing of frosty age,
Feare is afraid to tast of: only this,
He humbly crau'd to banquett on a kisse.
Poore meagre horro^r streightwaies was amaz'd,
And in the stead of feeding stood, & gaz'd.
Their appetites were gone at th' uery sight;
But yet theire eyes surfett with sweet delight.
Only the Pope a stomack still could find;
But yett they were not powder'd to his mind.
Forth-with each god stept from his starry throne,
And snatch'd away the banquett; euery one
Convey'd his sweet delicious treasury
To the close closet of æternity:
Where they will safely keepe it, from the rude,
And rugged touch of Pluto's multitude.

Secular Poetry.

I. THE DELIGHTS OF THE MUSES

(1646).

NOTE.