WIGORNIA, (Worcester.)
A POEM.
By HERBERT WALWYN.
LONDON, Printed, and Sold by E. Whitlock, near Stationers-Hall, 1697.
WIGORNIA
A POEM.
And wears her liquid Path along a
b Plain,
Stands
WIGORN; hast'ning unto whose Embrace
She forwards with a Willing Lover's pace:
Swelling her Breasts, her spacious Bosom fair,
Full fraught with Love she spends enjoying there.
The Noble
c
Clee her breast with Passion fires,
Which here breaks out, and in bright Flames expires;
But her exhaustless Vigor still returns,
For ever kindles, and for ever burns:
For here the Goddess leaves her Houshold Streams,
To come ashore, and puts on all her beams:
Then with Maternal look surveys the Shire,
And where she sees it wanting,
Blazes there.
Meadows with Grass she cloaths, with Wool the Fold,
And with both Cloath and Fire expels the Cold:
[Page 2] Cloath which the Ambitious
Sultan begs to wear,
And his best part of Majesty has here;
And Fire, which had
Prometheus but knew,
He had forbore his Theft, and 'scap'd the Vengeance too.
But here a
Stream with Rocks obliges more:
'Tis the same Hand is working for
them Yet,
He from
e
Plinlimon Mount the River fet,
Then tam'd its unback'd force with loads of
Jet.
Peter, that on a Floor of Water trod
f,
And kneeling on the
Mercy, thank'd his
God,
Might here with Steps more sure, but Thanks as due,
Trust his own Feet, and Praise his
Saviour too.
Dolphins, who as the Ship-wreck'd Sea-men say,
On their kind Backs them to safe Land convey,
Are here by better Natur'd
g Fish outdone,
That Danger to prevent, ashore do run.
That harmless
Other, whose mischievous make
Excites Revenge, by being like a Snake,
Strips off his slime, and comes a willing Prey,
With him his elder Brother
Lampery;
These, and innumerable other Fish,
Sing in their
Pans, for Joy they have their Wish.
Thrice happy
Worster, thy Felicity
Is perfected by added Constancy;
[Page 3] Yoaked by thy Bridge flung o're her spreading Tyde,
Thou hast her ever fasten'd by thy side.
But Thou as conscious of thy
h Ancient Birth,
And recollecting Yet thy Native Worth,
Think'st still of
Caesar, not as dead but come,
With his Transported Empire here from
Rome:
William is
Caesar with a Christian Name,
So thou besides a Christian art the same:
Therefore receivest Tribute in his right,
Won by his Sword in the fam'd
i
British Fight.
But thou hast doft the sullen looks of War,
Thy Armor's needless now thy Master's here,
Thy
Master that does the Old
l Motto wear.
Churches are all the
Forts thou usest now,
And those well lin'd with
mounted Cannon too:
Terrors of
Vice, if mannag'd but aright,
And not turn'd back upon thee in the Fight.
This is the talk'd of Heavenly Temper'd
Shield,
Which thy divine
Achilles knows to weild.
Sexuulphus
m Piety does here appear,
Like his Mind great, his Judgment regular;
[Page 4] No
Novice; Colleges my thinks should be,
Like
n Bishops from that Imputation free.
Th'
Apostle's Rule at least is follow'd here,
Altho' neglected by himself
o elsewhere.
What time (and Time do's much to Words, and Works,
To
English Preachers, and to
English Kirks)
Did raze and alter, fresher times took care,
And (Piety renew'd) did new repair.
Not but the
Holy Man was sometimes blam'd,
That it was not to please all Humours fram'd;
Like
Nezer's Statue,
Gold, and
Brass, and
Clay;
But then alas 't had Headless been, some day
The trait'rous Head would 'a look'd the wrong way.
Remember'd Years have seen an Hostile Rout
As if 'twere not enough the World should see,
And senseless of God's Omnipresency,
Let in Wide Heav'n th' Impiety to View,
Defieing both th'
One and th'
Other too.
The Churchs Leads they into Bullets form'd,
And vainly thought they then had God disarm'd:
In Magazines of
Life they chose out
Death,
So some Men suck the
Plague in with their Breath;
[Page 5] Heaven saw the Challenge, and the Church to skreen,
The whilst his Vengeance heated, stood between
Ruin and it; then Pour'd his Vials forth,
And Force repaid with Force, and
q Wrath with Wrath:
Instructed
Ire the Seeds of Discord swep
From every Party to one common heap;
Then burnt it up, the
Ashes cur'd the Wound,
By divine Art apply'd the Church made sound.
Did from a
Crown to Sanctuary run,
And tired with State-noise here laid him down,
And was in Life and Death the next a
ſ Crown.
The
Palace next, the
Bishops long abode,
Stands
with an humble Boldness near its God:
A Place 'twas sure by Providence design'd
For the just Medium of a Prelate's Mind:
tBetween the two extreams of Cold, and Heat,
The
Atheists chillness, and the
Zealots sweat.
One side, the Palace looks into the flood,
The
other is by the Cathedral view'd:
That side, the
Severn stands as 'twere at Bay,
Viewing the Place, unmindfull of its way,
Holding her Mirrour for who dares to look,
And read the impartial Story of her Book.
[Page 2] I did, and to my thinking plain was seen
Th' impression where the Palace had been in.
The Stream was deep, and the House safe on Ground,
I Chid my
Sight, and said it would 'a drown'd
Had it been there; at which
Sabrina smil'd,
And after Invocation answer'd mild:
"What thou seest [Son] ingrav'd upon my Breast,
"Is
Figure, and as such is there express'd.
I answer'd not the
Oracle, but bow'd,
And the fair Shape sunk down beneath her flood;
Yet as she went, my thought she would have said,
"Put up thy Pious Anger, spare the Dead.
This Prohibition seal'd up all but thought,
And a deep Sigh or two I strait-way fetcht;
And then I thank'd my God, and thank'd the King,
That took the one, and did the other bring.
More to the Left, in the same Neighbourhood,
Stands the round Mount whereon the
u
Castle stood,
That with stern disregard did there intrude.
But as the
Giants felt the dreadful Odds,
When their Height thought to overtop the Gods,
This greater Son of
Earth with the same Hope,
Making the Church his
Foe, and not his
Prop,
Lower'd to destruction his presuming Top.
wHere every
Virtue has her several Seat,
Each to her Quality becoming great:
Religion
Temples, Justice has her
Hall,
And
x Charity the biggest of them all.
The Streets are wide and open as their Hearts,
Breathing out Kindness to the Neighb'ring Parts,
In all the Forms of Industry and Arts.
Oh would but Fate proportion to their Loom
The Threds of Life, then Death would never come,
And
Worster would adjourn the Day of Doom.
The plyant Wool drawn by ten thousand Hands,
To length scarce finite, would out-reach the Spans
Of Life, tho' tyed in one throughout all Times and Lands.
But since the
Sisters will use their own
make,
Purposely brittle, and so apt to break;
So cautious and wary is the Town,
They piece it up, and Weave it with their
y own;
That Fate to come at
one, must break thro'
both,
And e're it takes their
Lives must Spoyl their
Cloath.
This Natural as their Skins the
English wear,
And all true Sterling Cloath is minted here.
What Wonders should be spoke, that do reside
Within the circuit of thy Province wide:
Nature with varied hand does draw Delight
To all Perception; Smell, and Tast, and Sight;
Sinks into Rivers, rises up in Height:
And then agen lays down her self in Plains,
Painted with Flowers, and Squar'd with different Grains,
Hemm'd in with Hedges; Pleasure mixt with Use,
And the well tasted Orchard's Cheering Juice;
Potable Fruit it bears, Wine in the Ore,
The Trees themselves for Drink have scarce the Power
To stand, 'till like a
Fountain from the Boughs
The ruptur'd Fruit their Chrystal Liquor throws;
These having once their proper Season bled,
Agen the reeling Tree erects his Nodding Head.
Here Fleecy People grazeing common Herbs,
Yonder Pied Goats on Cliffs a browzing Shrubs;
There goes the Bull, the Regent of the Mead,
Thwart his Dominion, with Dictating Head;
The' Obsequious Herd to make him way divide,
Then joyn in the Procession of his Pride.
The Apostolick
z Art here's perfected,
And their days toyl would here have better sped.
The
Severn, Avon, Salwerp, Teame, and
Stour,
And silent
Lorn, with all their Watry Store,
Would not have broke their Netts, but fill'd them more.
Catchers of
Fish, or
Men, they had had Sport,
And might to Burroughs, or to Streams resort;
Or both at once, or
Either found in Both,
Fish took in Towns, or
Men from Rivers forth:
These swim like Fish the Navigated Stream,
And in the Market
those do Trade like
them.
Bewdley for Beauty,
Kidderminster Trade,
Bromsgrove a place of endless
a Honour made;
Tenbury, and much esteemed
Ham,
A Castle once, but now a better
b Name:
Which every Hand is daily cutting of,
But cann't diminish, Wonder joyns to which,
Here springs of Liquid Salt to Dust they Boyl,
There the Neat Dames are sifting Flow'r the while:
At
Wick the Damsels ply the froathing Cream,
With quick repeated strokes, then bring to
them
Their well made Pounds; then mingled in a Trough,
Soon comes to Life the kind fermenting Dough,
That Travels on Lifes errand too and fro.
e
Powick made famous by a King's defeat,
That Purchas'd there a
just Surname of
Great,
But after such a Way that
Powick
f blushes Yet.
For Gabbleing wrong our
English Shibboleth:
On the fought Field a
h Monument there stands,
They say of
Him, with ever-flying Fanes,
Yet tho' it always runs, it always stands.
Newland, if thou art by my Song forgot,
Let my Voice cease, and Death disperse my Thought:
Thy Solemn Prospect, and thy Widow'd House,
Can I forget? could
Judah's People choose
But think on
Jebus by
Ʋphrates Tide?
They could not; of Lov'd
Jebus still they sigh'd.
Grief does conduct me hence to
Aldwin's
i Cell,
Under the Amazing Structure of a
k
Hill,
Which Nature did with through paced Labor rear,
And for Materials level'd half the Shire,
As if she meant it for the World's Frontier:
For so It seems, and so the
Hermit thought,
When weary to the Foot of it he got;
Farewel Mankind, and Farewel World, he said,
Then up the Hill to
Heaven he lift his Head,
With thanks that by
Its guidance he had now
Pass'd the dull Journey of a Mortal through.
Which heard (for grateful Prayers run up a pace,
And the Hill-top is very near the Place)
With Pity all the hearty Words he spake,
And took him e're he found out his Mistake.
Here Aldwin,
and thy almost Name-sake, rest:
Sometime I'll tell ye that your Choyce was best.
And now of
Worster, Muse, break off thy Song,
Its Argument's too heavy for my Tongue,
To weild in Words, and legible its Fame,
In Characters too bigg for thee to Name.
Of
Sommers what canst say, and
Stillingfleet,
Where is thy Parallel, thy Epithet?
A fruitful Chaplet 'tis, compos'd of Wheat,
The Staff of Life, is He the same of State?
He is thou say'st, th' Inscription shall be that.
This was the Bishop's
m Blessing on his Head,
The Holy Oyl could not in vain be shed;
Saul did Storm high, but God restrain'd his Power,
Th' outragious Billows did
himself devour,
But the same Waves brought
David to the Shore.
Between the Principles of Corporal things
Is Enmity, whence Agitation Springs:
For
Nature with her self contending force,
Gives all her compound
Births their destin'd course.
Hence Planetary Bodies know their Stage;
Brutes take up Instincts, Men run on to Age,
Where
Cold and
Earth prevailing, ends their Rage.
n
Thine sure's the Nice Punctillio where they Fight
In their Originals. Fate took delight
To temper
thee, and held his Scales aright:
So pure thy Soyl, so moderate thy Clime,
Thy Nature seems but in her Youth and Prime,
Nor moans (as elsewhere) of th' Abuse of
Time:
Nor in the Circle of his Antient Arms
Withers, but leads him on by force of Charms
Round all his Seasons: Hence thy Men so Free,
So Upright, and so turn on Curtesie:
Thou 'rt influenc'd by Heaven, and They by Thee.
FINIS.