The English Parnassus, or, A helpe to English poesie containing a collection of all rhyming monosyllables, the choicest epithets, and phrases : with some general forms upon all occasions, subjects, and theams, alphabeticaly digested : together with a short institution to English poesie, by way of a preface / by Joshua Poole.

Plague.

〈◊〉〈◊〉 growes the time, nor with her wonted chear, Or usual dressing ••o••h the spring appear. ••o cleansing gale of Zephyr mooves the aire, ••hile rising foggs obscure the welkin faire. ••ithout his showers contagio••s Auster blowes, ••••d painted summer no kind fruit bestowes. ••or does the sun as yet inflam'd with ire, ••••nd down that wholsome and prolifick fire, ••e us'd to do, but beams of mortal heat, ••nd from the bosome of; the twins as great Combustion kindles here, as if he then ••••on the Nemean Lyons back had been, ••ithin the farthest easterne lands from whence ••hy breakes, breaks forth the f••••al pestilence, ••s if with rising Titan it begun, ••nd follow'd thence the mo••ion of the sun, ••o Europe then doth hot contagin flie, ••••ing through every part of Italy. Death apace, •••• his pale chariot sides through all the land; ••o age nor sex escape•• his vengefull hand, ••oung men in prime of all their strength are st••••ck, ••nd yeild, the sucking in ••ant wh••t he took ••••om nature, soon••s summoned to rep•••• ••••om those soft limbes untimely ••lee••s away.

The new-come soul, before it can be growne Acquainted with the tender mansion. The aged man, not because aged goes, But only cause he had a life to loose, The mourning grave becomes a marriage bed, To brauteous maides preposterously dead. One father wailes his son, another all His houshold carries in one funeral. And for so many debts one mourning serves, If one be left to mourne, no care preserves, Nor antidote can save from this disease, Their greatest hope is but to die in peace. For oft the fiety sicknesse did invade Reasons coole seat, and there prevailing made A strange distraction, worse than losse of breath, For which their friends wisht as a cure, their death, The face oft burn'd, no moisture had the eye, Nor could by tears expresse their misery, Some while their dearest friends they do intombe, Before that pious office done become Themselves a funeral, death makes him to be, An herse, that came a mourning obsequie, Nor doth this venemous contagion, Worke the destruction of mankind alone, The sheep and ca••tel perish, as if growne On earth quite uselesse, since the men are gone, Wastly the lawnes, the fields of tillage now A••e desola••e, while the forsaken plow, Nor men, nor cattel scarce can exercise, T••e oxe in midst of all his labour dies, And leaves behind his mourning fellow now Dismist from toyle, and service of the plow, Who takes no comfort now in shady woods, In flowry meadowes, or clear Chrystal floods, That destiny allots for him, remains Although at rest, the warlick horse disdaines The pleasant streames, and sick forgetteth quite His food, and th'honour of a race or fight, Even roads and vipers die. acquainted growne With venome far more mortal than thier owne. Doggs, oxen, sheepe, and savage beasts first die, No birds can from the swift infection ••lie.

••d swains amazed see their oxen shrinke ••••ath the yoke and in the furtowes sinke, ••••e fleecie flock with anguish faintly beat, ••••t fall their wool and pine away with heate, •••• generous horse that from the race of late, ••••n'd with honour, now degenerates ••indfull of the glory of his prize, ••••nes at his manger and there deedlesse dies, ••e bore forgets his rage, swift feet now faile ••he Hart, no bears the horned heard assaile, ••l languish, woods, fields, paths no longer bare, •••• fil••'d with carkasses, that stench the aire, ••••h neither dogges, nor greedy fowle (how much ••be admired) nor hoary wolves would touch, •••• raves the plague amongst our country swains, ••••w in our large and populous city raignes, •••• first their bowels broyle with fervour stretcht •••• symptomes, rednesse, hot wind hardly fe••cht. Their furr'd tongues swel, their dry jaws gasp for breath, ••••d with the aire inhale a swifter death, ••ane could endure or coverture, or bed, •••• on the stones their panting bodies spread. ••old stones could no waye•• mitig••te that hear, •••• they beneath those burning burthens sweat, ••one cure attempt; the sterne disease invades The heartlesse Leech, nor Art her authour aides The near ally'd, whose care the sick attends, •••• themselves, and dye before their friends. ••f remedy, they see no hope at all •••• only in approaching funeral. Th••ee sisters speedy hands cannot suffice ••or breaking threads hath ty••'d the destinies. ••ly ••••tians skill himselfe doth still engage. Unto the hallow'd ground, The ••owling widow h••ugh she lov'd him dear, •••• dar•••• not follow, her dead husbands biear. V. May's Edward 3. lib 4. V. Seneca's Tragedies Oedipus, Act. 1.