All this it threats, & more: Horror, that flies To th' empyræum of all miseries. Most tall hyperbole's cannot descry it; Mischeife, that scornes expression should come nigh it. All this it only threats: the meteor ly'd; It was exhal'd, a while it hung, & dy'd. Heauen kickt the monster downe: downe it was throwne, The fall of all things it præsag'd, its oune It quite forgott: the fearfull earth gaue way, And durst not touch it, heere it made noe stay. At last it stopt at Pluto's gloomy porch; He streightway lighted vpp his pitchy torch. Now to those toiling soules it giues its light, Wch had the happines to worke ith' night. They banne the blaze, & curse its curtesy, For lighting them vnto their misery. Till now Hell was imperfect; it did need Some rare choice torture; now 'tis Hell indeed. Then glutt thy dire lampe with the warmest blood, That runnes in violett pipes: none other food It can digest, then watch the wildfire well, Least it breake forth, & burne thy sooty cell. UPON THE GUNPOWDER-TREASON. Reach me a quill, pluckt from the flaming wing Of Pluto's Mercury, that I may sing Death to the life. My inke shall be the blood Of Cerberus, or Alecto's viperous brood. Vnmated malice! Oh vnpeer'd despight! Such as the sable pinions of the night Neuer durst hatch before: extracted see The very quintessence of villanie: I feare to name it; least that he, wch heares, Should haue his soule frighted beyond the spheres. Heauen was asham'd, to see our mother Earth Engender with the Night, & teeme a birth Soe foule, one minute's light had it but seene, The fresh face of the morne had blasted beene. Her rosy cheekes you should haue seene noe more Dy'd in vermilion blushes, as before: But in a vaile of clouds mufling her head A solitary life she would haue led. Affrighted Phoebus would haue lost his way, Giving his wanton palfreys leaue to play Olympick games in the' Olympian plaines, His trembling hands loosing the golden raines. The Queene of night gott the greene sicknes then, Sitting soe long at ease in her darke denne, Not daring to peepe forth, least that a stone Should beate her headlong from her jetty throne. Ioue's twinckling tapers, that doe light the world, Had beene puft out, and from their stations hurl'd: Æol kept in his wrangling sonnes, least they With this grand blast should haue bin blowne away. Amazèd Triton, with his shrill alarmes Bad sporting Neptune to pluck in his armes, And leaue embracing of the Isles, least hee Might be an actor in this Tragedy. Nor should wee need thy crispèd waues, for wee An Ocean could haue made t' haue drownèd thee. Torrents of salt teares from our eyes should runne, And raise a deluge, where the flaming sunne Should coole his fiery wheeles, & neuer sinke