Poems by J.C. ; with additions.

On the same.

TEll me no more of Stoicks: canst thou tell Who't was, that when the waves began to swell, The ship to sink, sad passengers to call, [Master we perish] slept secure of all? Remember this, and him that waking kept A mind as constant as he did that slept. Canst thou give credit to his zeal and love, That went to Heaven, and to those flames above Wrapt in a fiery chariot? Since I heard Who't was, that on his knees the Vessel steer'd With hands bolt up to Heaven, since I see As yet no sign of his mortality; Pardon me, Reader, if I say he's gone The self same journey in a watry one.