To the first edition of the author's poems, printed in 1645, was prefixed the following advertisement of

The STATIONER to the READER.

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T is not any private refpect of gain, gentle Reader,

I for the

dible than the works, of learnedeft men; but it is the love I have to our own language, that hath made me diligent to collect and fet forth fuch pieces both in profe and verse, as may renew the wonted honor and efteem of our English tongue: and it's the worth of thefe both English and Latin poems, not the florish of any prefixed encomiums, that can invite thee to buy them, though these are not without the highest commendations and applause of the learnedeft Academics, both domestic and foreign; and amongit those of our own country, the unparallel'd atteftation of that renown'd Provost of Eton, Sir Henry Wotton. I know not thy palate how it relishes such dainties, nor how harmonious thy foul is; perhaps more trivial airs may please thee better. But howfoever thy opinion is spent upon thefe, that encouragement I have already received from the inoft ingenious men in their clear and courteous entertainment of Mr. Waller's late choice pieces, hath once more made me adventure into the world, presenting it with thefe ever-green, and not to be blaited laurels. The Author's more peculiar excellency in these studies was too well known to conceal his papers, or to keep me from attempting to folicit them from Let the event guide itself which way it will, I fhall deserve of the age, by bringing into the light as

him.

true

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true a birth, as the Mufes have brought forth fince our famous Spenfer wrote; whose poems in these English ones are as rarely imitated, as'fweetly excell'd. Reader, if thou art eagle-ey'd to cenfure their worth, I am not fearful to expofe them to thy exacteft perufal.

Thine to command,

HUMPH. MOSELEY.

POEMS

POEMS on feveral OCCASIONS.

I.

ANNO ÆTATIS 17.

On the Death of a fair Infant, dying of a cough*.

J.

Fairest flower no fooner blown but blafted,

kower me fooner blowneley,

Summer's chief honor, if thou hadft out-lafted
Bleak Winter's force that made thy bloffom dry;
For he being amorous on that lovely dye

That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kifs, But kill'd, alas, and then bewail'd his fatal blifs.

For fince grim Aquilo his charioteer

By boiftrous rape th' Athenian damfel got,
He thought it touch'd his deity full near,

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If

* This elegy was not inferted in the first edition of the author's poems printed in 1645, but was added in the fecond edition printed in 1673. It was compos'd in the year 1625, that being the 17th year of Milton's age. In fome editions the title runs thus, On the death of a fair Infant, a nephew of his, dying of a cough: but the fequel fhows plainly, that the child was not a nephew, but a niece, and confequently a daughter of his filter Philips, and probably her first child.

If likewife he fome fair-one wedded not,
Thereby to wipe away th' infámous blot

[held.

Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld, Which 'mongst the wanton Gods a foul reproach was

III.

So mounting up in icy-pearled ear,

Through middle empire of the freezing air

He wander'd long, till thee he fpy'd from far:
There ended was his quest, there ceas'd his care.
Down he defcended from his fnow-foft chair,

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But all unwares with his cold kind embrace 20 Unhous'd thy virgin foul from her fair biding-place.

IV.

Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate;
For fo Apollo, with unweeting hand,
Whiloine did flay his dearly-loved mate,
Young Hyacinth born on Eurotas' ftrand,

Young Hyacinth the pride of Spartan land;

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But then transform'd him to a purple flower: Alack that fo to change thee Winter had no power.

V.

Yet can I not perfuade ine thou art, dead,

Or that thy corfe corrupts in earth's dark womb,
Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed,

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Hid from the world in a low delved tomb;
Could Heav'n for pity thee fo ftrictly doom?
Oh no! for fomething in thy face did fhine
Above mortality, that fhow'd thou waft divine.

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VI.

Refolve me then, oh Soul moft furely bleft,

(If fo it be that thou thefe plaints doft hear)

Tell

Tell me bright Spirit where'er thou hovereft,
Whether above that high first-moving sphere,
Or in th' Elyfian fields (if fuch there were)

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Oh say me true, if thou wert mortal wight, And why from us fo quickly thou didst fake thy flight.

VII.

Wert thou fome ftar which from the ruin'd roof
Of shak'd Olympus by mifchance didst fall;
Which careful Jove in nature's true behoof
Took up, and in fit place did reinstall?
Or did of late earth's fons befiege the wall
Of fheehy Heav'n, and thou fome Goddess fled
Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head?

VIII.

Or wert thou that juft Maid who once before
Forfook the hated earth, O tell me footh,'
And cam'ft again to visit us once more?
Or wert thou that fweet finiling Youth?

Or that crown'd matron fage white-robed Truth?
Or any other of that heav'nly brood

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Let down in cloudy throne to do the world fome good?

IX.

Or wert thou of the golden-winged hoft,
Who having clad thyfelf in human weed,
To earth from thy prefixed feat didit poft,
And after fhort abode fly back with speed,
As if to fhow what creatures Heav'n doth breed,
Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire
To fcorn the fordid world, and unto Heav'n afpire?

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