The springs glorie Vindicating love by temperance against the tenent, sine cerere & Baccho friget Venus. Moralized in a maske. With other poems, epigrams, elegies, and epithalamiums of the authors Thomas Nabbes.

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Title
The springs glorie Vindicating love by temperance against the tenent, sine cerere & Baccho friget Venus. Moralized in a maske. With other poems, epigrams, elegies, and epithalamiums of the authors Thomas Nabbes.
Author
Nabbes, Thomas, 1605?-1645?
Publication
London :: Printed by I[ohn] D[awson] for Charles Greene, and are to be sold by Nicholas Fussell at the signe of the white Lyon in Pauls Church-yard,
1638.
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"The springs glorie Vindicating love by temperance against the tenent, sine cerere & Baccho friget Venus. Moralized in a maske. With other poems, epigrams, elegies, and epithalamiums of the authors Thomas Nabbes." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A07976.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed May 17, 2024.

Pages

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An Encomium on the leden Steeple at Worcester, repayred after a long time of neglect in the yeare 1628. by the then Deane, who is now the right Reverend, and right Honourable the Lord Bishop of London, and Lord high Tr••••∣surer of England.

IF e're the Thespian Maidens did inspire A breath of raptures warm'd with sacred fire, Let them assist. And you whose songs have rays'd The fames above their oines, and so prays'd Th'Aegyptian Pyramis; The Delin Fane; Th'Ephesian Teple holy to Diane; With Romes vast wonder; Mansoleus shrines; The Sunnes G••••osss; thus to make them shine In their dead a••••res, may you Gnij Passe all by transmigration into me. But chiefly thou blest Saint, now made divine, Crown'd with rewards of glory sweetly shine On these submissive vowes. Let me invite Thy holy freenesse to accept the uite Of his devotion, who doth only show His will to pay what thousands aber owe. And thou rare fabrick, who dost comprehend Proportionsbeauty in a perfect end Of all her elements, which formed stand On thy octaedra base, let no black hand Blot out thy name; for thou deserv'st the skill Of all that ever climb'd the Muses hill. Since thy Hi••••a's strength for many an age Hath conquer'd stormes, and the 〈◊〉〈◊〉

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Of buring 〈…〉〈…〉 Have taught prev••••••ion to thei 〈…〉〈…〉 frien I'le sing thy fame; and tell the Northerne spye That would have rais'd himselfe by beggery 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 How into rounds he might covert thy squares▪ Transgressing thus a Geometrick rule, He prov'd himselfe true proportion'd fule. When rom thy altitude I doe survey The distan risings of th'unequall way That leads beyond perceptio•••• warry eye; Th'exalted mountaines joyning to the skie: The confluence of so any various eames Doe drowne my seeing 〈◊〉〈◊〉 gae with their 〈◊〉〈◊〉 And stupifie the s••••se. Sometimes ••••aine I view the subiect regious▪ wh•••• my 〈◊〉〈◊〉 With a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 labours; and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Beyond all comprehension, till the Si•••••••• Seemes to decline, and with his glden chin To kisse thy bowle, and fire himelfe therein▪ When freed from this 〈…〉〈…〉 I descend To contemplate thy wonder eery end Gives new beginning to a second birth Of artfull prodigies to fright the earth: And make thy fome seeme a demonstrative Of those Platonick worlds in ••••mber five▪ Containing angles infnite n shew As those small puncts, fom whose concretion grow What else may be divided. Let such dreames (Rays'd from opinions fanci) be the theames Of their fanatick founders; whilst to thee I attribute no immortality, As part of what must perish▪ such a trick Would make me seeme wilfull heretick 'Gainst Natures doctrine and dease thy glory By false allusi•••••• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thy stry

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Be drawne from what thou art: a perfect frame To figure out the greatnesse of his name, That did at thy erection justifie By miracles his blessed sanctitie. A pile exalted stands thy bulke within, (Which doth uphold thy superficiall skin) Of consecrated Oakes: Olympian Iove Had none so faire in's Dodonean grove. In these each regularitie doth designe By a transverse, or a perpending line Some principle of Art; which shewes the eye Of understanding what's Geometrie. As thou dost climbe thy forme contracts each side Into a point, which makes a Pyramide: And then a Globe corrects thy high ascent From joyning with the firie element, Fearing your correspondence. There doth sit The watchfull Cock (of care an Embleme fit) To guard thee from surprizals, and to show From what bad coast the envious windes doe blow▪ Who with their batteries have assayl'd thee long; And would enforce thy chastitie (though strong) To a base prostitution; and unite Thee with thy sister steeple by their might In fatall ruines. But thy conquests prove Time hath beene kinder: and (for age may love Faire beauties, raising heates from cold desires) He meanes to claspe thee in his latest fires. Thy ponderous outside now weighes downe my skill, Though it susteine it selfe. Some learned will Dispos'd it so for feare the weight might crack The earths strong axletree, or sinewed back. So had our glory with the rest beene lost; And all in new confusion had beene tost: Unlesse thy beauty once againe might move A reconcilement by the power of Love

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That he might thee enjoy. But why in vaine Doe I dilate what's greater then the straine Of my weake powers; ince what I so desire To comprehend I onely can admire. Yet I will be thy champion to defend Thy fame against opposers, and contend With those that Satyre thee; that vainly spend Their froth collections for the hated end Of scorne and laughter, and neglect to pay Their talents lent them by the King of day. And though some lately strove to rust thee more Then times continuance ever did before. Vertue hath sent good spirits from her clime Who will preserve thee to the length of time: Repayre thy breaches, and adorne thy brow, And make thee shine againe to us below. And for these vowes which I have payd thy worth, Oh might I begge, that when my soule goes forth Of this foule earth, to climbe above thy head, And that the rest be reckoned with the dead, Thou wouldst preserve my dust within thy wombe: So should poore Irus have a Celsus tombe.

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