Poems &c. written by Mr. Ed. Waller ... ; and printed by a copy of his own hand-writing ; all the lyrick poems in this booke were set by Mr. Henry Lawes ...

To my Lord Admirall, of his late sicknes and recovery.

VVIth joy like ours the Thracian youth invades Orpheus returning from th' Elysian shades, Embrace the Hero, and his stay implore, Make it their publique suite hee would no more Desert them so, and for his spouses sake His vanisht Love tempt the Lethean lake:

The Ladies too, the brightest of that time, Ambitious all his lofty bed to clime, Their doubtfull hopes with expectation feed, Who shall the faire Eurydice succeed: Eurydice, for whom his num'rous moan Makes listning trees, and salvage mountains groan, Through all the ayre his sounding strings dilate Sorrow like that, which toucht our hearts of late, Your pining sicknesse, and your restless pain At once the Land affecting, and the Main; When the glad news that you were Admirall Scarce through the Nation spread, 'twas fear'd by all That our great Charles, whose wisdome shines in you, Would bee perplexed how to choose a new: So more then private was the joy and grief, That at the worst it gave our souls relief, That in our age such sense of vertue liv'd, They joy'd so justly, and so justly griev'd.

Nature, her fairest lights eclipsed, seemes Her selfe to suffer in those sharpe extremes, While not from thine alone thy blood retires, But from those cheeks which all the world admires: The stem thus threatned and the sap in thee Droop all the branches of that noble tree; Their beauty they, and wee our loves suspend, Nought can our wishes save thy health intend.

As Lillies overcharg'd with rain, they bend Their beauteous heads, and with high heav'n contend, Fold thee within their snowy armes, and cry, Hee is too faultless, and too young to dye; So like Immortalls round about thee they Sit, that they fright approching death away: Who would not languish by so faire a train, To bee lamented, and restor'd again? Or thus with-held, what hasty soul would go, Though to the blest? O're young Adonis so

Fair Venus mourn'd, and with the pretious showre Of her warme teares cherish'd the springing flowre.

The next support faire hope of your great name, And second pillar of that noble frame, By loss of thee would no advantage have, But step by step pursues thee to the grave.

And now relentless Fate about to end The line, which backward does so farre extend That Antique stock, which still the world supplyes With bravest spirits, and with brightest eyes; Kind Phoebus interposing bid mee say, Such stormes no more shall shake that house, but they Like Neptune and his Sea-borne Neece shall bee The shining glories of the land and Sea, With courage guard, and beauty warm our Age, And lovers fill with like Poetique rage.