A New Poem,
To condole the going away of his Excellency the Am-
bassador, from the Emperour of Fez. and Morocco,
to his own Countrey.
By a person of Quality.
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SIR, my Muse bid you welcome when you come,
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And now's concern'd at your going home;
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Love alwayes tending to a noble eye,
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Like to a Shepherd looking on the Sky.
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Your comely person, and ingenious parts
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Has by a Magick-Spell conjur'd up hearts:
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So they did appear, and shew their faces,
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Towards you, when in your Pomp and Laces.
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Th' Morocco Ambassador th' Nation did cry,
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Was a man truly worthy of Glory;
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That where he went wanted no Servants at all,
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People would be with him, both low or tall;
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They thought they could not do too much for him,
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A man as liberal as a flowing Spring,
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Resolving to see this Ambassador great,
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The like they know it has not been of late.
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Stay, Stay, Dearest Sir, a little longer,
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If you do, our love too will grow stronger:
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Therefore we wish your Excellence good Health,
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Peace, and Enjoyment, and great store of Wealth,
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And a good Voyage, kind and pleasant Gales,
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That so your Ship may avoid the mighty Whales,
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And escape all dangers, that AEolus can
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Shew to a Gent, or any other man;
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Whereby with pleasure, and with greater joy,
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You may rejoyce without the least annoy,
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And when into your own Countrey do come,
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Trumpets and Musick, and also too th' Drum;
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Shall bid you welcome to your own dear Land,
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And the King himself take you by the hand,
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Saying, Dear Brother, your welcome to me,
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Your absence made my happiness, my misery.
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But since you're come, I'll now chear up again,
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So shines th' Sun after a Show'r of Rain.
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I'm come, I've made a Peace with Englands King,
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In which, we both were pleased in everything.
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I had the favour both of Court and City,
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And was beloved of all th' men called witty;
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And like Dove, I bring th' Olive-branch of Peace,
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A Pledge from the great Monarch of the World;
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So we shall have a continual Truce
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With England, and its gay Flower De Luce;
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For which you have th' thanks of each English heart,
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Paid to you as a man of Mighty Art;
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But after this, so soon for to be gone,
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It troubles us, though much of him have won;
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(2)
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And even could desire to live no more,
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Since true Love's gone, from off the English Shoar;
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Telling us, whether our joyes be great or small,
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Are fleeting, as they are Terrestrial.
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Fortune is shown upon a Globe of brass
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And each worldly joy's like a piece of glass;
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Of small substance, wanting a noble weight,
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It rides below, it's but of little height,
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Of smaller value, and of lesser prize,
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Therefore, wit is all in all when 'tis wife.
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Since all things uncertain and inconstant be,
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Like to the bird when on the Wing we see,
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Flies from the Oak, unto the Cherry Tree,
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And constant in nothing but in inconstancy.
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Therefore in all things we must be content;
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Since that our Friends are to us still but lent,
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And by th' Powers above to us are sent,
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Shewing the wings of pleasure, are its punishment.
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This Nature teaches from her motions high,
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And yields to us by her most beauteous eye;
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The day by constant motion moves into Night,
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Tacks but about, and throwes upon us Light;
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So by a repetition of Atoms doth return,
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That bright thing where first that it begun.
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The Swallow Travels, and hither doth come;
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When Winter rises he then too goeth home:
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And th' fairest Flower withereth away,
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For Nature does not alwayes work but play.
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So man is sometimes here, and sometimes there,
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Shewes but himself, and so doth disappear.
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A lively Emblem of the things above,
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'Tis so below, for the Creations Love.
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The business is, mutation doth appear
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In Men, bruits, birds, and Planets of the Year.
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Thus everything is given to revolution,
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By common instinct, and by Worldly motion;
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Friends and Relations all vanish away,
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As Countrey men when drunk, they wont make Hay,
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But tumble and toss this way and th' other,
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Anywhere to see a neighbour or a brother;
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To drown sadness, and their melancholly,
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Yet on th' next day they became more jolly.
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Th' Moral teaches how fickle's mans abode,
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Like the Ant on the Grass, or Snake upon the Road;
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Till got to his own Country, and dear home,
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And arriv'd in bright friendships Dining-Room;
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In th' Jerusalem above, in that place,
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Where Angels and true Lovers see their face,
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And lye basking themselves on that bright shoar
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In joy, and great pleasure, for evermore.
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