Thou ostler-phœnix, thy example rare is. Wee are for Newarke after this sad talke; And whither tis noe journey, but a walke. Nature is wanton there, and the high-way Seem’d to be private, though it open lay; As if some swelling lawyer, for his health, Or frantick usurer, to tame his wealth, Had chosen out ten miles by Trent, to trye Two great effects of art and industry. The ground wee trodd was meddow, fertile land, New trimm’d and levell’d by the mowers hand; Above it grew a roke, rude, steepe, and high, Which claimes a kind of reverence from the eye: Betwixt them both there glides a lively streame, Not loud, but swifte: Mæander was a theame Crooked and rough; but had the poetts seene Straight, even Trent, it had immortall bin. This side the open plaine admitts the sunne To halfe the river; there did silver runne: The other halfe ran clowdes; where the curl’d wood With his exalted head threaten’d the floude. Here could I wish us ever passing by And never past; now Newarke is too nigh: And as a Christmas seemes a day but short, Deluding time with revells and good sport; So did these beauteous mixtures us beguile, And the whole twelve, being travail’d, seem’d a mile. Now as the way was sweet, soe was the end; Our passage easy, and our prize a friend[99], Whome there wee did enjoy; and for whose sake, As for a purer kinde of coyne, men make Us liberall welcome; with such harmony As the whole towne had bin his family. Mine host of the next inne did not repine That wee preferr’d the Heart, and past his signe: And where wee lay, the host and th’ hostesse faine Would shew our love was aym’d at, not their gaine: The very beggars were s’ ingenious, They rather prayd for him, then begg’d of us. And, soe the Doctors friends will please to stay, The Puritans will let the organs play. Would they pull downe the gallery, builded new, With the church-wardens seat and Burleigh-pew, Newarke, for light and beauty, might compare With any church, but what cathedralls are. To this belongs a vicar[100], who succeded The friend I mention’d; such a one there needed; A man whose tongue and life is eloquent, Able to charme those mutinous heads of Trent, And urge the Canon home, when they conspire Against the crosse and bells with swords and fire. There stood a Castle, too; they shew us here The roome where the King slep’t[101], the window where He talk’t with such a lord, how long he staid In his discourse, and all, but what he said. From hence, without a perspective, wee see Bever and Lincolne, where wee faine would bee; But that our purse and horses both are bound Within the circuite of a narrower ground. Our purpose is all homeward, and ’twas time At parting to have witt, as well as rime;