Vpon The Frontispeece Of Mr. Isaackson'S Chronologie.[81]

Let hoary Time's vast bowels be the grave To what his bowels' birth and being gave; Let Nature die, (Phoenix-like) from death Revived Nature takes a second breath; If on Time's right hand, sit faire Historie, If from the seed of emptie Ruine, she Can raise so faire an harvest; let her be Ne're so farre distant, yet Chronologie (Sharp-sighted as the eagle's eye, that can Out-stare the broad-beam'd daye's meridian) Will have a perspicill to find her out, And, through the night of error and dark doubt, Discerne the dawne of Truth's eternall ray, As when the rosie Morne budds into Day. Now that Time's empire might be amply fill'd, Babel's bold artists strive (below) to build Ruine a temple; on whose fruitfull fall History reares her pyramids, more tall Than were th' Aegyptian (by the life these give, Th' Egyptian pyramids themselves must live): On these she lifts the world; and on their base Showes the two termes, and limits of Time's race: That, the creation is; the judgement, this; That, the World's morning; this, her midnight is.

NOTE.

As explained in preceding Note, I add here the poem so long misassigned to CRASHAW.

ON THE FRONTISPIECE OF ISAACSON'S CHRONOLOGIE EXPLAINED.

BY DR. EDWARD RAINBOW, BISHOP OF CARLISLE.

If with distinctive eye, and mind, you looke Vpon the Front, you see more than one Booke. Creation is God's Booke, wherein He writ Each creature, as a letter filling it. History is Creation's Booke; which showes To what effects the Series of it goes. Chronologie's the Booke of Historie, and beares The just account of Dayes, Moneths, and Yeares. But Resurrection, in a later Presse, And New Edition, is the summe of these. The Language of these Bookes had all been one, Had not th' aspiring Tower of Babylon Confus'd the tongues, and in a distance hurl'd As farre the speech, as men, o' th' new fill'd world. Set then your eyes in method, and behold Time's embleme, Saturne; who, when store of gold Coyn'd the first age, devour'd that birth, he fear'd; Till History, Time's eldest child appear'd; And Phoenix-like, in spight of Saturne's rage, Forc'd from her ashes, heyres in every age. From th' Rising Sunne, obtaining by just suit, A Spring's ingender, and an Autumne's fruit. Who in those Volumes at her motion pend, Vnto Creation's Alpha doth extend. Againe ascend, and view Chronology, By optick skill, pulling farre History Neerer; whose Hand the piercing Eagle's eye Strengthens, to bring remotest objects nigh. Vnder whose feet, you see the Setting Sunne, From the darke Gnomon, o're her volumes runne, Drown'd in eternall night, never to rise, Till Resurrection show it to the eyes Of Earth-worne men; and her shrill trumpet's sound Affright the Bones of mortals from the ground. The Columnes both are crown'd with either Sphere, To show Chronology and History beare, No other Culmen than the double Art, Astronomy, Geography, impart.

AN EPITAPH VPON MR. ASHTON,