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FKONTISPIECE TO THEOPHILjV (cANTO V, F. 66, OK ORIGINAL REDUCED FROM lO.^ INCHES BY 5.|;
MINOR POETS OF THE CAROLINE PERIOD
VOL. I CONTAINING
CHAMBERLAYNE'S PHARONNIDA AND ENGLAND'S JUBILEE BENLOWES' THEOPHILA AND THE POEMS OF KATHERINE PHILIPS AND PATRICK HANNAY
EDITED BY
GEORGE SAINTSBURY, M.A.
OXFORD
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
■ 1905
HENRY FEOWDE, M.A.
PtTBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
LONDON, EDINBURGH
NEW YORK AND TORONTO
GENERAL INTRODUCTION
A GREAT Eng-lish critic, Mr. Matthew Arnold, and a great French man of letters, Merimee, though they might not agree in all points agreed in one — in disparaging and discountenancing the study of minor literature. Mr. Arnold's utterances on the subject (or some of them, for they are numerous and sometimes inconsistent) are probably well known to most readers of this book ; of Merimee's, his qualification of the praise which it was impossible for him to refuse to Ticknor's History of Spanish LitcraUire, with blame for the inclusion of the nnmerns, may serve as a sufficient example. Both are formidable antagonists : and Goethe, from whom it is not im- probable that both derived at least support for their opinion, and who notoriously, in his later days at any rate, held it himself, will seem to most people, no doubt, an antagonist more formidable still. But one of the cardinal principles of literary as of other knight-errantry is that the adventurer is not to be too careful — if he is to be careful at all — of the number, or of the individual prowess and reputation, of his adversaries. The greater and the more they are, the greater his success if he triumphs, the less his discredit if he succumbs — when his case is the right and theirs is the wrong. I have no doubt that in this respect Goethe and Merimee and Mr. Arnold were wrong. It is not difficult to trace various causes of their error, the chief of which are that all three were in a certain sense disenchanted lovers of Romanticism ; that Romanticismi, as it was bound to do by mere filial piety, enjoined the study of all literature ; and (further) that none of them had any special bent towards literary history. Mr. Arnold regarded all history with an impartial dislike ; Goethe probably did not find this kind scientific enough : and Merimee, though no mean historical student in his own way, was a student of manners, of politics, of archaeology rather than of literature.
Yet there can be no doubt that from the point of view of literary history, and not from that point only, the neglect of minorities is a serious, and may be a fatal mistake. It is a mistake which used to prevail in the elder offspring of Clio herself ; but in most of her family it has been long outgrown. There is even at the present day, perhaps, a danger of too much attention being paid to small things — the complaint is all but unanimous that the document is killing the historian. Literary history, however, is a very youthful member of the historical household : it is not, in any fully developed condition, much more than two hundred years old, and its classics are few and disputed. Most of those which could pretend to the (iii) a 2
General Introduction
position have been constructed on the very principle here attacked ; such a book as Taine's, for instance, deliberately ignores whole schools, whole periods, whole departments, and is even extremely eclectic and anomalous in its treatment of principals. Yet it surely should not require much argument to show that this proceeding is not only absolutely unscientific, but inartistic in the last degree from one point of view, and perilous to the last degree from another. Even in the sphere of inorganic or inanimate or irrational things no reasonable physicist would care to generalize from a single example, or a few, leaving many unexamined. And the expressions of the human mind and sense in art are infinitely more individual and individually differentiated than chunks of the same rock, or blooms of the same flower, or specimens of the same animal race. Every fresh example may — it may almost be asserted that every fresh example does — give the rule with a difference ; and by far the larger number of these differences are at least illustrative. From the confinement of the attention to a few examples, however brilliant and famous, come hasty generali- zations, insufficient exposition, not seldom downright errors. Nor is it enough that the historian, as he too seldom does, should have made an examination, more or less exhaustive, for himself; it is desirable that the opportunity of controlling, checking, illustrating that examination should be in the hands of the student.
This opportunity, in regard to the poets now collected, few students who have not easy access to the very largest libraries can possibly have enjoyed. The invaluable collection of Chalmers — which ought long ago to have been supplemented by a similar corpus for the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries — contains a very fair number of mid-seventeenth century poets, but not one of those here presented. Nor has any one of them enjoyed the good fortune — I do not for a moment insinuate that any one has deserved it — of Herrick, who was himself omitted by Chalmers. The best and largest thing here given, Chamberlayne's PJiaronnida^ was indeed reprinted by Singer eighty years ago : but his edition is now scarce and dear. Very few of the others have been reprinted at all, and in every case the familiar adjectives just used apply to the reprints where they exist. As for the originals, though the extreme collector's mania point has not been yet reached in their case, as in that of the books of the period immediately preceding and some (especially first editions of plays) of a later time, yet most of them are exces- sively costly — twenty or thirty shillings, or two or three pounds having to be given for small duodecimos of large print. And what is more, copies are not to be obtained on the asking even at these fancy prices. To collect the texts which we here propose to give would cost anything from twenty to fifty pounds in money, and I really do not think it would be an exaggeration to sa\' that it might cost from twenty to fifty weeks, if not months, in (iv)
General Introduction
time. And while it is certainly not extravagant to say that most students have neither too much time nor too much money at command, it is not, I think, illiberal to say that at least some collectors who have plenty of both do not exactly collect for the purposes of study.
So far, little answer is likely to be attempted ; but there remains a different set of objections to face. ' Are these things worth collecting and reprinting ? ' it may be asked — ' Is either the prodesse or the delectare likely to be got from them ? ' Nor do I propose to answer this in the lofty manner of some, by saying that knowledge is knowledge, and to be striven for, and imparted, putting all questions of profit or of delectation aside. This (to split the old commendation) may be ' the most orgilous ' fashion of defence ; but it is not ' the best,' perhaps, and it is certainly not the most prudent, especially as there are divers others. The importance of the matter here given for the proper comprehension of English literary history is really great. It may be best classed and indicated under three heads, those of Versification, Diction, and Subject.
In Versification, the poems here set before the reader, being mostly in rhyme, do not illustrate one of the main features of their period, that disintegration or disvertebration of blank verse which the contemporary plays display so remarkably. But their exposition of the rhymed couplet of the period comes very close to this : and indeed, as contrast-pendant, practically forms part of the same subject. We give here, in the forefront of the book, the greatest poem, in bulk and merit alike, which was ever written in this particular form of heroic : and the special Introdjiction to Pharon- nida will be found to contain some further remarks on the matter. It is sufficient here to say that what this poem shows on the great scale many others show more or less : — the conflict of the two principles of * stop ' and enjambement which goes on everlastingly in this province of English Prosody. When the couplet^ first ' emerges from the heap ' (to use Guest's excellent but for himself rather damaging phrase on a more general point) its examples are almost necessarily ' stopped ' — as in the Orison of Our Lady, in Hampole and elsewhere — because the fact of the writer having no more to say in the space almost of itself determined his limita- tion to ten feet. But when Chaucer first took it up as a poetic medium and vehicle on the great scale, his genius could not fail, whether consciously or not, to discover the double capacity of the metre. He has sometimes been claimed as a great exemplar of enjambement ; but as a matter of fact he is quite as great a one of the stopped couplet when he chooses : and neither Dryden nor
^ These remarks, necessarily made here obiter, the writer hopes to develop in a History of English Prosody, on which he has been for some time engaged. The observation is made simply to guard them against the supposition of being idle or random dicta.
(V)
General Introduction
Leigh Hunt could have been under the slightest difficulty in learning from him and quoting from him examples of the form which each preferred. The remarkable instances of ' clench ' and ' stop ' which are found in Mother Hiibberd's Talc could escape no careful reader of Spenser: and those who like to discover literary anticipations and 'false dawns' have had no difficulty in finding many others in Elizabethan poetry. In particular, those final couplets of Fairfax's stanzas which had such a great influence on Waller and his followers, necessarily take the stopped form as a rule, and sometimes equal in emphasis anything in Pope himself.
But the dramatic model of the rhymed couplet, very frequently
used and never quite expelled by blank verse in its palmiest days,
as necessarily inclined to overlapping : and both the pregnancy of
thought and the rather undisciplined exuberance of Jacobean and
Caroline times favoured the same tendency. This, undoubtedly,
caught or lent contagion from or to the other tendency to licence in
blank verse itself The sliding, slipping flow of Wither and Browne
was consequently most alluring, in decasyllabics and octosyllables
alike : and for some time very few writers even tried to resist the
allurement. Chamberlayne himself, and Shakerley Marmion earlier,
are the chief of not a few who have displayed the sin and its
solace. There is indeed no doubt of either. Hardly any metrical
device so well deserves the hackneyed praise of ' linked sweetness
long drawn out ' as these verse-paragraphs, punctuated by rhyme as
well as pause, when they are successful. Nothing so well enables us
to understand JMilton^s otherwise almost unintelligible wrath with
the rhyme he had managed so exquisitely as the same paragraphs,
or rather paragraph-heaps, when they are not successful. And the
odds are undoubtedly rather against their succeeding. Even
Keats, a greater poet by far than any one here presented, and
endowed with a miraculous finger for poetic music, cannot always —
cannot very often — keep them straight or curl them satisfactorily.
They encourage themselves by their own transgression : the poet
who drinks of them will almost certainly drink to excess. And
there is nothing for it, as Keats himself found, but one or other
of the astringent antidotes which Milton and Dryden respectively
applied. Yet, as we have seen in the nineteenth century, from
Keats himself to Mr. William Morris, poetry will turn to them, and
will not be denied the indulgence. Nay, there is the curious fact
that, after Keats had discarded the decasyllabic ciijambcuiciit of
Eiidymion, he fell back upon the octosyllabic cnjambcmoit of the
Eve of St. Mark\ and would obviously have done great things in
it had he had time.
It is, therefore, by no means an unimportant thing, in the interests of the history of PLnglish Prosody and of English Literature, that the documents of this period of unbridled overlapi)ing should be put completelv witlu'n the reach of the student and reader: — first, that
(vi)
General Introduction
he may understand and appreciate them in themselves ; secondly, that he may understand and appreciate the reaction against them ; thirdly, that he may understand and appreciate the new reaction to something like them more than a century later. They have a great deal to teach us ; they are a ' source ' or a main part of one ; they cannot be dismissed, except by the most short-sighted impatience, as things dead and obsolete. The newer tendency to extend the view of literature laterally, and take in what other nations and other languages are doing, is valuable and to be encouraged, but not at the expense of retrospection and of the maintenance of continuity in the study of particular literatures. Nowhere is it truer that the thing that hath been shall be than in this field : nowhere are the ancestral heirlooms — less as well as more precious — to be more carefully treasured and looked up from time to time.
The other points chiefly noticeable in regard to Versification are two — the practice of irregular ' Pindaric ' metres, and the peculiar tone and colour of the ' common measure ' and the quatrain of eights. The popularity of Cowley was sure to encourage the practice of the first, but Cowley's own addiction to it was, of course, only an instance, not a cause, of the general fondness for it. This fondness was also itself, no doubt, but a sort of evidence of discontent or want of skill with previously popular metrical arrangements, like the restless liberties taken with the Spenserian stanza by poets from the Fletchers to Prior. We have nothing of the very first excellence to promise in this form — nothing like the best of Crashaw or of Vaughan — certainly nothing equal to that splendid anonymous piece ^ which Mr. Bullen discovered in the Christ Church Library. But it must be remembered that Cowley himself is by no means invariably or even very often successful with it, and that its apparent promise of mimeros lege solutes is the most treacherous and dangerous of deceits. The poet (or perhaps hardly the poet but the verse-writer) thinks he has got rid of an incumbrance, when he has in reality thrown away the staff that supports his steps and the girdle that strengthens his loins. Only masters of euphony and harmony can really triumph with these irregular arrangements which require such a transcendental regularity. Nay more, we know from the remarkable example of Tennyson's early verse, and its effect on Coleridge, that the very masters themselves cannot always appreciate others' mastery in it. So that, in our range of sixty years and more from Patrick Hannay to Ay res, we shall not see many successes here: yet the lesson of their absence will not be idle or superfluous.
But the third and last general metrical * colour ' of this verse is the most satisfactory ; it is indeed one of the principal evidences in English poetry of the almost incomprehensible blowing of the wind of the spirit in a particular direction for a certain space of time. Whether it was the special accomplishment of Ben Jonson, the * ' Yet if His Majesty, Our Sovereign Lord,' &c. (vii)
Genei^al httroductmi
greatest single tutor and teacher of the verse of the mid-seventeenth century, or whether this accomplishment itself was but the first and greatest instance of a prevalent phenomenon, it would be uncritical rashness to attempt to decide. But what is certain is that the new, the wonderful, the delightful cadences which we find in such mere anonymities as —
Thou sent'st to me a heart was crowned,
I took it to be thine : But when I saw it had a wound
I knew that heart was mine. A bounty of a strange conceit I
To send mine own to me — And send it in a worse estate
Than when it came to thee !
or in Marvell's magnificent —
My love is of a birth as rare
As 'tis, for object, strange and high —
It was begotten by Despair Upon Impossibility.
meet us often here, even in the warblings of the mild if matchless muse of ' Orinda.' Some of course will say, according to their usual saying, that it is the thought which is charming in both these — that it is the Caroline conceit, not the Caroline cadence, which is so bewitching. Let us distinguish. The thought, the conceit, is caressing : but it would be perfectly possible so to put it that it should not have this rushing soar, this dying fall ; and it would not be very hard to get the soar and fall with much less fantastically gracious fancies. In fact, we should have to go to these very Carolines to borrow them. Nobody, except by imitation, has got it since ; nobody had it before. It is only when one appreciates it that it becomes evident how some of those thus gifted managed also to strike out (quite casually it would seem) the matchless hi Menw- riavi variation of eights, which also dates from this time, and which carries its own music so indissolubly bound up in it that only violence, or dulness unspeakable, can effect a divorce between them. If these notes — not exactly w-ood-notes but notes of a slightly sophisticated yet exquisitely tempered society — came first into existence a little before the accession of the first Charles, they hardly survived the death of the second, under whom very worth- less and unpoetical persons still, in some strange fashion, were able to produce them, while later, very respectable and even poetical persons were unable to produce them at all. We shall not, indeed, find any of the very best examples of them here ; those very best examples are so irresistibly and so universally charming that they have, in almost all cases, long ago served as passports to at least the modified general knowledge given by anthologies. I can promise (viii)
Ge7ie*ral httroductmi
my readers no Herrick, nor even any Sedley or Aphra Behn. But the purpose of the collection will be fully attained by showing that in lesser degree, the gift prevailed : — that even the minor poet had it, that it was an appanage and a privilege not of the individual but of the time. Not until such points as these have been mastered — with the result and reward of being able to distinguish what is of the time and what of the individual — is a real grasp of the history of literature and especially of poetry possible. The process corrects at once the extreme determinism of the Taine school, and the extreme individualism which will not look at filiations and groups and milieux at all ; it turns the student, if he will be turned, into a scholar who can appreciate, and a lover who can understand.
In point of Diction the authors here given add a good deal to the word- and phrase-book of the period ; and I have thought it worth while to draw attention to some of these additions in the several Introductions, and to all the more remarkable ones in the glossarial notes. The general tendency is double : and the evidences of this duplicity are perhaps more striking than those in most of the better known poetry of the time, though not more so than those in its slightly more accessible, but not really much more generally read, drama. One set is in the direction of a sort of new 'aureate' diction — of ' inkhorn terms ' corresponding to those of which the mighty chief of contemporary prose-writers. Sir Thomas Browne, is so prodigal. Chamberlayne, though not quite so lavish of them, is a thorough contemporary of Browne's in his ' enthean ' and his 'astracisms.' But, as is well known, all Jacobean and Caroline writers, from Bacon and Greville to Thomas Burnet, succumb to this temptation, the indulgence in which was no doubt a main cause of the imminent reaction to ' a naked natural way of speaking,' though some of the greatest men on that side, notably Dryden, never quite relinquished their fondness for ' traduction ' and the like. This indulgence is certainly more pardonable in poetry than in prose, where also it is not unpardonable to some tastes ; it only becomes so when (as, it must be confessed, often happens) it is either pushed to the verge of the burlesque in itself or associated with grotesque and vernacular locutions. Benlowes is a particular offender in this way ; but it can hardly be said that any one of the Caroline minors is entirely to be trusted to escape the danger and the offence. Yet the better of these imisitata may be regarded with a little affectionate regret by those who hold that in language, as elsewhere, the old motto ' keep a thing, its use will come ' has its value ; and that it is hardly possible for any tongue to be too rich or too hospitable provided only its treasures or its guests do not underlie the reproach of barbarism. There is a charm in such a phrase as ' the epact of the heart'' which none but word-lovers and thought-lovers know.
The other tendency connects itself forwards rather than backwards
^ In the anonymous song, ' Why should I wrong my judgement so? ' (ix)
Ge?ieral Introdicction
in respect of development, though one of its sources is to be sought in an earlier age. It is the indulgence in familiar and slovenly- forms of speech which grew upon writers during the later years of the seventeenth century, and against which Swift, at the beginning of the next, delivered his famous onslaught in the Tatler. This, as has been said, is particularly painful when it is found in close proximity to the 'aureate' phrases just discussed; but its worst instances possess an offensiveness which is independent and intrinsic, and which is perhaps the great drawback to the enjoyment of this poetry. These take the most slipshod conversational contractions — not merely such as 'they're' for they are,' and 'she 's' for 'she is,' but such as the horrors, now luckily obsolete even in conversation, of 'do's,' not for 'does ' but for 'do his,' ' th' castle' for 'the castle,' ' b' the ' for ' by the,' and the like. In some cases, of course, a mere slur of the voice will get over the difficulty: but in many it will not. And the result is then one of the most jarring grains of sand between the teeth, one of the most loathsome flies in the ointment. Some of the passages where it occurs are utterly ruined by it ; there are none, I think, where it is not a more or less serious draw- back to the poetic pleasure. It is noticeable more or less in all the poets of the time except Milton, whose ear saved him, almost if not quite invariably, from anything that cannot be resolved into a toler- able trisyllabic foot: and it continued for a long time after our strict period. Even Dryden is not proof against it, in the verse of his plays, though he too was kept by his genius from often (not from sometimes) committing it in his strictly poetic verse. Of the others, persons not represented here as different as Crashaw and Marvell, persons represented here as different as Chamberlayne and Benlowes, are almost indiscriminately guilty of it ^
This always uncomely and sometimes hideous and horrible fault was at least partly due to a wrong theory, not of Diction itself but once more of Versification — to the strange delusion (first put into words by Gascoigne, who laments what he thought the fact thirty or forty years before the beginning of our time, and finally formulated by Bysshe twelve or fifteen beyond the end of it) that, either universally or in all but a very few trivial song metres, English prosody admitted of nothing but disyllabic feet. It was to get back the ten syllables into the heroic line, the eight into the ' short ' line (as Butler calls it) and no more, that these abominable Procrustean tortures were committed. It is possible — the contrary may seem indeed /^possible — that the fantastic combinations of consonants sometimes produced, were not intended to be pronounced as they are printed — that, as was observed above, a saving slur was allowed. But in some cases at least no sleight of tongue with the actual syllables is itself possible: the verse simply cannot be made euphonious by any acrobatism of
• It is to the credit of 'J. D.,' the introducer of Joshua Poole's English Parnassus, that he protests against mere ' apostrophation,' as he calls it.
General httroduction
pronunciation. And it is not surprising that, in order to get rid of it, Dryden tended more and more to the rigid decasyllabic, with an occasional indulgence in the complete Alexandrine when he could not suit himself with less room. Never till Shenstone, and then only by a kind of timid suggestion, was the ' dactyl ' (of course it was not as a rule a dactyl at all) allowed back into English heroic or blank verse ; and during this period of proscription there was practically no alternative between inconvenience and cacophony for those poets who were not consummate masters. Hardly one of ours deserves that grudgingly-to-be-allotted description, and accordingly they nearly all succumb.
Yet again, there is special interest of Subject about not a few of the poets and poems here given ; and this has not, like the others, been in any great part anticipated by previous collections and editions. Of the * Heroic Poem ' on which the mind of the late sixteenth and the whole of the seventeenth century was so much set, only Davenant's G-oiidibcrt, the most popular example doubtless of the kind at its own time, has been hitherto accessible with any ease ; and Gondibert, though the most considerable English piece save one in bulk, has the disadvantage of having been written by a man who is not single-minded in his ideas of poetry, who with much of the actual has more of the coming taste and fashion. Here we give, not only PJiaronnida the queen of the whole bevy, but some others, of much less merit and importance no doubt, but still constituting a body of evidence and not a mere isolated example. Of the kind itself something is said in the Introduction to Chamberlayne's romance: but something more may fitly, and almost necessarily must, be said here. It is, for the reasons just now hinted at and others, not at all a well-known kind ; and with all the abundance of monographs — German, American, and English — on English Literature which the last few decades have seen, no one has yet summoned up courage to take it with its analogues, the ' Heroic Prose Romance,' and the ' Heroic Play,' for thorough and synoptic treatment. Except in cases which break through and above its limitations., such as Milton's Paradise Lost, which, be it remembered, takes to itself the actual style and title ^, or as Cowley's Davideis, it is a kind which incurs the familiar dangers of sitting (or attempting to sit) on two stools. Starting from the theory and practice of Tasso, who wished to effect a modus vivendi between the Virgilians and the partisans of Ariosto, and from the doctrine of Scaliger that the ActJiiopica of Heliodorus was a perfect prose epic, writers, first in Italy and Spain, then in PVance, and almost contemporaneously in England, endeavoured to secure the variety, the freedom to some extent, and the sentimental and story- telling attractions of the Romance, with something of the majesty, unity, and prestige of the Epic. They very seldom achieved these
* At the close of the prefatory note on ' The Verse.' (xi)
General Introduction
latter; and if like Milton they did, it was almost necessarily at the cost and to the neglect of the former. The smaller ' Heroic ' poems are often mere narrative love-pieces, scarcely more than lyric in appeal, though unwisely divesting themselves of the lyric charm in form. But PJiaronnida is much more than this, and though, no doubt, the versification and the diction subject it to risks which need not necessarily have been run, yet, to some extent, the Heroic Poem might not do unwisely to choose Chamberlayne as its champion.
At any rate, the greater and smaller examples here presented will supply materials for information and judgement on two points of literary history and criticism, neither of which is without very considerable interest and importance. In the first place, we have here a definite species (or chapter) of the general class (or history) of Verse-Narrative. This, even in ancient times, had some difficulty in subjecting itself to the rigid theory of Epic Unity. The Iliad obeys this pretty fairly — which is the less wonderful inasmuch as the theory was certainly deduced from the Iliad, if not from the Iliad alone. But the Odyssey and even the Aeneid have to take the benefit of all sorts of subterfuges in order to comply with it : and disastrous as is the shipwreck of ancient epic generally, we can see from writers like Nonnus on the one hand and Statius on the other, that orthodoxy was by no means universal if it was even general. Mediaeval verse knew nothing of it, and the mighty genius of Ariosto flouted it unceremoniously not to say wantonly. An intending verse tale-teller, in the middle of the seventeenth century, might well ' not know what to think of it ' even in face of Tasso and Spenser, much more of Marini and Chiabrera and the French 'long poem ' writers from Ronsard to Chapelain. Either because of such bewilderment, or for other reasons, he generally fortified himself with certain things ; a punctilious extravagance of sentimental interest, often suggesting the tone of the Amadis cycle ; a curious nomenclature of a rococo-Romance kind which has perhaps some indebtedness to the same source ; intricately and almost violently entangled adventures, revolutions, discoveries, and the like. In many cases it seems to have been more or less a chance whether he wrote in prose or in verse.
In fact (and this brings us to the second point), the kind supplies another important link or chapter in the history of Fiction generally. Very much of it, one might almost be sure, would not have been written in this form if the prose-novel had taken forms more definite and variously available. And yet it is necessary to repeat the ' almost.' For the verse-novel itself, we must remember, has made its appearance as late as the nineteenth century in some very notable examples in English. It may almost claim Sordcllo and The Princess ; it may quite claim Fcstus, and Aurora Leigh, and Lncile and Glcnaveril. If Mr. William Morris led verse-narrative (xii)
General Introduction
back to more natural ways, it does not follow that it will always abide in them. At any rate, here are examples — little known, not so little worth knowing, — of one of the forms which it has taken in the past of English poetry and English literature. That this form has been much neglected hitherto is certainly not a reason for continuing the neglect. It certainly is a reason for repairing it in the most important point, the provision of the actual materials for study.
To these considerations of direct interest and importance, from the point of view of the history of literature, there remain to be added some of an indirect kind.
Most, though not all, of the writers here reprinted were forgotten during the eighteenth century ; but some at least of them were of note in the seventeenth, and more than one has been a power of this or that moment during the last hundred years. The influence which they — or rather the spirit which they exhibit — exerted upon Dryden has sometimes been exaggerated, but more generally over- looked : and it is a matter of real and great importance. It is not merely that he mentions ' Orinda ' with admiration ^ and Cleveland with contempt ^ ; nor that he confesses, in somewhat other but closely allied matter, how conceit and bombast and ' alembicated ' metaphysicalities for a long time were the Delilabs of his imagina- tion ^. It is not merely that the Lines on Lord Hastings are in existence to show that he could as a boy out-Benlowes Benlowes and out-catachresis Cleveland himself. From these first puerilities to those almost last and almost noblest lines where he addresses —
[The] daughter of the rose, whose cheeks unite The differing titles of the Red and White,
he is the servant of misguiding or rightly guiding fantasy — a fantasy at the worst the by-blow and bastard of older Furor Poeticus, at the best its legitimate offspring. It is this quality which differentiates him from the mere prose-and-sense versifiers, and which is so unfortunately missed by those who cannot appreciate him because they appreciate Milton, just as others cannot appreciate Keats because they appreciate Byron. And our poets are almost the last, except a few well-known exceptions, for a hundred years, to show the constant presence of this will-o'-the-wisp which does not always lead astray, and which is at any rate better than darkness, and perhaps than common daylight. So, too, how appreciate the justice (in this case one may be frank enough to say the injustice) of Mac Flecknoe, when the songs that Flecknoe actually sang are more unknown than those to which Browne (forgetful of htvp ay^ vvv and its music) made the famous reference? How apportion the
(xiii)
* In the 'Anne Killigrew' Ode, viii. 162. ^ In the Essay of Dramatic Poesy. ' Dedication of The Spanish Friar,
Geiieral hitrodiictmi
office of the true critic and that of the mere satirist in Butler without having ThcopJiila before us? How fully comprehend the to us rather incomprehensible wrath and ridicule with which Addison and others pursue the childish, but not wholly unamiable, practice of making verses in the shape of altars, and candle- sticks, and frying-pans, without a full collection of the original offences ?
The other source of interest referred to is less equivocal. There
is no doubt that some of these seventeenth-century writers were
extremely influential in the Romantic Revolt of the nineteenth.
They could not but be so, inasmuch as they were precisely the
persons against whom the neoclassic poets — the 'school of prose
and sense ' — had themselves revolted. The poetic blood of these
old martyrs was the necessary seed of the new Church, and not
only the seed but the fostering soil and the kindly fertilizer. That
Keats must have had direct obligations to Fharonnida has never
been matter of doubt since people began to study Keats seriously ;
but there is fair reason to believe that he knew others of our
collection. One ceases to think his famous and very ugly rhyme
of 'favour' and 'behaviour' a mere cockneyism, when one finds
it in Shakerley Marmion. Not, of course, that it may not be found
elsewhere, but that both in subject and execution Cupid and Psyche
is exactly one of the poems which Keats is most likely to have read,
enjoyed, and followed. Southey's relish of P/iaronnida is cited in
the proper place, as is Campbell's, which caused, more surprisingly
to those who know Jeffrey only at second hand, Jeffrey's. Sir
Egerton Brydges, whose influence was much greater than is perhaps
now generally appreciated, paid much attention to the writers of
this time and class in the Censura Liter-aria : and the invaluable
Retrospective Review did what it could to reintroduce them, whilst
Singer,if he had met with more encouragement, would probably have
reprinted more of them than he actually did. No one can mistake
— as a result no doubt not of any 'plagiarism ' nor even of following
in the sense too commonly understood by the collectors of parallel
passageSjbut of kindred in spirit,andperhapsofactualfamiliarity — the
resemblances to the poetry of these, as of other seventeenth-century
men, which are found in early nineteenth-century poets like l^eddoes
and Darley, not to mention the ' Spasmodics ' and other outhnng
groups or individuals. It is impossible to imagine a better antidote
or alterative to Bkackmorc and Glover than Chambcrlayne ; to the
average minor poet of the eighteenth century than Benlowes or
Katherine Philips or even Philip Ayrcs. Kven the cxtremest
minority is worn with a difference : and with a difference which
is still agreeable and refreshing. ' Agreeable and refreshing.'
Duke refrigcriuvi ! It sounds better in Latin, though the sense is
pretty exactly the same : and the Latin phrase at least expresses
the charm of these writers perhaps as well as any that could be
(xiv)
General Introduction
invented. There is no need to relinquish a jot of the pedagogic or, if the shibboleth of the day be preferred, the ' scientific ' arguments and claims just advanced ; but in a matter of art, and especially of poetical art, they can never be quite victoriously decisive. ' Is the delight here?' is a question which anybody has the right to ask at any moment, and it moves the case into another court.
But there is no difficulty in giving the affirmative answer though, of course, that answer must itself be subject, like all such, to the yet further, and in this case final tribunal of individual taste. Some people will not like even Chamberlayne, much less Benlowes and the rest ; it has even been admitted that they can find reasons for not liking, if they choose to seek them. But it must be remembered that in Art, and especially in Poetry, the potency of the negative and the potency of the affirmative in replies to this question are utterly different in weight and scope. The negative is final as regards the individual ; Jie has a right to dislike if he does dislike, though there may be subsequent questions as to his competence. But it is not in the least final as to the work in question. It is (let it be granted) not good for hivi ; it does not follow that it is not good in itself Now the affirmative carries with it results of a very different character. This is final in regard to the work as well as to the reader. That which should be delectable has delighted in one proven and existing case : and nothing — not the crash of the world — can alter the fact. It has achieved — though the value of the achievement in different cases may be different.
From this point of view, few of the poets now presented need fall back on the mere scholastic-historic estimate : though one or two may have to do so. Puzzling as it may be to extract and define the essence of the charm which is found in almost every page of Chamberlayne and which is not so rare elsewhere, the examples already referred to will show that that charm itself has been felt by persons whose competence is too certain, and whose idiosyn- crasies are too various, to permit the poohpoohing of it as an effect of crotchet, or eitgotieinent, or simple bad taste. The fact is that it is as genuine as it is elusive, and almost as all-pervading as it is sometimes faint and felt from far. If it can be explained in any way it is by the constant presence of the worship of Imagination, and of the reward which Imagination bestows upon even her most mistaken worshippers. Sometimes they are mistaken enough; they confuse their Goddess with a Fancy which is not even 'Fancy made of golden air' but an earthy Fancy bedizened with tinsel. But the better Fancy is only Imagination a little human- ized, and even the worst has something not quite alien from the divine. As we come closer to the confines of the period, it is most curious to see the last flutters and flashes of the wings of this Fancy as she takes her leave in such things as Ayres's Fair Beggar, and his Lydia Distracted. Earlier, she is always with us,
(XV)
Gejteral Intro cliictio7t
and Imagination herself not seldom. There are who like not these for companions, no doubt ; for those who do, let us cut short this ushership at once and allow the music to begin i.
George Saintsbury.
* Note to Introduction. The principles of editing which have been adopted can be very shortly set forth. In all cases, whether the texts have been set up from reprints, as in a few cases, or from the originals, as in most, they have been carefully collated with these originals themselves and all important variations noted, and where necessary explained. The spelling has been subjected to the very small amount of modernization necessary to make it uniform with the only uniformity which is at all possible. At this time no texts were printed with very antique spelling, and some pre- sent for whole pages nothing that is not modern, except an occasional capital Initial. A very few readers might prefer the reproduction of anomalous and contradictory archaisms ; but these would certainly repel a much lareer number, and interfere with the acquaintance which it is desired to bring about. With regard to punctuation, the fantastic and irregular clause- and sentence-architecture of the time liardly admits of a strict application of any system. This is partly remedied, or at least recognized, in the originals by an extremely liberal use of the semicolon, which has been generally re- tained, except where meansofimprovementare obvious. Glossarial notes have been added where they seemed necessary or very desirable, but with a sparing hand ; and notes, explanatory of matter, with a hand more sparing still. The object constantly kept in view by the editor has been the provision, not of biographical, bibliographical, or com- mentatorial minutiae, but of a sufficient and trustworthy text for the student and the lover of literature. [^Unforeseen and unavoidable circwnstances have hitherto prevented the accomplishment of the collation of Hannay. I trust to complete it shortly and to give the results, if any, in Vol. 11. — G. S.)
(xvi)
CONTENTS
Dedication, &c.
GENERAL INTRODUCTION
WILLIAM CHAMBERLAYNE Introduction Pharonnida Book I Book II . Book III . Book IV . Book V .
England's Jubilee
EDWARD BENLOWES Introduction
Theophila. Preface, Commendatory Poems, &c
The Prelibation to the Sacrifice. Canto I
Theophila's Love-Sacrifice. Summary, &c Canto II. The Humiliation Canto III. The Restoration Canto IV. The Inamoration Canto V. The Representation Canto VI. The Association Canto VII. The Contemplation Canto VIII. The Admiration Canto IX. The Recapitulation. (Hecatombe IX. RecapituJatio)
Praelibatio ad Theophils Amoris Hostiam. Quae unica Cantio a Domino Alex. Rossfeo in Carmen Latinum conversa est. Cantio 1
Theophila? Amoris Hostia. Cantio III. Latino Carmine donata. Restauratio
The Vanity of the World
Canto X. The Abnegation
Canto XI. The Disincantation
The Sweetness of Retirement. Canto XII. The Segregation
The Pleasure of Retirement. Canto XIII. The Reinvitation
Theophilas Amoris Hostia. Cantio VII. A Domino Jeremia Colliero in versus Latiales Traducta. Contemplatio
The Summary of Wisdom
A Poetic Descant upon a Private Music-Meeting ( xvii ) b
page iii
I
3
14 17
73 124 181 237 296
305 307 315 335 342 346
353 361
368
375 382
3«9 397
409
417 424 426
433 445 454
464
473 482
Co77te?7ts
KATHERINE PHILIPS.
Introduction ..... Preface and Commendatory Poems The Table
Poems
Appendix. Songs from Povipey
PATRICK HANNAY ....
Introduction
Philomela. Commendatory Poems, &c.
Philomela, the Nightingale Sheretine and Mariana. Dedication, &c.
Canto I
Canto II.
A Happy Husband .... Dedication, Commendatory Poems, &c. A Happy Husband : or, Directions for a Maid to choose her Mate
Elegies on the Death of our late Sovereign, Queen Anne, WITH Epitaphs
Songs and Sonnets
page 48s 486 490 504
613 615
616 621
643 645 6S9 675 677 680
( xviii )
Pharonnida :
A
H E R O I C K
POEM-
B Y
WILLIJU CHJUSE^LATKE
Of Sbaftiburj in the County o^Boreet,
L 0 N © 0 2S[.,
Printed for ^hert C/d'^e//,at the Sign of the j StagS'head ncer St. Gngsrtes Church in ' SuFauls Chnrch-yard, i6n9»
[Two vols, in one of 258 and 215 pp. respectively. The print and leading of these is quite different, the first having small type and thirty- four lines to the page, the second a larger letter and twenty-six or twenty-eight lines.]
INTRODUCTION TO WILLIAM CHAMBERLAYNE
The extreme scantiness of our biographical knowledge ' of the author of Pharomiida has not, even in recent or comparatively recent years, been compensated by any fullness of critical or general acquaintance with his works. He was even more unfortunate than Herrick as regards the time at which he came and his chances of popularity : and his kind of work was a great deal less likely to recommend itself to future generations. That the original edition is very rare indeed, and that Singer's reprint eighty years ago was published in no very great numbers, and is now far from common or cheap, are facts which no doubt have had a good deal to do with the general neglect : but criticism is not quite blameless in the matter. That Langbaine should have seen nothing in Pharomiida is indeed itself nothing ; if there ever has been anything which may possibly have ruffled the smoothness of Shakespeare's brow since his death, it must have been Langbaine's admiration. That the eighteenth century should have left our poet not contemptuously but utterly alone is not wonderful : for his system of versification is simply anathema to the orthodoxy of which Bysshe was the lawgiver and which Johnson did not disdain to profess.
Southey, who read Pharomiida early and might have been expected to like it, has indeed left a pleasant tribute I But the author of an elaborate and useful argument, with extracts, in the Retrospective Review ^, which no doubt served as shoehorn to draw on Singer's reprint, gives very little criticism, and that little by turns extravagant and grudging. I have myself a very great admiration for Chamberlayne, but I fear I could not, except
^ It is practically limited to what can be found in the prefatory matter of his poem, with a very few external contributions — as that he was born in 1619 ; practised as a physician at Shaftesbury; died there on Jan. 11, 1679, and was buried; his son, Valentine, putting up a monument to him. Pharonnida appeared (London : R. Clavell), with a portrait ('generally absent), in 1659. The tragi-comedy of Loves Victory^ which accompanies it in Singer's reprint, but (as a play) is not given here, had been published the year before, and was reprinted in 1678, with alterations, as Wits Led by the Nose, a title not obviously applicable. At the Restoration, Chamberlayne published a short poem of some interest, England's J ubile\e\ which has never, I think, been reprinted, but which is given at the end oi Pharonnida.
^ In a note to Tlie Vision of the Maid of Orleans [Poems, one vol. edition, p. 79), he gives a considerable extract from Pharonnida's remarkable dream in Book I, Canto V, and speaks of the author as ' a poet to whom I am indebted for many hours of delight.' But even he, while acknowledging 'an interesting story, sublimity of thought, and beauty of expression,' excepts against 'the uncouth rhymes, the quaintest conceits, and the most awkward inversions.'
^ I. pp. 21-48, with a further article on Love's Victory, pp. 258 71.
(3 ) B2
Willia7n Chamherlayne
as regards the inequality, say that ' his main story is carried on with deep and varied interest and developed with great but unequal power,' or grant ' individuality ' to ' the character of Almanzor.' On the other hand, to speak of the ' involved and inharmonious ' diction, and still more of ' the poverty and insignificance of the rhyme,' is as excessive in the other direction, though it may not be utterly untrue : and the remark about the rhyme in particular shows that the critic had not grasped Chamber- layne's system. We can come together again on ' richness of imagery,' ' impassioned and delightful poetry,' &c.
The first person to do some real justice to Pharontiida was Campbell in his Specimens, which again give not much criticism and chiefly praise the story — the weakest part — but provide admirable selections, the perusal of which stirred Jeffrey himself to admiration and desire for more. Of late years things have been better \ but even yet the poem is far too little known, and the hope of extending the knowledge of it was one of my main motives in suggesting and planning this edition.
The points of interest from which Pharonriida can be regarded are neither few nor unimportant. In the first place it is, with Davenant's much better known but far inferior Gondibert, the chief English example of that curious kind the ' Heroic poem ' — the romanticized epic which, after the deliberations of the Italian critics and the example of Tasso, spread itself over Europe in the late sixteenth century and held the field for the greater part of the seventeenth. With something of the late romance of the Amadis type in it, this poem had a good deal of intended reference to the Aeneid ; but perhaps linked itself most of all to the prose Aethiopica of Heliodorus, which attracted great attention from the Renais- sance and had been pronounced by Scaliger himself the model of a prose epic. The resemblance, indeed, between Pharonnida and the type of the Greek romance generally is very strong — in the prominence and persistent persecutions of the heroine, in the constant voyages and travels, alarums and excursions, ambushes and abductions, and, it may be added, in the very subordinate position of Character. Indeed Chariclea and some of her sisters are much less open to Pope's libel than the good Pharonnida and the bad Amphibia of our poem.
An even greater attraction to some readers is its position at the very end (indeed, in a sort of appendix to the great volume) of Elizabethan verse, in conception, in versification, and in phrase. Like the whole body of this verse, from Spenser downwards, it is of imagination (or at worst of fancy) all compact : the restraints of prose and common sense are utterly alien to it. Its author has passed from the merely 'conceited'
* Mr. Gosse in From Shakespeare to Pope did, pcrliaps, most to draw attention once more to Chambcrlayne.
(4)
Introduction
to the ' metaphysical ' stage ; and if his excursions into the au dela do not reach the subhmity or the subtlety of Donne, the flaming fantasy and passion of Crashaw, they leave very little to desire in their fidelity to the Gracianic motto En Nada Vulgar. The immense length of his verse paragraphs (to be referred to further) is closely connected with this intricacy and excursiveness of thought, and so no doubt, at least according to the present writer's idea, is the 'impassioned and delightful' poetry. But so also is the extreme incoherence not merely of the story as a whole, but, and still more, of its component incidents and episodes. It is, of course, impossible not to think of Sordello in reading it : and I should say myself that the poem which has rather absurdly become a proverb for incomprehensibility in the proper sense of the word, is much the more easily comprehensible of the two. Mr. Browning's thought pursues the most astonishing zigzags and whirligigs and shifts, but it is solid : and you can, if you are nimble enough, keep your clutch on it. Chamber- layne's constantly sublimes itself off into a kind of mist before making a fresh start as a solid, at quite a different point from that at which it was last perceived in that condition.
So, too, with the versification. Although it is, of course, quite possible to trace the stopped and stable couplet, not merely in drama but in narrative and miscellaneous poetry, from Spenser and Drayton and Daniel downwards, the general tendency of the Elizabethan distich had been towards an undulating ejijambenient, and this had grown much stronger, both in octosyllable and decasyllable, with strictly Jacobean poets like Wither and Browne. But Chamberlayne serpentines it to a still greater extent. Indeed, it is impossible not to discern in him something akin to that extraordinary imscreiving of blank verse itself which is noticeable in his dramatic contemporaries, and which might have disvertebrated English verse altogether if it had not been for the tonic, in different forms, of Milton and Dryden. The ' poverty and insignificance ' of rhyme, on which our Retrospective friend is so severe, are of course deliberate. The rhymes are intended, not as a stop-signal at the end of the couplet, but as an accompanying music to the run of the paragraph. Unfortunately the possession of this accompaniment is too likely to dispense a poet from that attention to varied pause, and to careful selection of value in individual words, with which the blank verse paragrapher cannot dispense if he is to do anything distinguished. It would be interesting if one could know whether Milton ever heard of Pharontiida, but I think I do know what he would have said of it. It is not insignificant that his nephew Phillips, while mentioning the unimportant Robert Chamberlain, says nothing about William in a tale of Caroline poets which descends to ' Pagan ' Fisher and Robert Gomersal. But, for all its dangers and all its actual lapses, it (5)
William Chamberlayne
makes a medium frequently delightful even if we had not Endymion, and more, not less, seeing that we have that.
It is in his diction, using that word widely to include composition and grammar, that Chamberlayne's state is least gracious. His ugliest fault he shares with most of his contemporaries, even with Drj'den occasionally, and it is so ugly that it constitutes perhaps the most serious drawback to the enjoyment of him by modern readers. Partly owing to that gradual vulgarization of the language which Dryden arrested to some extent, but which it is a redeeming merit of the eighteenth century in prose and verse to have cauterized — but partly also to the prevailing critical error as to the strictly syllabic character of English verse, Pharonnida swarms with things like 'in's hand,' 't' the coach,' ' Perform 't.' These uglinesses cannot always (as, by the way, they generally can in Dryden) be smoothed away by printing in full and allowing trisyllabic feet ; they are too often ' in grain.' Very much more tolerable, but occasionally unsatisfactory, is his indulgence, generally a repeated indulgence, in such words as ref?iora, e?ithean, catagraph, astracistti. And disapproval must begin again, not so much in regard to the licentiousness of his syntax — for English grammar, after all, is made by good English writers, and not vice versa — as to the extraordinary haphazardness of syntax, phrase, and composition alike. I do not wish to burden this introduction with extracts of any length, but those who turn to the passage about the governor of the fort in Book II, Canto ii, lines 123-132, will find a capital example of our poet at his very worst. It is perhaps well that this worst should be got over beforehand, so that things like it may not possess the additional disgust of surprise. But it must be admitted that the greatest danger in reading him is lest the reader, by too frequent occurrence of these choke-passages, may be tempted to skip, and that in the lack of ordon?iafice which has been noted, he may find himself hopelessly befogged at the point where he alights from his skipping-pole.
As if all this were not enough, Chamberlayne has multiplied his obstacles of commission by an omission which nearly all of his few critics have noticed, but which none of them has fully followed out. We know from his own words at the end of the Second Book that the poem was thus far written, but broken off, at the second battle of Newbury in October, 1644. And whether its author resumed it at once after the complete disaster of the Royal arms next year, or earlier, or later \ it was certainly not published for fifteen years afterwards. This would, in itself, render inconsistencies and gaps likely enough : but it would not account for the
' It has been thought, from bibliographical peculiarities in the original, that the last part was printed later than the rest. The last volume (see note on reverse of half- title) is certainly quite different in typography and arrangement from the first.
Introduction
extraordinary incuria which Chamberlayne constantly displays. One would imagine not merely that he had never read his MS. through, but that he had never taken the trouble to read his proofs : a process which could hardly have failed to reveal to the most careless author some, if not all, of the discrepancies of nomenclature, &c. In the first few pages he calls one of his characters indifferently ' Ariamnes ' and 'Aminander,' but here this slip of the pen is so glaring that it hardly misleads. A little later he puts the careful (the careless will not mind) hopelessly out, by transferring the name ' Aphron ' to one ' Andremon,' both persons having already appeared and being entirely distinct. He never seems to know whether his main scene of action is in the Morea (where it certainly opens) or in Sicily ; and there may, perhaps, be corroborative evidence of some passing intention to change the whole venue from Greece to Italy in his calling the same person at one time an ' Epirot ' and at another a ' Calabrian.' Although the exits and the entrances of his characters are very complicated, and sometimes correspond at long intervals, he will (there is an example at I. iv. 109) omit to name them, and describe them in such a round- about fashion that anybody but a very wary and attentive reader must be, at least for a time, at sea. Finally, as indeed Thackeray and others have done, he will kill and bring alive again with the completest non- chalance. At least, though his phrase is constantly enigmatic, it is hard to understand the lines at IV. i. 192, where, in reference to the wicked Amphibia and her paramour Brumorchus, it is said that the prince
' refers Their punishment to death's dire messengers,'
in any other sense than that both were executed. Yet at V. iii. 360 Amphibia is still alive, still a lady in waiting to Pharonnida, and in case to execute the crowning treason of the story which kills the princess's father and very nearly brings herself to the scaffold as his murderess.
This being the case and the ' arguments ' prefixed by the author being almost useless \ it may be well to present a brief analysis, canto by canto, of a poem which one tolerably practised reader had to read three times before its general subject was at all clearly imprinted on his mind.
Book I, Canto i ^ Aminander [Ariamnes], a Spartan lord, hunting on the shore of the Gulf of Lepanto, sees a naval combat between Turks and Christians ; and when the combatants, wrecked by a squall, are still fighting on the beach, rescues the Christian heroes Argalia and Aphron.
Canto ii. Another lord, Almanzor, the villain of the piece, finds two damsels, Carina and Florenza, in a wood. He offers violence to Florenza,
^ The abstract in the Retrospective Review is a little scrappy and capricious. ^ Observe the five books, and the five cantos in each. This was one of the curious 'heroic' punctilios, to bring the construction nearer to the_/?t/? acts of Drama.
(7)
William Chamber lay 7ie
and her lover, Andremon, though coming in time to save her, falls before his sword. But Argalia, who has been sleeping near, is waked by the scuffle, takes her part, and severely wounds Almanzor, despite the succour of his friends. Forces come up, and, appearances being against Argalia, take him into custody.
Canto iii. He is conveyed to the capital, where, according to the custom of the country, it is the duty of the king's daughter, Pharonnida, whose mother is dead, to preside over the tribunal. She falls in love with Argalia at first sight, but he is condemned, receiving three days' respite as an Epirot, a citizen of an allied state, which is confirmed by ambassadors from Epirus then present.
Canto iv. This is however not sufficient to obtain his pardon : and he is about to suffer when Aminander reappears with Florenza herself, who tells the whole story. Argalia is set at liberty and is about to depart with the ambassadors (who have become ' Calabrians ' and who have told what they know of his origin) when a fresh adventure happens. Molarchus the Morean (now Sicilian) admiral, who has been charged to convoy the envoys, invites the king, princess and court on board his flag-ship and makes sail, having formed a design to carry off Pharonnida. This he does, though there is a fierce fight on board, by throwing her into a prepared boat and making off, while the crew do the same, having previously scuttled the ship. Argalia, however, with the help of his friend Aphron, though at the cost of the latter's life, secures one of the boats, rescues the king, and lands on a desolate island, where they find that Molarchus has conveyed Pharonnida to a fortress. Argalia, always fertile in resource, makes a ladder of the tack- ling of some stranded boats, scales the walls, slays Molarchus, and rescues the princess.
Canto V tells of a halcyon time at Corinth, where Pharonnida and Argalia, who is captain of her bodyguard, fall more and more deeply in love with one another, till the usual romance-mischance of a proposed betrothal to a foreign prince interrupts it : and the book finishes with this agony further agonized by Argalia's appointment on the very embassy destined to reply favourably to the Epirot suitor.
In Book II, Canto iwe return to Almanzor, who forms a plot to abduct the princess, succeeds at first by turning a masque into a massacre, but is defeated by the rising of the country people, who half ignorantly rescue her. But her ravisher, in
Canto ii, thinking he has gone too far to retreat, sets up a rebellion and garrisons the castle of a city named Alcithius, which the king at first retakes, but which only serves him as a place of refuge when Almanzor has beaten him in the field. He has just time to send to Epirus for help before the place is invested.
Introduction
Canto iii. It is almost reduced by famine, and the besieged are meditating the forlorn hope of a sally when Zoranza the Epirot prince arrives with a large army, the vanguard of which, commanded by Argalia and supported from the castle, disperses the rebel forces, though not at first completely. After a glowing interview between the lovers the hero has to expel the remnant of the foe from a strange cavern-fastness where he finds a secret treasury with mysterious inscription.
Canto iv. Another interval of war. The unwelcome suitor is called off by troubles at home : and the lovers (Argalia still commanding the princess's guard) enjoy discreet but delightful hours in an island paradise.
Canto V. Episode of two Platonic-Fantastic lovers, Acretius and Philanta, on whom a practical joke is played. Intrigues of Amphibia, who excites the king's jealousy, and induces him to send Argalia at the head of a contingent to Epirus. After pathetic parting scenes, Argalia leaves Pha- ronnida, and the poet ' leaves the Muses to converse with men,' that is to say to fight the Roundheads at Newbury.
Book III, Canto i opens with a semi-episode of the rival loves of Euriolus and Mazara for Florenza, and Mazara's consolation with Carina, Florenza's companion at her original appearance. In
Canto ii the princess, unwarily reading aloud a letter from Argalia with her door open, is overheard by her father, who is furiously angry and sends letters of Bellerophon to the Prince of Syracuse [Epirus] as to Argalia. Zoranza, nothing loth, makes Argalia captain of the fortress Ardenna, with a secret commission to the actual governor to make away with him. He is saved from death for the moment by a convenient local supersti- tion, and carried off (still prisoner) by an invading fleet, which fails to capture Ardenna. But Pharonnida is strictly imprisoned in the castle of Gerenza. In
Canto ii Argalia, after a rapid series of adventures at sea and in Rhodes, is captured by the Turkish chief Ammurat and sent to his wife Janusa in Sardinia to be tortured and executed. But Janusa falls in love with him, and this and the next Canto contain the best known and perhaps the most sustained chapter of the poem, Argalia being not merely
' Like Paris handsome and like Hector brave,'
but also like Joseph chaste. The passage having ended happily for him, tragically for Janusa and her husband, he seizes ships, mans them with Christian slaves, rescues the Prince of Cyprus from a new Turkish fleet, returns to the Morea, and after a time resolves, aided by his Cyprian friend, to release Pharonnida. In this, at first, they succeed.
Book IV, Canto i. Episode of Orlinda and the Prince of Cyprus. Pharonnida and Argalia enjoy a new respite in a retired spot, but are (9)
William Chamberlayne
attacked by outlaws, who wound Argalia and carry off the princess. Their chief is Ahnanzor, who in
Canto ii tries to force Pharonnida to accept him by threats, and immures her in a Hving tomb from which she is rescued by Euriolus (mentioned before) and Ismander, on whom and Aminda there is fresh episode continued into
Canto iii by entrances of certain persons named Vanlore^, Amarus, and Silvandra, but not concluded. The rest of Canto iii, Canto iv, and
Canto V contain an account of Argalia's recovery, and long conversations, in which he reveals what he knows of his youth to a friendly hermit.
Book V, Canto i. Meanwhile Pharonnida has retired to a monastery and is about to take the veil (has actually done so after a fashion) when Almanzor attacks the convent and once more carries her off, but surrenders her to her father that he may obtain his own pardon and plot further.
Canto ii. Argalia goes to Aetolia, of which he is the rightful heir, and fights his way to his own.
Canto iii. He is however rejected as suitor and attacked by his rival Zoranza. But Almanzor procures both this prince's murder and that of King Cleander (who is never named till very late in the story). Then Pharonnida in Canto iv undergoes her last danger, and in Canto v is finally freed by Argalia as her champion from Almanzor, whom he at last slays, and from all her other ills by marriage with her deliverer.
Now for my part I am entirely unable to pronounce this 'one of the most interesting stories ever told in verse.' As a whole it is romance ' common-form,' of by no means a specially good kind, only heightened by the telling in a few passages — the dream, the story of Janusa, the entombment of the heroine, and two or three others. I would, as Blair's typical person of bad taste said of Homer, ' as soon read any old romance of knight-errantry,' and would a great deal sooner read most of themyor the story. If anybody agrees with Pope that ' the fable is the soul or immortal part of poetry,' Chamberlayne is not the poet for him. But he is, if not the poet, a poet and little less than a great one, for those who enjoy the ' poetic moment,' the ' single-instant pleasure ' of image and phrase and musical accompaniment of sound. The extraordinary abundance of these things is the solace of those sins of his in ordo?inance and versification and diction which have been so frankly and amply acknowledged above. It is hit or miss with him, no doubt : and equally without doubt, he misses too often — far oftener than a poet of the School of Good Sense would do. But he hits not only much oftener than the poet of good sense would do,
* It will be observed that Cliamberlaync's nomenclature, mainly of the odd rococo- romantic type popular in seventeenth-century literature, is still more oddly mixed. This particular name must have been a favourite, for it recurs in Leva's Victoty.
(lo)
Introductio7t
but also as the poet of good sense rarely does at all. He is far too careless of what he says, and of its exact meaning, and of the concatenation thereof with other meanings. But he always tries, in the great adverb of the Italian Platonist-critic Patrizzi, to say \i _poeticame?ite, or as Hazlitt (who certainly did not know Patrizzi) unconsciously translates it, ' in a poetical way.' Chamberlayne's sky and landscape are occasionally very dark — it is difficult to find one's way about under the one and across the other : but both are constantly lighted up by splendid shooting-stars. The road through his story is as badly laid, made, and kept, as road can be : but fountains and wildflower banks are never long wanting by its sides, and it occasionally opens prospects of enchanting beauty.
There is at least not disgrace of incongruity in this eulogy, for Chamberlayne's own style is nothing if not starry and flowery. His metaphors and similes and imagery generally for atmospheric phenomena, and especially for Night and Day, are inexhaustible :
' Day's sepulchre, the ebon-arched night Was raised above the battlements of light,'
he writes here ; there
' And now the spangled squadrons of the night Encountering beams had lost the field to light.'
And again :
' The day was on the glittering wings of light Fled to the western wild, and swarthy night In her black empire throned.'
And again :
' Now at the great'st antipathy tOvday The silent earth oppressed with midnight lay, Vested in clouds black as they had been sent To be the whole world's mourning monument ' ; —
passages which could be added to almost indefinitely. Nor is his imagination limited, according to Addison's rule, to ' ideas furnished by sight ' : there is more than this in the phrase ' Desire, the shady porch of Love,' analogues of which will be found in almost every page. In fact Fharo7uiida is simply a Sinbad's Valley of poetic jewels, though here as there it may be a little difficult to get at them. The practice of filling Introductions with extracts instead of leaving the reader to find them for himself is, I have said, an objectionable one. But I may take the middle course and instance as more than purple patches : — the picture of Argaliaatthebar(I. iii. 165 sq.); Pharonnida's dream, already mentioned (I. v. 153 sq.), one of the longest and finest of the bursts ; the mystic chamber in the outlaw's cavern (II. iii. 480 sq.) ; Pharonnida's island (II. iv. 129 sq.) ; the close of Book III, Canto i and the beginning of the next Canto where
Willia^n Chamberlay7te
she reads the letter ; the valley of Florenza's home, and the lovers' sojourn there. These are but a few, and the reader will find plenty more for himself. One point, uninteresting to some, will be of the very highest interest to others ; and that is what may be called the Battle of the Couplets in Fharontiida. It is, as has been said, the last, and in more senses than one the greatest, of poems written in that ' enjambed ' and paragraphed variety of the heroic, which was driven out and replaced by its rival a very few years afterwards, when that rival had secured the assistance of Dryden. But as everybody ought to know, the stopped dissyllabic couplet itself is of an ancient house, though its supremacy was modern. It made perhaps the very first appearance in the scattered couplets of Hampole and others before Chaucer. It is very much less absent from Chaucer himself than those who call the metre of Endymion Chaucerian appear to imagine ; Spenser shows himself a master of it in Mother Hubberd's Tale, and it is abundant not merely in the dramatists but in the non-dramatic Elizabethans. Ben Jonson seems to have thought it the best of all metres ; but, above all, the tails of Fairfax's stanzas, from which so many of the later seventeenth- century poets learnt, are full of it. Chamberlayne, who was not much more than ten years older than Dryden, could not miss it unless he had set himself the sternest rules of self-criticism : and, as we have seen, he never criticized himself at all. Even the few examples given in this Introduction will show its presence : but much more remarkable ones, both of the completed couplet and of the Drydenian single line which helps to constitute and clench it, will be easily found by the inquirer. Just at the beginning such a formation as
' From all the warm society of flesh '
is unmistakable in its tendency, though it actually forms part of a couplet very much ' enjambed.' There is no need to draw the moral of
'Dropt as their foes' victorious fate flew by To shew his fortune and their royalty.'
or 'Rebellion's subtle engineer might sit
To wreck the weakness of a female wit.'
or 'The vexed Epirots who for comfort saw
Revenge appearing in the form of law.'
These are the single spies which forerun the battalions.
I have no desire to expatiate in these Introductions, or to take up room better occupied by the too long neglected texts ; and there remains little that it is desirable and less that it is necessary to say. Chamberlayne's other work of substance, his play of J.ove's Victory, contains many fine passages in the serious blank verse, most of which will be found extracted in the article upon it in the same volume of the Retrospective Review; {12)
Introciuctto?t
nor is even the comic part, though it shares the ribaldry and the crudity common in such productions, devoid of some of Chamberlayne's audacious felicities of expression. If that supplementary Dodsley, which has long been wanted, should ever appear, the piece should certainly find a place there : but it is out of our way. His poem to the King at the Restoration may be worth subjoining to Pharonnida.
On the whole he is not quite so much of an ' awful example ' as even his panegyrists, Campbell and others, used to make him. At his date, and with the idiosyncrasy shown by the fact that he spent at least fifteen years over his poem as it was, it was practically impossible that he should in any case have devoted to it the critical Medea-sorcery which made perfect things of such very imperfect ones as the original Palace of Art and the original Lady of Shalott. He might, of course, not have written it at all, and he might possibly have written it in the other vein of stopped couplet, epigrammatic clench and emphasis, and more suppressed conceit. In either case it would not be what it is. We should have lost (in words of its own) ' acquaintance with Pharonnida.^ And by some that acquaintance would not willingly be relinquished for the possession not merely of one but of a dozen long poems, written in the strictest and most savourless orthodoxy of Le Bossu and La Harpe ^
^ Most of the few accounts of Chamberlayne mention a prose version o{ Pharonnida, entitled Eromena, or The Noble Stranger, which appeared, four years after his death, in 1683 (London : Norris). One naturally imagines — the present editor certainly did so till he read it — a book of length d la Scitde'ry. The actual ■work is a tiny pamphlet containing some seventy small pages of large print, but adorned with a fresh Pindaric motto {riva 9e6v, t'lv' jjpcoa, tiv' dvSpa HtKadrjaofHv •) and a dedication to Madam Sarah Monday. The earlier cantos are paraphrased with some fullness ; the bulk of the story is altogether omitted. As Pharonnida becomes Eromena, so does Argalia take the alias of Horatio. The thing, which acknowledges no indebtedness, is worthless enough ; and only curious because of the admixture cf Chamberlayne's own original and highly poetic phrases with the flattest prose.
('3)
To the Right Worshipful Sir WilHam Portman, Baronet
Honoured Sir,
Though, by that splendour - with which the bountiful hand of fortune, illustrated by the more excellent gifts of nature, hath adorned you, to the illuminating the hopes of all your expecting friends, I might justly fear these glow-worms of fancy may be outshone, to the obscurity of a con- temptible neglect ; you being like, ere long, to prove that glorious luminary, to whose ascending brightness the happiest wits that grace the British hemisphere, like Persian priests pros- trated to the rising sun, will devote the morning sacrifices of their muses : yet, animated by your late candid reception of my more youthful labours, whose humble flights, having your name to beautify their front, passed the public view unsullied by the cloudy aspect of the most critic spectator, I have once more assumed the bold- ness to let the infirmities of my fancy take sanctuary under the name of so honoured a patron. Thoughmyabilities could not clothe her in such robes as would render her a fit companion for your serious studies, yet I hope her dress is not so sordid, but she may prove an acceptable attendant on your more vacant hours. For my subject (it being heroic poesy) it is such as the wiser part of the world hath always held in a venerable esteem ; the ex- tracts of fancy being that noble elixir, which heaven ordained to immortalize
their memories, whose worthy actions, being the products of that nobler part of man — the soul, are by this made almost commensurate with her eter- nity ; which otherwise, (to the sorrow of succeeding ages, who are in debt for much of their virtue to a noble emulation of their glorious ancestors), had either terminated in a circle of no larger a diameter than life ; or, like short-breathed ephemeras, only sur- vived a while in the airy region of dis- course.
This, sir, having been the past for- tune of our predecessors ; and, as the pregnant hopes of your blooming spring promises ' the world, like to be yours in the future ; yours, when both the splendid beauties of your most glorious palace, and the lasting structure of your marble dormitory, time shall have so levigated, that the wanton winds dally with thieir dust ; I doubt not but to find you so much a Maecenas, as to affect the eternizing of your name, more from the lasting lineaments of learning than those vain phainomena of pleasures, which are the low delights of more vulgar spirits.
Though 1 confess these papers be- neath the serious view, which a wit, acuated with the best adjuncts of art, will, ere long, render the ordinary re- creations of your progressive studies, yet, as in relation to the latitude for which they were calculated, I hope they may not appear unworthy a
^ This was the sixth Baronet (i64i?-9o), who succeeded to the title in 1648, and matriculated at All Souls in the very year of the appearance of Pharonnida. He was a great Tory, and captured Monmouth ; but joined William of Orange.
- Orig. ' splen</o;-,' on the strength of which, I suppose. Singer has altered ' hono/rrcd ' before, and 'labo;<rs' just below, to the same form, though they were correct in text. I shall, therefore, print -our throughout, following the original in almost every case.
^ Singer altered 'promises' to 'promise' and 'serenities' to 'serenity.' But these false concords are too constant in Chamberlay ne, and too often made certain by the rhyme to be mere slips of pen or press. I have therefore restored the original forms : as also in al cases (oversights excepted) where the reprint of 1820 unnecessarily changes 'in' to 'on,' &c.
('4)
Dedication
present supervisal ; it being intended (like the weak productions of the early spring) but for the April of your age ; where, though my hopes tell me it may subsist, whilst irrigated by those balmy dews of passion which are the usual concomitants of youth ; I am not guilty of so unbecoming a boldness, as to think it fit to stand the heat of your more vigorous maturity, when the me- ridian altitude of your comprehensive judgement shall have attained so near an universality of knowledge, as the sun, when in its apogEeum, doth of light ; that being only hindered by a comparatively punctilio of earth, as the powerful energies of noble souls are, by the upper garments of their mortality, from being at once ubiqui- tary blessings.
Shaftesbury, May 12, 1659.
Fortified by these considerations with the hope of your acceptance, and assured that prefixing your name is an amulet of sufficient power to preserve me from the contagion of censure, I have, with an unruffled confidence, given these papers a capacity of being publicly viewed. If their being liked attain but near the dimensions of your being beloved, it will co-equate the knowledge the world shall have of them, that being so universal; as the serenities ^ of your bliss is the happiness of your nearest relations, so is it much of the hopes of those that only know you at a remoter distance : And shall be still the prayer of, Sir, Your devoted Servant,
William Chamberlayne.
The Epistle to the Reader
Since custom obliges me to give a welcome at the gate, I shall not be so irregular as not to meet that com- mon civility with a fair compliance. And though, like the passive elements, I lie open to all the incongruity of aspects, (of which I have some reason to doubt, the most powerful may be found in a disdainful opposition), yet, like the noblest of active creatures — light, I shall not think myself sullied by every vapour ; nor solicit his ac- quaintance that cannot so long spare his eyes from beholding more active vanities.
I have always held it a solecism for entertainers to be beggars ; and, al- though by exposing these papers to the public view I must consequently expect variety of censures, should be loath to descend so low to court the applause of every reader ; from whose various genii I am necessitated to take such welcome, as affection in most, though judgement in some, shall incline them to give. For the first of which, as their censures are doubtful, so their calumnies are small — not of weight
sufficient to balance the indifferent temper of my thoughts : but for the latter (since looked upon as competent judges) though their sentence may be formidable, I shall beg no further favour than what their ability thinks fit to bestow ; only, for what they may justly except against, could rather wish that, whilst these papers were private, I had had their advice to reform, than now they are published, their censure to condemn. Fortune hath placed me in too low a sphere to be happy in the acquaintance of the age's more celebrated wits : where- fore, wonder not that I appear un- ushered in with a train of encomiums, which though, I confess, if from know- ing and judicious friends, add a lustre to the author's ensuing labours ; yet the custom of these times often makes them appear as ridiculous as a splendid and beautiful front to an empty and contemptible cottage.
I have made bold with the title of heroic, but have a late example^ that deters me from disputing upon what grounds I assumed it : if it suits not
* See previous note.
* No doubt the Preface to Gondibert.
Williafn Cha7nberlay7te
with the abilities of my pen, yet it is no unbecoming epithet for the emi- nence of those personated in my poem. For the place of my scene, manner of composure, and the like, (though in prefaces they often find an immature discovery, and, perhaps, but acuate an appetite to what, on further progress, may prove but a distasteful banquet), I hold them so impertinent, that, if will and leisure serve you to read, you may suddenly, with more advantage, satisfy yourself; if not, omit them as strangers to your other affairs, and not to be understood but in their own dialect.
I have done with all that in pro- bability may prove my readers, and now a word to such, whom I presume will be none ; for they are desired to do no more than the epistle, it being fit to serve them. Like vagabonds, let them enter no farther than the gate ; — I mean, all squint-eyed sectaries, from the spawn of Geneva to the black brood of Amsterdam ; together with some rascals of a lower rank, such as usurp the abused title of Sons of Art, and, with an empty impudence, en- deavour to pollute those immaculate virgins ; whilst the other, with an ex- alted villany, sully the celestial beauties of divine truth. For the first of which, the preposterous genius of the times hath so far favoured them, that now nothing is more vendible than the surreptitious offsprings of their imag- ined wit : every stationer's shop afford- ing pregnant examples of it, in big bulked volumes of physic, astrology, and the like, by these indigent vermin ; either to satisfy their clamorous wants, or enhance their esteem in the vulgar opinion, basely prostituted to every illiterate spectator; whilst truth, and a guilty conscience, tells them nought is their own but the hyperbolical titles ; which, to discerning eyes, appear but the glorious outsides to tainted sepul- chres, in which their detected villany shall be abominated by more knowing posterity. These cry down all things of this nature for subjects of inutility, not tending to the improvement of
science, which, in the most genuine construction of it, hath no enemy from which her ruin is more formidable than from them.
But for my more dangerous sceptic, (who yet is so much like the foal of an ass, that he appears to the world with his spleen in his mouth), I mean my pretended zealous censurer, from whom in me it were an overweening boldness to expect civility ; since, (though not for the nature, which he understands not, yet for the name, which he hath only heard of), he is so much an enemy to the muses, that should the seraphic strains of majestic David, or the flaming raptures of elegiac Jere- miah, appear to the world in their pristine and unpolluted purity, his ignorance would extend to so vast an error, to censure them of levity.
But as no man will esteem the sun less glorious, for that the hated owl avoids its sight ; so I presume none, except their own deluded followers, will betray so palpable a dearth of judgement, as to bear the less esteem to majestic poetry, for the illiterate scandal of flattering ignorance. Poesy, (if justly meriting to be invested in that glorious title) being so attractive a beauty that it doth rather, like an Orphean harmony, draw that emblem of a beast, the unpolished clown, to a listening civility, than, like Circe's enchantments, change the more happily educated to a swinish and sordid leth- argy. But her defence being a burthen which already stands firm on so many noble supporters, whose monuments will remain till time itself shall be lost in eternity, I need not add my weak endeavours to illustrate a Beauty which the wiser world already admires. Now, though she want the applause of some, attribute it not to the defect, either of her excellency, or their judgement : but to that various dressof humours, where- with nature hath chequered the uni- verse. Concluding with that honour of ancient Thebes —
TipT^vov K (V avOpcoTToii "litciv ((Tatrai oxibiv. rindarus in Qlympiorum octavo.
W. C.
(.6)
PHARONNIDA
BOOK I. Canto T
THE ARGUMENT
From sea's wild fury, and the wilder rage Of faithless Turks, two noble strangers freed,
Let courtesy their grateful souls engage
To such a debt as doth obstruct their speed :
Where they, to fill those scenes inactive rest Would tedious make, ia fair description saw,
How Sparta's Prince, for his queen's loss opprest, Found all those ills cured in Pharonnida''^.
The earth, which lately lay, like nature's tomb,
Marbled in frosts, had from her pregnant womb
Displayed the fragrant spring ; when, courted by
A calm fresh morning, ere heaven's brightest eye
Adorned the east, a Spartan lord, (whom fame,
Taught from desert, made glorious by the name
Of Aminander), with a noble train,
Whose active youth did sloth, like sin, disdain.
Attended, had worn out the morning in
Chase of a stately stag ; which, having been lo
Forced from the forest's safe protection to
Discovering plain, his clamorous foes had drew
Up to a steep cliff's lofty top ; where he,
As if grown proud so sacrificed to be
To man's delight, 'mongst the pursuing cry,
Who make the valleys echo victory.
Sinks weeping; whilst exalted shouts did tell
The distant herds — their ancient leader fell.
The half-tired hunters, their swift game stopt here By death, like noble conquerors appear 20
To give that foe, which now resistless lies. With their shrill horns his funeral obsequies ; Which whilst performing, their diverted sight Turns to behold a far more fatal fight —
* These headings were in orig. ' The First Book. Canto the First,' &c., in two lines. So, too, each verse paragraph begins with an indented couplet.
^ This initial passage may deserve a note which I shall not repeat, though it describes a process frequently necessary. Singer read ' Were they ' for ' Where they,' but kept the comma of the orig. at 'rest' and inserted none at 'they' or 'make,' while he did insert an apostrophe at ' scenes.' His text thus becomes unintelligible, which mine, I hope, is not.
8 sloth, like] Orig. 'sloth-like.'
(^7) C
William Chamherlayne [book i
That since-famed gulf, (where the brave Austrian made
The Turkish crescents an eternal shade
Beneath dishonour seek) Lepanto, lay
So near, that from their lofty station they,
A ship upon whose streamers there were fixt
The Christian badge, saw in fierce battle mixt 30
With a prevailing Turkish squadron, that
With shouts assault what now lay only at
That feeble guard, which, under the pretence
Of injuring others, seeks its own defence.
Clear was the day, and calm the sea so long, Till now the Turks, whose numbers grew too strong For all that could no other help afford But human strength, within their view did board The wretched Christians ; to whose sufferings they Can lend no comfort, but what prayers convey 40
To helpful heaven ; by whose attentive ear, Both heard and pitied, mercy did appear In this swift change : — A hollow wind proclaims Approaching storms, the black clouds burst in flames, Imprisoned thunder roars, and in a shower, Dark as the night, dull sweaty vapours pour Themselves on the earth, to enrich whom nature vents The ethereal fabric's useless excrements. Whose flatuous pride, as if it did disdain Such base descents, rolling the liquid plain 50
Into transparent mountains, hurls them at The brow of heaven, whose lamps, by vapours that Their influence raised, are crampt; whilst the sick day Was languishing to such a night, as lay O'er the first matter, when confusion dwelt In the vast chaos, ere the rude mass felt Heaven's segregating breath — but long this fierce Conflict endures not, ere the sun-beams pierce The scattered clouds, which, whilst wild winds pursue, Through sullied air in reeking vapours flew. 60
In this encounter of the storm, before Its sable veil let them discover more Than contained horror, a loud dreadful shriek, Piercing the thick air, at their ears did seek For trembling entrance : being transported by Uncertain drifts, rent sails and tackling fly Amongst the towering cliffs,— a sure presage That adverse winds did in that storm engage Some vessel, which did from her cordage part, With such sad pangs — as from the dying heart 70
Convulsions tear the fibres. But the day, Recovering her lost reign, made clearer way
27 seek] Orig. ' seeks.'
(:8)
Canto I] Pharonnidu
For a more sad discovery. They behold
The brackish main in funeral pomp unfold
The tiophies of her cruelty. Her brow,
Uncurled with waves, was only spotted now
With scattered ruins ; here, engaged within
The ruffled sails, some sad souls that had been,
For life long struggling, tired, at length are forced
To sink and die ; yonder, a pair, divorced 80
From all the warm society of flesh,
With cold stiff arms embrace their fate ; — the fresh
And tender virgin in her lover's sight,
The sea-gods ravish, and the enthean light
Of those bright orbs, her eyes, which could by nought
But seas be quenched, t' eternal darkness brought.
Whilst pitying these, a sudden noise, whose strange Confusion did their passion's object change. Assaults their wonder ; which, by this surprise Amazed, persuades them to inform their eyes 90
With its obscure original : when, led By sounds that might in baser souls have bred A swift aversion, clashing weapons they Might soon behold— upon the sands that lay Beneath the rock a troop of desperate men, Unstartled with those dangers (which e'en then Their ruined ship and dropping garments showed Heaven freed them from — what mercy had bestowed) Let their own anger loose ; which, flaming in A fatal combat, had already been 100
In blood disfigured : but when now so near Them drawn, that every object did appear In true distinction, they, with wonder raised To such a height as poets would have praised Their heroes in, a noble Christian saw. Whose sword (as if, by the eternal law Of Providence, to punish infidels. Directed) with each falling stroke expels A Turk's black soul : yet valour, being opprest By multitudes, must have at length sought rest no
From death, had not brave Ariamnes, by His hunters followed, brought him victory ; Whilst the approaching danger did exclude E'en hope, the last support of fortitude.
The desperate Turks, that chose the sea to be Their sad redeemer of captivity, Though from that fear they fled to death, had now Upon the shore left none life could allow
84 enthean] This, a rather favourite word with Chamberlayne and his contem- poraries, ought not to have become obsolete ; for we have no single equivalent to ' divinely inspired ' or ' furnished.'
(19) C 2
William Chamberlayne [book i
But motion to ; though, stopped by death such store,
All the escaped appeared, but such as bore 120
The fatal story of destruction to
Their distant friends. When now a serious view,
By Arianines and that noble youth,
(Whose actions, honoured as authentic truth,
Made all admire him), of their pitied dead
With sorrow took, one worthy soul unfled
From life they found, which, by Argalia seen,
With joy recals those spirits that had been
In busy action lost ; but danger, that
Toward the throne of life seemed entering at 130
Too many wounds, denies him to enlarge
The stream of love, as noble Virtue's charge
To him, her follower. Ariamnes, by
His goodness and their sad necessity
Prompted to pity, fearing slow delays
As danger's fatal harbinger, conveys
The wounded strangers to the place where he
His palace made the throne of charity.
'Twas the short journey 'twixt the day and night, The calm fresh evening, time's hermaphrodite, 140
The sun, on light's dilated wings, being fled, To call the western villagers from bed, Ere at his castle they arrive, which stood Upon a hill, whose basis, fringed with wood. Shadowed the fragrant meadows ; thorough which A spacious river, striving to enrich The flowery valleys with whatever might At home be profit, or abroad delight, With parted streams that pleasant islands made, Its gentle current to the sea conveyed. 150
In the composure of this happy place Wherein he lived, as if framed to embrace So brave a soul as now did animate It with his presence, strength and beauty sate Combined in one : 'twas not so vastly large. But fair convenience countervailed the charge Of reparations, all that modest art Affords to sober pleasure's every part. More for its ornament ; but none were drest In robes so rich, but what alone exprest 160
Their master's providence and care to be, A prop to falling hospitality. For he, not comet-like, did blaze out in This country sphere what had extracted been From the court's lazy vapours, l)ut had stood There like a star of the first magnitude. With a fixed constancy so long, that now. Grown old in virtue, he began to bow (20)
Canto I] Pharo7tnida
Beneath the weight of time ; and, since the calm
Of age had left him nothing to embalm 170
His name but virtue, strives in that to be
The glorious wonder of posterity :
Each of his actions being so truly good,
That, like the ground where hallowed temples stood,
Although by age the ruins ruined seem,
The people bear a reverend esteem
Unto the place ; so they preserve his name —
A yet unwasted pyramid of fame.
Rich were his public virtues, but the price Of those was but the world to Paradise, 180
Compared with that rare harmony that dwells Within his walls ; each servant there excels All but his fellows in desert ; each knew — First, when, — then, how his lord's commands to do ; None more enjoyed than was enough, none less, All did of plenty taste, none of excess ; Riot was here a stranger, but far more, Repining penury ; ne'er from that door The poor man went denied, nor did the rich E'er surfeit there ; 'twas the blest medium which, 190
Extracted from all compound virtues, we Make, and then Christian Mediocrity. Within the compass of his spacious hall. Stood no vain pictures to obscure the wall. Which useful arms adorned; and such as when His prince required assistance, his own men. Valiant and numerous, managed to defend That righteous cause, but never to attend A popular faction, whose corrupted seed Hell did engender, and ambition feed. 200
His judgement, that, like life's attendant — sense. To try each object's various difference. Fit mediums chose, (which he made virtue), here Beholding (though these wandering stars appear Now in their greatest detriment) the rays Of perfect worth, he to that virtue pays Those attributes of honour, which unto Their births, though now in coarse disguise, was due. To Aphron's wounds successful art applies Prevailing medicines, whilst invention flies a 10
To the aphelion of her orb to seek Such modest pleasures as might smooth the cheek Of ruffled passion ; which, being found, are spent To cure the sad Argalia's discontent : Which, long being lost to all delight, at length Revives again his friend's recovered strength.
192 Christian] This must be in the sense of 'christen ' ; so Singer.
William Chamber layne [book i
They, having now no remora to stay Them here but what their gratitude did pay To his desires, (whose courtesy had made Those bonds of love with as much zeal obeyed 220
As those which duty locks), preparing are To take their leave ; even in whose civil war Whilst they contend with courtesies, as sent To rescue, when his eloquence was spent, Brave Aminander, with such haste as shewed His speed to some supreme injunction owed Such diligence, a messenger brings in A packet, which that noble lord had been Too frequently acquainted with to fear
The unseen contents, which opened did appear — 230
A mandate from his royal master to Attend him ere the next day's beauties grew Deformed with age ; which honoured message read, To banish what suspicion might have bred In's doubtful friends, he, the enclosed contents, With cheerful haste, unto their view presents.
Their fear thus cured by information, he. That his appearance in the court might be IMore glorious made by such attendants, to Incite in them a strong desire to view 240
Those royal pastimes, thus relates that story. Whose fatal truth transferred the Morea's glory So often thither. "Twas, my honoured friends, My fate ('mongst some that yet his court attends) Then to be near my prince, when what now draws Him to these parts did prove at once the cause Of joy and grief. Not far from hence removed The vale of Ceres lies, where his beloved Pharonnida remains ; a lady that
Nature ordained for man to wonder at, 250
She not being more the comfort of his age Than glory of her sex : but I engage Myself to a more large discovery, which Thus take in brief — When youth did first enrich Beauty with manly strength, his happy bed Was with her royal mother blest ; who fed A flame of virtue in her soul, that lent Light to a beauty, which, being excellent, In its own sphere by that reflection shone So heavenly bright — perfection's height of noon 260
Dwelt only there. Some years had circled in Time's revolutions, since they first had been Acquainted with those private pleasures that Attend a nuptial bed, ere she did at Lucina's tem])le offer ; whose barred gate. Once open flow, both their good angels sate
(-)
Canto I] PharoTinida
In council for her safety. Hopes of a boy,
To be Morea's heir, fill high with joy
The ravished parents ; subjects did no less,
In the loud voice of triumph, theirs express. 370
' But when the active pleasures of their love. Which filled her womb, had taught the babe to move Within the morys mount, preceding pains Tell the fair queen, that the dissolving chains. Nature enclosed it in, were grown so weak That the imprisoned infant soon would break Those slender guards. The gravest ladies were Called to assist her, whose industrious care Lend nature all the helps of art, but in
Despair of safety send their prayers to win 280
Relief from heaven, which swift assistance lent To unload the burthen ; but those cordials sent By harbingers, with whom the fair queen fled To deck the silent dwellings of the dead, And lodge in sheets of lead ; o'er which were cast A coverlet of the spring's infants past From life like her — e'en whilst Earth's teeming womb, Promised the world, and not a silent tomb, That beauteous issue. But those nymphs, which spun Her thread of life, the slender twine begun 290
Too fine to last long, undenied by The ponderous burthen of mortality ; Beneath whose weight, she sinking now to death, The unhappy babe was by the mother's breath No sooner welcomed into life before She bids farewell ; of power to do no more But, whilst her spirits with each word expires, Thus to her lord express her last desires. — "Receive this infant from thy dying queen. Name her Pharonnida." — At which word between 300
His trembling arms she sunk; and had e'en then Breathed forth her soul, if not recalled again By their loud mournings from the icy sleep. Which, like a chilling frost, did softly creep Through the cold channels of her blood to bar The springs of life ; in which defensive war, The hasty summons, sent by death, allow Her giddy eyes, whose heavy lids did bow Toward everlasting slumber, no more light Than what affords a dim imperfect sight, — 310
Such as the troubled optics, being by Dying convulsions wrested, could let fly
273 morys] Orig. ' mory,' qu. ' ivory ' ? The orig. looks like a misprint, and ' ivory mount' is a favourite Elizabethanism.
278 care] Again, a note on Chamberlayne's singular habit of putting a plural noun to a singular verb may serve once for all.
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William Chamherlayne [book i
Thorough their sullied crystals, to behold Her woeful lord, whilst she did thus unfold Her dying thoughts : — " O hear, O hear, (quoth she) I do By all our mutual vows conjure thee to Let this sweet babe — all thou hast left of me, Within thy thoughts preserve my memory. And since, poor infant, she must lose her mother, To beg an entrance here, oh let no other 320
Have more command o'er her than what may bear An equal poise with thy paternal care. This, this is all that I shall leave behind 3 An earnest of our loves here thou may'st find, Perhaps, my image may'st behold, whilst I, Resolving into dust, embraced do lie By crawling worms — followers that nature gave To attend mortality, whilst the tainted grave Is ripening us for judgement. O my lord, Death were the smile of fate, would it afford 330
Me time to see this infant's growth, but oh ! I feel life's cordage crackt, and hence must go ■ From time and flesh, — like a lost feather, fall From th' wings of vanity, forsaking all The various business of the world, to see What wondrous change dwells in eternity."
' This said, she faintly bids farewell, then darts An eager look on all ; but, ere she parts, E'en whilst the breath, with which in thin air slips Departing spirits, on her then cold lips 340
In clammy dews did hang, she of them takes Her last farewell, whilst her pure soul forsakes Its brittle cabinet, and those orbs of light. That swam in death, sunk in eternal night.
'Thus died the queen, Pharonnida thus lost, Ere knew, her mother, when her birth had cost A price so great, that brought her infancy In debt to grief, until maturity Ripened her age to pay it. After long
And vehement lamentation, such whose strong 350
Assaults had almost shook his soul into A flight from the earth, her father doth renew His long lost mirth, at the delight he took In his soul's darling ; whose each cheerful look Crimsoned those sables, which e'en whilst he wore, A flood of woes his head had silvered o'er. Had not this comfort stopt them, which beguiles Sorrow of some few hours ; those pretty smiles That drest her fair cheeks, like a gentle thief, Stealing his heart through all the guards of grief. 360
315 The first Alexandrine. But the duplication of ' O hear ' may be a slip. (24)
Canto I] Pharo7t7iida
' But when that time's expunging hand had more Defaced those sable characters he wore For sorrow's livery o'er his soul, and she, Having out-grown her tender infancy, Did now (her thoughts composed of heavenly seed) To guide her life no other guardian need, But native virtue ; for her calm retreat, When burthened Corinth was with throngs replete, He chose this seat, whose venerable shade, (Waving what blind antiquity had made) 370
For sacred held, is not so slighted, but A custom, ancient as our law, hath shut Hence (as the hateful marks of servitude) All that unbounded power did e'er obtrude On suffering subjects ; which this happy place Fits so serene a blessing to embrace As is this lady : whose illustrious court. Though now augmented by the full resort Of her great father's train, doth still appear This happy kingdom's brightest hemisphere. 3S0
'A hundred noble youths in Sparta bred. Of valour high as e'er for beauty bled. All loyal lovers, and that love confined Within the court, are for her guard assigned. But what (if aught in such an orb of all That 's great or good may low as censure fall) The court hath questioned, is — the cause that moved The prince to give a party so beloved Into his hands that leads them ; being one. Whose birth excepted, (that being near a throne), 390
Those virtues v.-ants, on whose foundation, wise Considerate princes let their favours rise. Like the abortive births of vapours, by Their male-progenitors enforced to fly Above the earth their proper sphere, and there Lurk in imperfect forms, his breast doth bear Some seeds of goodness, which the soil, too hot With rank ambition, doth in ripening rot. Yet, though from those that praise humility He merits not, a dreaded power, (which he 400
Far more applauds) raised on the wings of's own Experienced valour, hath so long been known His foes' pale terror, that 'tis feared he bends That engine to the ruin of his friends. Whose equal merits claim as much of fame As e'er was due to proud Almanzor's name.
' Yet what may raise more strong desires to see Her court than valour's wished society. Is one unusual custom, which the love Of her kind father hath so far above 410
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William Chamber lay7te [book i
All past example raised — that, for the time
He here resides, no cause, although a crime
Which death attends, but is by her alone
Both heard and judged, he seeming to unthrone
His active power, whilst justice doth invest
His beauteous daughter; which, to the opprest,
Whose hopes e'en shrunk into despair, hath in
That harsh extreme their safe asylum been :
So that e'en those that feared the event could now
Mix their desires, — the custom would allow 420
Her reign a longer date. But that I may
Illustrate this by a more full survey
Of her excelling virtues, no pretence
Of harsh employment shall command you hence,
Till you have been spectators of that court,
Whose glories are too spacious for report.'
The noble youths, beholding such a flame Of virtue shewn them through the glass of Fame, First gaze with wonder on it, which ascends Into desire, a rivulet which ends 430
Not till its swelling streams had drawn them through All weak excuses, and engaged them to Attend on Ariamnes : when, to show How much man's vain intentions fall below Mysterious fate, e'en in the height of all Their full resolves, her countermands thus call Back their intentions, by a summons that The uncertain world hath often trembled at. — The late recovered Aphron, whether by
Too swift a cure, life's springs, being raised too high, 440
Flowed to a dangerous plethora, or whe'er Some cause occult the humours did prepare For that malignant ill, did, whilst he lay In tedious expectation of the day Shook with a shivering numbness, first complain Through all his limbs of a diffusive pain : Which, searching each to find the fittest part For its contagion, on the labouring heart Fixes at length \ which, being with grief opprest. By the extended arteries to the rest 45°
O' the body sends its flames. The poisoned blood Through every vein streams in a burning flood ; His liver broils, and his scorched stomach turns The chyle to cinders ; in each cold cell burns The humid brains. A violent earthquake shakes The crackling nerves, sleep's balmy dew forsakes The shrivelled optics ; in which trembUng fits, 'Mongst tortured senses, troubled Reason sits So long opprest with passion, till at length, Her feeble mansion, battered by the strength 460
(26)
Canto I] Pharomitda
Of a disease, she leaves to entertain
The wild chimeras of a sickly brain.
And, what must yet to 's friend's affliction add
More weights of grief, their courteous host, which had
Stayed to the latest step of time, must now
Comply with those commands, which could allow
No more delays, and leave Argalia to
Be the sole mourner for his friend, which drew
(As far as human art could guess) so near
His end, that life did only now appear 470
In thick, short sobs, — those frequent summons that
Souls oft forsake their ruined mansions at.
THE END OF THE FIRST CANTO.
Canto II
THE ARGUMENT
Whilst here Argalia in a calm retreat
Allays the sorrow felt for's sickly friend, Two blooming virgins near him take their seat,
Whose harmless mirth soon finds a hapless end.
The fairest seized on, and near ruined by
Impetuous lust, had not Andremon's speed Protected her, till from his fall drawn nigh
The same sad fate the brave Argalia freed.
That sad slow hour, which Art e'en thought his last,
With the sharp fever's paroxysm past,
Sick Aphron's spirits to a cool retreat,
Beneath a slumber, life's remotest seat,
Was gently stol'n, which did so long endure,
Till, in that opiate quenched, the calenture
Decayed forsakes him, leaving nought behind,
But such faint symptoms as from time might find
An easy cure ; which, though no perfect end
Is lent to th' care of his indulgent friend, 10
Yet gives him so much liberty, that now
Fear dares, without his friendship's breach, allow
Sometime to leave him slumbering, whilst that he
Contemplates nature's fresh variety.
The full-blown beauties of the spring were not By summer sun-burnt yet, though Phabus shot His rays from Cancer, when, prepared to expand Imprisoned thoughts from objects near at hand To eye-shot rovers, freed Argalia takes
A noon-tide walk through a fair glade, that makes 20
Her aged ornaments their stubborn head Fold into verdant curtains, which she spread
William Chamber layite [book i
* In cooling shadows o'er the bottoms ; where A crystal stream, unfettered by the care Of nicer art, in her own channel played With the embracing banks, until betrayed Into a neighbouring lake ; whose spacious womb Looked at that distance like a crystal tomb Framed to inter the Naiades. Not far
From hence an oak, (whose limbs defensive war 30
'Gainst all the winds a hundred winters knew, Stoutly maintained), on a small rising grew. Under whose shadow whilst Argalia lies. This object tempts his soul into his eyes — A pair of virgins, fairer than the spring ; Fresher than dews, that, ere the glad birds sing The morning's carols, drop; with such a pace As in each act showed an unstudied grace. Crossing the neighbouring plain, were now so near Argalia drew, that what did first appear 40
But the neglected object of his eye. More strictly viewed, calls fancy to comply With so much love, that, though no wilder fire Ere scorched his breast, he here learnt to admire Love's first of symptoms. To a shady seat. Near that which he had made his cool retreat, Being come, beneath a spreading hawthorn they, Seating themselves, the sliding hours betray From their short lives, by such discourse as might Have made e'en Time, if young, lament his flight. 50
Retired Argalia, at the sight of these, Though no obscener vanity did please His eyes, than anch'rites are possest with, when Numb'ring their beads, or from a sacred pen Distilling Heaven's blest oracles, yet he, Wondering to find such sweet civility ;Mixt with that place's rudeness, long beholds That lovely pair, whose every act unfolds Such linked affections as wise nature weaves In dearest sisters ; but their form bereaves 60
That thought ere feathered with belief: although, To admiration. Beauty did bestow Her gifts on both, she had those darlings drest In various colours ; — what could be exprest By objects, fair as new created light ; By roseal mixtures, with immaculate white ;
40 drew, 122 withdrew] Another not-to-be-repeatcd note may call attention here to Chambcrlayne's singular liberties with preterite and past participle. In the first of these two instances one is actually tempted to read ' where ' which, as it happens, makes ordinary grammar. But it is evidently not the sense, and ' drew '= ' drawn ' as ' with- drew ' = ' withdrawn.'
66 rosea]] Singer fulicie ' rosca/e,^ thereby effacing a delightful word and substituting a very inferior one.
(.8)
Canto II] Pharonnidu
By eyes that emblemed heaven's pure azure, in
The youngest nymph, Florenza, there was seen ;
To which she adds behaviour far more free,
Although restrained to strictest modesty, 70
Than the more sad Carina, who, if there
Were different years in that else equal pair,
Something the elder seemed ; her beauty — such
As Jove-loved Leda's was, not praised so much
For rose' or lily's residence, though they
Did both dwell there, as to behold the day
Lose its antipathy to night ; such clear
And conquering beams, so full of light, to appear
Thorough her eyes, showed like a diamond set,
To mend its lustre, in a foil of jet. 80
Nor doth their dress of nature differ more
In colour than the habits which they wore,
Though fashioned both alike ; Florenza's, green
As the fresh Spring, when her first buds are seen
To clothe the naked boughs; Carina's, white
As Innocence, before she takes a flight
In thought from cold virginity. Their hair,
Wreathed in contracting curls beneath a fair
But often parting veil, attempts to hide
The naked ivory of their necks — that pride 90
Of beauty's frontispiece. On their heads sate
Lovely, as if unto a throne of state
From their first earth advanced, two flowery wreaths,
(From whose choice mixture in close concord breathes
The fragrant odour of the fields), placed by
Them in such order, as antiquity
Mysterious held. Being set, to pass away
The inactive heat of the exalted day,
They either tell old harmless tales, or read
Some story where forsaken lovers plead 100
Unpitied causes, then betwixt a smile
And tear bewail passion should ere beguile
Poor reason so ; at length, as if they meant
To charm him who, far from each ill intent.
So near them lay, melting the various throng
Of their discourse into a well-tuned song ;
Whose swift division moulds the air into
Such notes, as did the spheres' first tunes out-do.
Argalia, in his labyrinth of delight To action lost, had drawn the veil of night, no
In quiet slumbers, o'er his heavy eyes : Locked in whose arms whilst he securely lies, Lest the mistakes of vain mortality The brittle glass of earth should take to be Perfection's lasting adamant, this sad Chance did unravel all their mirth. — There had
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William Chafnberlayne [book i
Some of the prince's noblest followers, in
That morning's nonage, led by pleasure been
Far from their sphere — the court ; and now, to shun
The unhealthy beams of the reflected sun, 120
Whilst it its shortest shadows made, were to
The cool protection of the woods withdrew :
In which retreat, as if conducted by
Their evil genius, (all his company
An awful distance keeping) none but proud
Almanzor, in those guilty groves which shroud
The hapless virgins, enters ; who so near
Him sitting, that soon his informing ear
Thither directs his eye. Unto his view
Ere scarce thought obvious, swiftly they withdrew, 13a
But with untimely haste. His soul, that nurst
Continual flames within it, at the first
Sight kindles them, ere he discovers more
Than difference in the sex ; such untried ore,
Hot heedless lust, when made by practice bold,
I' th' flame of passion ventures on for gold.
But when drawn nearer to the place he saw
Such beauties, whose magnetic force might draw
Souls steeled with virtue, custom having made
His impious rhetoric ready to invade, '4°
He towards them hastes, with such a pace as might
Excuse their judgements, though in open flight
They strove to shun him, but in vain ; so near
Them now he's drawn, that the effects of fear
Obscuring reason, as if safety lay
In separation, each a several way
From danger flies ; but since both could not be
By that secure, whilst her blest stars do free
The glad Carina from his reach, the other
He swiftly seizes on : hot kisses smother 150
Her out-cries in the embryo, and to death
Near crushed virginity, ere, from lost breath,
She could a stock of strength enough recover
To spend in prayers. The tempting of a lover,
Mixt with the force of an adulterer, did
At once assail, and with joined powers forbid
All hopes of safety ; only, whilst Despair
Looked big in apprehension, whilst the air
Breathed nought but threatenings ; promising him to pay
For't in her answers, she doth lust betray 160
Of some few minutes, which, with all the power
Of prayer, she seeks to lengthen ; sheds a shower
Of tears to quench those flames. But sooner might
122 withdrew] See note on p. 28.
138 force] So Singer for 'form,' which I think quite possible.
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Canto II] Pharonnida
Hell's sooty lamp extinguished be ; the sight
Of such a fair, but pitiful aspect,
When lust assails, wants power to protect.
By this hot parley, whilst she strove to shun His loathed embraces, the thronged spirits run To fortify her heart, but vainly seek
For entrance there, being back into her cheek 170
Sent in disdainful blushes : now she did Entreat civility, then sharply chid His blushless impudence ; but he, whose skill In rhetoric was pregnant to all ill, Though barren else, summons up all the choice Of eloquence, that might produce a voice To win fair virtue's fortress, though her chaste Soul, armed against those battering engines, past That conflict without danger; when, enraged By being denied, with passion that presaged 180
A dangerous consequence, his fierce eyes fixt On hers, that, melting with pale terror, mixt Floods with their former flames, her soul's sad doubt He thus resolves — 'Unworthy whore, that, out Of hate to virtue, dost deny me what Thou freely grant'st to every rude swain that But courts thee in a dance — think not these tears Shall make me waive a pleasure, that appears Worth the receiving. Can your sordid earth Be honoured more than in the noble birth 190
Of such a son, as, wouldst thou yield to love, Might call thee mother, and hereafter prove The glory of your family? From Jove, The noblest mortals, heretofore that strove To fetch their pedigree, thought it no stain So to be illegitimate ; as vain Is this in thee, there being as great an odds 'Twixt you and us, as betwixt us and gods.'
Trembling Florenza, on her bended knees. Thus answers him: — 'That dreadful power that sees 200
All our disveloped thoughts, my witness be You wrong my innocence ; I yet am free From every thought of lust. I do confess The unfathomed distance 'twixt our births, but less That will not make my sin ; it may my shame The more, when my contaminated name Shall in those ugly characters be shown To the world's public view, that now is known B' the blush of honesty ; whose style, though poor, Exceeds the titles of a glorious whore — 210
Attended, whilst youth doth unwithered last, With envied greatness ; but, frail beauty past Into a swift decay, assaulted by
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William Chamber layne [book i
Rottenness within, and black-mouthed calumny Without, cast off, blushing for guilt, the scorn Of all my sex. My mother would unborn Wish her degenerate issue, my father curse The hour he got me. As infection worse Than mortal plagues, each virgin, that hath nought To glory in but what she with her brought 220
Into the world — an unstained soul, would fly The air I breathe ; cast whores being company For none but devils, when corrupted vice A wilderness makes Beauty's paradise. To this much ill, dim-eyed mortality A prospect lends ; but what, oh ! what should be When we must sum up all our time in one Eternal day, since to our thoughts unknown, Is only feared; but if our hallowed laws Are more than fables, the everlasting cause, 230
'Twill of our torment be. If all this breath, Formed into prayers, no entrance finds, my death Shall buy my virgin-freedom, ere I will Consent to that, which, being performed, will kill My honour to preserve my life, and turn • The unworthy beauty, which now makes you burn In these unhallowed flames, into a cell Which none but th' black inhabitants of hell Will e'er possess. Those private thoughts, which give, If we continue virtuous whilst we live 24c
On earth, our souls commerce with angels, shall Be turned to furies, if we yield to fall Beneath our vices thus. O ! then take heed — Do not defile a temple ; such a deed Will, when in labour with your latest breath. With horror curtain the black bed of death.'
Though prayers in vain strove to divert that crime He prosecutes, yet, to protract the time, She more had said, had not all language been Lost in a storm of's lust; which, raging in 250
His fury, gives a fresh assault unto Weak innocence : for mercy now to sue — To hope — seems vain ; robustious strength did bar The use of language, which defensive war Continuing, till the breathless maid was wrought Almost beneath resistance, just heaven brought This unexpected aid. A lowly swain, Whose large possessions in the neighbouring plain Had styled him rich, and powerful which to improve, To that fair stock, his virtue added love ; 260
257 lowly] Orig. ' lovely,' which again is quite possible, though the words are often confounded in the very bad printing of the original.
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Canto II] Pharonfiida
Which, (un)to flattery since it lost its eyes, The world but seldom sees without disguise.
This sprightly youth, led by the parallels Of birth and fortune — whate'er else excels Those fading blessings — to Florenza, in His youth's fresh April, had devoted been. With so much zeal, that what that heedless age But dallied with, (like customs which engage Themselves to habits), ere its growth he knew, Love, equal with his active manhood, grew; 270
Which noble plant, though, in the torrid zone Of her disdain, 't had ne'er distemper known, Yet oft those sad vicissitudes doth find. For which none truly loved that ne'er had pined. Which pleasing passion, though his judgement knew How to divert, ere reason it out-grew. It often from important action brought Him to those shades, where contemplation sought Calm solitude ; in whose soft raptures. Love, Refining fancy, lifts his thoughts above 280
Those joys, which, when by trial brought t' the test, Prove Thought's bright heaven dull earth, when once possest.
Whilst seated here, his eyes did celebrate, As to those shades Florenza oft had sat Beneath kind looks ; to ravish that delight. The tired Carina, in her breathless flight Com-e near the place, assaults his wonder in That dreadful sound, which tells him what had been Her cause of fear ; which doleful story's end, Arrived t' the danger of his dearest friend, 290
Leaves him no time for language, ere, winged by Anger and love, his haste strives to outfly His eager thoughts. Being now arrived so near Unto the place, that his informing ear Thither directs his steps, with such a haste. As nimble souls, when they are first uncased. From bodies fly, he thither speeds ; and now Being come, where he beheld with horror how His better angel injured was, disputes
Neither with fear nor policy — they're mutes 300
When anger's thunder roars — but swiftly draws His falchion, and the justice of his cause Argues with eager strokes, but spent in vain 'Gainst that unequal strength, which did maintain The more unlawful ; all his power could do, Is but to show the effects of love unto Her he adored, few strokes being spent before His feeble arm, of power to do no more,
261 (un)to] Altered from ' to ' by Singer. I am not sure that Chamberlayne would not have risked the double trochee ' Which, t6 | flatt6 | ry.'
( 33 ) D
JVilliam Chamber layite [book i
Faints with the loss of blood ; and, letting fall
The ill-managed weapon^ for his death doth call, 310
By the contempt of mercy, so to prove
A sacrifice, slain to Florenza's love.
The cursed steel, by the robustious hand
Of fierce Almanzor guided, now did stand
Fixed in his breast, whilst, with a purple flood.
His life sails forth i' the channel of his blood.
This remora removed, the impious deed
No sooner was performed, but, ere the speed
Florenza made (though to her eager flight
Fear added wings) conveyed her from his sight, 320
His rude hand on her seizes. Now in vain
She lavished prayers, the groans in which her slain
Friend breathes his soul forth, with her shrieks, did fill
The ambient air, struck lately with the still
Voice of harmonious music. But the ear
Of penetrated heaven not long could hear
Prayers breathed from so much innocence, yet send
Them back denied ; white Mercy did attend
Her swift delivery, when obstructing fear
Through reason let no ray of hope appear. 330
Startled Argalia, who was courted by Her pleasing voice's milder harmony Into restrictive slumbers, wakened at Their altered tone, hastes to discover what Had caused that change ; and soon the place attains. Where, in the exhausted treasure of his veins, Andremon wallows, and Florenza lies, Bathed in her tears, ready to sacrifice Her life with her virginity ; which sight
Provoked a haste, such as his presence might 340
Protect the trembling virgin ; which perceived By cursed Almanzor, mad to be bereaved O' the spoils of such a wicked victory As lust had then near conquered, fiercely he Assails the noble stranger ; who, detesting An act so full of villany, and resting On the firm justice of his cause, had made His guiltless sword as ready to invade As was the other's, that had surfeited
In blood before. Here equal valour bred 350
In both a doubtful hope ; Almanzor's lust Had fired his courage, which Argalia's just Attempts did strive to quench. The thirsty steel Had drunk some blood from both, ere fortune's wheel Turned to the righteous cause. That vigour which Through rivulets of veins spread the salt itch Of feverish lust before, was turned into A flame of anger; whilst his hands did do
(34)
Canto II] Pharo7t7iida
What rage doth dictate, fury doth assist
With flaming paroxysms, and each nerve twist 360
Into a double strength : yet not that flood.
Which in this ebuUition of his blood
Did through the channels boil till they run o'er
With flaming spirits, could depress that store
Of manly worth, which in Argalia's breast
Did with a quiet even valour rest ;
Moving as in its natural orb, unstrained
By any violent motion ; nor yet chained
By lazy damps of fiiint mistrust, but in
Danger's extreme, still confident to win 370
A noble victory ; or, i' the loss of breath.
If his fate frowned, to find an honoured death.
Filled with these brave resolves, until the heat Of their warm fury had alarums beat T' the neighbouring fields, they fought ; which tumult, by Such of Almanaor's followers as were nigh The grove reposed, with an astonishment That roused them, heard, they hasten to prevent The sad effects that might this cause ensue. Ere more of danger than their fear they knew. 380
Arrived e'en with that fatal minute, he Who against justice strove for victory, With such faint strokes that their descent did give Nought but assurance that his foe must live A happy conqueror, they usurp the power Of Heaven — revenge ; and, in a dreadful shower Of danger, with their fury's torrent strive To o'erwhelm the victor : but the foremost drive Their own destruction on, and fall beneath His conquering sword, ere he takes time to breathe 390
Those spirits, which, when near with action tired, Valour breathed fresh, fast as the spent expired.
Here rash Araspes and bold Leovine, Two whose descent i' the nearest collateral line Unto Almanzor's stood, beholding how His strength decayed must unto conquest bow In spite of valour, to revenge his fate With so much haste, attempt, as if too late They'd come to rescue, and would now, to shun His just reproof, by rashness strive to run 400
To death before him, finding from that sword Their life's discharge ; which did to him afford Only those wounds, whose scars must live to be The badges of eternal infamy.
But here, o'erwhelmed by an unequal strength, The noble victor soon to the utmost length Had life's small thread extended, if not in The dawn of hope, some troops, (whose charge had been,
( 35 ) D 2
JVilliam Chamber layne [book i
Whilst the active gentry did attend the court,
To free the country from the feared resort 41°
Of wild bandits), these, being directed by
Such frighted rurals as employment nigh
The grove had led, arriving at that time
When his slain foes made the mistaken crime
Appear Argalia's, soon by power allay
That fatal storm; which done, (a full survey
Of them that death freed from distress being took),
Them, through whose wounds Life had not yet forsook
Her throne, they view ; 'mongst whom, through the disguise
Of's blood, Almanzor, whose high power they prize 42°
More than discovered innocence, being found,
As Justice had by close decree been bound
To espouse his quarrels; whilst his friends convey
Him safely thence, those ponderous crimes they lay
Unto Argalia's charge, whose just defence
Pleads but in vain for injured innocence.
Now, near departing, whilst his helpful friends Bore off Almanzor, where he long attends The cure of's wounds, though they less torment bred Than to behold how his lost honour bled; 43°
The sad Florenza comes to take her last Leave of her lost Andremon, ere she past That sad stage o'er. To his cold clammy lips Joining her balmy twins, she from them sips So much of death's oppressing dews, that, by That touch revived, his soul, though winged to fly Her ruined seat, takes time enough to breathe These sad notes forth : — ' Farewell, my dear, beneath The ponderous burthen of mortality
My fainting spirits sink. Oh ! mayest thou be 44°
Blest in a happier love ; all that I crave Is, that my now departing soul may have Thy virgin prayers for her companions, through
Those gloomy vaults, which she must pass, unto
Eternal shades. Had fate assigned my stay.
Till we'd together gone, the horrid way
Had then been made delightful; but I must
Depart without thee, and convert to dust.
Whilst thou art flesh and blood : I in a cold
Dark urn must lie, whilst a warm groom doth hold 450
Thee in thy nuptial bed ; yet there I shall—
Tf fled souls know what doth on earth befal, —
Mourn for thy loss, and to eternity
Wander alone. The various world shall be
Refined in flames ; Time shall afi"ord no place
For vanity, ere I again embrace
Society with flesh ; which, ere that, must
Change to a thousand forms her varied dust.
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Canto II] . Pha7^07tnida
What we shall be, or whither we shall go,
When gone from hence — whe'er unto flames below, 460
Or joys above — or whe'er in death we may
Know our departed friends, or tell which way
They went before us — these, oh ! these are things
That pause our divinity. Sceptred kings.
And subjects die alike, nor can we tell.
Which doth in joy, or which in torments dwell.
Oh, sad, sad ignorance ! Heaven guide me right,
Or I shall wander in eternal night.
To whose dark shades my dim eyes sink apace.
Farewell, Florenza ! when both time and place 470
My separated soul hath left, to be
A stranger masked in immortality,
Think on thy murthered friend ; we now must part
Eternally ! the cordage of my heart
That last sigh broke.' With that the breath, that long
Had hovered in his breast, flew with a strong
Groan from that mortal mansion ; which beheld
By such of's friends whom courtesy compelled
To that sad charge, the bloodless body they
With sad slow steps to 's father's home convey. 480
THE END OF THE SECOND CANTO.
Canto III
THE ARGUMENT
The brave Argalia, who designed to raise
Through all approaching ills his weighty fate,
In smooth compliance that harsh guard obeys, Who towards his death did prosecute their hate :
To death, which here unluckily had stained
Maugre his friends, the ill-directed sword Of justice, had not secret love obtained
More mercy than the strict laws dare afford.
■>
Low in a fruitful pasture, where his flocks
Cloud with their breath those plains, whose leafy locks
Could hardly shadow them — those meadows need
No shearing — where in untold droves did feed
His bellowing herds, of which enough did come
Each day to's yoke to serve a hecatomb.
Lay old Andremon's country farm : in which,
Happy till now, being made by fortune rich.
And goodness honest ; from domestic strife
Still calm and free ; the upper robes of life, 10
466 in joy] Altered by Singer from ' enjoj',' plausibly, but perhaps idly.
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JVillia7n Cha^nberlayne [book i
Till withered, he had worn ; to ease whose sad
And sullen cares less bounteous nature had
Lent him no numerous issue — all he'd won
By prayer, confined unto his murthered son,
The blasted blossom of whose tender age.
When blooming first, taught hope how to presage
Those future virtues, which, interpreted
By action, had such fruitful branches spread,
That all indulgent parents wished to be
Immortalized in blest posterity, 20
Had seen in him ; who, innocently good.
Still let his heart by 's tongue be understood.
In such a sacred dialect, that all
Which verged within deliberate thought did fall,
Towards heaven was graced, and in descent did prove
To 's parents duty, and to 's neighbours love.
This hopeful youth, their age's chief support. Whose absence, though by's own desires made short. Their love thought tedious, having now expired His usual hours, the aged couple tired 30
With expectation, to anticipate His slow appearance, to their mansion's gate Were softly walked, where coolly shadowed by An elm, which, planted at his birth, did vie Age with his lord ; whilst their desires pursue Its first design, they with some pleasure view Their busy servants, whose industrious pain Sweats out diseases in pursuit of gain. All which, although the chiefest pleasure that Their thoughts contain — -whose best are busied at 40
The mart o' the world, such small diversion lent The aged pair, that his kind mother, spent With a too long protracted hope, had let E'en that expire, had not his father set Props to that weakness, and, that mutual fear Which filled their breasts, let his sound judgement clear, By the proposing accidents that might, Untouched, detain their darling from their sight.
But many minutes had not left their seals On the records of time, ere truth reveals 50
Her horrid secrets. — A confused noise First strikes their ears, which suddenly destroys Its own imperfect embryocs, to transfer Its object to that nearer messenger O' the soul — the eyes, whose beamy scouts convey A trembling fear into their souls, whilst they. That bore their murthered son, arrived to tell Their doleful message; which so fierce storm fell
33 Were] Singer, officiously, ' Had.' (38)
Canto III] Pharo7i7iida
Not long in those remoter drops, before,
Swelled to a deluge, the swift torrent bore 60
The bays of reason down, and in one flood
Drowned all their hopes. When purpled in his blood,
Yet pale with death — untimely death, she saw
Her hopeful son, grief violates the law
Of slower nature, and his mother's tears
In death congeals to marble : her swoln fears.
Grown for her sex a burthen far too great,
Had only left death for her dark retreat.
Although from grief's so violent effects, Reason, conjoined with manly strength, protects 70
His wretched father, at that stroke his limbs Slack their unwieldly nerves, faint sorrow dims His eyes more than his age, his hands bereft His hoary head of all that time had left Unplucked before ; nor had the expecting grave Gaped longer for him, if they then had gave His passion freedom — his own guilty hand Had broke the glass, and shook that little sand That yet remained into thin air, that so,
Unclogged with earth, his tortured ghost might go So
Beyond that orb of atoms that attend Mortality ; and at that journey's end Meet theirs, soon as swift Destiny enrols Those new-come guests within the sphere of souls. By these sad symptoms of infectious grief, Those best of friends that came for the relief Of sorrow's captives, being by that surprised They hoped to conquer, sadly sympathized With him in woe, till the epidemic ill,
Stifling each voice, drest sorrow in a still 90
And dismal silence : in which sad aspect. None needing robes or cypress to detect A funeral march, each dolefully attends, To death's dark mansion, their lamented friends. Where, having now the earthy curtain drawn O'er their cold bed, till doomsday's fatal dawn Rally their dust, they leave them ; and retire To sorrow, which can ne'er hope to expire In just revenge, since kept by fear in awe — Where power offends, the poor scarce hope for law. 100
By sad example to confirm this truth — From innocent and early hopes of youth Led toward destruction, let 's return to see That noble stranger, whose captivity, Like an unlucky accident, depends On this sad subject. By the angry friends Of those accused, which in that fatal strife To death resigned the charter of their life,
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Willia^n Chamber layne [book i
He 's brought unto the princess' palace ; where
That age, (whose customs knew not how to bear nc
Such sails as these have filled with pride), was placed
The seat of justice ; whose stern sword defaced
Not Pleasure's smoothest front, since now 'twas by
Her fair hand guided, whose commanding eye.
If armed with anger, seemed more dreadful then
The harshest law e'er made by wrathful men.
Here, strictly guarded, till the important crime, Which urged her to anticipate the time By custom known, had called her forth to that Unwilling office, still unstartled at j2o
The frowns of danger, did Argalia lie An injured captive ; till, commanded by The stern reformers of offended law.
He hastes t' the bar; where come, though death ne'er saw A brow more calm, or breast more confident. To meet his darts, yet since the innocent Are stained with guilt, when, in contempt of fate, They silent fall, he means to meet their hate With all that each beholder could expect
From dying valour, when it had to protect 130
An envied stranger, left no more defence But what their hate obscures — his innocence.
The clamorous friends of Aphron, backed by those Which knew his death the only mean to close Almanzor's bleeding honour, to the fair And pitiful Pharonnida repair. With cries of vengeance ; whose unwelcome sound She by her father's strict command was bound To hear, since that those rivulets of law, Which from the sea of regal power did draw 140
Their several streams, all flowed to her, and in That crystal fountain, pure as they had been From heaven dispensed ere just Astraea fled The earth, remained ; yet such aversion bred In her soft soul, that to these causes, where The law sought blood, slowly as those that bear The weight of guilt, she came ; whose dark text she Still comments on with noble charity. High mounted on an ebon throne, in which The embellished silver shewed so sadly rich, 150
As if its varied form strove to delight Those solemn souls which death's pale fear did fright, In Tyrian purple clad, the princess sate. Between two sterner ministers of fate. Impartial judges, whose distinguished tasks Their varied habit to the view unmasks.
^33 Aphron] Mistake for 'Andremon.' 149 in] Singer alters to 'on.'
(40)
Canto III] Pharofifttda
One, in whose looks, as pity strove to draw
Compassion in the tablets of the law,
Some softness dwelt, in a majestic vest
Of state-like red was clothed ; the other, dressed i6o
In dismal black, whose terrible aspect
Declared his office, served but to detect
Her slow consent, if, when the first forsook
The cause, the law so far as death did look.
Silence proclaimed, a harsh command calls forth The undaunted prisoner, whose excelling worth, In this low ebb of fortune, did appear Such as we fancy virtues that come near The excellence of angels — fear had not
Rifled one drop of blood, nor rage begot 170
More colour in his cheeks — his soul in state Throned in the medium, constant virtue, sat, Not slighting, with the impious atheists, that Loud storm of danger, but, safe anchored at Religious hope, being firmly confident Heaven would relieve whom earth knew innocent.
All thus prepared, he hears his wrongful charge (Envy disguising injured truth) at large. Before the people, in such language read, As checked their hopes in whom his worth had bred 180
Some seeds of pity ; and to those, whose hate Pursued him to this precipice of fate. Dead Aphron's friends, such an advantage gave, That Providence appeared too weak to save One so assaulted : yet, though now depressed E'en in opinion, which oft proves the best Support to those whose public virtues we Adore before their private guilt we see. His noble soul still wings itself above
Passion's dark fogs ; and like that prosperous dove, 190
The world's first pilot for discovery sent, When all the floods that bound the firmament O'erwhelmed the earth. Conscience' calm joys to increase, Returns, fraught with the olive branch of peace. Thus fortified from all that tyrant fear E'er awed the guilty with, he doth appear The court's just wonder in the brave defence Of what, (though power, armed with the strong pretence Of right, opposed), so prevalent had been, T' have cleared him ; if, when near triumphing in 200
Victorious truth, to cloud that glorious sun, Some faithless swains, by large rewards being won
162 detect] For the sake of rhyme, no doubt. It can just be interpreted as =' remove the concealment from,' ' extract.' 183 Aphron] Mistake as before.
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Williaffi Cha7nberlay?te [book i
To spot their souls, had not, corrupted by
His foes, been brought, falsely to justify
Their accusations. Which beheld by him,
Whose knowledge now did hope's clear optics dim,
He ceased to plead \ justly despairing then.
That innocence 'mongst mortals rested, when
Banished her own abode; so thinks it vain
To let truth's naked arms strive to maintain 210
The field 'gainst his more powerful foes. Not all
His virtues now protect him, he must fall
A guiltless sacrifice, to expiate
No other crime but their envenomed hate.
An ominous silence — such as oft precedes
The fatal sentence — whilst the accuser reads
His charge, possessed the pitying court, in whicli
Presaging calm Pharonnida, too rich
In mercy, Heaven's supreme prerogative,
To stifle tears, did with her passion strive 220
So long, till what at first assaulted in
Sorrow's black armour, had so often been
For pity cherished, that at length her eyes
Found there those spirits that did symj^athize
With those that warmed her blood, and, unseen, move
That engine of the world, mysterious love,
The way that fate predestinated, when
'Twas first infused i' the embryo ; it being then
That which espoused the active form unto
Matter, and from that passive being drew 230
Divine ideas; which, subsisting in
Harmonious Nature's highest sphere, do win,
In the perfection of our age, a more
Expansive power; and, nature's common store
Still to preserve, unites affections by
The mingled atoms of the serious eye.
Whilst Nature's priest, the cause of each effect, Miscalled disease, endeavours to detect Its unacquainted operations in
The beauteous princess, whose free soul had been 240
Yet guarded in her virgin ice, and now A stranger is to what she doth allow Such easy entrance — by those rays that fall From cither's eyes, to make reciprocal Their yielding passions, brave Argalia felt, E'en in the grasp of death, his functions melt To flames, which on his heart an onset make For sadness, such as weaker mortals take Eternal farewells in. Yet in this high
Tide of his blood, in a soft calm to die, 250
His yielding spirits now prepare to meet Death, clothed in thoughts white as his winding-sheet.
(4O
Canto III] Pharonnida
That fatal doom, which unto heaven affords The sole appeal, one of the assisting lords Had now pronounced, whose horrid thunder could Not strike his laurelled brow ; that voice, which would Have petrified a timorous soul, he hears With calm attention. No disordered fears Ruffled his fancy, nor domestic war
Raged in his breast ; his every look, so far 260
From vulgar passions, that unless amazed At Beauty's majesty, he sometimes gazed Wildly on that as emblems of more great Glories than earth afforded, from the seat Of resolution his fixed soul had not Been stirred to passion, which had now begot Wonder, not fear, within him. No harsh frown Contracts his brow, nor did his thoughts pull down One fainting spirit, wrapt in smothered groans. To clog his heart. From her most eminent thrones 270
Of sense, the eyes, the lightning of his soul Flew with such vigour forth, it did control All weaker passions, and at once include With Roman valour Christian fortitude. Pharonnida, from whom the rigid law Extorts his fate, being now enforced to draw The longest line she e'er could hope to move Over his face, that beauteous sphere of love, Unto its great'st obliquity, she leaves
Him, in his winter solstice, and bereaves 280
Love's hemisphere of light, not heat ; yet, oft Retreating, wished those stars, fate placed aloft In the first magnitude of honour, might Prove retrograde; so their contracted light Might unto him part of their influence In life bestow, passion would fain dispense So far with reason, to recal again The sentence she had past : but hope in vain Those false suggestions moves. His jailors are The undaunted prisoner hurrying from the bar, 290
His fair judge rising, the corrupted court Upon removing, all the ruder sort Of hearers rushing out, when, through the throng, Kind Ariamnes (being detained so long By strict employment) comes ; at whose request The court their seats resuming, he addrest Himself t' the princess in a language that, (Whilst all Argalia's foes were storming at), E'en on her justice so prevails, that he Reprieved till all hope could produce, to free 3°°
257 petrified] Orig-. ' putrefied,' which I shall not say that Chamberlayne could not have meant. 291 corrupted] Apparently in the derivative sense of ' broken up.'
(43)
JVilliam Chamhe?^layne [book i
Her love's new care, might be examined by His active friend ; who now, being seated nigh Pharonnida, whilst all attentive sate. The stranger's story doth at large relate.
Pleased at this full relation, near as much As grieved to see those jewels placed in such A coarse cheap metal, which could never hold The least proportion with her regal gold, Pharonnida had now removed, if not
Thus once more stayed: — The rumour, first begot 310
From this sad truth, had, with the common haste Of ill, arrived where his disease had placed Aphron, whose ears, assaulted now with words Of more infection than that plague, affords Room for the stronger passion : though offended, To leave a hold it had at first intended To keep till ruined, the imprisoned blood, And spirits are unfettered, by that flood To wash usurping grief from off that part Where most she reigned; but they, drawn near the heart, 320 And finding enemies too strong to be Encountered, mix in their society ; Which, thus supplied with auxiliaries, in Contempt of weakness, (when he long had been Languishing, underneath a tedious load Of sickness), sends him from his safe abode, 'Mongst dangers which in death's black shape attend His bold design, to seek his honoured friend.
Come on the spur of passion to the court, A flux of spirits from all parts resort 530
To prompt his anger, which abruptly broke Forth in this language : — ' Do not, sirs, provoke A foreign power thus far — I speak to you That have condemned this stranger — as to do An act so opposite to all the law Of nations, — here within your realm to draw Blood that's near and allied unto the best Of an adjacent state. If this request Of mine too full of in.so!ence appear,
^Ve are spirits nobly born, and we are near 340
Enough to have 't, whatever crime 's the cause Of this harsh sentence, tried by our own laws.' —
This bold opposer of stern justice (here Pausing to see what clouds there did appear
313 Aphron] The real Aphron.
315 offended] Anoihcr e.xeynplary note may call attention to this characteristic instance of Chamberlaync's syntax. ' OITcnded ' and ' it ' can only refer to ' disease,' or ' plague," though they have not the least grammatical connexion therewith or with anj'thing else. For though grammar permits junction with 'the imprisoned blood,' sense forbids.
337 near] Singer alters to 'so near,' without any need.
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Canto III] Pharofinida
In that fair heaven, whose influence only now
Could light to 's friend's declining stars allow),
To free the troubled court, which struggled in
A strange dilemma, had commanded been
To a more large discovery, if not by
His pitying friend discharged in a reply, 350,
Doubting how far irregular boldness had
Provoked just wrath. Argalia thus unclad
Amazement's dark disguise: — 'To you that awe
This court ' (with that kneels to Pharonnida)
' I now for mercy flee, that scorn to run
From my own doom, so I might have begun
The doubtful task alone ; but here to leave
My friend, from whom your justice did receive
This bold affront, in danger, is a crime
That not approaching death, which all my time 360
Too little for repentance calls, can be
A just excuse for ; let me then set free
His person with your doubts, and joined to those
What both their varied stories may compose. —
' For what this noble lord, whose goodness we First found in needful hospitality. From him hath differed in, impute it not To cither's error ; both reports begot From such mistakes, as nature made to be The careful issues of necessity : 370
That fatal difference, whose vestigia stood. When we Epirus left, fresh filled with blood, . p By league so lately with Calabria made. Being composed, that fame did not invade Our ears with the report, till we had been By a disguise secured ; which, shaded in. Whilst fearing danger, we ne'er thought to leave Till safe at home. Thus, what did first deceive Kind Aminander, you have heard ; and now. Without the stain of boasting, must allow 580
Me leave to tell you, that we there have friends, On whom the burthen of a state depends.'
When, to the court's just wonder, thus far he, With such unshaken confidence as we Pray on the expanded wings of faith, displayed His soul's integrity, the royal maid. Whom a repented destiny had made His pitying judge, endeavouring to evade That doom's harsh rigour, grants him a reprieve, Till thrice the sun, returning to relieve 390
352 wrath] I have tried various punctuations for this passage, but it defies all. The sense is clear enough, however. 379 Aminander] i. e. Ariamnes. 383 court's]
Orig. ' court,' not quite impossibly.
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William Chajnherlayiie [book i
Night's drooping sentinels, had circled in
So many days. In which short time, to win
The fair advantage of discovering truth,
Old Aminander, active as fresh youth
In all attempts of charity, to know
From what black spring those troubled streams did flow,
Hastes toward Andremon's; whilst Pharonnida,
Active as he toward all whence she might draw
A consequence of hope, lays speedy hold
On this design : — Commissioned to unfold 400
Their master's love toward her, there long had been
Ambassadors from the Epirot in
Her father's court ; whose message, though it might
Wear love's pure robes, yet, in her reason's light,
Seems so much stained with policy, that all
Those blessings, which the wise foresaw to fall As influence from that conjunction, she Opposes as her stars' malignity.
Proud of this new command, with such a haste As those that fear more slow delays may waste 410
Their precious time, the ambassadors attain The princess' court ; where come, though hoped in vain, Only expect a speedy audience ; they. That frustrated, are soon taught to betray More powerful passions : — the first glance o' the eye They on the prisoners cast, kind sympathy Proclaimed, — love gave no leave for time to rust Their memories — both the old lords durst trust Eyes dimmed with tears, whilst their embraces give A sad assurance there did only live 420
Their last and best of comforts. Which beheld By those from whom kind pity had expelled AH thoughts of the vindictive law, they strive By all the power of rhetoric to drive Those sad storms over ; which good office done. They each inform the prince, which was the son Of nature, which adoption ; withal tell how. By their persuasions moved, they did allow Them time to travel, which disasters had
So long protracted ; for some years, with sad 4301
And doubtful hopes, they had in vain expected Their wished return, but that their stars directed Their course so ill, as now near home to be O'ertaken with so sad a destiny. — Since such a sorrow could be cured by none, They sadly crave the time to mourn alone.
THE END OF THE THIRD C.\NTO.
398 draw] In this rhyme, which is common, it is more likely that 'draw' wa? pronounced ' dra' ' than that 'Pharonnida' became ' Pharonnidazc' 412 hoped] Orig. 'hope.'
(4O
Canto IV] Pharo7i7tida
Canto IV
THE ARGUMENT
At length the veil from the deluded law,
With active care by Aminander took, The startled court in their own error saw
How lovely truth did in Argalia look.
The story of our youth discovered, he,
His merits yet in higher pitch to raise, Morea's prince doth from a danger free.
Which unto death his noblest lords betrays.
That last sad night, the rigid law did give
The late reprieved Argalia leave to live,
Was now, wrapt in her own obscurity,
Stolen from the stage of time, when light, got free
From his nocturnal prison, summons all
Almanzor's friends to see the longed-for fall
Of the envied stranger ; whose last hour was now
So near arrived, faint hope could not allow
So much of comfort to his powerful'st friend
As told her fears — she longer might suspend lo
His fatal doom. Mournful attendants on
That serene sufferer, all his friends are gone
Unto the sable scaffold that's ordained,
By the decree of justice, to be stained
With guiltless blood ; all sunk in grief — but she,
Who by inevitable destiny
Doomed him to death, most deep. Dull sorrow reigns
In her triumphant ; sad and alone remains
She in a room, whose window's prospect led
Her eye to the scaffold, whither, from the bed 20
Where sorrow first had cast her, she did oft
Repair to see him ; but her passion's soft
Temper, soon melting into tears, denies
Her soul a passage through o'erflowing eyes.
Often she would in vain expostulate
With those two subtle sophisters that sate
Clothed in the robes of fancy, but they still
O'erthrow her weaker arguments, and fill
Her breast with love and wonder ; passion gave
Such fierce assaults, no virgin vow could save 30
Her heart's surrender — she must love and lose
In one sad hour ; thus grief doth oft infuse
Those bitter pills, where hidden poisons dwell,
In the smooth pleasures of sweet oxymel.
Argalia's friends, that did this minute use As if the last of mortal interviews,
28 o'erthrow] Orig. ' o'erthrew.'
(47)
TVtlliam Chamber layne [book i
Had now reversed their eyes, expecting nought
But that stroke's fall, whose fatal speed had brought
Him to eternal rest ; when by a loud
And busy tumult, as if death, grown proud, 40
Expected triumphs, to divert their sight.
They from the scaffold's lofty station might,
Within the reach of an exalted voice,
Behold a troop, who (as the leader's choice,
Confined to strait necessity, had there
Enrolled all comers, if of strength to bear
Offensive arms) did first appear to be
Some tumult drest in the variety
Of sudden rage : for here come headlong in
A herd of clowns, armed as they then had been 50
From labour called ; near them, well ordered ride
(As greatness strove no longer to divide
Societies) some youths, brave as they had
Been in the spoils of conquered nations clad.
This sudden object, first obstructing all Their court's proceedings, prompts their doubts to call Their absent prince ; who, being too wise for fear's Uncertain fictions, with such speed appears As checks the tumult ; when, to tell them who Had from their homes the frighted people drew, 6o
I' the van of a well-ordered troop rides forth Loved Aminander, whose unquestioned worth, That strong attractive of the people's love, Expunged suspicion : whilst his troops did move With a commanded slowness to inform The expecting prince^ from whence this sudden storm Contracted clouds, he to his view presents Andremon's friends ; whose looks— the sad contents Of sorrow, with a silent oratory Beg pity, whilst he thus relates their story. — 70
'That we, great prince, we, whom a loyal fear To strict obedience prompts, dare thus appear Before your sacred person, were a sin Mercy would blush to own, had we not been Forced to offensive arms, by such a cause As tore the sceptre-regulated laws Forth of your royal hand, to vindicate This suffering stranger, whom a subtle hate. Not solemn law, pursued. I here have brought Such witnesses as have their knowledge bought 80
At the expense of all their joy, whom I Found so confined, as if their misery ^\'ere in their houses sepulchred ; a sad And general sorrow in one dress had clad So many, that their only sight did prove — Lost virtue caused such universal love.
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Canto IV] Pharonnida
To free this noble youth, whose valour lent
A late protection to this innocent
But injured maid, they, unconstrained, had here
Implored your aid, had not too just a fear, 90
Caused from some troops, raised by a wronged pretence
Of your commands, checked their intelligence,
With such illegal violence that I
Had shared their sufferings, if not rescued by
These following friends, whose rude conjunction shows
It was no studied plot did first compose
So loose a body. But, lest it appear
In me like envy, should I strive to clear
This doubtful story, here are those, (with that
Calls forth Andremon's friends), instructed at 100
The dearest price, which, by discovering truth.
Will not alone rescue this noble youth
From falling ruin — but, lest he retreat
Into rebellion, force before this seat
A man, whose power the people thought had been
To punish vice, not propagate a sin.'
Having thus far past toward discovery, here The grave lord ceased : and, that truth might appear From its first fair original, to her
Whose virtue. Heaven's affected messenger, no
Commands attention, the more horrid part Of his relation leaves. And here, vain Art, Look on and envy, to behold how far Thy strict rules (which our youth's afflictions are) Nature transcends, in a discourse which she, With all the flowers of virgin modesty, Not weeds of rhetoric, strewed; to hear her miss, Or put a blush for a parenthesis. In the relating that uncivil strife,
Which her sad subject was — so near the life 120
Limns lovely virtue, that, that copy whence Art took those graces, she doth since dispense T' the best of women. Fair Pharonnida, Taught by that sympathy, which first did draw Those lovely transcripts of herself, although Varied as much as humble flowers, that grow Dispersed in shady deserts, are from those That nice art in enamelled gardens shows ; Yet, like bright planets which communicate To earth their influence, from exalted state 130
She now descends to cherish virtue in Those lovely nymphs, whose beauties, though they'd been Yet in the country clouded from report, Soon grow the praise or envy of the court.
Emboldened by that gracious favour shown To these fair nymphs, to prosecute their own
( 49 ) E
William Chamber layne [book i
Most just complaints, Andremon's wretched friends,
With prayers perceive that mercy which descends.
O'er all their sufferings, on the expanded wings
Of nol)le pity ; whose fair hand first brings 140
Argalia from the sable scaffold, to
Meet those rewards to his high merits due,
Not only in what death's dark progress stays.
But life's best joy— an universal praise
Acquired from just desert. Next she applies
Herself to those poor burthened souls, whose eyes
Look e'en on comforts through their tears, the dead
Andremon's mourners ; whose lost joy, though fled
Yox ever from those wintring regions, yet
As much received as sorrow would permit 150
Souls so opprest ; the splendid court they leave
With thankful prayers. And now called to receive
His sin's reward Almanzor is, whose shame,
Its black attendant, when b' his hated name
He'd oft been summoned, prompts him to deny
That legal call ; which being an act too high
For a depending power to patronise.
To shun feared justice' public doom, he flies
His prince's mandates, an affront that sent
Him to 's desert — perpetual banishment. 160
This comet lost in clouds of infamy, The court, which had too long been burthened by His injured power, with praises entertain Impartial justice ; whilst to call again Those pleasures which had in this interval Of law been lost, the prince, convening all That shared those sufferings, as the centre whence Joy spread itself t' the court's circumference, Crowns all their wishes, which, by that bright star In honour's sphere — the auspicious princess, are 170
Exalted to their highest orbs. Her love Unto Argalia, though it yet must move As an unnoted constellation, here Begins its era, which, that 't might appear AV'ithout suspicion, she disguises in The public joy. Which, 'mongst those that had been His serious mourners, to participate, That kind Epirot, who first taught his fate The way to glory, comes ; to whom he now Was on those knees merit had taught to bow, 180
With as much humble reverence as if all The weights of nature made those burthens fall A sacrifice to love, fixed to implore Its constant progress, but he needs no more
178 Epirot] Observe the jumble with 'Calabrian,' 1. 189. (50)
Canto IV] Pharo7i7tida
For confirmation, since his friend could move But the Hke joy, where nature taught to love.
Passion's encounter, which too high to last, Into a calm of thankful prayers being past. The prince from the Calabrian seeks to know By what collateral streams he came to owe 190
Such love unto a stranger — one that stood Removed from him i' the magnetism of blood ; Whom thus the lord resolves :— ' When blooming in The pride of youth, whose varied scenes did win Time on the morning of my days, a while, To taste the pleasures of a summer's smile, I left the court's tumultuous noise and spent Some happy time blest with retired content, In the calm country, where Art's curious hand, As centre to a spacious round of land, 200
Had placed a palace, in whose lovely dress, The city might admire the wilderness ; Yet, though that ill civility was in Her marble circle. Nature's hand had been As liberal to the neighbouring fields, and deckt Each rural nymph as gaudy, till neglect Or slovenly necessity had drawn Her canvass furrows o'er their vales of lawn.
'Near this fair seat, fringed with an ancient wood, A fertile valley lay, where scattered stood 210
Some homely cottages, the happy seats Of labouring swains, whose careful toil completes Their wishes in obtaining so much wealth To conquer dire necessity ; firm health. Calm thoughts, sound, sleeps, unstarted innocence, Softened their beds, and, when roused up from thence, Suppled their limbs for labour. Amongst these. My loved Argalia, (for till fate shall please His dim stars to uncurtain, and salute
His better fortune with each attribute 220
Due to a nobler birth, his name must be Contracted into that stenography) Life's scenes began, amongst his fellows that There first drew breath, being true heirs to what, Whilst all his stars were retrograde and dim, Unlucky fortune but adopted him.
' Whilst there residing, I had oft beheld The active boy, whose childhood's bud excelled More full-blown youths, gleaning the scattered locks Of new-shorn fields amongst the half-clad flocks 230
Of their unripe but healthful issue ; by Which labour tired, sometimes I see them try The strength of their scarce twisted limbs, and run A short breathed course; whose swift contention done,
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JVilliafTi Chamber iayne [book i
And he (as in each other active sport)
With victory crowned, they make their next resort
T' the spring's cheap bounties ; but what did of all
His first attempts give the most powerful call
Both to my love and wonder was, what chanced
From one rare act : — The morning had advanced 240
Her tempting beauties to assure success
To these young huntsmen, who, with labour less
Made by the pleasure of their journey, had
The forest reached, where, with their limbs unclad
For the pursuit, they follow beasts that might
Abroad be recreation, and, when night
Summoned them home, the welcomest supply
Both to their own and parents' quality.
An angry boar, chafed with a morning's chase.
And now near spent, was come so near the place, 250
Where, though secured, on the stupendous height
Of a vast rock they stood, that now no flight
Could promise safety ; that wild rage, which sent
Him from the dogs, his following foes, is spent
In the pursuit of them ; which, to my grief,
Had suffered ere we could have lent relief.
Had not Argalia, e'en when danger drew
So near as death, turned on the beast, and threw
His happy javelin ; whose well-guided aim.
Although success it knew not how to claim 260
From strength, yet is so much assisted by
Fortune, that, what before had scorned to die
By all our power when contending in
Nice art, the honour of that day to win
To him alone, falls by that fqeble stroke
From all his speed ; which seen, he, to provoke
His hastier death, seconds those wounds which in
Their safety are by those with terror seen.
That had escaped the danger, and e'en by
Us that pursued with such amaze, that I, 270
Who had before observed those rays of w'orth
Obscured in clouds, here let my love break forth
In useful action, such as from that low
Condition brought him where I might bestow
On him what art required, to perfect that
Rare piece of nature which we wondered at.
From those whom I, 'mongst others, thought to be
Such whose affection the proximity
Of nature claimed, with a regret that showed
Their poverty unwillingly bestowed 280
238 give the most powerful call] This is Singer's mending of the orig. repetition ' did give the powerful call.'
280 bestowed] This bewildering Chamberlaynean construction seems = ' O/ihosefrom whom I, thirtking (hon to be, &c., had procured.' But in this as in hundreds of future
(5O
Canto IV] Pharo727iicia
So loved a jewel, had procured the youth — His foster father, loath to waive a truth That in the progress of his fate might be Of high account, discovers unto me The world's mistake concerning him, and thus Relates his story : — " He was brought to us, (Quoth the good man) some ten years since, by two Who (could men be discovered to the view Of knowledge by their habits) seemed but such As Fortune's narrow hand had gave not much 290
More than necessity requires to be Enjoyed of every man, whom life makes free Of Nature's city ; though their bounty showed To our dim judgements, that they only owed Mischance for those coarse habits, which disguised What once the world at higher rates had prized. I' the worst extreme of time, about the birth O' the sluggish morning, when the crusted earth Was tinselled o'er with frost, and each sprig clad With winter's wool, I, whom cross Fortune had 300
Destined to early labours, being abroad, Met two benighted men, far from the road, Wandering alone ; no skilful guide their way Directing in that infancy of day, But the faint beams of glimmering candles, that Shone from our lowly cottage windows, at Which marks they steered their course : one of them bore This boy, an infant then, which knew no more Than Nature's untrod paths. These, having spied Me through the morning's mists, glad of a guide, 31c
;, Though to a place whose superficial view Lent small hopes of relief, went with me to Mine own poor home; where, with such coarse cheap fare As must content us that but eat to bear The burthens of a life, refreshed, they take A short repose ; then, being to forsake Their new-found host, desire with us to leave The child, till time should some few days bereave Of the habiliments of light. We stood
Not long to pari, but, willing to do good 320
To strangers so distressed, were never by Our poverty once tempted to deny. My wife, being then a nurse, upon her takes The pretty charge, and with our own son makes Him fellow-commoner at the full breast, And partner of the cradle's quiet rest. Now to depart, one that did seem to have The near'st relation to the infant gave
instances the reader must take his own choice of several doubtfully possible inter- pretations.
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Williafn Chamber layne [book i
Him first this jewel, (at which word they showed
One which upon ArgaUa was bestowed 330
By those that left him), then, that we might be
Not straitened by our former poverty,
Leaves us some gold, by which we since have been
Enabled to maintain him, though not in
That equipage, which we presume unto
His birth (although to us unknown) is due.
This done, with eyes that lost their light in tears.
They take their leaves ; since when, those days to years
Are grown, in which we did again expect
They should return ; but whether 't be neglect 340
Or else impossibility detain
Them from his sight, our care hath sought in vain."
' Having thus plainly heard as much as Fate Had yet of him discovered, I, that late Desired him for his own, now for the sake Of 's friends, (whate'er they were), resolved to take Him from that barren rudeness, and transplant So choice a slip where he might know no want Of education ; with some labour, I
Having obtained him, till virility 350
Rendered him fit for nobler action, stayed Him always with me, when my love obeyed His reason ; and then, in the quest of what Confined domestics do but stumble at — Exotic knowledge, with this noble youth. To whom his love grew linked, like spotless truth To perfect virtue, — sent him to pursue His wished design, from whence this interview First took its fatal rise : ' — And here the lord. That a more full discovery might afford 360
Them yet more wonder, shows the jewel to Sparta's pleased prince ; at whose most serious view The skilfullest lapidaries, judging it, Both for its worth and beauty, only fit To sparkle in the glorious cabinet Of some great queen, such value on it set, That all conclude the owner of 't must be Some falling star, i' the night of royalty, From honour's sphere, the glories of a crown To vaunt, the centre of our fears, dropt down. 370
And now the court, whose brightest splendour in These fatal changes long eclipsed had been, Resumes its lustre ; which to elevate. With all the pleasures of a prosperous state, For that contracted span of time designed For ih' prince's stay, fancies are racked to find
367 owner] Orig. 'honour,' a strange mistake elsewhere repeated.
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Canto IV] Pharofinida
New forms of mirth, such whose invention might
Inform the ear, whilst they the eye deh'ght.
All which, whilst to the less concerned they lent
A flux of joy, yet lost their first intent — 380
To please the princess ; who from mirth did move
Eccentrical, since first inflamed with love,
Which did soon from her fancy's embryon grow
A large-limbed tyrant ; when, prepared to go.
She sees Argalia, who, engaged to attend
The ambassadors, here soon put an end
To what, e'en from those unto love unkind.
Must now force tears ere it a period find.
That time expired — ordained to terminate Her father's stay, and so that splendid state 390
That yet adorned the princess' court, to show How much he did for 's frontiers' safety owe Unto those moving citadels — a fleet, His mandates call each squadron for to meet Within Lepanto, in whose harbours lay Those ships that were ordained for a convey To the Calabrian's messengers ; who now, With all that love or honour could allow To noble strangers, being attended by
The brightest glories of two courts, draw nigh 400
A royal fleet, whose glittering streamers lent Dull waves the beauties of a firmament : Amongst which numbers, one, too stately far For rough encounters of defacing war. Whose gilded masts their crimson sails had spread In silken flakes, advanced her stately head. High as where clouds condense, where a light stands, Took for a comet by far distant lands; For cabins — where the imprisoned passenger Wants air to breathe, — she 's stored with rooms that were 410 So fair without, and yet so large within, A Persian sophi might have revelled in Their spacious hulks. To this, Molarchus, he Whom greatness, joined to know ability, Had made Sicilia's admiral, invites The royal train ; where, with whate'er delights (Although invention all her stock had spent) Could be upon that liquid element Prepared their welcome; whilst, at every bowl A health inters, the full-mouthed cannons troul 420
A peal of thunder, which in white waves drowned, The softer trumpets do their dirges sound.
Now in the full career of mirth, whilst all Their thoughts in perpendiculars did fall
414 know] One conjectures 'known,' but the other is more like our author. (55)
Williajn Chainberlayjie [book i
From honours zenith, none incurvated
With common cares — parents that might have bred
A sly suspicion ; whilst neglective mirth
Keeps all within, from their deep bed of earth
Molarchus hoist his anchors, whilst that all
The rest lay still, expecting when his call 430
Commands their service : but when they beheld
His spread sails with a nimble gale were swelled ;
An oppressed slave, which lay at rest before,
Was, with stretched limbs, tugging his finny oar ;
Conceiving it but done to show the prince
That galley's swiftness, let that thought convince
Fear's weak suggestions, and, invited by
Their tempting mirth, still safe at anchor lie.
But now, w^hen they not only saw the night Draw sadly on, but what did more affright 440
Their loyal souls— the distant vessel, by Doubling a cape, lost to the sharpest eye, For hateful treason taxing their mistake, With anchors cut and sails spread wide they make The lashed waves roar. Whilst those enclosed within The galley, by her unknown speed had been Far more deceived — -being so far conveyed, Ere care arrives to tell them they're betrayed Through mirth's neglective guards. Who now, in haste With anger raised, in vain those flames did waste 450
In wild attempts to force a passage to The open decks, whither before withdrew Molarchus was ; who now prepared to give That treason birth, whose hated name must live In bloody lines of infamy. Before They could expect it, opening wide the door That led them forth, the noble captives fly To seek revenge ; but, being encountered by An armed crew, so fierce a fight begin.
That night's black mantle ne'er was lined within 460
With aught more horrid ; in which bloody fray, The subtle traitor, valiant to betray — Though abject else, unnoted, seizing on The unguarded princess, from their rage is gone, Through night's black mask, with that rich prize into A boat, that, placed for that design, was drew Near to the galley; whose best wealth being now Thus made their own, no more they study how To save the rest — all which for death designed. The conquered rebels soon their safety find 470
429 hoist] Singer ' hoists,' but it is no doubt preterite.
434 oar] Orig. and Singer ' ore,' which must be wrong. In anybody but Ciiamber- laync we should expect '^«f/ oppressed slaves' with no 'was.'
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Canto IV] Pharonnida
From other boats, but first, that all but she
O' the royal train secured by death might be.
So large a leak in the brave vessel make,
That thence her womb soon too much weight did take
For her vast bulk to wield, which, sinking now,
No safety to her royal guests allow.
The ship thus lost, and now no throne but waves Left the Sicilian prince, just Heaven thus saves His sacred person : — Amongst those that fought For timely safety, nimble strength had brought 480
Argalia and his following friend so near One of the boats, in which, secured from fear, The rebels sailed, that now they both had took A hold so sure, that, though their foes forsook Their oars to hinder 't, spite of all their force, Argalia enters ; which, a sad divorce From life, as he by strength attempts to rise From falling wounds, unhappily denies The valiant Aphron ; who, by death betrayed From time and strength, had now left none to aid 490
His friend, but those attending virtues, that, Ne'er more than now, for th' world to wonder at, Brave trophies built. With such a sudden rage. As all his foes did to defence engage, Those bolder souls that durst resist, he had From their disordered robes of flesh unclad ; Which horrid sight forced the more fearful to Such swift submission, that, ere fear outgrew His hope, assisted by that strength which bought Their lives' reprieve, their oars reversed had brought 500
Him back t' the place, in which the guilty flood Was stained with fair Sicilia's noblest blood.
Assisted by those silver streams of light The full-faced moon shot through the swarthy night On the smooth sea, he first his course directs Toward one, whose robes, studded with gems, reflects Those feeble rays, like new-fallen stars ; he there Finds Sparta's prince, then sinking from the sphere Of mortal greatness in the boundless deep, To calm life's cares in an eternal sleep. 510
From unexpected death, the grave's most grim And ghastly tyrant, having rescued him — With as much speed, as grief's distractions, joined To night's confusion, could give leave, to find More friends, before that all were swallowed by The sea, he hastes ; when, being by chance brought nigh Dead Aphron's father, to be partner in Their cares, who, as they only saved had been
475 bulk] Singer, as elsewhere, arbitrarily prints ' Aulk,' which is possible but by no means necessary.
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William Chamber lay7ie [book i
To mourn the rest, he from the rude sea saves
Him, to be drowned in sorrow's sable waves. 520
Now in the quest of that deserving lord. Whose goodness did to 's infancy afford Life's best of comforts — education, he. To balk that needless diligence, might see At one large draught the wide waves swallow all Who vainly did till that sad minute call To Heaven for help ; which dismal sight, beheld By those that saved by accident, expelled Their own just fears — for them to entertain As just a grief. Their needful time in vain 530
They spend no longer in their search, but, though Unwieldy grief yet made their motion slow, Haste from that horrid place, where each must leave Such valued friends. Numbers that did receive Their blood, descended to nobility,
From th' royal spring, here the grieved prince might see Interred in the ocean ; the Epirot lord, His late found son, whom love could scarce afford A minute's absence ; nor 's Argalia less
Engaged to grief — to leave whom the distress 540
Of's youth relieved; but what from each of these Borrowed some streams of sorrow, to appease A grief which since so many floods hath cost — The noble Aminander here was lost.
Rowed with such speed as their desire, joined to That fear which from the conquered rebels drew A swift obedience, being conducted by A friendly light, their boat is now drawn nigh A rocky island ; in whose harbour they
Found where the boat that had outsailed them lay, 550
Drawn near the shore : but all the passengers Being gone, the sight of that alone confers No other comfort than to inform them that The ravished princess had been landed at That port ; which by their sailors they are told Belongs unto a castle, kept to hold That island, though but one unnoted town, T' the scarce known laws of the Sicilian crown.
This heard b' the prince, who formerly had known That castle's strength, being vexed (although his own) 560 That now 'twas such ; leaving the vessel, they, Protected by night's heaviest shades, convey Themselves into a neighbouring cottage, where The prince, who now externally did bear No forms of greatness, left to his repose. Argalia, whilst night's shadows yet did close
558 Sicilian] i. e. Morcaii.
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Canto IV] Pharo?intda
Discovering eyes, hastes back t' the harbour ; whence,
To give the royal fleet intelligence
O' the king's distress, he sends forth all but one.
Whose stoutness had best made his valour known, 570
Of those which, conquered by his sword, are now
By bounty made too much his own, to allow
E'en slight suspicion room. This being done,
That valour, though with love 'twere winged, might run
On no rash precipice, assisted by
That skilful seaman, from some ships that lie
Neglected, 'cause by time decayed, he takes
So much o' the tackling, as of that he makes
Ladders of length sufficient to ascend
The castle walls ; which, having to defend 580
Them nought but slave security, is done
With so much ease, that what 's so well begun
They boldly second, and first entering in
A tower, (which had b' the prudent founder been
Built to command the haven's mouth, which lay
Too low for th' castle), where, when come, all they
Found to resist, is one poor sentry, bound
In sleep, which soon by death is made more sound.
To lodge the prince in that safe place, before His active valour yet attempted more, 590
The gate 's secured that led t' the castle. He, Protected by that night's obscurity. By a concealed small sally-port is to Its strength soon brought ; when now prepared to view More dreadful dangers, in such habit clad, As by the out-guard's easy error had, Soon as a soldier, gave him entrance, come T' the hall he is : there being informed by some O' the drowsy guards, where his pretended speed Might find Molarchus, to perform a deed, 600
That future ages (if that honour's fire Lose not its light), shall worthily admire. His valour hastes : — Within a room, — whose pride Of art, though great, was far more glorified By that bright lustre the spectators saw. Through sorrow's clouds, in fair Pharonnida, — He finds the impious villain, heightened in His late success to such rude acts of sin. That servile baseness, the low distance whence He used to look, grew saucy impudence. 6io
Inflamed Argalia, who at once beholds Objects to which the soul enlarged unfolds Its passions in the various characters Of love and anger, now no more defers The execution of his rage, but in So swift a death, as if his hand had been
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Williajfi Cha7nberlay7ie [book i
Guided by lightning, to Molarchus sent
His life's discharge ; which, with astonishment,
Great as if by their evil angels all
Their sins had been displayed, did wildly fall (120
Upon his followers ; whom, ere haste could save.
Or strength resist, Argalia's sword had gave
Such sudden deaths, that, whilst amazements reigned
O'er all, he from the heedless tumult gained
That glorious prize— the royal lady ; who.
In all assaults of fears, not lost unto
Her own clear judgement, as a blessing sent
From Heaven, (whilst her base foes confusion lent
That action safety), follows that brave friend.
Whose sword redeemed her, till her journey's end, 630
Through threatening dangers, brought her to that place
"Where, with such passion as kind wives embrace
Husbands returned from bondage, she is by
Her father welcomed into liberty.
Thus rescued, whilst exalted rumours swelled To such confusion as from sense expelled Reason's safe conduct, whilst each soldier leaves His former charge, fear's pale disease receives This paroxysm : — The fleet, which yet had in A doubtful quest of their surprised prince been, 640
Directed hither with the new-born day. Their streamers round the citadel display ; Which seen by them that, being deluded by The dead Molarchus, to his treachery Had joined their strength, guilt, the original Of shame, did to defend the platform call Their bold endeavour ; but, when finding it Too strongly manned for undermining wit Or open strength to force, despairing to
lie long secure, prompted by fear, they threw 650
Themselves on mercy ; which calm grace, among Heaven's other blessings, whilst it leads along The prince toward victory, made his conquest seem — Such as came not to punish, but redeem.
THE END OF THE FOURTH CANTO.
(60)
Canto V] Pharonnida
Canto V
THE ARGUMENT
The grateful prince, to show how much he loved
This noble youth, whose merit's just reward Too great for less abilities had proved,
Makes him commander of his daughter's guard.
Where seated in the most benign aspect
Kind love could grant to fair Pharonnida, A sacred vision doth her hopes detect.
Whose waking joys his absence doth withdraw.
Freed from those dangers which this bold attempt
Made justly feared, whilst joy did yet exempt
Those cares, which, when by time concocted, shall
His kingdom to a general mourning call,
Sparta's pleased prince, with all the attributes
E'er gratitude learned from desert, salutes
That noble youth, which, even when hope was spent,
Kind Heaven had made his safety's instrument.
By acts of such heroic virtue, that,
Whilst all the less concerned are wondering at, lo
The grateful prince in all the noble ways
Of honour, lasting as his life, repays.
By whose example the fair princess taught,
To shadow love (her soul's most perfect draught)
In friendship's veil, so free a welcome gave
The worthy stranger, that all prayer durst crave,
Though sacrificed in zeal's most perfect fire,
Seemed now from Heaven dropt on his pleased desire.
Some days spent here, whilst justice vainly sought That treason's root, whose base production, brought 20
Unto an unexpected period in Molarchus' death, with him had buried been To future knowledge — all confessions, though In torments they extracted were, bestow Upon their knowledge, being the imperfect shade Of supposition, which too weak to invade E'en those whose doubtful loyalty looked dim, The prudent prince, burying mistrust with him, Leaving the island with 's triumphant fleet, On the Sicilian shore prepares to meet 30
That joy in triumph which, a blessing brought, His loyal subjects with their prayers had sought.
To cure those hot distemperatures, which in His absence had the court's quotidian been. The princess' guard (as being an honour due To noble valour) having left unto
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That worthy stranger, whose victorious hand
Declared a soul created for command,
The prince departs from his loved daughter's court
To joyful Corinth ; where, though the resort 40
Of such as by their service strove to express
An uncorrupted loyalty made less
That mourning, which the kingdom's general loss
Claimed from all hearts, yet, like a sable cross.
Which amongst trophies noble conquerors bear,
All did some signs o' the public sorrow wear.
But leaving these to rectify that state This fever shook, return to whom we late Left gently calmed — that happy pair, which in Desire, the shady porch of love, begin 50
That lasting progress, which ere ended shall So oft their fate to strong assistance call. Some months in happy free delights — before Passion got strength enough to dictate more Than Reason could write fair — they'd spent ; in which Slumber of fancy, popular love grown rich. Soon becomes factious, and engages all The powers of Nature to procure the fall Of the soul's lawful sovereign. Either, in Each action of the other's, did begin 60
To place an adoration — she doth see Whate'er he doth, as shining majesty Beneath a cloud, or books, where Heaven transfers Their oracles in unknown characters ; Tike gold yet unrefined, or the adamant Wrapt up in earth, he only seemed to want Knowledge of worth. Her actions in his sight Appear like fire's feigned element, with light. But not destruction, armed ; like the fair sun. When through a crystal aqueduct he 'th run 70
His piercing beams, until grown temperate by That cooling medium, through humility. Shuns her majestic worth. In cither's eyes, The other seemed to wear such a disguise As poets clothed their wandering gods in, when In forms disguised they here conversed with men.
But long this conflict of their passions, ere Resisted, lasts not; when, disdained to bear Those leaden fetters, the great princess tries To quench that fire i' the embryo, ere it rise 8c
To unresisted blazes — but in vain; What her tears smother are by sighs again Blown into flames, such as, since not to be By aught extinguished, her sweet modesty Strives to conceal, nor did them more betray Than by such fugitives as stole away
(6.)
Canto V] Pharoitfiida
Through her fair eyes, those sally-ports of love,
From her besieged heart, now like to prove
(Had not her honour called the act unjust)
So feeble to betray her soul's best trust ; 90
Her flames being not such as each vulgar breast
Feels in the fires of fancy, when oppressed
With gloomy discontents ; her bright stars sate
Enthroned so high, that, like the bays of Fate,
It stopped the current of the stream, and, to
The sea of honour, love's fresh rivers drew.
Thus whilst the royal eaglet doth, i' the high Sublimer region of bright majesty. Upon affection's wings still hover, yet.
Loath to descend, on th' humble earth doth sit ; 100
Her worthy lover, like that amorous vine. When crawling o'er the weeds, it strives to twine Embraces with the elm, he stands ; whilst she Desires to bend, but, like that love-sick tree. By greatness is denied. He that ne'er knew A swelling tumour of conceit, nor flew, Upon the waxen wings of vain ambition, A thought above his own obscure condition. Thinks that the princess, by her large respect Conferred on him, but kindly doth reflect 110
His father's beams ; and, with a reverent zeal Sees those descending rays, that did reveal Love's embassies, transported on the quick Wings of that heart-o'ercoming rhetoric, Instructing that the weakness of his eye, Dazzled with beams of shining majesty, Might, for too boldly gazing on a sight So full of glory, be deprived of light — Stifling his fancy, till it turned the air
That fanned his heart to flames, which pale despair 120
Chilled into ice soon as he went about With them to breathe a storm of passion out.
But vain are all these fears — his eagle sight Is born to gaze upon no lesser light Than that from whence all other beauties in The same sphere borrow theirs ; he else had been Degenerate from that royal eyrie whence He first did spring, although he fell from thence Unfledged, the growing pinions of his fame Wanting the purple tincture of his name 130
And titles — both unknown ; yet shall he fly, On his own merit's strength, a pitch as high. Though not so boldly claimed, and such as shall Enhance the blessing, when the dull mists fall
95 It] Singer, again arbitrarily, ' They.' For ' bays ' in this sense see inf. II. v. 174.
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From truth's benighted eyes, whispering in
His soul's pleased ear — her passion did begin
Whilst all the constellations of her fate,
Fixed in the zenith of bright honour, sate ;
Whilst his, depressed by adverse fortune, in
Their nadir lay — even to his hopes unseen. 140
Whilst thus enthean fire did lie concealed With different curtains, lest, by being revealed, Cross fate, which could not quench it, should to death Scorch all their hopes, burned in the angry breath Of her incensed father— whilst the fair Pharonnida was striving to repair The wakeful ruins of the day, within Her bed, whose down of late by love had been Converted into thorns, she having paid
The restless tribute of her sorrow, staid 150
To breathe awhile in broken slumbers, such As with short blasts cool feverish brains ; but much More was in hers — A strong pathetic dream, Diverting by enigmas Nature's stream. Long hovering through the portals of her mind On vain phantastic wings, at length did find The glimmerings of obstructed reason, by A brighter beam of pure divinity Led into supernatural light, whose rays
As much transcended reason's, as the day's i6o
Dull mortal fires, faith apprehends to be Beneath the glimmerings of divinity. Her unimprisoned soul, disrobed of all Terrestrial thoughts, like its original In heaven, pure and immaculate, a fit Companion did for those bright angels sit. Which the gods made their messengers to bear This sacred truth, seeming transported where, Fixed in the flaming centre of the world. The heart o' the microcosm, 'bout which is hurled 170
The spangled curtains of the sky, within Whose boundless orbs, the circling planets spin Those threads of time, upon whose strength rely The ponderous burthens of mortality. An adamantine world she sees, more pure, More glorious far than this, — framed to endure The shock of dooms-day's darts, in Avhich remains The better angels of what earth contains, Placed there to govern all our acts, and be A medium 'twixt us and eternity. iSo
Hence Nature, from a labyrinth half above, Half underneath, that sympathetic love,
141 thus] Singer ' this.'
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Canto V] Pharontiida
Which warms the world to generation, sends
On unseen atoms ; each small star attends
Here for his message, which received, is by
Their influence to the astral faculty
That lurks on earth communicated ; hence
Informing Forma sends intelligence
To the material principles of earth —
Her upper garments, Nature's second birth, 190
Upon each side of this large frame^ a gate Of different use was placed — At one there sate A sprightly youth, whose angel's form delights Eyes dimmed with age, whose blandishments invites Infants i' the womb to court their woe, and be By his false shape tempted to misery. Millions of thousands swarm about him, though Diseases do each minute strive to throw Them from his presence ; since, being tempted by His flattering form, all court it, though they lie 200
On beds of thorns to look on 't, saving some More wretched malcontents, that hither come With souls so sullen, that, whilst Time invites Them to his joys, they shun those smooth delights.
This, the world's favourite, had a younger brother Of different hue, each more unlike the other Than opposite aspects ; antipathy Within their breast, though they were forced to be Almost inseparable, dwelt. This fiend
A passage guarded, which at the other end a 10
O' the spacious- structure stood ; betwixt each gate Was placed a labyrinth, in whose angles sate The Vanities of life, attempting to Stay death's pale harbingers, but that black clew. Time's dusky girdle. Fate's arithmetic, Grief's slow-paced snail, Joys more than eagle-quick, — That chain whose links composed of hours and days, — Thither at length spite of delay conveys The slow-paced steps of Time. There always stood Near him one of the triple sisterhood, 220
Who, with deformity in love, did send Him troops of servants, hourly to attend Upon his harsh commands, which he, from all Society of flesh, without the wall, Down a dark hill conveyed; at whose foot stood An ugly lake, black as that horrid flood, Gods made by men did fear. Myriads of boats On the dark surface of the water floats,
2i6 Grief's slow-paced snail] Singer has altered this to 'Griefs, slow, snail-paced,' which, from what follows, an ordinary writer might more probably have written. But it by no means follows that Chamberlayne did not dehberately write the other.
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William Cha^nberlayne [book i
Containing passengers, whose different hue Tell them that from the walls do trembling view 230
Their course — that there's no age of man to be Exempted from that powerful tyranny.
A tide, which ne'er shall know reflux, beyond The baleful stream, unto a gloomy strond, Circled with black obscurity, conveys Each passenger, where their torn chain of days Is in eternity peeked-up. Between These different gates, the princess having seen Life's various scenes wrought to a method by Disposing angels, on a rock more high 240
Than Nature's common surface, she beholds The mansion house of Fate, which thus unfolds Its sacred mysteries : — A trine without A quadrate placed, both those encompassed in A perfect circle, was its form ; but what Its matter was — for us to wonder at — Is undiscovered left ; a tower there stands At every angle, where Time's fatal hands. The impartial Parcae, dwell. — I' the first she sees Clothe, the kindest of the Destinies, 250
From immaterial essences to cull The seeds of life, and of them frame the wool For Lachesis to spin ; about her fly Myriads of souls that yet want flesh to lie AVarmed with their functions in, whose strength bestows That power by which man ripe for misery grows. Her next of objects was that glorious tower, Where that swift-fingered nymph that spares no hour From mortal's service, draws the various threads Of life in several lengths — to weary beds 260
Of age extending some, whilst others in Their infancy are broke ; some blacked in sin, Others the favourites of heaven, from whence Their origin, candid with innocence ; Some purpled in afflictions, others dyed In sanguine pleasures ; some in glittering pride, Spun to adorn the earth, whilst others wear Rags of deformity ; but knots of care No thread was wholly freed from. Next to this Fair glorious tower was placed that black abyss 270
Of dreadful Atropos, the baleful seat Of death and horror; in each room replete With lazy damps, loud groans, and the sad sight Of pale grim ghosts — those terrors of the night.
237 pecked] This odd word (' peeckt ' in orig.) suggests (i) 'peak' in the Shake- spearean sense of 'peak and pine,' (2) the same in that of 'brought to a point.' ' finished off,' (3) ' picked.' It seems to recur below i^II. v. 383) in ' night-peect,' which Singer has altered to ' specked,' 250 Clothe] Sic in orig.
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Canto V] Pharo727iida
To this, the last stage that the winding clew Of life can lead mortality unto, Fear was the dreadful porter, which let in All guests sent thither by destructive Sin. As its firm basis, on all these depends A lofty pyramid, to which each sends 280
Some gift from Nature's treasury to Fame's Uncertain hand. The hollow room with names And empty sounds was only filled, of those For whom the Destinies 'dained to compose Their fairest threads ; as if but born to die — Here all Ephemeras of report did fly On feeble wings, till, being like to fall. Some faintly stick upon the slimy wall. Till the observant antiquary rents
Them thence to live in paper monuments ; 290
In whose records they are preserved to be The various censures of posterity. I' the upper room, as favourites to Fate, There only Poets, rich in fancy sate ; In that beneath — Historians, whose records Do themes unto those pregnant wits afford ; Yet both preparing everlasting bays To crown their glorious dust, whose happy days Were here spent well. Beneath these, covered o'er With dim oblivion's shadows, myriads more, 300
Till dooms-day shall the gaudy world undress, Lay huddled up in dark forgetfulness. All which, as objects not of worth to cast A fixed eye on, the princess' genius past In heedless haste, until obstructed by Visions, that thus fixed her soul's wandering eye. A light, as great as if that dooms-day's flame Were for a lamp hung in the court of Fame, Directs her — where on a bright throne there sate Sicilia's better Genius : her proud state 3'°
(Courted by aU earth's greatest monarchs) by Three valiant knights supported was, whose high Merits, disdaining a reward less great. With equal hopes aimed at the royal seat; Which since all could not gain, betwixt her three Fair daughters both her crown and dignity Is equally bestowed, by giving one To each of them. When the divided throne Had on each angle fixed a diadem, Her vision thus proceeds : — The royal stem 330
284 'dained] Orig. 'dained,' which looks like 'deigned.' But the sense shows that Chamberlayne must have further shortened the more usual contraction ' 'sdained.'
289 rents] Of course 'rends,' for the sake of rhyme. Chamberlayne interchanges d and t endings freely, as ' reverenrf' for ' reveren/.'
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William Chatnberlayne [book i
That bore her father's crown, to view first brings
Its golden fruit — a glorious race of kings,
Led by the founder of their fame, their rear
Brought by her father up ; next, those that bear
Epirus' honoured arms, the royal train
Concluding in Zoranza ; this linked chain
Drawn to an end, the princes that had swayed
Argalia's sceptre, fill the scene, till, stayed
By the Epirot's sword, their conquered crown
From aged Gelon's hoary head dropt down 330
At fierce Zoranza's feet. This she beholds
With admiration, whilst hid truth unfolds
Itself in plainer objects : — The distressed
/Etolian prince again appears, but dressed
In a poor pilgrim's weed ; in 's hand he leads
A lovely boy, in whose sweet look she reads
Soft Pity's lectures ; but whilst gazing on
This act, till lost in admiration,
By sudden fate he seemed transformed to what
She last beheld him, only offering at 340
Love's shrine his heart to her Idea. There
Joy had bereaved her slumbers, had not fear
Clouded the glorious dream — A dreadful mist,
Black as the steams of hell, seeming to twist
Its ugly vapours into shades more thick
Than night-engendering damps, had with a quick
But horrid darkness veiled the room ; to augment
Whose terror, a cloud's sulphury bosom, rent
With dreadful thunder-claps, darting a bright
But fearful blaze through the artificial night, 350
Lent her so much use of her eyes — to see
Argalia grovelling in his blood, which she
Had scarce beheld ere the malignant flame
Vanished again. She shrieks, and on his name
Doth passionately call ; but here no sound
Startles her ear but hollow groans, which drowned
Her soul in a cold sweat of fears. Which ended,
A second blaze lends her its light, attended
With objects, whose wild horror did present
Her father's ghost, then seeming to lament 360
Her injured honour. In his company
The slain Laconian's spirit, which, let free
From the dark prison of the cold grave, where
In rusty chains he lay, was come to bear
Her to that sad abode ; but, as she now
Appeared to sink, a golden cloud did bow
From heaven's fair arch, in which Argalia seemed,
Clad in bright armour, sitting, who redeemed
Her from approaching danger ; which being done,
The darkness vanished, and a glorious sun 370
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Canto V] Pha?'07tnic/a
Of welcome light displayed its beams ; by which,
A throne the first resembling, but more rich
In its united glory, to the eye
Presents its lustre, where in majesty.
The angels that attend their better fate
Placed her and brave Argalia. — In which state,
The unbarred portals of her soul let fly
The golden slumber, whose dear memory
Shall live within her noble thoughts, until.
Treading o'er all obstructions, fate fulfil 3B0
These dark predictions, whose obscurity
Must often first her soul's affliction be.
When now the morning's dews — that cool allay Which cures the fever of the intemperate day, — Were rarified to air, the princess, to Improve her joy in private thoughts, withdrew From burthensome society within A silent grove's cool shadows — -what had been Her midnight's joy to recollect. In which Delightful task, whilst memory did enrich 390
The robes of fancy, to divert the stream Of thoughts, intentive only on her dream, Argalia enters, with a speed that showed He unto some supreme commander owed That diligence ; but, when arrived so near As to behold, stopped with a reverent fear. Lest this intrusion on her privacies Might ruffle passion, which now floating lies In a calm stream of thought. He stays till she By her commands gave fresh activity 400
To his desires, then with a lowly grace. Yet such to which Pride's haughty sons gave place For native sweetness, he on 's knee presents A packet from her father, whose contents, If love can groan beneath a greater curse Than desperation, made her sufferings worse Than fear could represent them — 'twas expressed In language that not wholly did request. Nor yet command consent ; only declare
His royal will, and the paternal care 410
He bore his kingdom's safety, which could be By nought confirmed more than affinity With the Laconian prince, whose big fame stood Exalted in a spacious sea of blood, On honour's highest pyramid. His hand Had made the triple-headed spot of land One of her stately promontories bow Beneath his sword, and with his sceptre now
413 Laconian] This should be ' Epirot,' but Chamberlayne, as the reader has been warned, uses these appellations almost at random.
( 69 )
Willia^n Chamber lay7te [booki
He at the other reaches ; which, if love
But gently sniile on 's new-born hopes, and prove 420
Propitious as the god of war, his fate
Climbs equal with his wishes. But too late
That slow-paced soldier bent his forces to
Storm that fair virgin citadel, which knew,
Ere his pretences could a parley call.
Beneath what force that royal fort must fall.
Enclosed within this rough lord's letter, she Received his picture, which informed her he Wanted dissimulation (that worst part
Of courtship) to put complements of art 430
On his effigies ; his stern brow far more Glorying i' the scars, than in the crown he wore. His active youth made him retainer to The court of Mars, something too long to sue For entrance into Love's ; like mornings clad In grizzled frosts ere plump-cheeked Autumn had Shorn the glebe's golden locks, some silver hairs Mixed with his black appeared ; his age despairs Not of a hopeful heir, nor could his youth Promise much more ; the venerable truth 440
Of glorious victories, that stuck his name For ornament i' the frontispiece of fame, Together with his native greatness, were His orators to plead for love : but where Youth, beauty, valour, and a soul as brave, Though not known great as his, before had gave Love's pleasing wounds, Fortune's neglected gain In fresh assaults but spends her strength in vain.
With as much ease as souls, when ripened by A well-spent life, haste to eternity, 450
She had sustained this harsh encounter, though Backed with her father's threats, did it not show More dreadful yet — in a command which must Call her Argalia from his glorious trust ; Her guardian to a separation in An embassy to him, whose hopes had been Her new-created fears. Which sentence read By the wise lady, though her passions bred A sudden tumult, yet her reason stays
The torrent, till Argalia, who obeys 460
The strictest limits of observance to Her he adored, being reverently withdrew, Enlarged her sorrows in so loud a tone. That ere he's through the winding labyrinth gone So far, but tliat he could distinctly hear Her sad complaints, they thus assault his ear : — ' Unhappy soul ! born only to infuse Pearls of delight with vinegar, and lose
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Canto V] Pharo7t7tida
Content for honour ; is 't a sin to be
Born high, that robs me of my hberty? 470
Or is't the curse of greatness to behold
Virtue through such false optics as unfold
No splendour, 'less from equal orbs they shine ?
What heaven made free, ambitious men confine
In regular degrees. Poor Love must dwell
Within no climate but what 's parallel
Unto our honoured births; the envied fate
Of princes oft these burthens finds from state,
When lowly swains, knowing no parent's voice
A negative, make a free happy choice.' — 480
And here she sighed ; then with some drops, distilled
From Love's most sovereign elixir, filled
The crystal fountains of her eyes, which e'er
Dropped down, she thus recalls again — 'But ne'er.
Ne'er, my Argalia, shall these fears destroy
My hopes of thee : Heaven ! let me but enjoy
So much of all those blessings, which their birth
Can take from frail mortality ; and earth,
Contracting all her curses, cannot make
A storm of danger loud enough to shake 490
Me to a trembling penitence; a curse.
To make the horror of my suffering worse,
Sent in a father's name, like vengeance fell
From angry Heaven, upon my head may dwell
In an eternal stain ; my honoured name
With pale disgrace may languish ; busy fame
My reputation spot ; affection be
Termed uncommanded lust ; sharp poverty,
That weed which kills the gentle flower of love,
As the result of all these ills, may prove 5°°
My greatest misery, — unless to find
Myself unpitied. Yet not so unkind
Would I esteem this mercenary band.
As those far more malignant powers that stand,
Armed with dissuasions, to obstruct the way
Fancy directs ; but let those souls obey
Their harsh commands, that stand in fear to shed
Repentant tears : I am resolved to tread
These doubtful paths, through all the shades of fear
That now benight them. Love! with pity hear 510
Thy suppliant's prayers, and when my clouded eyes
Shall cease to weep, in smiles I'll sacrifice
To thee such offerings, that the utmost date
Of Death's rough hands shall never violate.'
Whilst our fair virgin sufferer was in This agony, Argalia, that had been Attentive as an envied tyrant to Suspected counsels, from her language drew
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Willia77t Chamberlayne
So much, that that pure essence, which informs
His knowledge, shall in all the future storms 520
Of fate protect him, from a fear that did
Far more than death afflict, whilst love lay hid
In honour's upper region. Now, whilst she
Calmly withdraws, to let her comforts be
Hopes of 's return, his latest view forsook
His soul's best comfort, who hath now betook
Herself to private thoughts ; where, with what rest
Love can admit, I leave her, and him blest
In a most prosperous voyage, but happier far
In being directed by so bright a star. 530
THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK
(rO
BOOK II. Canto I
THE ARGUMENT
Still wakeful guilt, Almanzor's rebel sin,
Taking advantage of unguarded mirth, Which now without mistrust did revel in
The princess' court, gives thence new treason birth.
By treachery seized, and through night's shades conveyed.
She had for ever in this storm been lost, Had not its rage by such rude hands been staid,
That safety near as much as danger cost.
These hell-engendered embryos, which had long
Lay hid within Almanzor's breast, grown strong.
Now for delivery strive ; clandestine plots,
Ripened with age and lust, dissolve the knots
Wherein his fear had fettered them, and fly
Beyond the circle of his loyalty.
Since his deserts made him a stranger to
His princess' court, he'd lived like those that do
Fly that pursuing vengeance which attends
A rebel's acts, seen only to such friends, lo
Whose blemished honour suffering in his fall,
Assist his rising, though they venture all
By that unlawful act, on paths that may
Precipitate to ruin. The dark way
Had long been sought for, consultations did
Whisper rebellion in soft airs, forbid
To live in louder language, until, like
Inevitable thunder, it could strike
As swift, as secret, and as sure as those.
Heaven's anger hurls through all that durst oppose. io
In all the progress of that dark design. Whose unseen engines strove to undermine That power, which since Heaven doth in kings infuse, None but unhallowed rebels durst abuse. Time, treason's secret midwife, did produce No birth like this. — Such friends, as often use Had taught him their soul's characters, he makes Sharers of's guilt; but, whilst he troubled takes A care to fit each smaller wheel unto
This fatal engine, those black powers, that do 30
Assist such dark designs, a moving spirit Supply it with. Although Almanzor's merit Purchased few friends, yet had his tempting gold Corrupted some, 'mongst which it surest hold
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William Chamber lay7te [book ii
Upon Amphibia took ; a lady who,
Before Florenza's sweeter virtues drew
Her favour to a better object, swayed
The princess' choice affections ; she, betrayed
By ghttering charms, persuades her thoughts — no deed
For guilt is branded, whose attempts may feed 40
Ambition's malice, and at one blow give
Envy and avarice a hope to live.
Pleased with their ruin, whose fair merits dwell
High in those thoughts from whence she justly fell.
To rack revenge unto as large extent As hate could wish, what hell could ne'er invent Without assistance of a female wit — Man's first betrayer — all that seemed but fit From treason's close embrace to propagate Revenge, she lights him. What, though close as Fate 50
When parling with the Destinies, is by Her counsel acted, swift as stories fly From vulgar tongues, her treachery makes known To the bold rebel ; whose intentions grown Hence ripe for action, when his secret guilt A strong retreat had for rebellion built, By laying the foundation on 't in those Who, since by want or envy made the foes T' the public peace, are soon persuaded by Their princess' fall to cure that malady. 60
This platform laid — some, whose wise valour he By practice knew adorned with secrecy, Amongst the number of his guilty friends, Selected in its first attempt, attends Treason's dark walks, which, now more secret by Night's dismal shadows made, had brought them nigh The princess' palace. Through the hemisphere's Dark curtain now the big-bulked roof appears. And dappled windows showed their several light. Like rich enamel in the jet of night. 70
All rocked in sweet security they found By Fate's false smiles, triumphant mirth had crowned The glorious train, whose height of joy could taste No poison of suspicion, each embraced His free delights, yet feared no snake should lie Lurking within those flowers. Amidst which high Divine flames of enthean joy, to her That levelled had their way, a messenger Makes known their near approach ; for which before She had prepared, and veiled the pavement o'er 80
In thin, but candid innocence. Accurst By all that e'er knew virtue ! oh, how durst
45 rack] Singer 'wreak,' which seems unnecessary. 57 on 'tj Singer 'oft,' which loses an idiom.
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Canto I] Pharofinida
Thy envy turn these comic scenes into
So red a tragedy as must ensue
Thy guilt's stenography, which thus writes fate
In characters of blood ! But now too late
'Tis to repent ; when punishment wrought fair
Shows thy foul crimes, thou only may'st despair.
Leaving this fiend to hatch her vipers here, Let's breathe awhile, although in full career, 90
Stay on the brow o' the precipice to view The court's full joys ; which, being arrived unto Their zenith, seemed, to fate-discerning eyes, Like garlands wore before a sacrifice. The cornucopiae, from the tables now Removed by full-fed rurals, did allow Time for discourse, as nmch as modest mirth Durst stretch her wings ; crowned cups gave lusty birth To active sports ; the hearth's warm bounties flame From lofty piles, and in their pride became 100
The lustre of the roof. To glorify Which yet imperfect festival, the eye That lent to this large body light divine, Pharonnida, at whose adored shrine These sacrifices offered were, appears Within the hall, and with her presence clears Each supercilious brow, — if hopes to see What's now enjoyed suffered such there to be. The princess on her honoured throne reposed, A fancy-tempting music first unclosed no
The winding portals of the soul ; which done. Four swains, whose time-directed knowledge won Attention with credulity, by turn Sicilia's annals sung, and from the urn Of now almost forgotten truth did raise Their fame — those branches of eternal bays : Which sober mirth, preparatives unto More active sports, continuing, whilst the new Model of treason was disguising in
A mask ordained to candy o'er their sin, 120
To gild those pills of poison with delight, And strew with roses deadly aconite. Was now drawn near an end, when from without A murmuring noise of several sounds about The palace gates was heard ; which suddenly, Dissolving to an antic harmony, Proclaims their entrance, whose first solemn sight, In dreadful shapes, mixed terror with delight.
In the black front of that slow march appears A train, whose difference both in sex and years 130
94 wore] Orig. 'were.' 99 hearth's] Orig. 'hearts.'
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Williajn Chamherlayne [book ii
Had spoke confusion, if agreement in
Their acclamation had no prologue been.
A dance, where method in disorder lay,
Where each seemed out, though all their rules obey,
Was first in different measures trod ; which done,
Twelve armed viragoes, whose strange habit won
More admiration than their beauty, led
As many captive satyrs ; in the head
O' the Amazonian troop, a matron, by
Two younger nymphs supported till come nigh 140
Pharonnida's bright throne, presents the rest —
Her issue ; who externally exprest
vSo many fair-souled virtues, born to be
Protectors of their mother — Chastity,
Who wants their help, although supported by
Her weaker daughters — Fear and Modesty.
Those obscene vices, whose rude hands betray Nature's deformities forced to obey Their brave opposing virtues, did appear
r the captive satyrs; who being now brought near, 150
A dreadful music 's heard without, whose sound Did gentler airs in their first births confound. Which being a signal to that act of blood That soon ensues, whilst all expecting stood Some happier change, the false viragoes drew Their swords, and with a speedy fury slew The struggling knights, who thus disguised had been, With the more horror to be murthered in Their royal mistress' sight, whose shrieks did tell What trembling guests within her breast did dwell. 160
Sudden and cruel was the act ; yet stands Not treason here ; but whilst their purpled hands Yet reeked in blood, their guilty souls to stain With blacker sins, her weak defenders slain, Rush toward the trembling princess, who now lies Betrayed by the soul's janitors — her eyes, To passions insupportable, wliich grown A burthen to her spirits, all were flown T' the porch of death for rest. If souls new fled From tainted bodies, that have surfeited 170
On studied sins, could be discerned when they, Unarmed with penitence, are hurled away By long-armed fiends — less pale, less horrid would 'I'heir guilty looks appear. Confusion could Not live in livelier emblem ; each appears To fly the danger, but about him bears Its pale effects — so passengers forsake A sinking ship ; such strong convulsions shake
17a hurled] Another would probably have written ' whirled' or ' haled.' (76)
Canto I] Pharonnida
Surprised forts ; so dooms-day's trumpet shall
Startle the unprepared world, when all i8o
Her atoms in their then worn robes shall be
Ravished in flames to meet eternity.
The unguarded princess, being by all forsook But poor Florenza, both from thence are took, Whilst neither in that horrid agony Beheld their danger, and transported by Almanzor to his coach, which near attended On his assured success ; who now, befriended With the protecting darkness, hastes away. Swift as desire, with the fair trembling prey. 190
Those few opposing friends, whose will was more Than power to relieve her, overbore By the victorious rebels, did in vain Attempt her rescue ; which, since fruitless slain, Her martyrs fall leaving their lives to be An evidence of dying loyalty. Success attends thus far ; but Fortune now Left off to smile on villany, her brow Contracted into frowns, she swiftly sent
This countermand : — Her followers, having spent 200
Their own endeavours to no purpose, raise In haste the neighbouring villages ; nor stays The swift alarum, till it had outfled The speed Almanzor made. Roused from his bed. And warm embraces of his wife, by those Which had outrun the danger of their foes, The drowsy villager in trembling haste Snatches such arms as former fear had placed Fit to defend ; with which, whilst horn-pipes call In tones more frantic than a bacchinal, 210
They stumble to their rendezvous, which none But only by the louder cries had known.
This giddy multitude, which no command Knew, but what rage did dictate, hovering stand, Like big swoln clouds drove by a doubtful wind, Uncertain where to fall : one cries ' Behind The greatest danger lies ' ; some like his choice, And speedily retreat, until a voice
More powerful, though from the like judgement sprung, Persuades them on again; some madly rung 220
The jarring bells — as far from harmony As their opinions ; all which disagree About the place whence the alarums come : One cries — the princess' court ; until struck dumb By a more terrifying fool that swears The next port is surprised, toward which he stares,
209 horn-pipes] Orig. ' horn-/uV5,'
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William Chamber lay^te [bookii
To see the beacon's blaze, but is from far
Deceived b' the light of an ascending star.
So many shapes bear their weak fancies, that
All would do something, but there 's none knows what. 230
In this strange medley of confusion, they
That could command, want such as would obey,
To exercise their power ; each thinks his own
Opinion best, so must perform 't alone.
Or else remain, as hitherto they had.
Busy in doing nothing. In which mad
Fit of distracted fury, like to fight,
For want of foes, amongst themselves, the night,
Grown grey with age, foreshowed her death; when each.
Thinking that now he'd done enough to teach 240
An active soldier vigilance in spending
A night abroad, which they will call defending
Their prince and country from a danger, but
What 't was they know not, swearing 't shall be put
In the next chronicle, they disunite
Their ne'er well-jointed forces, and a flight,
Rather than march t' the several hamlets take.
From whence at first, being scarce half awake,
Not so much clothed, their heedless haste had sent
Them only noise and number to augment. 250
One troop of this disbanded company. Which, though but few, more than could well agree To march together, by mistake being cast Into a narrow strait, met, as they past. The coach that bore the princess, being by those That stole her guarded : the mad rout oppose Their further passage, not because they thought Them to be those their ignorance had sought In their late meeting — the antipathy
'Twixt them and th' gentry is enough to be 260
That quarrel's parent, whose event shall make Their prince and country blessed in their mistake.
Startled from all his temperate joys with this Unlooked-for remora i' the road of bliss, Enraged Almanzor vows to ford the flood O' the present danger, or with his own blood Augment the stream. With that he flies among Those that are nearest of the numerous throng. Who, when they found what difference was between Their clubs (blunt as their valours) and the keen 270
Edge of his sword, would have fell back, but are Forced on by those behind, who, being far
256 oppose] Orig. 't' oppose.'
262 mistake] One suspects, in this and other passages, satire on the very ineffectual 'Clubmen ' of the Western counties in the Rebellion. 265 vowsj Orig. 'rows.'
( 78 )
Canto I] Pharofinida
From danger, fear it not. Thus some are forced
To fight, till their unwilling souls, divorced
From their cold lodgings, made their peace. But here,
Whilst he a conqueror reigns, ingenious fear
Taught them that durst no nearer come, to do
Most mischief at a distance ; climbed unto
The rock's inequitable clifts, from thence
They shower down stones that equally dispense 280
Danger 'mongst friends and foes. Had she not been
Defended by her coach, their princess in
This storm had perished ; or, had fear of death
Unfixed her thoughts, she'd spent that precious breath
Now sacrificing in her prayers to be
From their wild rage delivered safe ; but she,
Oppressed with lethargies of sorrow, lends
No ear to this rude fight, on which depend
So much of fate, — danger appears to lie
Not more in the disease than remedy. 290
Whilst the opposed Almanzor now had near Hewed forth his way through all of them, appear More company by their loud clamours drew Unto their timely aid. Now danger grew Horrid and threatening, till the impetuous shower, Wetting the wings of the fierce rebel's power. Clog all his hopes of flight, unless he leave His trembling prey behind him. To bereave Him of his last of hopes, he sees his train Begin to droop. With those that yet remain 300
He thinks it time, whilst undiscovered, to Secure himself; which difficult to do. At length (though not unwounded) he alone Breaks through their forces, blest in being unknown ; Else had their battered weapons spared to shed The blood of others, and had surfeited On his, which, adding knowledge to the fire Of rage, they had most reason to desire.
The unsuccessful rebel thus secured By speedy flight, his train not long endured 310
The circling danger, which from each side sends Symptoms so deadly, all their strength defends Not the rude torrent, nor their prayers could calm Their foes' stern rage. Sweet mercy's healing balm Is the extraction of brave spirits, which, By innate valour rarified, enrich With that fair gem the triumphs of success, Whilst cowards make the victors' glory less — Their highest flame of rage being but dull earth Fired into tyranny, the spurious birth 320
279 clifts] This word does double duty for ' cliff' and * cleft.'
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William Chamber lay ne [book ii
Of a precedent fear, whose baseness knows No calm, but what from others' danger grows.
And now the field, scoured by the beastly rage O' the savage clowns, had left no foe to engage A life, nor could their policy persuade Them to let one survive, till he had made The plot discovered. With rude haste they crush Their trembling souls out, and all weapons blush In part o' the blood ; so many hands had gave Them hurtless wounds, that the expecting grave 330
Needs only take their bones, for madly they Had minced their flesh for the vulture's easier prey.
This victory gained, they haste t' the coach^ and thence The unknown princess take, no large expense Of prayers, poured from Florenza's fears, could be So powerful to obtain civility. She tells them whom their rage profanes, and by Their princess' name conjures them ; but the high Exalted outcries drown her voice, till one, Who had the rape of the sad lady known, 340
When first performed, did with a louder voice Proclaim her there ; and, having first made choice Of a more civil company to oppose The uncivil clowns, rescues her ; and then shows How near their heedless rage had cast away The glorious prize of that victorious day.
From fainting slumbers raised, the princess, now Secure in their discovery, taught them how To turn their fury into zeal, and show,
By serving her, the allegiance that they owe 350
Her royal father. To the palace corne, Rewarding all, she there commands that some Stay for her guard ; but soon that order grew A troublesome obedience, none would to His cottage whilst that any staid within The palace gates. But long they had not been Thus burthensomely diligent, ere, on A new design, each struggles to be gone From 's former charge ; a messenger is sought. Who to the court must post, but each one thought 360
Himself of most ability, so all Or none must go ; yet, ere the difference fall Into a near approaching quarrel, he Who rescued her, the princess chose to be Her messenger. Euriolus, (for so The youth was called), disdaining to be slow Where such commands gave wings, with speed unto The court was come; but busy fame outflow
349 their] Orig. ' her,'
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Canto I] Phuronnida
His eager haste, and ere 's arrival spread
Some scattered fragments of the news, which bred 370
Suspicion of that doubtful truth, from whence
His message leads to doleful confidence.
THE END OF THE FIRST CANTO.
Canto II
THE ARGUMENT
Freed from suspicion by a cause that tells
His injured prince, Almanzor's guilt exceeds His great'st mistrust — from thence just anger swells,
Till for that fever the whole nation bleeds.
Armies united in a dreadful haste
From distant places sad spectators bring, To see by fortune justice so defaced,
The subjects here pursue a conquered king.
Morea's prudent prince, whose fears had been
Before this message but like truths wrapped in
Dark oracles, now, with a sense enlarged
Beyond imperfect doubts, no longer charged
His judgement with dilemmas, but, in all
The haste indulgent love, when by the call
Of danger frighted, could procure, without
Staying to let slow counsel urge a doubt
Which might but seem a remora unto
His fixed desires, having together drew lo
His guard, was marching ; when, in such a haste
As breathless speed foreshowed they had been chased
By some approaching danger, such as were
Too full of truth and loyalty to bear
Rebellion longer than their thoughts could be
Eased of the burthen by discovery.
Arrive at th' court with this sad news — that by
Almanzor, who, forgetting loyalty.
Had seized Alcithius' castle, they were drove
To fly their country, since that there he strove 20
To raise an army, by whose strength he might
To the sword's power subject the sceptre's right.
By this sad news startled out of his late Fixed resolutions, the vexed prince, whose fate Had not through all the progress of his reign Darted so many plagues, to entertain Them now with strength unballast, calls in haste His late neglected council, and embraced
I Morea's] ' Morea' again : it was Sicilia at II. i. 114. (81) G
Willia7n Cha7nberlay?ie [Book ii
This sudden, but mature advice — that he
Should with such forces as could soonest be 30
Prepared for service, having only seen
Pharonnida, possess that strait between
The castle and the mountains ; from whose rude
Inhabitants, which Nature did include
Within those rocks, rebellion soonest might
Grow to a dangerous tumour : the dim light
Of scarce discerned majesty, so far
Being from them removed, that, lest a war
Enforced him to command their aid, they ne'er
Heard of his mandates ; being more fit to bear 40
The weight of armour on their bodies, than
Of taxes on estates — so small that, when
With all the art of industry improved,
For want were kept, but not for ease beloved.
Through paths that no vestigia showed, to these, As being retained or lost with greatest ease, Since naturally unconstant, comes the king. Not much too late, majestic rays did bring Props to their wavering faith that yet remained Unclad in lawless arms; some being gained 50
Unto Almanzor, whose revolt had brought That freedom, those, whose subtle plots long sought For innovations, wished. The sickly state, In sad irruptions — such as future fate. From sacred truths, speaks deadly symptoms in — Relaxes all that order which had been Till now her cement ; the soft harmony Of peaceful contracts, sadly silenced by That discord in whose flames the kingdom burned, Had all their measures into marches turned. 60
Through'! his dominions speedy orders flew For raising troops ; whilst, with such haste as new- Shorn meadows, when approaching storms are nigh, Tired labourers huddle up, both parties try To levy armies. The sad scholar throws His books aside, and now in practice shows His studied theories ; the stiff labourer leaves I' the half-shorn fields the uncollected sheaves To female taskers, and exchanged his hook Into a sword ; each busy trade, that took 70
Pains in the nicer ornaments of peace, Sit idle till want forced them to increase The new-raised troops ; that ornament o' the hall. Old armours, which had nothing but a wall Of long time saved from the invading dust, From cobwebs swept, though its enamel rust Stick close, and on the unpractised soldier put. Forth of their breasts, nor fear, nor danger shut. (8.)
Canto II] Pharo7t?iida
Yet, with an army of this temper in Haste huddled up, the wandering prince had been 80
Enforced to fight, had not his just cause brought Some loyal gentry, such whose virtue sought Truth for reward, unto his side ; with which He now advances, more completely rich In noble valour, than's rebellious foes In numerous troops. No enemies oppose His speedy march, till being now come near Alcithius' fort, Almanzor's timely fear Hurries him thence. His better fate depends On larger hopes : unto such constant friends 90
As equal guilt by sympathy secured, To them he leaves the castle ; and assured Them of relief, with what convenient speed Those of his faction (which did only need His presence to confirm rebellion by An injured power) could draw their armies nigh.
As hence he marches, each successful hour Augments his strength, till the unlawful power Trebled his injured prince's. But as they Who carry Guilt about them, do betray joo
Her by her sister, Fear, so these, whose crimes Detected, durst not, in more peaceful times, Look justice in the face, and therefore now Stood veiled in arms against her, fearing how She might prevail 'gainst power, march not till A greater strength their empty bosoms fill With hope — a tumour which doth oft dilate The narrow souls of cowards, till their fate Flatter them into ruin, then forsakes
Them in an earthquake, whose pale terror shakes no
Base souls to flight, whilst noble valour dies Adorned with wounds, fame's bleeding sacrifice.
Almanzor's doubtful army, since that here The threatening storm at distance did appear Locked in a calm, possessed with confidence, Slowly their squadrons moves ; but had from thence Not a day's journey marched, before the sad News of Alcithius' desperate danger had Paled o'er their camp ; which whilst the leaders strove To animate, Almanzor faster drove i-:o
On those designs, which, prospering, might prevent It from surrender ; but the time was spent Too far before. The governor that kept It now against his prince, too long had slept In the preceding down of peace, to be Awakened into valour. Only he Had seen 't kept clean from cobwebs, and perhaps The guns shot off, when those loud thunderclaps ( 83 ) G 2
William Chafnberlayne [bookii
Proclaimed a storm of healths ; yet, till he saw
The threatening danger circularly draw 130
An arm^d line about him, in as high
A voice as valour could a foe defy,
He clothes his fears, which shook the false disguise
Off with the first assault, and swiftly flies
To 's prince's mercy ; whose pleased soul he found
Heightened to have his first attempt thus crowned
With victory, which nor made his army less,
Nor steeped in blood, though travailed to success.
To this new conquest, as a place whose strength He best might trust, if, to a tedious length, 140
Or black misfortune, the ensuing war His fate should spin, his choicest treasures are, Together with her in whose safety he Placed life itself, brought for security. This done, that now no slow delays might look Like fear, he with his loyal army took The field ; in which he'd scarce a level chose To rally 's army, ere his numerous foes Appear o' the tops of the adjacent hill,
Like clouds, which, when presaging storms, do fill 150
Dark southern regions. In a plain that lay So near that both the armies' full survey Might from the clifts on which Alcithius stands Be safely viewed, were the rebellious bands Of 's enemies descending, on each side Flanked by a river which did yet divide Him from the prince ; who, having time to choose What ground to fight on, did that blessing use To 's best advantage. On a bridge, which by Boards closely linked had forced an unity 160
Betwixt the banks, his army passed. He now Within a plain, whose spacious bounds allow. Together with a large extension, all An ancient leader could convenient call. Removed no tedious distance from his rear Stood a small town, which, as the place took care How to advance so just an interest, might Be useful — when, tired in the heat of fight, Strength lost in wounds should force some thither by Wants which a camp's unfurnished to supply. 170
More near his front, betwixt him and the plain Through which Alnianzor led his spacious train. On a small hill, which gently rose as though
137 nor] Orig. 'nere,' which for ' never,' is not impossible. In the next hne one suspects 'f.rcess': but with Chainberlaj'nc, more tlian witli others, the least probable is the most likely.
149 tops] Singer ' top,' which seems unnecessary.
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Canto II] Pharo7tnida
Its eminence but only strove to show
The fragrant vale, how much nice art outwent
Her beauties in her brow's fair ornament,
A splendid palace stood ; which, having been
Built but for wanton peace to revel in.
Was as unfit for the rough hand of war
As boisterous arms for tender virgins are. 180
To this, since now of consequence unto The first possessor, had both armies drew. Commanded parties, which ere night shut in Light's latest rays, did furiously begin The first hot skirmish ; which, continuing till Dark shadows all the hemisphere did fill, To such as fear or novelty had sent T' the hills' safe tops, such dreadful prospect lent. By the swift rising of those sudden fires.
In whose short close that fatal sound expires, 190
Which tells each timorous auditor — its breath. To distant breasts, bears unexpected death. That, whilst their eyes direct their thoughts unto Their danger whom reward or honour drew To the encounter, all the uncouth sight Affords — to horror turns that strange delight.
These circling fires drawn near their centre, in Such tumult as armies engaged begin Death's fatal task, a dreadful sound surprised The distant ear. Danger, that lay disguised 200
In darkness yet, now, as if wakened by The conquerors' shouts, so general and so high. That it e'en drowned the clamorous instruments Of fatal war, her veil of sables rents From round the palace, by that horrid light Which her own turrets through the steams of night In dreadful blazes sent, discovering both The shadowed armies ; who, like mourners loath To draw too near their sorrow's centre, while Their friends consume, surround the blazing pile, 210
In such a sad and terrible aspect. That those engaged in action could neglect Approaching danger, to behold how they Like woods grown near the foot of ^tna lay, Whilst the proud palace from her sinking walls In this sharp fever's fiery crisis falls. ' But now the night, as wearied with a reign So full of trouble, had resigned again The earth's divided empire, and the day, Grown strong in light, both armies did display 220
203 it] Singer ' they,' as he usually reads in such cases. But ' it ' is idiomatic and probable.
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JVilliatn Cha7nherlay7ie [book ii
To their full view, who to the mountain (in
Sad expectation of the event) had been
Early spectators called. Here, seated nigh
Their female friends, old men, exempted by
Weakness from war's too rough encounters, show
Those colours which their active youth did know
Adorn the field, when those that now engage,
Like tender plants kept for the future age.
In blooming childhood were ; 'mongst this they tell
What heroes in preceding battles fell, 230
Where victory stooped to valour, and where rent
From brave desert by fatal accident ;
Then, ere their story can a period have,
Show wounds they took, and tell of some they gave.
This sad preludium to an action far More dismal past, the unveiled face of War Looks big with horror : now both armies draw So near, that their divided brothers saw Each other's guilt — that too too common sin Of civil war. Rebellious sons stood in 240
Arms 'gainst their fathers clad ; friends, that no cross Could disunite, here found the fatal loss Of amity, and as presaging blood 1' the worst aspect, sad opposition, stood : One was their fashion, form, and discipline ; Strict heralds in one scutcheon did combine The arms of both armies — yet all this must be By war's wild rage robbed of its unity.
Whilst like sad Saturn, ominous and slow, Each army moved, some youths, set here to grow, 250
By forward actions, stately cedars to Adorn Fame's court, like shooting stars were flew. So bright, so glittering, from the unwieldy throng Of either army ; which, being mixed among Each other, in a swift Numidian fight. Like air's small atoms when discovering light Betrays their motions, show ; some hours had past In this light skirmish — till now, near war's last Sad scene arrived, as the distressed heart calls, Before the body death's pale victim falls, 260
Those spirits that dispersed by actions were. Back to their centre, their commander's care Summons these in ; that so united strength Might swiftly end — or else sustain the length Of that black storm, where yet that danger stood. Which must ere long fall in a shower of blood.
A dismal silence, such as oft attends Those that surround the death-beds of their friends
240 Rebellious] Orig. ' Rebellion's,' nescio an rede. (86)
Canto II] Pharofinida
In the departing minute, reigns throughout
Both armies' troops; who, gathered now about 270
Their several standards, and distinguished by
Their several colours, such variety
Presents the eye with, that, whilst the sad thought
Beholds them but as fallen branches brought
To the decay of time, their view did bring
In all the pleasures of the checkered spring ;
Like a large field, where being confined unto
Their several squares — here blushing roses grew,
There purpled hyacinths, and, near to them,
The yellow cowslip bends its tender stem, 2 So
T' the mountain's tops, the army, marching low
Within the vale, their several squadrons show.
This silent time, which by command was set Aside to pay confession's needful debt To oft-offended Heaven, whose aid, though gave Ere asked, yet, since our duty is to crave. Expects our prayers. The armies, from their still Devotion raised, declare what spirits fill Their breast, by such an universal joy.
As, to get young, and not the old destroy, 290
Each had by beauteous paranymphs been led, Not to rough war, but a soft nuptial bed.
That fatal hour, by time, which, though it last Till fixed stars have a perfect circle past. We still think short, to action brought ; which now So near approached, it could no more allow The generals to consult, although there need Nought to augment, when valour's flame doth feed High on the hopes of victory, the rage
Of eager armies. Ere their troops engage, 300
Their several leaders all that art did use. By which loud war's rough rhetoric doth infuse Into those bodies, on whose strength consists Their safety, souls whose brave resolves might twist Them into chains of valour, which no force. Than death less powerful, ever should divorce.
The prince, as more depending on the just Cause that had drawn his sword, which to distrust Looks like a crime, soonest commits the day To Fate's arbitrement. No more delay 310
Comforts the fainting coward, — a sad sound Of cannon gave the signal, and had drowned The murmuring drum in silence ; Earth did groan In trembling echoes ; on her sanguine throne. High mounted, Horror sits ; wild Rage doth fill Each breast with fury, whose fierce flames distil
273 presents] Singer, as always where he notices, ' present.' I think it well to draw occasional but not constant attention to this,
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William Chamber lay 7te [Book ii
Life through the alembics of their veins : that cloud
Of dust, which, when they first did move, a shroud
Of darkness veiled them in, allayed with blood,
Fell to the earth ; whose clefts a crimson flood 320
Filled to the brim, and, when it could contain
No more, let forth those purple streams to stain
The blushing fields, which being made slippery by
The unnatural shower, there lets them sink and die ;
Whose empty veins rent in this fatal strife,
Here dropped the treasure of exhausted life.
In sad exchange of wounds, whilst the last breath.
E'en flying forth to give another death.
Supports the fainting spirits, all were now
Sadly employed; armed Danger could allow 330
In this loud storm of action, none to stand
Idle spectators ; but each busy hand
Labours, in death's great work, his life to sell
At rates so dear — that foe by which he fell.
To boast his gain, survives not. But now, in
This mart of death, blind Fortune doth begin
To show herself antagonist unto
Less powerful Justice. In the common view
Of Reason, which by the external shape
Of actions only judges, no escape 340
From their desert — captivity, was left
The rebels' army, but the unmanly theft
Of secret flight to some, protected by
Their fellows' loss ; when, in a rage as high
As if it had attempted to outroar
The battle's thunder, a rude tempest, bore
F"rom southern climates on the exalted wings
Of new-raised winds, a change so fatal brings
T' the royal army, that from victory's near
Successful pride, unto extremes which fear 350
Did ne'er suggest, it brought them back to view
Their glorious hopes thus sadly overthrew. —
A strong reserve, raised by his friends to be Almanzor's rescue, if that victory Seemed to assist the juster part, was now Brought near the river ; which endeavouring how To ford, they there unwillingly had been Detained, till strength had proved but useless in The prince's conquest, if the swelling flood, Whose added streams, too strong to be withstood, 360
Had not in that impetuous torrent tore That bridge which passed the royal army o'er; Whose severed boats born down the river made So sad a change, that, whilst their foes invade
317 veins] Orig. ' reins ' which, again, is quite possibly not wrong. (88)
/
Canto II] Pharonnidu
Their rear on them, the late lamented loss Forbid the others when dispersed to cross The waves by dangers, which in each breast bred Terrors as great as those from whence they fled.
The valiant army, like life's citadel — The heart, when nought but poisonous vapours swell 370
Every adjacent part, long struggling in Death's sharp convulsions, out of hopes to win Aught there but what buys the uncertain breath Of future fame at the high price of death ; At length, not conquered, but o'erburthened by A flood of power, in night's obscurity, When dreadful shadows had the field o'erspread. As darkness were a herse-cloth for the dead. That this day's losses might not grow too great For reparation, by a hard retreat, 380
Attempt to save such of their strengths, as, since Enforced to fly, might safely guard the prince PYom dangers ; which could but his foes have viewed, Their motions all had unto death pursued.
In this distress, from that vast sea of blood — The field where late his army marshalled stood — The wretched prince retires ; but with a train So small, they seemed like those that did remain After a deluge. Where the river's course. Stopped with dead bodies, ran with smallest force, 390
He ventures o'er the flood, whose guilty waves Blushes in blood. Some few, whom Fortune saves To attend on him, alike successful by That bold adventure, whilst the prince doth fly To guard Alcithius, by his mandates are, Since the disasters of this fatal war Forced him to seek for more assistance, sent To the Epirot. Striving to prevent Those wild reports, that, on the quick belief Of female fear, might be imposed by grief, 400
He hastes to bear the sad report to her^ Whose sorrow 's lost to see the messenger.
368 whence] Singer, in an arbitrary mood of book-grammar, 'which.'
THE END OF THE SECOND CANTO.
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Canto III
THE ARGUMENT
Through the dark terrors of a dreadful night,
The prince to 's daughter comes with flying speed ;
From dangers, great as those he feared in flight, Is by Argalia's forward valour freed.
Who having with successful fortune gave
His master freedom, their joint strength pursue Their flying foes unto an uncouth cave,
In whose vast womb Fate's dark decrees they view.
This last retreat, which seemed but to defer
Danger by being Honour's sepulchre,
Attained in haste ; there, calming all the strife
Of various passion, since her father's life
Paid all the tears she owed his losses, he
His virtuous daughter found, prepared to be
No sad addition to his sorrow by
The faults of female imbecility —
Untimely tears ; but with a confidence
High as e'er taught brave valour to dispense lo
With sad disasters, armed to entertain
The worst of ills : to ease the wounded's pain,
Or stop their blood, those hands which once she thought
Should have to victors Triumph's garlands brought,
Are now employed ; yet, that her acts may be
The best examples to posterity,
Her present ill, she with such strength withstood^
Its power was lost in hopes of future good.
Precipitated from a throne to be Subjected by a subject's tyranny ; 20
To want their pity — who of late did know No peace, but what his influence did bestow; With sad presaging fears, to think his fair, His virtuous daughter, his rich kingdom's heir. Like to be ravished from his baffled power — A trophy to a rebel conqueror ; With such afflicting griefs as did exclude The comforts of his passive fortitude. Oppressed the prince : when now an army, led By their pursuing enemies, o'erspread 30
The circHng fields, and brings their fear within The reach o' the eye. Heightened with hope to win That now by pari, which, ere the sad success Of battle made their conquered numbers less, He feared in fight ; the confidently bold Almanzor, in a scroll that did unfold
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Canto III] Pharomiida
A language, whose irreverent style affords
Far more of anger than his soldiers' swords
Had ere stirred fear within his prince's breast,
His fixed intentions thus in brief exprest : — 4©
GREAT SIR,
No airy tumour of untamed desire,
Nursed my ambition, prompts me to aspire
To any action that may soar above
My birth or loyalty ; — it was the love
I bore your virtuous daughter that first clad
Me in defensive arms, which never had
Been else unsheathed, though't had been to defend
Me from injustice — should your sword extend
Its power to tyranny ; but, failing in 50
That first attempt, ere streams of blood had been
Shed in addition to those drops, my hand
Had broke my sword as guilty, had this land
To whom I owe for the first air I breathed.
Not washed the stain in tears, and since unsheathed
It in the name of Justice. To their good,
Which trembling on uncertain hopes hath stood,
Whilst fearing foreign governors, I have
Added my love, and satisfaction crave
For both, before a greater ill may fall, 60
To make our sufferings epidemical — ■
By being slaves to some proud tyrant, that
In politic ambition reaches at
A kingdom by professed affection, and
Marries your daughter, to command your land.
This scroll, spotted with impudence, received By the vexed prince, whom passion had bereaved Of politic evasions, he returns A swift defiance ; but his high rage burns Nought but his own scorched breast — the fainting fire, 70
Quenched by constraint, wants fuel to blaze higher Than flashy threaten ings, which, since proved a folly, Sink in the ashes of melancholy ; For which his ablest council could prepare No cordial of advice — they rather share With him in sorrow, whose harsh burthen grows Not lighter by the company of those That now lend hearts to bear it. Only in This sullen cloud's obscurity, this sin
Of their nativity, the noble soul 80
Of the undaunted princess did control
37 irreverent] Orig. 'irreverent/.' 43 my] 'by'?
73 Singer inserts 'his' before melancholy, but Chamberlayne may have accented the antepenultimate, without scruple as to the rhyme.
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JVilliam Chamber layne [bookii
The harshest lectures of her stars, and sate Unshaken in this hurricane of fate : Calming her father's hot adversity With dews of comfort, taught him how to be Prince of his passions — a command more great Than his that trembles in a regal seat.
The enemy, that vainly had till now Toiled forth their strength, no more endeavours how By force to conquer ; some small time, they knew, yo
Would, with the bloodless sword of famine, do More than their cannon could. — The meagre fen Already grew tyrannical, his men. Like walking ghosts, wait on their prince, and stand For shadows on their platforms ; not a hand, But was unnerved with want ; yet, whilst each part Languished toward death, each bosom held a heart, Which, though most large, could never empty be, Being doubly filled with grief and loyalty ; Amongst both which, hope for a part puts in — loo
As the supporter of what else had been A burthen insupportable, and spoke This pleasing language — That the royal oak, Beneath whose winter fortune now they stood, Pining for want — the withered underwood That all his miseries dropped on — yet they shall, Whene'er his brighter stars again do call His fortune into light, be comforted By his kind shadow ; which shall those, that fled Him in this sad extreme, then leave to be no
Scorched in the rays of angry majesty.
Reduced unto this pitied exigence. Yet, by his honour, which could not dispense With aught that like suspicion looked, detained From what by pari might have their freedom gained. The loyal sufferers, to declare how far They fear declined: those mourning weeds of war, Whose sight a desperate valour doth betray, Black ensigns, on their guarded walls display. When to augment their high resolves, with what 120
Their valour was to pity softened at, After, with all those coarse, though scarce cates, they By sparing, first attempted to betray Time till relief with, they'd been fed till now There nought remained, that longer could allow Life further hopes of sustenance, to do An act so great, all ages to ensue, Shall more admire than imitate ; within The hall appears their sovereign, leading in His hand the princess; whose first view, though drest 130 In robes as sad as sorrows e'er exprest,
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Canto III] Phar07l7lida
Was but the frontiers of their grief to what, When nearer seen, whilst sorrow silenced at So sad an object, might for death be took, Made solemn grief like grave religion look.
Whilst all thus in sad expectation stand Of future fate, disdaining to command Those whom an equal sorrow seemed to make His fellow sufferers, the sad prince thus spake His fixed resolves : — ' Brave souls, whose loyal love, 140
Oppressed by my unhappy woes, must prove Part of my grief, since by my wretched fate Forced with my own life to precipitate Your's into danger; from whose reach, (since by No crime — until the love of loyalty Become a sin — you are called guilty), yet Seek some evasion : 'tis not you that sit Upon the throne he aims at, nor doth here A rival in Pharonnida appear.
No, 'tis our lives, our lives, brave subjects, that 150
His bold ambition only reaches at ; By this pretence — what to my daughter, love, To 's country, 's pity called, — could he remove Those now but small obstructions soon would grow, To 's pride united, till it overflow All limits of a subject's duty by Rebellious reach, usurped tyranny.
'Go then, and let not my unhappiness Afflict you more i' the shadow of distress : 'Twill like warm comfort swell my soul, to know 160
That to his favour you for safety owe. Did not those sacred canons, that include All virtue in a Christian's fortitude. Obstruct our passion's progress, we, ere this. In death had made the haughty rebel miss The glory of his conquest ; which since now Denied, although unwieldly age allow Not strength to sell my life at such a rate Honour aims at, yet shall the slow debate. E'en in my fall, let the world know I died, 170
Scorning his pity, as they hate his pride.'
Here stopped the prince ; when, as if every breast One universal sorrow had possest. Grief (grown into more noble passion) broke The attentive silence, and thus swiftly spoke Their resolutions: — 'On, on, and lead Us unto death, no critic eye shall read Fear through the optics of our souls ; but give Command to act — here 's not a heart durst live Without obedience.' Comforted with this 180
Rich cordial, from his sorrow's dark abyss
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William Chainherlayne [Book ii
Raised to resolves, whose greatness equalled all His former glory, by their fatal fall To darken the ensuing day, the prince Gives a command to all his train — that since Their own free votes elected death, they now With souls that no terrestrial thought allow A residence, 'gainst the next morn prepare That wished-for freedom with himself to share.
All sadly sat, expecting but that light 190
Whose near approach must to eternal night Their last conductor be. A sudden, still, And doleful silence, such as oft doth fill The room where sick men slumber, when their friends Stand weeping by, to contemplation bends Their busy thoughts ; within each troubled breast, Being to leave the mansion she'd possessed So long, yet with so short a warning, all Her faculties the frighted soul did call
Forth of the bosom of those causes, in 200
Whose form they'd fettered to their crasis been. To join those powers (yet strong in living breath) For her assistance in the grasp of death.
The whispering trumpet having called them by Such sharp notes, as, when powerful foes are nigh Retreating, parties use, all swiftly rise From bended knees, and the last sacrifice They e'er expect to pay to Heaven, until Their soul's last gasp the vocal organs fill. Concluded was the last sad interview, 210
The prince was marched, Pharonnida withdrew. And now, all from the opened ports were in A swift march sallying, had their speed not been Thus swiftlier stopped : — Those scattered horse that fled The battle to the Epirot's court had sped So well in their embassage, that the prince, Whom the least negligence might now convince Of want of love, proud of so fair a chance To show 's affection, swiftly doth advance With a vast army toward them. Lest the fear 220
Prevailing danger, ere their strength come near To their necessitated friends, might force Them to unworthy articles, some horse Selected are, whose swifter speed might, by A desperate charge broke through tlieir foes, supply Their fainting friends. The much desired command Of these few men, committed to the hand Of brave Argalia, (ne'er more blest than now In serving the fair princess), did allow
His sword so fair a field to write the story 230
Of honour in, that his unblasled glory
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Canto III] Pharountda
Beyond this day shall live — outlive the reach Of long-armed envy, and those weak souls teach, That fear the frowns of Fate, in spite of all, Heroic Virtue sits too high to fall.
With the day's close they take their march, and, ere The silver morning on her brow did bear The burnished guilt o' the sun's warm rays, arrive In view o' the place. AVhen Fortune, that did strive To crown their hopes, had wrapped the earth in thick 240 And heavy mists, the sluggish morning, sick Of midnight surfeits, from her dewy bed Pale and discoloured rose. This curtain spread To veil their plot in, they assault their foes ; Which when surprised could not themselves dispose Fit for resistance, but whilst some did fly From the distracting danger, others die To their neglect a sacrifice. The swift Alarum, like a rude wind's circling drift.
Hurries confusion through the field, and shook 250
The trembling soldier; some unclad forsook Their half-fired cabins ; death's large gripe did take Whole troops that destiny ordained to wake No more till dooms-day, and in 's march prevents The unition of unrallied regiments.
This frighted language of confusion heard By those o' the castle, which were now prepared For their last desperate sally, swiftly draws Them to assist their friends; and though the cause. Being yet unknown, was only thought to be 260
Some private jar grown to a mutiny ; Or else the noise the enemy had made, When all their force was drawing to invade Them in their works : howe'er they stand not to Consult with reason, but, as striving who Shall first encounter death, each several hand Sought for his own from those that did withstand His rage-directed strength. Their cannon in A funeral peal went off, whose steam had been Their covert to the camp; where finding such 270
A wild confusion, they assisted much The fortune of the day, which now was grown Indubitable — they might call their own A glorious conquest. The thick sulphury cloud, AVhose dismal shade did that destruction shroud, Rent with those thunder claps, dissolved into A shower of blood ; what she vouchsafed to do, Fortune lends light to show them. Having left Their camp, whilst darkness did protect a theft
255 unition] Singer ' union,' which seems to me rather a bad emendation. (95)
William Cha7nberlay?ie [book ii
That only stole dishonour, which they were 2S0
Now in an open flight enforced to bear,
They see Almanzor's broken troops o'erspread
The neighbouring fields : those clouds of men that fled,
Being pursued by companies so small,
That they appeared but like those drops that fall
After a storm. Yet, as the labouring heart
Long struggles for that life, which doth depart
From the less noble members to lend aid
To her in death's pale conflict, having staid
Some of his best commanders, hoping by 290
Their valour to recall the rest, with high
Undaunted force, Almanzor doth oppose
His enemy's pursuit, till like to enclose
Him in, disdaining the reproachful end
He must expect, no longer stands to attend
The glimmering light of hope : the field he leaves
To conquering Argalia, but deceives
Him of himself — the prize most sought for ; which
When lost beyond recovery, he grown rich
In shining honour, that, like sun-beams placed 300
Within a field of gules, by being defaced,
Had beautified his armour. That dark mist.
Which did at first such contradictions twist,
That he both curst, and blest it — one, 'cause 't did
Aid his design, the other, 'cause it hid.
His heaven of beauty in their dewy bed
Had left the blushing roses, and was fled
Upon the wings o' the wind. With wonder now
Discovered colours taught each party how
To know their friends. The royal standard in 310
The prince's party had developed been,
By that fair signal to discover who
Was present there. But ere ArgaHa to
That place arrived, Pharonnida, who had,
Whilst desperation all her beauties clad
In the pale robes of fear, heard all the loud
Shock of the conflict ; but, until the cloud
Removed his fatal curtain, never knew
How near the hour of her delivery drew;
That being dissolved, through those which grief had raised 320
In her fair eyes, did see, and seeing praised
Just Heaven which sent it. Each of those that
Fought for her she commends; but wonders at,
Although unknown, the lightning valour she
Saw in Argalia, whilst with just rage he
Unravels nature's workmanship — a rent
Which were a sin, if not a punishment,
304 did] The text, which is probable and characteristic enough, is Singer's. Orig. one cause did ' and in next line ' cause' without apostrophe.
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Canto III] Pharofinida
And from the slender web of life did send
Forth rebels' souls, fast as each busy fiend
That wait their fall transport them. Fain she would, 330
Ere known, conceit 'twere he, but how he should
Come there, and so attended, did exceed
Imagination. Thus whilst her hopes feed
On strange desires, being come near unto
The coach wherein she sat, prepared to do
His love's oblations, he that face disarms;
Which, when beheld, by those attractive charms,
Within the centre of her best desires.
Contracted all her hopes, whose life expires
Soon as they're crowned with wished success. Too great 340
A distance parts them yet — she leaves her seat,
And flies to his embraces, but concealed
Her passion in his merit, being revealed
To him alone, whose better judgement knew.
That, in those spirit-breathing beams that flew
Through the fair casements of her eyes, did move
The secret language of an ardent love.
This conflict of her passions, which had been Fought betwixt fear and hope, was settled in A silent joy, that from her noble breast 350
Struggled for passage ; whilst Argalia; blest Above his hopes, in burning kisses seals His service on her virgin hand, that steals From thence new flames into her heart ; which ere Fed with desire, e'en whilst she did prepare To entertain those welcome guests, appears The prince, who now, thawed from the icy fears Of desperation, was come there to give Thanks to his unknown friends ; but words did live Within a place too barren to bestow 3''°
That fruitful zeal, whose plenty did o'erflow His eyes, those clouded orators, which till Disburthened did capacious passion fill.
This moist gale o'er, when now they had awhile Melted in joy, clothing it with a smile, He thus unfolds his comfort : ' Blessed Fates, You have out-tried my charity, he hates All real virtue, that confesses not My care of thee was but an unknown spot To this large world of satisfaction.' — Here 370
Kind sorrow stopped his voice again. When fear Their enemies might rally, and i' the bud Blast all their blooming joys, even whilst the blood Reeked on his sword, leaving their eyes to pay Pursuing prayers, Argalia posts away,
330 wait, transport] Singer, with his usual well-intentioned officiousness. ' waite ' and ' transports.'
(97 ) H
Willia^n Chamber lay ne [book ii
But finds his foes dispersed, excepting one
Stout regiment, whose desperation, grown
To valour, spite of all pursuers, made
Good their retreat ; till forced at length to shade
Themselves from the pursuing danger in 380
A deep dark cave, whose spacious womb had been
Their receptacle, when unlawful theft
Was their profession. In this place they'd left
Their dearest pledges, as most confident
Those dark meanders would their loss prevent.
These stout opposers being protected here, Before Argalia brought his army near, Had fortified the narrow pass, and now Presume of safety, since none else knew how Without their leave to enter. Hemmed about 390
With all the castle foot, his horse sent out To clear the field, the careful general sees ; Then every quarter made secure, he frees His own from all suspected danger. While This busy siege did better things beguile Of some few steps of time, the prince arrives, To see the leaguer, where each captain strives With entrance to be honoured : but in vain The subtle engineer here racks his brain ; The mountains yield not to their cannon shock, 400
Nor mine could pierce the marble-breasted rock.
Thus whilst they lay despairing e'er to force A place so difficult, with some few horse Only attended, the vexed prince surrounds The spacious hill, whose uncouth sight confounds His ablest guides; making a stand to view A promontory, on whose brow there grew A grove of stately cedars, from a dark And hidden cleft, proud of so rich a mark, Some muskets are discharged ; which missing, by 410
A desperate sally 's seconded. To fly The danger thorough such a dreadful way As now they were to pass, was not to stay — But hasten ruin ; though too weak, in fight More safety lay, than an unworthy flight.
But valour, like the royal eagle by A cloud of crows o'ermastered, less to die With honour, had no refuge left; and that Here each plebeian gains. When, frighted at The unusual clamour, with such troops as were 430
Most fit for speed, Argalia was come there — Arrived even with that minute which first saw His prince a captive. Now the rebels draw Back to their private sally-port, but are
415 an] Singer ' in ' perhaps unnecessarily.
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Canto III] Pharonnida
Too speedily pursued to enter far
Within their dark meanders, ere o'ertook
By their enraged foes, who had forsook
Their other stations, and to this alone
Drew all their forces, entering the unknown
And horrid cave, whose troubled womb till then 430
Ne'er such a colic felt. Argalia's men.
Following so brave a leader, boldly tread
Through the rock's rugged entrails ; those that fled,
Though better skilled in their obscure retreat,
No safety find. The cave's remotest seat
Was now the stage of death ; together thronged,
After their swords had life's last step prolonged.
There all the villains in despair had died.
Had not the fear their prince in such a tide
Of blood might have been shipwrecked ; whom to save, 440
A general pardon to the rest is gave.
And now the dreadful earthquake, which had turned The rock to MXx\z., could its top have burned With subterranean fires, being ceased ; the prince, Desirous by his knowledge to convince Those word-deep wonders, which report had spread Of that strange cave, commands some to be led By an old outlaw, whose experience knew The uncouth vault's remotest corners, to
Those seats of horror. Which performed, and word 450
Returned again, the danger did afford Subject for nobler spirits ; forthwith he, Attended by Argalia, goes to see What had affrighted them. The dreadful way Through which he passed, being steep and rugged, lay Between two black and troubled streams, that through The cleft rock rolled with horrid noise, till to An ugly lake, v/hose heavy streams did lie Unstirred with air, they come, and there are by That black asphaltos swallowed. A strange sound 460
Of yelling dragons, hissing snakes, confound Each trembling auditor; till comforted By bold Argalia venturing first to tread On stones, which did like ruined arches lie Above the surface of the lake, he 's by Their aid brought to an ancient tower, that stood Fixed in the centre of the lazy flood : — Its basis founded on a rock, whose brow, With age disfigured into clefts, did now
AVith loud and speedy ruin threaten to 470
Crush all beneath it ; round about it flew On sooty wings such ominous birds as hate The cheerful day ; vipers and scorpions sate Circled in darkness, till the cold damp breath
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William Chamberlayne [book ii
Of near concreted vapours, singed to death
B' the numerous light of torches, which did shine
Through the whole mountain's convex, and refine
Air with restraint corrupted, forcing way
By conquering flames recalls the banished day.
Come now to a black tower, which seemed to be 480
The throne of some infernal deity, That his extended laws reaches unto The brazen gate, whose folded leaves withdrew Assaults their eyes with such a flux of light, That, as the dim attendants of the night In bashful duty shun the prince of day. So their lost tapers unto this give way ; Whilst it, with wonder that belief outgrew, Transports their sights to the amazing view Of so much beauty, that the use of sense 490
Was lost in more than human excellence.
A glorious room, so elegantly fair In 'ts various structure, that the riotous heir O' the eastern crescent that might choose to be The theatre of shining majesty. They now behold ; yet than its mighty strength, Which had preserved such beauty from the length Of Age's iron talons, there appear More rare perfections — the large floor, of clear Transparent emeralds, lent a lustre to 503
The oval roof; whose scarce seen ground was blue^ Studded with sparkling gems, whose brightness lent The beauties of the vaulted firmament To all beneath their beams ; the figured walls, Embossed with rare and antic sculptury, calls For th' next observance : though the serious eye, The way to truth in secret mystery Here having lost, lets the dark text alone, To view the beauties of a glorious throne, Which, placed within the splendid room, did stand 510
Beneath an ivory arch, o'er which the hand Of art, in golden hieroglyphics, had The story of ensuing fate unclad, But vainly, since the art-defective times Struck nought but discords on those well-tuned chimes.
Upon the throne, in such a glorious state As earth's adortid favourites, there sate The image of a monarch, vested in The spoils of nature's robes, whose price had been A diadem's redemption ; his large size, 520
Beyond this pigmy age, did equalize The admired proportion of those mighty men. Whose cast-up bones, grown modern wonders, when Found out, are carefully preserved to tell (loo)
Canto III] Pharofinida
Posterity — how much these times are fell
From Nature's youthful strength ; if ['t] be not worse,
Our sin's stenography, the dwarfish curse
Ordained for large-sized luxury. Before
The throne, a lamp, whose fragrant oils had more
Perfumed the room than all the balmy wealth 530
Of rich Arabia, stood ; light, life, and health,
Dwelt in its odours, but what more contents
The pleased spectators, that fair hand presents
The rest t' the view : — the image to declare
Of whom the effigies was, on 's front did bear
A regal crown, and in his hand sustained
A threatening sceptre; but what more explained
Antiquity's mysterious dress was seen
In a small tablet ; which, as if 't had been
Worth more observance than what Fate exprest 540
In unknown figures, he did gently rest
His left hand on, as if endeavouring by
That index to direct posterity,
How in their wonder's altitude to praise
The deeper knowledge of those wiser days.
By reading in such characters as Time
Learned in her nonage — this — in antic rhyme,
When striving to remove this light.
It princes leaves involved to night,
The time draws near, that shall pull down 550
My old Morea's triple crown ;
Uniting, on one royal head.
What to disjoin such discord bred :
But let the more remote take heed,
For there's a third ordained to bleed';
For when I'm read, not understood,
Then shall Epirus' royal blood.
By ways no mortal yet must know,
Within the Aetolian channel flow.
This strange inscription read, not only by 560
The prince, but those whom wonder had drawn nigh The sacred room, their fancies' civil war Grows full of trouble ; 'tis a text so far Beyond a comment, that their judgements, in Enigmas mazed, had long let motion been In epileptic wonder lost, until (As that alone contained their dreaded ill) The greater part with joined consents advise To have the lamp removed, since in it lies. If those lines prove prophetic, the linked fate 57°
Of all letian princes. Which debate 549 to] Singer 'in.' 571 letian] In the extraordinary confusion of propernames,
which has been already noticed, it would probably be quite vain to guess at this.
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LIBRARY
university of california
rivers:de
William Chamber layiie [bookii
Being carried in the affirmative, the rest
Drew back, whilst bold Argalia forward prest ;
But 's thus soon staid ; — the stone, on which he slept
Next, was by art so framed, that it had kept
Concealed an engine's chiefest spring, which, by
The least weight touched, in furious haste let fly
Unpractised wheels, and with such vigour strook
The sceptre on the long-lived lamp — it shook
Its crystal walls to dust ; — not thunder's strong 580
Exagitations, when it roars among
Heaps of congested elements, a sound
More dreadful makes. But what did most confound
Weak trembling souls, was the thick darkness that
Succeeds the dying flame ; which wondering at,
Whilst all remain, art's feeble aids supply
The lamp's lost virtue with new lights, but by
Cold damps so darkened, that contracted night
Scorned their weak flames, showing that hallowed light
Contained more sacred virtues. Now, as Fate 590
Had only to that hour prolonged the date
Of all within, a sudden change, to dust
The mighty body turns ; consuming rust
Had ate the brazen imagery, and left
No sign of what till then safe from the theft
Of time remained ; darkness had repossessed
The sullen cave to an eternal rest ;
In the rude chaos of their ashes, all
Art's lively figures in an instant fall.
Pleased with the sight of these strange objects more 600 Than with war's dangers he was vexed before, The prince with all his train of conquerors now Is gone to teach the expecting army how To share their wonder; but not far from thence Removes, before confirmed intelligence Acquaints him with the Epirot's march ; who in His swift advance so fortunate had been. That falling on such as the morning's flight Flattered with hope, they there met endless night At unawares: but of these added numbers 610
Was cursed Almanzor none ; yet Justice slumbers r the prosecution of his unripe fate. Which must more horrid sins accumulate : Before cut off, his clamorous guilt must call For vengeance louder, and grow hectical With custom, till the tables of his shame Into oblivion rot his loatht;d name.
THE END OF THE THIRD CANTO.
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Canto IV] Pharonnida
Canto IV
THE ARGUMENT
From war's wide breaches, whence his brave friends had With victory brought him, the old prince arrived
In safety, whilst fear punishes the bad,
Rewards that virtue which his cause revived.
In which brave act, Argalia's merits met
With a reward that e'en desert outgrew, Whilst him it the fair princess' guardian set,
The root on which love's fruit to ripeness grew.
That too inferior branch, which strove to rise
With the basilic to anastomize,
Thus drained, the state's plethoric humours are
Reduced to harmony ; that blazing star,
Which had been lifted by rebellious breath
To's exaltation, in the House of Death
Now lay oppressed. Which victory complete,
Leaving his army where before the seat
O' the rebels was, his entertainment by
The welcome harbinger of victory lo
Before prepared, the pleased Epirot goes
With an exalted joy to visit those
His goodness, whilst unknown, relieved; where he
Such noble welcome finds, as not to be
Imagined but by grateful souls that know
The strength of courtesy, when 'twould o'erflow
Those merits, which, whilst love incites to praise
Our friend's deserts, to pyramids we raise.
The narrow confines of Alcithius' wall, Which kept them safe from dangers past, too small 2q
Grows for that present triumph, that blots out All thoughts of grief, but what are spent about Thanksgiving for delivery ; which they do Perform in sports, whose choice delights might woo Cold anchorites from their sullen cells. The earth. The air, the sea, all, in a plenteous birth, Exhausted their rich treasuries to pay Tribute to their desires ; which, could Time stay Her chariot wheels from hurrying down the hill Of feeble nature, man's vain thoughts would fill 30
With subaltern delights, most highly prized, Till the conclusion. Death, hath annalized The doubtful text with what lets mortals know Their blooming joys must drop to shades below.
29 Her] Singer alters, on general principles, to ' His.' But Chamberlayne is so eccentric that he might have imagined Time as feminine, which is not at all unthinkable.
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That great eclipse of glory's rays, within Whose shades sad Corinth had benighted been, Since, like a widowed turtle, first she sate A mourner for her wandering prince's fate ; Now, like the day's recovered reign, breaks forth In fuller lustre. All excelling worth, 4°
That honoured virtue, or loved beauty, placed. Her ornaments, with their appearance graced Those public triumphs she prepares to meet The princes in ; in every splendid street The various pride of Persia strove to outvie Rich English wool dipped in the Tyrian dye : Each shop shines bright, and every merchant shows How little to domestic toil he owes. By the displaying beauteous wardrobes, where The world's each part may justly claim a share : 50
Though what in all art's stiff contention lent Most lustre, was the windows' ornament — Fair constellations of bright virgins, that. Like full-blown flowers, first to be wondered at. Display their beauties, but that past withal. Tempt some kind hand to pluck them ere they fall.
Their entrance in this triumph made, whilst now Each busy artist is endeavouring how To court their fancies, Time's small stock to improve. The grave Epirot, whose designs toward love 60
Yet only by ambition led, had made His first approach so seeming retrograde By state's nice cautions, and what did presage More ill — the inequality of age. That when converse his private captive led, His largest hopes on the thin diet fed Of a paternal power ; assisted by Whose useful aid, with all the industry Of eager love, he still augments that fire Which must consume, not satisfy desire. 70
But, as occasion warned him to prevent Unequal flames, he but few days had spent In love's polemics, ere unpractised art. From this calm field to war's more serious part Is sadly summoned. Those large conquests he Had triumphed in, whilst glorious victory Waited on's sword, too spacious to be kept Obedient whilst that glittering terror slept In an inactive peace, disclaiming all
The harsh injunctions of proud victors, fall 80
Off from 's obedience ; and to justify Their bold revolt, to the unsafe refuge fly Of a defensive power. To crush whose pride. With such a force as an impetuous tide
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Canto ivj Phavonnida
Assaults the shore's defence, he's forced to take
A march so sad, as souls when they forsake
The well-known mansions of their bodies to
Tread death's uncertain paths, and there renew
Acquaintance with eternity; perplexed
To hear those new combustions, but more vexed 90
With love's proud flames burning. In which we'll leave
Him on his hasty voyage, and receive
A smile from the fair princess' fate ; which, till
Enjoyment stifles strong desire, will fill
The tragic scene no more, but, with as sad
A progress to her hopes, as ever had
Poor virgin to the throne of Love, will frame
Those harsh phylacteries, which in Cupid's name
She must obey, unless she will dispense
With sacred vows, and martyr innocence. 100
These storms blown o'er, and the Epirot gone. Her father, that till now had waited on His entertainment, with a serious eye Looks o'er his kingdom's wounds, and doth supply Each part, which in this late unnatural war Was grown defective. Unto some that are Not lethargized in ill he gently lays Refreshing mercies ; sometimes, danger stays From an approaching gangrene, by applying Corroding threats; but unto those that, flying no
All remedies prescribed, had mortified Their loyalty, stern justice soon applied The sword of amputation : which care past, As 'twas his greatest, so becomes his last — Pharonnida he places, where she might At once enjoy both safety and delight.
Her thoughts' clear calm, too smooth for th' turbulent And busy city, wants that sweet content The private pleasures of the country did
Afford her youth ; but late attempts forbid lao
All places far remote : which to supply, He unto one directs his choice, that by Its situation did participate Of all those rural privacies, yet sate Clothed in that flowery mantle, in the view O' the castle walls, which, as placed near it to Delight not trouble, in full bulk presents Her public buildings' various ornaments.
This beauteous fabric, where the industrious hand Of Art had Nature's midwife proved, did stand 130
Divided from the continent b' the wide Arms of a spacious stream, whose wanton pride In cataracts from the mountains broke, as glad Of liberty to court the valley, had
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Curled his proud waves, and stretched them to enclose
That type of paradise, whose crown-top rose
From that clear mirror, as the first light saw
Fair Eden 'midst the springs of Havilah ;
So fresh as if its verdant garments had
Been in the first creation's beauties clad, 140
Ere, by mistaking of the fatal tree.
That blooming type of blest eternity.
Subjected was, by man's too easy crime,
Unto the sick vicissitudes of time.
Nor was she in domestic beauty more Than prospect rich — the wandering eye passed o'er A flowery vale, smooth, as it had been spread By nature for the river's fragrant bed. At the opening of that lovely angle met
The city's pride, as costlier art had set 150
That masterpiece of wit and wealth to show — Unpolished nature's pleasures were below Her splendid beauties, and unfit to be Looked on, 'less in the spring's variety : Though from the palace where in prospect stood All that nice art or plainer nature would. If in contention, show to magnify Their power, did stand, yet now appeared to vie That prospect which the city lent ; unless, Diverted from that civil wilderness, 160
The pathless woods, and ravenous beasts within, Whose bulk were but the metaphors for sin, We turn to view the stately hills, that fence The other side o' the happy isle, from whence All that delight or profit could invent For rural pleasures, was for prospect sent.
As Nature strove for something uncouth in So fair a dress, the struggling streams are seen, With a loud murmur rolling 'mongst the high And rugged clifts; one place presents the eye 170
With barren rudeness, whilst a neighbouring field Sits clothed in all the bounteous spring could yield Here lovely landscapes, where thou might'st behold, When first the infant morning did unfold The day's bright curtains, in a spacious green, Which Nature's curious art had spread between Two bushy thickets, that on either hand Did like the fringe of the fair mantle stand, A timorous herd of grazing deer ; and by Them in a shady grove, through which the eye 180
Could hardly pierce, a well-built lodge, from whence The watchful keeper's careful diligence
i6a bulk] Singer ' bulks ' obviously but perhaps unnecessarily. 170 clifts] Orig. ' clefts ' as often.
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Canto IV] Pharon7iida
Secures their private walks ; from hence to look On a deep valley, where a silver brook Doth in a soft and busy murmur slide Betwixt two hills, whose shadows strove to hide The liquid wealth they were made fruitful by, From full discoveries of the distant eye.
Here, from fair country farms that had been Built 'mongst those woods as places happy in 190
Their privacy, the first salutes of light Fair country virgins meet, cleanly and white As were their milky loads : so free from pride, Though truly fair, that justly they deride Court's nice contentions, and by freedom prove More blest their lives — more innocent their love. Early as these, appears within the field The painful husbandman, whose labour steeled With fruitful hopes, in a deep study how To improve the earth, follows his slow-paced plough. aoo
Near unto these, a shepherd, having took On a green bank placed near a purling brook Protection from the sun's warm beams, within A cool fresh shade, truly contented in That solitude, is there endeavouring how On 's well-tuned pipe to smooth the furrowed brow Of careful Want, seeing not far from hence His flock, the emblems of his innocence. Where the more lofty rock admits not these Domestic pleasures. Nature there did please 210
Herself with wilder pastimes ; — on those clifts, Whose rugged heads the spacious mountain lifts To an unfruitful height, amongst a wild Indomitable herd of goats, the mild And fearful cony, with her busy feet. Makes warmth and safety in one angle meet.
From this wild range, the eye, contracted in The island's narrow bounds, would think 't had been I' the world before, but now were come to view An angel-guarded paradise; till to 2io
A picture's first rude catagraph the art Of an ingenious pencil doth impart Each complement of skill : or as the court To the rude country ; as each princely sport That brisks the blood of kings, to those which are The gross-souled peasant's rude delight — so far These objects differ : here well-figured Nature Had put on form, and to a goodly stature, On whose large bulk more lasting arts were spent, Added the dress of choicest ornament. 230
189 farms] Chamberlayne, who always spells ' alarum ' ' alarm,' apparently gave ' farm ' the sound of ' farum.'
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The stately mount, whose artificial crown The palace was, to meet the vale stole down In soft descents, by labour forced into A sliding serpentine, whose winding clew An easy but a slow descent did give Unto a purling stream ; whose spring did live, AVhen from the hill's cool womb broke forth, within A grotto; whence before it did begin To take its weeping farewell, into all
The various forms restrictive Art could call 240
Her elemental instruments unto Obedience by, it courts the admiring view Of pleased spectators — here, exalted by Clear aqueducts, in showers it from those high Supporters falls ; now turned into a thin Vapour, in that heaven's painted bow is seen; Now it supplies the place of air, and to A choir of birds gives breath, which all seemed flew From thence for fear, when the same element, With such a noise as seas imprisoned rent 250
Including rocks, doth roar : which rude sound done, As noble conquerors who, the battle won, From the loud thunders of impetuous war To the calm fields of peaceful mercies, are By manly pity led ; so, Proteus-like, Returned from what did fear or wonder strike, The liquid nymph, resuming her own shape Within a marble square, a clear escape, Till from her winding stream the river takes Still fresh supplies, from that fair fountain makes. 260
Upon those banks which guarded her descent. Both for her odour and her ornament, Lilies and fragrant roses there were set ; To heighten whose perfume, the violet And maiden primrose, in their various dress, Steal through that moss, whose humble lowliness Preserves their beauties ; whilst Aurora's rose, And that ambitious flower that will disclose The full-blown beauties of herself to none Until the sun mounts his meridian throne, 270
(Like envied Worth, together with the view Of the beholders), being exposed unto Each storm's rough breath, in that vicissitude Find that their pride their danger doth include. When scorched with heat or l)urthened with a shower, From blooming beauty sinks the fading flower ; Though here defended by a grove that twined Mutual embraces, and with boughs combined. Protects the falling stream, which it ne'er leaves, Till thence the vale its flowery wealth receives. 280
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Canto IV] Phuronnida
Placed as the nobler faculty to this Of vegetation, like an emphasis Amongst the flowers of rhetoric, did stand The gorgeous palace ; where Art's curious hand Had, to exceed example, centred in One exact model what had scattered been — But as those fragments which she now selects, The glory of all former architects. Here did the beauties of those temples shine, Which Ephesus or sacred Palestine 290
Once boasted in ; the Persian might from this Take patterns for his famed Persepolis ; This, which had that fair Carian widow known, Mausolus' tomb had ne'er a proverb grown, But been esteemed, after her cost, by her That did erect, a homely sepulchre.
Though to describe this fabric be as far Above my art as imitations are Beneath its worth, yet if thy Fancy's eye Would at its outside glance, receive it by 300
This cloudy medium. — On a stately square, Which powerful art forced to a level where The mountain highest rose, compassed about With a thick grove, whose leafy veil let out , Its beauties so, 'tis at a distance seen, A silver mount enamelled o'er with green, The shining palace stood; whose outward form Though such as if built for perpetual storm. Yet in that strength appeared but armed to be Beauty's protector : whose variety, 310
Though all met in an artful gracefulness, In every square put on a several dress. The sides, whose large balcones conveyed the eye T' the fields' wild prospects, were supported by A thousand pillars; where in mixture shone The Parian white and red Corinthian stone, Supporting frames, where in the like art stood Smooth ivory mixed with India's swarthy wood : All which, with gold, and purer azure brought From Persian artists, in mosaics wrought, 320
The curious eye into meanders led. Until diverted by a sight that bred More real wonder. — The rich front wherein By antic sculpture, all that ere had been The various acts of their preceding kings, So figured was; no weighty metal brings
296 erect] Singer supplies < 't'—' erect— 't.' But though Chamberlayne certainly does not go out of his way to avoid these uglinesses, one need not go out of one's way to insert them.
324 antic] 'antic' of course = ' antique.'
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William Chamberlayne [book ii
Aught to enhance its worth, Art did compose
Each emblem of such various gems — all chose
Their several colours — Under a sapphire sky
Here cheerful emeralds, chaste smaragdi lie — 330
A fresh green field, in which the armfed knights
Were all clad in heart-cheering chrysolites.
With rubies set, which to adorn them twist
Embraces with the temperate amethyst ;
For parts unarmed — here the fresh onyx stood,
And Sardia's stone appeared like new-drawn blood ;
The Proteus-like achates here was made
For swords' fair hilts, but for the glittering blade,
Since all of rich and precious gems was thus
Composed, was showed of flaming pyropus : 340
And lest aught here that 's excellent should want.
The ladies' eyes were shining adamant.
These glorious figures, large as if that in
Each common quar these glittering gems had been
By sweaty labourers digged, united by
Successful art, unto the distant eye
Their mixed beams with such splendid lustre sent,
That comets, with whose fall the firmament
Seems all on fire, amazes not the sight
With such a full and sudden flux of light. 350
As lines extended from their centre, hence Unto the island's clear circumference, Four flowery glades, whose odoriferous dress Tempted the weary to forgetfulness, Cutting the mountain into quadrants, led Into the valley — Pleasure's humbler bed. Where come, if Nature's stock can satisfy The fancy at the fountains of the eye, 'Twas here performed, in all that did include What active mirth or sacred solitude 360
Could happy call — Groves never seen b' the eye O' the universe, whose pleasing privacy Was more retired from treacherous light than those. To hide from Heaven, Earth's first Offender chose.
When Contemplation, the kind mother to All thoughts that e'er in sacred rapture flew Toward celestial bowers, had here refined The yet imperfect embrj'os of the mind ; To recreate contracted spirits by
The soul's best medicine — fresh variety, 370
An easy walk conducts them unto all That active sports did e'er convenient call. All which, like a fair theatre b' the bank O' the river verged, was guarded by a rank Of ancient elms ; whose lofty trunks, embraced By clasping vines, with various colours graced
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Canto IV] Pharo7inida
Their spreading branches — Whose proud brows, being crowned
With stately walks, did from that ample round
The well-pleased eye to every place convey.
That in the island's humble level lay. 380
To guard her court, a hundred gentlemen, Such as had glorified their valour, when Tried in her father's wars, attended; which, Commanded by Argalia, did enrich His merit with such fair reward, that all His better stars, should they a synod call. Those fires convened ne'er with more glorious light Could clothe his hopes ; his fortune's dim-eyed night Enflamed to noon, and the fair princess blest By the same power ; for though his fate invest 390
His noble soul within the obscure mask Of an unknown descent, his fame shall ask, In time to come, a chronicle, and be The glory of that royal family From whence he sprung. But ere he must attain The top of Fortune's wheel, that iron chain, By whose linked strength it turns, too oft will grate Him with most hot afflictions ; his wise fate Digs deep with miseries, before it lays
The ground-work of his fame, which then shall raise, 400
On the firm basis of authentic story, To him eternal pyramids of glory.
Thou that art skilled in Love's polemics here Wish they may rest awhile ; and though drawn near A sadder fate, if Pity says — too rath 'Tis to let Sorrow sad the scene, we'll bathe Our pen awhile in nectar, though we then Steep it in gall again. The Spring did, when The princess first did with her presence grace This house of pleasure, with soft arms embrace 410
The Earth — his lovely mistress — clad in all The painted robes the morning's dew let fall Upon her virgin bosom ; the soft breath Of Zephyrus sung calm anthems at the death Of palsy-shaken Winter, whose large grave — The earth, whilst they in fruitful tears did lave. Their pious grief turned into smiles, they throw Over the hearse a veil of flowers ; the low And pregnant valleys swelled with fruit, whilst Heaven Smiled on each blessing its fair hand had given, 420
Becalmed on this pacific sea of pleasure. No boisterous wave appearing, the rich treasure Of Love, being ballast with content, did fear No threatening storm, so safe a harbour near,
400 ground-work] Orig. ' ground-/ork' not perhaps possibly. 416 lave] Orig. ' leave' which is obviously worth noting.
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William Chamber layjie [book ii
As the object whence it sprung. Such royal sports,
As take their birth from the triumphant courts
Of happy princes, did contract the day
To pitied beauty ; Time steals away
On downy feet, whose loss since it bereaves
Them of no more than what new birth receives 430
From the next teeming day, by none is thought
Worth the lamenting. Sometimes, rocked i' the soft
Arms gf the calmest pleasures, they behold
A sprightly comedy the sins unfold
Of more corrupted times ; then, in its high
Cothurnal scenes, a lofty tragedy
Erects their thoughts, and doth at once invite,
To various passions, sorrow and delight.
Time, motion's aged measurer, includes Not more, in all the hours' vicissitudes, 440
Than their oft changing recreations ; that. When the sun's lofty pride sat smiling at The earth's embroidered robes, or Winter's cold And palsied hand did those fresh beauties fold Up in her hoary plush, each season lends Delights of 'ts own — such a beguiled time spends Its stock of hours unwasted on, in chaste Though private sports. Here happy lovers past Fancy's fresh youth, whose first attempts did prove Too innocent for th' sophistry of love ; 45°
There scornful beauty, or the envious eye Of jealous rivals, ne'er afflicts — all by An equal and a noble height so blest, Pride none had raised, nor poverty depressed.
THE END OF THE FOURTH CANTO.
Canto V
THE ARGUMENT
Whilst serene joy sat smiling in her court,
As shadows to illustrate virtue b^'. Fantastic Love becomes the princess' sport,
Whose harsher dictates she ere long must trj'.
For now suspicion, Virtue's secret foe,
Fired with Argalia's just-deserved fame, Makes her great father think each minute slow.
Till separation had alla3cd the flame.
Lest that her court, which seems composed of all That 's great or good, the o'erweening world should call Perfection's height — a word which, whilst on earth, Vain as Delight, only from name takes birth — (112)
Canto V] Pha?^o?2nida
In this the largest and most glorious sphere
E'er greatness moved in, some few stars appear
To virtue retrograde. The informing spirit —
Love, by whose motion on the pole of merit
This bright orb turned, e'en 'mongst these heroes finds
A pair of followers, whose imperfect minds ro
Transgressed his dictates ; and, though no offence
So full of guilt as foul incontinence
Durst here approach, by ways less known unto
What love intends, those various figures drew,
Whose aspects ne'er more near conjunction move,
Than eyes — the slight astronomy of love.
That new Platonic malady, the way By which imperfect eunuchs do betray Nature's diseases to contempt, whilst by
Such slight repast they strive to satisfy 20
Love's full desires, which pines or else must crave More than thin souls in separation have. Being lately by some sick fantastics brought But near the Court, within it long had sought For residence, till entertained by two Whose meeting souls no more distinction knew Than sex, a difference which, whilst here it grows Toward Heaven, it to corporeal organs owes. But since that these so uncouth actors here But as intruders on the scene appear, 30
Ere in their story we engulph too far. Let 's first behold them in their character.
If e'er thy sober reason did submit To suppling Mirth, that wanton child of Wit, Beholding a Fantastic, drest in all His vain delights, what's analogical To our Acretius then conceive thou'st seen ; Though if compared, those short to him had been As transcripts are to copies : to complete A humorist, here Folly had chose a seat 40
'Mongst more than vulgar knowledge, and might pass The same account an academic ass Makes of his father's four-year charge, when he Frights villagers with shreds of sophistry. 'Mongst foreign parts, of which, like Coriate, He'd run through some, he had acquired to prate By privilege ; and, as if every nation Contributed, is in each several fashion ; Which, like their tongues, all so imperfect find, That both disguised his body and his mind. 50
Though self-conceit, vain youth's fantastic crime, Made him steal singly from the front of time, I' the medium, which but seldom proves the seat For lust's wild fire or zeal's reflected heat,
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William Chamber layne [bookii
He amorous grows ; and doubting to prevail, For all his wings caught Pegasus b' the tail, And being before with Cupid's engines fired. From his posteriors doubly was inspired. She that at first this sympathetic flame Inspired him with, the court knew by the name 60
Of Philanta ; to whom, all would impair Their skill, that gave the epithet of fair, Except Acretius, — since her beauty fit For praises was, where paralleled by wit. Yet now, although time's sad discovery tells — Her Autumn's furrows were no parallels In Beauty's sphere, those youthful forms being grown So obsolete, scarce the vestigia 's shown : A native pride and strange fantastic dress. More admiration than e'er comeliness 7°
Could do, acquires. She formerly had been A great admirer of romances, in Whose garb she now goes drest; a medley piece Made up of India, Turkey, Persia, Greece, With other nations, all enforced to be
Comprised within five foot's stenography.
Her wit, that had been critical, and ranged
'Mongst ladies' more than the ushers' legs, was changed
To gratify; and every word she said.
An apophthegm unto the chamber-maid, 80
From whom, her long experienced knowledge in
Some of the female mysteries of sin.
Had gained the applause of being skilled in all
That could prevent decaying beauty's fall. Acretius and she, being such a pair
As Nature when tired with more serious care
For recreation made, instructed by
Their meeting natures' secret sympathy.
Soon learn to love; but, as if now too wise
For youth's first dictates. Love's loose rules comprise 90
In such strict bounds, that each the object saw
Of their desires, like sacred things, some law,
Fear made obeyed, forbids the world to use.
Lest the adored enjoyment should abuse
Into contempt ; nor are their meetings in
Those plainer paths — which their nice art calls sin —
At all performed; — that, the dull road unto
The bridal bed ; this, the fantastic clew
To a delight, which doth in labyrinths sit.
None e'er beheld while they preserved their wit. 100
Like wanton Jove committing secret rapes
On mortal beauties, they transmute their shapes
At every interview ; now, in a dress
Resembling an Arcadian shepherdess.
Canto V] Pharofintda
She in the woods encounters him, whilst he,
Armed Hke a furious knight, resolved to be
Her ravisher, approaches, but, being by
Her prayers charmed into pity, there doth lie
Fettered in soft embraces ; now he must
Turn hermit, and be tempted unto lust iic
By her, a lady errant; like distressed
Lovers, whose hopes by rigid friends oppressed
Pine to despair, they now are wandering in
Unhaunted groves, whose pensive shades had been
So oft their shady veil, that every tree,
In wreaths where love lay wrapped in mystery.
Held their included names — a subtile way
To the observant courtiers to betray
Their serious folly, which, from being their own
Delight, was now the sport o' the pages grown ; 120
The pleasant offsprings of whose wanton wit
Disturb their peace, that, though secured they sit
In shady deserts, with as much of fear.
As wandering ladies, when the giant 's near,
They're still possessed ; less terrible were all
The dreadful objects, Amadis de Gaul
Or wittier Quixote from their enemies
E'er met, than was the fear of a surprise
By those which did such strict observance take.
They thus their folly the court's laughter make. — 130
Near to the island's utmost verge did lie Retired e'en from Heaven's universal eye, A deep dark vale; whose night-concealing shade By a fresh river's silver stream was made So sweetly cool, it often did invite Pharonnida to meet the smooth delight Of calm retirement there. Where, to impart With Nature's bounty all that liberal Art Thought fit for so remote a pleasure, stood A grotto, where the macrocosm's cold blood 140
Ran more dispersed in various labyrinths then It circulates within the veins of men.
Hither the inventive lovers, who long sought Some way which Fancy ne'er her followers taught To express their serious folly in, repair, Oft as the sun made the insalubrious air Unfit for publick walks. To entertain Them here with what exceeded all their vain Delights before, — newly erected by
Successful art, each various deity J 5°
Old Fancy placed the sea's commanders, here They with delight behold ; but when drawn near They saw, i' the midst o' the blue-eyed Tritons, placed Neptune's and Thetis' chariot — yet not graced
( "5 ) 12
JVilliam Chamber layne [book it
With their unfinished figures, this they took
For so much favour, as they had forsook
Their thrones to give them place. But what adds yet
More to the future mirth, they swiftly fit
Themselves with habits, such as art had drew
Its fancies in — both of their robes being blue i6o
Enchased with silver streams ; their heads, with fair
Dishevelled periwigs of sea-green hair.
Were both adorned ; circling whose crowns they wore
Wreathed coronets of flags ; his right hand bore
A golden trident ; hers, yet hardly red,
As if new plucked from the sea's frothy bed,
A branch of coral. — But whilst here they sit
Proudly adorned, both void of fear as wit,
The gates o' the grotto swiftly shutting in,
A torrent, such as if they'd seated been 170
At Nile's loud cataracts, by ways (before
Unseen) breaks forth ; by which the engine bore
From its firm station, floats aloft, and, by
A swift withdrawing of those bays which tie
Floods from commerce, is wafted forth into
A spacious pool ; where the bold artist drew
The unfathomed sea's epitome within
A circling wall, but such as might have been
A pattern to Rome's big-bulked pride, when they
Showed sea's loud battles for the land's soft play. 180
Our amorous humorists, that must now appear. This narrow sea's commanders, shook with fear. Sit trembling — whilst the shrill-voiced Tritons sound Their crooked shells, whose watery notes were drowned B' the lofty laughter of that troop, they saw Their pleased spectators ; for Pharonnida, Being now with all her beauteous train come to Behold this pageant, taught them how to view A shame as dreadful as their fear, which yet Was full of horror; for though safe they sit 190
r the floating chariot, yet the mounting waves So boisterous grew, that e'en great Neptune craves Himself relief, till frighted from all sense By second dangers : — -From that port from whence They sallied forth, two well-rigged ships are now Seen under sail, whose actions taught them how Sea fights are managed, in a method that They being too near engaged to tremble at. By fear's slow conduct to confusion led,
Fall from their thrones ; and through the waves had fled 200 From shame to death, had they not rescued been By swift relief — a courtesy that, in Its first approach, though welcomed — when they come To stand the shock o' the court's loud mirth, as dumb
(,i6)
Canto V] Pharonfitda
As were the fishes they so late forsook, Makes Mercy court them in a dreadful look.
But, leaving these to pay with future hate Each courtier's present mirth, a sadder fate Commands my pen no longer to attend
On smooth delights, before it gives an end 210
To that ephemera of pleasure ; which, Whilst a free conversation did enrich Their thoughts, too fast did ripen in the breasts Of both our royal lovers, whose fate rests Not long in downy slumbers, ere it starts In vain phantasmas — Hope herself departs In a distracted trembling. Their bright sphere Of milder stars had now continued clear So long, till what their smiling influence drew From the unthankful earth contracted to 220
A veil of clouds ; whose coolness, whilst some praised, Obscured those beams by which they first were raised.
Hell's subtle embryos — the ingratitudes Of cursed Amphibia, whose disguise includes Mischiefs epitome, had often strook In secret at their envied joys, which took Ne'er its effects till now. So heavenly free The virtuous princess was from what could be Of human vice, she knew not to mistrust It in another, but thinks all as just 230
As her own even thoughts ; wherefore, without Oppressing of her soul with the least doubt Raised from suspicion, she dares let her see She loved Argalia, though it could not be Yet counted more than what his merits might Claim as desert. But this small beam of light, Through the prospective of suspicion to Envy's malignant eye conveyed, to do An act, informs the cursed Amphibia, that Makes love lament for what she triumphed at. 240
Since virtue, Heaven's unspotted character, On the beloved Argalia did transfer Merits of too sublime a height to be Shadowed with vice — from that flower's fragrancy She sucks her venom \ and, from what had built His glory, now intends to raise his guilt. For though the prince no engines need to move His passion's frame, but just desert — his love — Her close endeavours are to heighten 't by Praises that make affection jealousy ; 250
Whose venom, having once possessed his soul, It swiftly doth, like fatal charms, control
237 prospective] Singer 'perspective,' unnecessarily.
( 117 )
JVilliam Chamber layne [book ii
Reason's fair dictates ; and although no fear
From such well-ordered actions could appear
To strengthen it, Argalia's merits caused
Some sad and sullen doubts, such as, when paused
Awhile upon, resolve their cure must be —
Their cause removed — though in that action he
From his breast's royal mansion doth exclude
The noblest virtue — generous gratitude. 360
To cure this new-felt wound, and yet not give Strong arguments — great virtues cannot live Safe in corrupted courts^the poison's sent In gilded pills. — A specious compliment, To call him from his calm and quiet charge, Pretends by new additions to enlarge His full-blown fame, to an extent as far As valour climbs in slippery heights of war : Which now, though calmed in 's own dominions, by A friendly league invites him to supply 270
The stout Epirot with an army that. Though rich in valour, more was trembled at For being commanded by Argalia, than Composed of Sparta's most selected men.
As if no grief could be commensurate Unto their joys, but what did blast their fate In its most blooming spring : our lovers were. When first assaulted by the messenger Of this sad news, sate, in the quiet shade — A meeting grove of amorous myrtles, made 380
To veil the brow of a fair mount, whose sides A beauteous robe of full-blown roses hides ; In such discourse, the flying minutes spending, As passion dictates, when firm vows are ending Those paries by which love toward perfection went In the obliging bliss of full consent.
The fatal scroll received, and read until She finds their parting doom ; the spring-tides fill Her eyes, those crystal seas of grief — she stops — Fans with a sigh her heart, then sheds some drops 290
Upon the guilty paper. Trembling fear Plucks roses from her cheeks, which soon appear Full-blown again with anger — red and white Did in this conflict of her passions fight For the pre-eminence. Which agony Argalia noting, doubtful what might be The cause of so much ill, he in his arms Circles his saint ; with all the powerful charms Of love's soft rhetoric, her lost pleasure strives To call again ; — but no such choice flower thrives, 300
279 sate] Singer ' set ' : but I am not sure that the other is not right. (..8)
Canto vj Phuronnida
Though springs of tears thither invite this rest, In the cold region of her grief-swollen breast.
Long had she strove with grief's oppressive load Ere sighs make way for this : — ' Is thy abode Become the parent of suspicion ? Look On this, Argalia, there hath poison took Its lodging underneath these flowers, whose force Will blast our hopes — there, there, a sad divorce 'Twixt our poor loves is set, ere we more near Than in desires have met.' As much of fear, 310
As could possess his mighty soul, did shake His strenuous hand, whilst 'twas stretched forth to take The letter from Pharonnida. Which he Having looked o'er, and finding it to be An honourable policy to part Them without noise, he curtains o'er his heart, Pale as was hers with fear, in a disguise Which, though rage drew his soul into his eyes, So polished o'er his passion — to her grief. His own concealed, he thus applies relief : — 320
' Dear virtuous princess, give your reason leave But to look through this cloud, which doth receive Its birth from nought but fear. — This honour, which Your royal father pleases to enrich My worthless fortunes with, will but prepare Our future happiness. — The time we spare From feeding on ambrosia, will increase Our wealthy store, when the white wings of peace Shall bear us back with victory; there may. Through the dark chaos of my fate, display 333
Some beam of honour; though compared with thine (That element of living flame) it shine Dim as the pale-faced moon, when she lets fall Through a dark grove her beams : — thy virtues shall Give an alarum to my sluggish soul. Whene'er it droops ; thy memory control The weakness of my passions. When we strive I' the heat of glorious battle, I'll revive My drooping spirits with that harmony
Thy name includes — thy name, whose memory 340
(Dear as those relics a protecting saint Sends humble votaries) mentioned, will acquaint My thoughts with all that's good. Then calm again This conflict of thy fears, I shall remain Safe in the hail of death, if guarded by Thy pious prayers — Fate's messengers that fly On wings invisible, will lose the way. Aimed at my breast, if thou vouchsafe to pray
345 hail] Singer 'vale'— a possibly right but rather large change.
("9)
' William Chamber lay 7te [book ii
To Heaven for my protection. — But if we
Ne'er meet again — yet, oh ! yet let me be 350
Sometimes with pity thought on.' At which word
His o'ercharged eyes no longer could afford
A room to entertain their tears; both wept,
As if they strove to quench that fire which kept
Light in the lamps of life, whose fortunes are
r the House of Death, whilst Mars the regal star.
Some time in silent sorrow spent, at length The fair Pharonnida recovers strength. Though sighs each accent interrupted, to
Return this answer : — ' Wilt, oh ! wilt thou do 360
Our infant love such injury — to leave It ere full grown ? When shall my soul receive A comfortable smile to cherish it, When thou art gone? They're but dull joys that sit Enthroned in fruitless wishes ; yet I could Part, with a less expense of sorrow, would Our rigid fortune only be content With absence ; but a greater punishment Conspires against us — Danger must attend Each step thou tread'st from hence ; and shall I spend 370 Those hours in mirth, each of whose minutes lay Wait for thy life? When Fame proclaims the day Wherein your battles join, how will my fear With doubtful pulses beat, until I hear Whom victory adorns ! Or shall I rest Here without trembling, when, lodged in thy breast, My heart's exposed to every danger that Assails thy valour, and is wounded at Each stroke that lights on thee — which absent I, Prompted by fear, to myriads multiply. 3S0
— But these are Fancy's wild-fires, we in vain Do spend unheard orisons, and complain To unrelenting rocks — this night-peekt scroll, This bill of our divorcement, doth enrol Our names in sable characters nought will Expunge, till death obliterate our ill.' —
' Oh ! do not, dear commandress of my heart, (Argalia answers), let our moist eyes part In such a cloud as will for ever hide
Hope's brightest beams; — those deities that guide 390
The secret motions of our fate will be More merciful, than to twist destiny In such black threads. Should Death unravel all The feeble cordage of our lives, we shall,
356 Mars] i. e. Mars is in the ascendant. Chamberlayne dares these clashes of s impcrturbably.
383 night-peekt] Singer ' night-speckt.' But we have had tliis odd word • peekt,' ' pcect,' &c. before.
( '20 )
Canto vj Pharojifiida
Spite of that Prince of Terrors, in the high
And glorious palace of Eternity,
Being met again, renew that love, which we
On earth were forced, before maturity
Had ripened it, to leave. I' the numerous throng
Of long departed souls, that stray among 400
The myrtles in Elysium, I will find
Thy virgin ghost ; and whilst the rout, inclined
To sensual pleasures here, refining are
In purging flames, laugh at each envious star
Whose aspect, if ill sited at our birth.
With poisonous influence blasts the joys of earth.'
'Oh! waste not (cries the princess) dear time in These shadows of conceit — the hours begin To be 'mongst those inserted that have tried The actions of the world, which must divide 410
Us from our joy. The sea through which we sail Works high with woe, nor can our prayers prevail To calm its angry brow — the glorious freight Of my unwelcome honours hangs a weight 'J'oo ponderous on me for to steer the way Thy humbler fortunes do ; else, ere I'd stay To mourn without thee, I would rob my eyes Of peaceful slumbers, and in coarse disguise. Whilst love my sex's weakness did control. Command my body to attend my soul — 420
My soul, my dear, which hovering near thee, not Midnight alarums, that appear begot By truth, should startle : 'twixt the clamorous camp, Lightened with cannons, and the peaceful lamp That undisturbed here wastes its oil, I know No difference, but what doth from passion flow, Whose close assaults do more afflict us far, Than all the loud impetuous storms of war.'
' We must, we must (replies Argalia) stand This thunderbolt, unmoved, — since his command — 430
Whose will confirms our law. Happy had we, Great princess, been, if in that low degree. From whence my infancy was raised, I yet Had lived a toiling rural ; then, when fit For Hymen's pleasures, uncontrolled I'd took Some homely village girl, whose friends could look After no jointure for to equalize Her portion but my love ; no jealous eyes Had waited on our meetings, we had made All our addresses free ; the friendly shade 440
Cast from a spreading oak, as soon as she Had milked her cows, had proved our canopy ; Where our unpolished courtship had a love As chaste concluded, as, from the amorous dove
(X2l)
William Chamberlayne [book ii
Perched near us, we had learned it. When arrived
Unto love's zenith, we had, undeprived
By disagreeing parents, soon been led
To church b' the sprucest swains ; our marriage-bed,
Though poor and thin, would have been neatly drest
By rural paranymphs, clad in the best 450
Wool their own flocks afforded. In a low
And humble shed, on which we did bestow
Nought but our labour to erect, we might
Have spent our lusty youth with more delight
Than glorious courts are guilty of; and, when
Age had decayed our strength, grown up to men,
Beheld our large coarse issue. Our days ended,
Unto the church been solemnly attended
By those of our own rank, and buried been
Near to the font that we were christened in. 460
Whilst I in russet weeds of poverty
Had spun these coarse threads, shining majesty
Would have exhausted all her stock to frame
A match for thy desert — some prince, whose name
The neighbouring regions trembled at, from whom
The generous issue of thy fruitful womb
Might have derived a stock of fame to build
A future greatness on, such as should yield
Subjects of wonder to the world.' About
To interrupt him, ere he had drawn out 470
This sad theme, she began to speak, but by
Night's swift approach was hindered. Now drew nigh
The time of his departure. Whilst he bleeds
At thought o' the first, a second summons speeds
His preparations to the city, where
That big-bulked body, unto which his care
Must add a soul, was now drawn up, and staid
Only to have his wished commands obeyed.
His powerful passion, love's strict rules respecting More than bright honour's dictates, yet, neglecting 480
All summons, staid him till he'd sacrificed His vows to her, whose every smile he prized Above those trivial glories. Ere from hence He dares depart, each, with a new expense Of tears, pays interest to exacting Fate For every minute she had lent of late Unto poor Love, whose stock since not his own, Although no spendthrift, is a bankrupt grown.
Look how a bright and glorious morning, which The youthful brow of April doth enrich, 490
Smiles, till the rude winds blow the troubled clouds Into her eyes, then in a black veil shrouds Herself, and weeps for sorrow — so wept both Our royal lovers — each would, and yet was loath
( 122 )
Canto V] Pharo7inida
To bid farewell, till stubborn time enforced
Them to that task. First his warm lips divorced
From the soft balmy touch of hers ; next parts
Their hands, those frequent witnesses o' the heart's
Indissoluble contracts ; last and worst,
Their eyes — their weeping eyes — (O fate accurst, 500
That lays so hard a task upon my pen —
To write the parting of poor lovers) when
They had e'en lost their light in tears, were in
That shade — that dismal shade, forced to begin
The progress of their sorrow. — He is gone.
Sweet sad Pharonnida is left alone
To entertain grief in soft sighs ; whilst he
'Mongst noise and tumult, oft finds time to be
Alone with sorrow, though encompassed by
A numerous army, whose brave souls swelled high 510
With hopes of honour ; — lest Fame's trump lost breath,
Haste to supply 't by victory or death.
But, ere calmed thoughts to prosecute our story, Salute thy ears with the deserved glory Our martial lover purchased here, I must Let my pen rest awhile, and see the rust Scoured from my own sword ; for a fatal day Draws on those gloomy hours, whose short steps may In Britain's blushing chronicle write more Of sanguine guilt than a whole age before — 520
To tell our too neglected troops that we In a just cause are slow. We ready see Our rallied foes, nor will 't our slothful crime Expunge, to say — Guilt wakened them betime. From every quarter the affrighted scout Brings swift alarums in ; hovering about The clouded tops of the adjacent hills. Like ominous vapours, lie their troops ; noise fills Our yet unrallied army ; and we now
Grown legible, in the contracted brow 530
Discern whose heart looks pale with fear. If in This rising storm of blood, which doth begin To drop already, I 'm not washed into The grave, my next safe quarter shall renew Acquaintance with Pharonnida. — Till then, I leave the Muses to converse with men.
THE END OF THE SECOND BOOK.
(•^3)
BOOK HI. Canto I
THE ARGUMENT
Beneath the powerful tyrannj' of love,
Whilst the fair princess weeps out every star In pleasure's sphere, those dark clouds to remove,
All royal pastimes in it practised are.
Amongst whose triumphs, that her train might lend
Her their attendance in the shades of grief, Passion brings some so near a fatal end.
That timely pity scarce affords relief.
Some months now spent, since, in the clouded court
Of sad Pharonnida, each princely sport
Was with Argalia's absence masked within
Sables of discontent, robes that had been
Of late her chiefest dress : no cheerful smile
E'er cheered her brow ; those walks which were erewhile
The schools where they disputed love, were now
Only made use of, when her grief sought how
To hide its treacherous tear : the unfilled bed
O' the widow, whose conjugal joy is fled, lo
I' the hot and vigorous youth of fancy, to
Eternal absence, sooner may renew
(Though she for tears repeated praises seeks)
The blooming spring of beauty on her cheeks.
When bright-plumed Day on the expanded wings Of air approaches. Light's fair herald brings No overtures of peace to her ; each prayer In pious zeal she makes, a pale despair In their celestial journey clogs. But long Her feeble sex could not endure these strong 20
Assaults of passion, ere the red and white, Vanquished, from beauty's throne had took their fiight. And nought but melancholy paleness left To attend the light of her dim eyes — bereft Of all their brightness ; pining agues in The earthquake of each joint, leaving within The veins more blood than dwelt in hers which beat The heart's slow motions with a hectic heat.
Long passion's tyrant reigns not, ere this change Of mirth and beauty, letting sorrow range 30
Beyond the circle of discretion, in Her father that suspicion which had been Kindled before, renewing, he removes His court to hers ; but the kind visit proves
Pharonnida
A paroxysm unto that strong disease
Which combats in her blood. No mirth could please
Her troubled soul, since barred society
With all its better angels — gone to be
Attendant on Argalia ; she beholds
Those studied pleasures which the prince unfolds 40
His love and greatness in, with no delight
More smooth than that a sullen anchorite,
Which a harsh vow hath there enforced to dwell.
Sees the cold wants of his unhaunted cell.
Amongst these sports, whose time-betraying view Ravished each pleased spectator, the fair clew Contracts some sable knots, of which my pen Is only one bound to unravel. When War had unclasped that dreadful book of hers, Where honoured names in sanguine characters 50
Brave valour had transcribed, fair virtue fixed Euriolus in honour's orb, and mixed Him with the court's bright stars : but he who had, Whilst unregarded poverty had clad His virtues in obscurity, learned how To sail in fortune's boisterous storms, is now By her false smiles becalmed and sunk, before Desert (bound thither) touched love's treacherous shore.
r the playful freedom of their youth, when she Was only a fair shepherdess, and he 60
A humble swain, he truly did adore The fair Florenza ; but aspired no more, Since poverty clogged love's ambitious wing, Than by his private muse alone to sing Her praise — with such a flame of wit, that they Which have compared, say, envied Laura may Look pale with spleen, to hear those lines expressed, Though in her great Platonic raptures dressed.
But now his worth, by virtue raised, did dwell High as his hopes, and that a parallel 70
To hers appearing ; either's merits had A climax to preferment, and thus clad Virtue in honour's robes ; which equal fate Gave his affection language to relate What their disparity kept dumb : nor did Those motions find acceptance, such as chid Them for presumption, rather 'twas a frost Of virgin ice, than fire of pride that crost His masculine desires ; her eyes unfold
So much of passion, as by them she told 80
Who had most interest in her heart, which she From all brave rivals his resolves shall be.
76 chid] Orig. ' hid.' (1^5)
JVilliam Chamber layne [book hi
'Mongst those, Mazara, one whose noble blood Enriched the gems of virtue, though they stood In honour's altitude, was chief; nor could A nobler choice, were her affections ruled By worth, commend her judgement, — his fresh youth Being crowned with virtues which might raise a truth Above hyperboles ; his nature mild.
As was the gall-less dove, yet not the wild 90
And furious lion, when provoked, could have More daring valour; an untimely grave. Whilst it i' the embryo was, to every vice, But unto virtue a fair paradise ; Whose weedless banks no pining winter knew Till death the influence of warm life withdrew.
That sympathy of meeting virtues, which Did both their souls with equal worth enrich, 'Twixt him and brave Euriolus had tied
A league not to be broke, — could Love divide joo
His blessings amongst friends ; but that of all Our passions brooks no rival : Fear may call Friends to partake of palsies. Anger strives To fire each neighbouring bosom. Envy thrives By being transplanted, but a lover's pure Flames, though converted to a calenture, Unwillingly with the least flame will part — Although to thaw another's frozen heart.
Few 'mongst the observant wits o' the court yet knew (Though it with twisted eye-beams strengthened grew no
At every interview, and often dropped Some tears to water it) whose love 'twas stopped Mazara's suit. Euriolus, to her Whose melting pity only could confer A cure, unlocks the secret; whilst the other, More confident to win, ne'er strives to smother A passion so legitimate, but, by All actual compliments, declares how high He prized her virtues : but this worthy's fate Fixed him in love's intemperate zone; too late 120
The pining fruit was sown, the spring so far Being spent, its days were grown canicular, Scorching all hopes, but what made able were By fruitful tears — love's April showers, — to bear Neglect's untimely frosts ; which oft have lost. In bloomy springs, the unhappy lover's cost.
When this accomplished youth, whose tongue and pen, With negatives more firm and frequent then Cursed usurers give impoverished clients, oft Had been repulsed, truth for discovery brought 130
128 then] ' then ' for ' than ' as often.
(,26)
Canto I] Phuronnida
This accident — Within the royal court
Of bright Pharonnida, a full resort
Of valiant knights were met, convened to try
Whose valour fortune meant to glorify.
Of which selected number there was one,
Who, though a stranger, virtue soon made known
To all, 'cause feared of most; his valour had.
Before the first triumphant day unclad
The silver-vested hemisphere, been oft
Clothed in the ornaments of honour — brought 140
On fame's fair wings from the opposing part,
Uncresting them to crown his high desert.
But now, when this new constellation near
Its zenith drew in honour's hemisphere,
Called thither by deciding lots, the brave
Euriolus appears, whom victory gave
In the first shock success, and placed his name
In the meridian altitude of fame ;
Where, though the valiant stranger prove no foe
So fortunately valiant to o'erthrow 150
The structure of his fate, yet his close stars
Now sink a mine, to which those open wars
But easy dangers were. Mazara, in
His crest, a scarf that formerly had been
Known for Florenza's, seeing, jealous love
Converted into rage, his passions move
Above the sphere of reason, and, what late
Was but a gentle blaze, by altered fate.
Fires to a comet, whose malignant beams
Foretold sad ills, attending love's extremes. 160
Loath to betray his passions in so great A breach of friendship, to a close retreat Mazara summons forward rage ; yet in The stranger's name, whose fortune might have been The parent of a private quarrel, sends To call Euriolus, (who now attends Nought but triumphant mirth), unguarded by Applauding friends, in secret fight to try What power did him from threatening danger guard, When public fame was victory's reward. 170
This fatal scroll received by him that thought It real truth, since passion might have sought In him the same delay, a swift consent Returns his answer. But the message went So far from its directed road, that, ere It reached Mazara's, loose neglect did bear It to Carina's ear ; — a lady that In silent tears her heart had offered at His virtue's shrine, yet with such secret zeal. Her eyes forbid their Cupids to reveal iSo
( 127)
William Chamberlayne [book hi
That language of her heart. She knew that in Florenza's sea of merits, hers had been Shipwrecked and lost ; yet, with a soul as far From envying her, as hating him, this war Of factious passions she maintains, and since Reason now wanted language to convince Those headstrong rebels, she resolves to be, Though ruined, ruled by their democracy.
The information her officious maid Had from Mazara's careless page betrayed, 190
Assures Carina — the preceding night. Such horse and armour as the stranger knight Euriolus had conquered in, had been By his most cautious diligence within A not far distant wood, in whose black shade He meant his fury should his foe invade. Lodged by his master. Which discovered truth, Frightening her tears from the swift chase of youth And beauty into froward age, to meet
Sorrow in private shades, withdraws the sweet 200
But sad Carina, who resolves to spend Her sighs unnoted by her dearest friend.
This in Florenza, who foresaw that nought But passions more than common could have wrought So swift a change, works high ; who, that she might Displume these ravens ere the babes of light Smile in their weeping mother's face, prepares To see Carina : who, with wakeful cares, (Her sad companions) by her friend surprised, No longer in their ebon veil disguised 210
Her thoughts' pure candour ; but with looks that did Seem to implore assistance, whilst they chid Her own indulgent nature, shows her how Preposterous love made her to passions bow, Whose fruit, since none of her first planters came From forward man, could be but female shame.
This, with its fatal author, known, to free Her friend from shame, herself from cruelty, Unto Mazara, whose firm love attends
Her least commands, incensed Florenza sends. 320
Whose zeal-transported soul no sooner hears That welcome sound, but, though presaging fears Prompt him to stay, lest haughty honour fall, Ruined by fame, he lets her standards fall Before commanding love, and goes to wait On 's honoured mistress. lUit this sly deceit Of hope no cordial proves unto the sad Carina's grief; the long experience had Of his affection to Florenza, tells Her doubtful soul, those even parallels
(138)
1x0
Canto I] Pharoiinida
Could not by all her friend's persuasions be Wrested into the least obliquity. Which sad mistrust did love precipitate On paths whose danger frights protecting fate.
Assured the combat's hour drew on, and that Mazara's love-sick soul was offering at Florenza's shrine, and by that willing stay Might be enforced some minutes to delay The time, in which his readier opposite
Expected him, she, being resolved to write 240
Affection in her blood, with love's wild haste Makes toward the lists ; there finds his armour placed Within the dark shade of an ancient wood, In whose black breast that place of horror stood Where they appoint to meet, like those of fate Obscure and dark, by beasts and birds that hate The light alone frequented ; but love had Displumed fear's haggars : being resolved, she clad Beauty's fair pearl, where smooth delights did dwell, r the rough-cast mould of that Cyclopian shell. 250
But that no arms nor bounding steeds affright, Where love's fair hand hath valour's passport writ, Here we should pause, and pity her that now Fancy beholds, whilst she is learning how To manage stubborn steel within her sleek And polished hand, through devious paths to seek For doubtful dangers, such whose horrid shape On man's best judgement might commit a rape.
Her swift conductor, love, ere this had brought Her to the place, where passion had not sought 260
Long for the object of her hate, ere she Her valiant brother, that was come to be His fame's protector, sees, but so disguised In 's arms, that both, with envy unadvised By knowledge, an unthought-of guilt prepare In blood to meet. Their foaming horses were Now freed from the commanding rein, and in Their full career ; but love in vain to win The field from valour strives, her eager haste But argues such an envy as did \vaste 370
Itself in weak attempts ; which, to the length Of power extended, falls beneath the strength Of her victorious foe, whose fortune had In robes of joy, what he must weep for, clad.
Conquered Carina, now dismounted, lay
248 haggars] It is a pity that ' haggars ' has been allowed to become obsolete : for we want something answering to the French affres. At tiie same time, the word may be used in a sense closer to the usual one of haggard,' in relation to the person, — ' those who are made wild and haggard by fear.' In either case, of course, the poet has the ' untamed hawk ' in mind : and, perhaps, nothing else.
( 129 ) K
William Chamber layne [book iif
Struggling for life ; whose fortress to betray
Toward nature'-s tyrant, death, her blood transports
False spirits through their purple sallyports.
Her brother, with an anger that was grown
Into disdain, his fury should be shown 280
On such resistless subjects, ere he knows
How much of grief his soul to sorrow owes
For this unhappy act, from 's finished course
Was now returning, not by strength to force
The harsh commands of tyrant victors, but
By calm advice a bloodless end to put
To that ill-managed quarrel : but before
He there arrives, to make his sorrows more
When truth unveils their dark design, a knight.
With haste as speedy as the secret flight 290
Of wrath when winged from angry Heaven, he saw,
Bolted into the lists ; who soon did draw
Too near, in sober language to dispute
Their fatal quarrel. Both with rage grown mute.
Disdaining conference, found no place for words
Amidst the mortal language of their swords ;
Which, the first shock passed o'er and lances broke,
In haste took place, and at each furious stroke
Unbayed the fountains of their blood, to stain
With purple guilt the flower-enamelled plain. 300
Whilst each did thus with silent rage employ An art-directed fury to destroy The other's strength, the bordering shadows weep In trickling dews, and with sad murmurs keep Time with the hollow and ill-boding note Sent from a fatal raven's stretched-out throat. Which from an old oak's withered top did sing A baleful dirge. But these sad omens bring No terror to their busy thoughts, which were Too much employed in action, to take care 310
For any danger more remote than what With the next stroke might fall. Perceiving that Their horses faint, they both dismount, and do On equal terms the fight on foot renew, Till a cessation, from the want of breath Not valour, was enforced. The veil, which death Contracted from those steams his reeking blood Breathed forth its spirits in, already stood Over Mazara's eyes, which clouded sees
Not that approach of night ; his trembling knees 320
Stagger beneath their fainting load, which in- T' the grave had dropped, had not their fury been, When its last heat was with life's flame near spent, From further rage restrained by accident.
Some of the lost Carina's frighted friends,
(•30)
Canto I] Pharontiida
Fearing those ills which desperate love attends,
Spending that morning in the fruitless quest
Of her had been, and now (their hopes distrest
With vain inquiries) to communicate
Their grief returning were ; which secret fate 330
To interpose through dark meanders brought
Neglect, to find what care in vain had sought.
Whilst yet no more than brave humanity Prompts them to part a quarrel that might be Defiled with blood, which, if not shed in wars, With murder stains what it doth gild with scars, They toward them haste, even in that critical And dangerous minute when Mazara's fall, With victory's laurels to adorn his crest,
His valiant friend had robbed of future rest, 340
Had not this blest relief of innocence, The one from death, the other from expense Of tears, restrained, before revenge had found So much of guilt as might his conscience wound.
His high-wrought rage stopped by too many hands To vent its heat, Euriolus now stands. Shook with the fever of his anger, till Those friends, which saw Mazara grown so ill With wounds to gasp for breath, by giving way For air, they to the victor's view betray 350
His best of friends. At which afflicting sight, Cursing the cause of that unhappy fight. His sword as guilty thrown aside, he hastes To his relief; in which kind act none wastes Their friendly help : life, as but stolen from pain Behind the veil of death, appears again On Nature's frontiers; whose returning flame, Though scarce of strength to warm, looked red with shame, When he so many well-known friends beheld. Sad witnesses, how much his passion swelled 360
Above the banks, where reason should have staid, When to that meeting it his friend betrayed.
Their veils of steel removed, each now beholds What shame and wonder in firm contracts folds. Amazed stands brave Euriolus to see. None but his friend — his honoured friend — should be The parent of that quarrel ; shame confounds Mazara more, and from internal wounds. Though like the Red Sea's springs his other bled, Perhaps less danger, but more torment bred. 370
Both now by his unforced confession knew Whose equal-honoured beauty 'twas that drew Them to this fatal combat, whose event Him near the grave on love's vain errand sent.
372 equal-honoured] Orig. ' equalled-honoured.'
( 131 ) K 2
William Chaml?e?^layne [book hi
Friendship renewed in strict embraces, they Are now arrived where weak Carina lay, So faint with love's phlebotomy that she, Masked in forgetful slumbers, could not see Approaching shame ; which, when discovered, sticks Life's fair carnations on her death-like cheeks. 380
Hasting to see what over-forward rage That unknown stranger's weakness did engage In that unhappy quarrel, they beheld, At the first glance, an object that expelled Into the shades of sorrow's wilderness All temperate thoughts: — his sister's sad distress, Wrought by his arm whose strength betrayed her near The grave, did to Euriolus appear. Dreadful as if some treacherous friend had shown Those flames in which his scorched companions groan. 390 Nor did Mazara, though but prompted by Pity, that tender child of sympathy. With less relenting sorrow live to see Love's bloody trophies, though unknown to be By his victorious beauty reared. To save From the cold grasp of an untimely grave So ripe a virgin, whilst her brother stands Unnerved with grief, amongst the helpful hands Of other friends are his employed, till, by Their useful aid, fled life returns to try 400
Once more the actions of the world, before It shot the gulf of death ; but on the shore Of active 'Nature was no sooner set, But that, together with the light, she met Her far more welcome lover. Whom whilst she Beholds with trembling. Heaven, resolved to free A suffering captive, turns his pity to So much of passion, as ere long love grew On the same stem ; whose flowers to propagate, She in these words uncurtains mystic fate: — 410
' Forbear your aid, brave sir, and let me die. Ere live the author of a prodigy That future times shall curse ! Yet pardon me. Dear brother. Heaven will ne'er impute to thee The guilt of blood — 'twas my unhappy love Which raised this storm ; which, if my prayers may prove In death successful, let me crave of you. Dear sir, to whom I long have borne a true But indiscreet affection, that from hence,
For poor Carina's sake, for this expense 420
Of tears and blood, you would preserve those dear Respects of friendship, that did once appear Confirmed betwixt you ; and, although my fate Unto the worst of ills precipitate
( 132 )
Canto I] PharoTinida
My fame and life, oh ! let my name not be
Offensive to )'our ear. This, this for me,
Is all you shall perform.' — Which spoke, she'd let
Her hovering soul forth, to have paid the debt
Of nature to the grave, had not she been
By some assisting friends, whilst dropping in, 430
Staid at the last step, and brought back to meet
The bridal pair, no single winding sheet.
This doubtful combat ended, they are to
The court conveyed ; where Fame, upon this new
Text commenting, in various characters
Transcribes her sense : — some this bold act of hers
Term unbecoming passion, others brave, '
Heroic love. But what most comfort gave
To cured Carina, was, that this lost blood
Had proved love's balm, and in a purple flood 44°
Washed from her heart grief's sable stains ; for now
Merit had taught her dear Mazara how
To prize her virtuous love, and for its sake
Its cabinet her heart's best temple make.
Thus passion's troubled sea had settled in K smooth and gentle calm, had there not been Unhappily, to blast their sweet content, Not long before an act, for th' banishment Of all such courtiers, made, as should, without A licence from the council, fight about 45°
Whatever private quarrel. But not this Mazara or his new choice frights — their bliss Stood on more firm foundations than the court's Uncertain favours were : whose glorious sports Although he left, it was not to retire To sullen cares ; what honour could require, A state, which called him her unquestioned lord, Without depending favours did afford.
But whilst Ave leave this noble lover, by This mandate freed from what before did tie 460
Unto a troublesome attendance, we From brave Euriolus are forced to be With sorrow parted, since the general love His virtue had obtained, wants strength to move The ponderous doom. Ere his impoverished heart. Grown poor in streams, could from life's springs impart Warm blood enough for his pale cheeks to drink A health to beauty, he's enforced to think Of that sad theme of parting ; on whose sense His grieved soul dictates sighs, yet could dispense 47°
Even with its harshest rigour, were there but Any exception in it, that might put
472 exception] Orig. ' acception.' ( '33)
William Cha^nberlayne [book in
Out parting with Florenza, that though he
Were shrunk into his former poverty,
Calling the rugged frowns of Fate, would bear
A brow unclouded with Ambition's care.
But he must go : — not all the rhetoric
Of tempting love could plead against the quick
Approach of time ; whose speedy motion now
Only some slippery minutes did allow 480
Their parting tears : in whose exalted flood,
Had reason not with future hopes withstood
The rising stream, Love's summer fruits had been,
O'erwhelmed with grief, for ever buried in
A deluge of despair ; but that, whilst she,
With such sad looks as wintering Scythians see
The sun haste toward the arctic pole, beholds
His slow departure, glimmering hope unfolds
Twilight, which now foretells their frozen fear —
Day may return to Love's cold hemisphere. 490
THE END OF THE FIRST CANTO.
Canto II
THE ARGUMENT
The princess, by unlucky accident,
Having Love's secret embassies betrayed To her great father, by that action spent
That stock of hope which promised future aid.
His rage being to such rash extremes inflamed, That he, whose mandates none durst disobey.
As if his power were of such acts ashamed,
Shrinks from 't himself, and poorly- doth betraj'.
If angry Age, the enemy to love,
Tells thy grave pride — thy judgement is above
What with contempt, although it injure truth.
Thy spleen miscalls the vanity of youth ;
If harsh employment, gross society.
That feast of brutes, make thee an enemy
To love, the soul's commercive language, then
Remove thy eye, whilst my unenvied pen,
That long to passion hath a servant been.
Confines the fair Pharonnida's within 10
These paper limits. Frozen still she lies
Beneath opposing passions ; her bright eyes,
Arg. 8, 't himself] Orig. ' itself.'
I Age] Orig. 'Aid,' which is of course pure nonsense and betrays, only more distinctly than many other misprints, the fact that the copy was set up from dictation, and never ' read.'
(•34)
Canto II] Pharon7iida
Those stars whose best of influence scarce had power
To thaw what grief congealed into a shower
Of heart-disburthening tears, their influence spend
In sorrow's polar circles, and could lend
No light to beauty's world. I' the vigorous reign
Of this pale tyrant, whilst she did remain
Unlightened with a beam of comfort, in
A bower being set, that formerly had been 30
Her seat when she heard the unhappy news
Of parting with Argalia ; whilst she views
She blames the guiltless shadows, who, to ask
Pardon, in trembling murmurs did unmask
Their naked limbs, and scattered at her feet
The fragrant veil ; in 's death-bed sat the sweet
But pining rose, each grass its heavy head,
Laden with tears, did hang, whilst her eyes shed
A pattern to instruct them. Hence, whilst she
Looks thorough on a way conceived to be 3°
The same her lord marched with his army when
He left Gerenza, with a haste more then
A common traveller, she sees one post
Towards her court, whose visage had not lost
Its room within her memory — he 's known
Argalia's page. And now, each minute grown
A burthen to her thoughts that did defer
A nearer interview, the messenger
Arrives, and to her eager view presents
His master's letters : whose enclosed contents 40
Are now the object her expecting soul
Courts with desire, nor doth she long control
Their forward haste — a diamond being by
The messenger returned, whose worth might vie
Price with an Indian fleet when it sails slow
With 'ts glittering burthen. Though each word o'erflow
With joy, whilst her inquisitive discourse
Was on this pleasing theme, time did enforce
The page's swift departure ; who, with all
Affected epithets that love can call 50
To gild invention, when it would express
Things more sublime than mortal happiness,
Is gone to carry his expecting lord
What pleasure could, when rarified, afford.
Whilst this sweet joy was only clothed in fresh
Blossoms of hope, like souls ere mixt with flesh,
She only by desire subsisted ; but
Now to her chamber come, and having shut
The treacherous door, from the conjugal seal
The white-lipped paper freed, doth soon reveal 60
32 Gerenza] I follow Singer in adopting this form. The orig. wanders between * Ghirenza,' ' Ghieranza,' &c.
( 135 )
Willia7n Chamber lay ne [book in
Love's welcome embassies. — She reads, and, by
Each line transported to an ecstasy.
In fancy's wild meanders lost the way
She rashly entered ; faint desire would stay
At every word in amorous sighs to breathe
A love-sick groan, but she is yet beneath
The mount of joy, and must not rest until
Her swift-paced eye had climbed the flowery hill ;
Which now passed lightly o'er, with an intent
Of a review to its best ornament, 70
His name, she comes ; which whilst bathed in the balm
Of fragrant kisses, from joy's gentle calm
She thus is startled — A redoubled groan,
That sign of neighbouring sorrow, though unknown
From whence, affrights her soul ; but she too soon,
Too sadly knows the cause. The height of noon
Raged in reflected heat, when, walking in
Those outer rooms, her father long had been
In expectation of her sight ; but not
Finding her there, a golden slumber got 80
The start of 's meditations : to comply
With whose calm council, he did softly lie
Down on a stately couch, whose glittering pride
A curtain from the public view did hide.
Where, having plucked from off the wing of Time
Some of her softest down, the dews, that climb
In sleep to stop each ventricle, begin
To steal a soft retreat : hovering within
His stretched-out limbs sleep's vapours lie ; his hand
Rubs from his eyes those leaden bolts that stand 90
Over their heavy lids ; which scarce was done.
When first surprised Pharonnida begun
'l"o read her letter, and by that sad chance
Betray her love. Passion strove to advance
Her father from his lodging when he first
Heard the discovery, but though anger thirst
For swift revenge, yet policy persuades
Him to hear further, ere his sight invades
Her troop of pleasures. Whose thin squadrons broke
By what she'd heard, before she could revoke 100
Her vanquished spirits, that were fled to seek
Protection in her heart, robbing her cheek
Of all the blood to waft in ; whilst she stands
A burthen to her trembling legs, her hands
Wringing each other's ivory joints, her bright
Eyes scattering their distracted beams, the flight
O' the curtain from her father's angry touch.
Discovers whence that groan, which caused so much
Her wonder, came. Grief and amazement strives
Awhile with love, which soon victorious drives no
( 136 )
Canto II] Pharofinida
Those pale guests from her cheeks ; unto whose aid
Her noble heart, secure from being betrayed
By its own strength, did send a quick supply
Of its warm blood ; her conscience knows not why
To fear, 'cause knows no guilt, nor could have been
By love so virtuous e'er drawn near a sin.
But as the evening blushes for the rude
Winds of the ensuing day, so fortitude,
Upon the lovely roses that did grow
Within her face, a deeper dye bestow 120
Than fear could e'er have done, and did presage
The ensuing storm's exagitated rage.
Silent with passion, which his eyes inflamed, The prince awhile beholds her, ere he blamed The frailty of affection ; but at length,
Through the thick throng of thoughts, armed with a strength Which crushed the soft smiles of paternal love. He thus begins : ' And must, oh, must that prove My greatest curse, on which my hopes ordained To raise my happiness? Have I refrained 130
The pleasures of a nuptial bed, to joy Alone in thee, not trembled to destroy My name, so that, advancing thine, I might Live to behold my sceptre take its flight To a more spacious empire? Have I spent My youth till, grown in debt to age, she hath sent Diseases to arrest me, that impair My strength and hopes e'er to enjoy an heir Which might preserve my name, that only now Must in our dusty annals live ; whilst thou 140
Transfer'st the glory of our house on one, Which, had not I warmed into life, had gone, A wretch forgotten of the world, to the earth From whence he sprung? But tear this monstrous birth Of fancy from thy soul, quick as thou'dst fly Descending wrath, if visible, — -or I Shall blast thee with my anger, till thy name Rot in my memory ; not as the same That once thou wert behold thee, but as some Dire prodigy, which to foreshow should come 150
All ills, which through the progress of my life Did chance, were sent. I lost a queen and wife. Thy virtuous mother, who for her goodness might Have here supplied, before she took her flight To heaven, my better angel's place ; have since Stood storms of strong affliction ; still a prince Over my passions until now — but this Hath proved me coward. Oh ! thou dost amiss
132 not] Singer 'nor' perhaps unnecessarily.
(137)
JVilliam Chamber layite [bookiii
To grieve me thus, fond girl. With that be shook
His reverend head ; beholds her with a look i6o
Composed of grief and anger, which she sees
With melting sorrow : but resolved love frees
Her from more yielding pity. To begin
The prologue to obedience, which within
Her breast still dwelt, though swayed by love, she falls
Prostrate at 's feet ; to his remembrance calls
Her dying mother's will, by whose pale dust,
She now conjures him not to be unjust
Unto that promise, with which her pure soul
Fled satisfied from earth, as to control 170
Her freedom of affection. Rather she
Desires her interest in his crown might be
Denied her, than the choice of one to sway
It in her right. She urges how it may
Be by his virtue far more glorified
Whom she had chose, than if by marriage tied
To any neighbouring prince, who only there
Would rule by proxy, whilst his greater care
Secured his own inheritance. She then
Calls to remembrance who relieved him when iSo
Distressed within Alcithius' walls ; the love
His subjects bore Argalia, which might prove Her choice their happiness ; with all, how great
A likelihood it was — but the retreat
Of royalty to a more safe disguise,
Had showed him to their state's deluded eyes
So mean a thing. Love's boundless rhetoric
About to dictate more, he with a quick
And furious haste forsakes the room, his rage
Thus boiling o'er: — 'And must my wretched age 190
Be thus by thee tormented? But take heed.
Correct thy passions, or their cause must bleed
Until he quench the flame.' At which harsh word
He leaves the room, nor could her strength afford
Her power to rise ; which whilst she strives to do,
Her memory adding more weights unto
The burthen of her thoughts, her soul opprest
Sinks in a pale swoon, catching at the rest
It must not yet enjoy ; swift help lends light,
Though faint and glimmering, to behold what night 200
Of grief o'ershadowed her. You that have been.
Upon the rack of passion, tortured in
The engines of forbidden love, that have
Shed fruitless tears, spent hopeless sighs to crave
A rigid parent's fair aspect, conceive
What wild distraction seized her. I must leave
206 distraction] Orig. ' destruction.'
(^38)
Canto II] Pharo7i7iida
Her passion's volume only to be read,
Within the breasts of such whose hearts have bled
At the like dangerous wounds. Whilst she sits here
Amazed with grief, know that no smiles appear 210
To smooth her father's angry brow : yet to
None he unfolds his thoughts, but, bent to do
Whate'er his rage should dictate, to appease
This high-wrought storm, which turned into disease
Each motion of the brain, he only takes
Scorn and revenge, to whose ill counsel shakes
The quiet of the soul, to be his guides
Thorough those night-specked walks, whose shadow hides
The languished beams of love. Awhile their strong
Ingredients boil in 's blood, before they throng 220
The scattered thoughts into a quintessence
Of poisonous resolutions. First from thence
There sprung this black disaster to attend
Argalia's fortune — He doth forthwith send
A secret messenger t' the warlike prince
Of Syracuse, to let him know that since
He sent those forces to assist him in
His war, their general, that till late had been
The darling of his love, by arguments
Too strong was proved a traitor, whose intents 230
Aimed at his crown and life. To aggravate
His spleen the more, he writes him word — their fate
On the same ominous pinions flew, if that
He proved successful. Having warmed him at
This flame of passion, he concludes with — ' Sir,
You guess my meaning, I would have no stir
About dispatching of him, for he 's grown
Strong in affection, and may call his own
The hearts of half my kingdom. Let this give
Your justice power; he's too much loved to live.' 240
The startled Syracusan having read These bloody lines, which had not only bred A new, but nourished growing envy in His mighty soul — a stranger to all sin — So full of guilt, as to dissemble till The new made general's just deserts did fill Fame's still augmented volume, and was grown More legible than what he called his own. What in a rival prince had been a high
And noble emulation, kindled by 250
A smaller star, blasts virtue. He beholds His lightning valour, which each hour unfolds Examples for posterity, destroy What, though he trembled at, creates no joy Within his sullen soul ; a secret hate By envy fed, strives to unhinge his fate
( 139 )
Willia^n Chamber lay ne [Book in
From off its lofty pyramids, and throw
What merit raised unto a place more low
Than their first step to glory : yet, whilst nought
But honour was engaged, disdain ne'er sought 260
For life-excluding corrosives ; but love
Bearing a part, two suns might sooner move
In the same sphere, than that hot guest endure
A rival flame. Desert could not secure
Worth thus besieged ; yet this accurst intent
Dares not unveil itself. The army sent
By him from fair Gerenza, ere the sun
Performed his summer's progress, had begun
To garrison their weary force within
Such towns as their own valour first did win 270
From the retired Aetolians. Ere this task
Was fully ended, curtained in the mask
Of merit's lawful claim, reward, there came
A large commission, which Zoranza's name
Had made authentic — That the government
Of Ardenna, a town whose strength had spent
The baffled foe whole fields of blood, should be
Conferred on him. By the vicinity
O' the place freed from a tedious journey, in
The city he arrives ; and, what had been 280
Sent from his prince, presents those mandates that
Informed the governor : who, frighted at
The strange commands, lets a pale guilt o'ertake
His swift resolves, till glorious hopes did shake
Those mourning robes of conscience off; and, in
The purple garments of a thriving sin,
Shadows his trembling soul, lest she appear
Shook with a cold fit of religious fear.
The discomposure of his look, which did Appear the birth of discontent, forbid 290
Suspicion of a blacker sin. That night. As being the last of's charge, he did invite Argalia to remain his guest, the next Promising to be his ; yet seeming vext To leave the place, though only to conceal His dark design, that did itself reveal To none but some selected soldiers, by Whose help he meant to murther him. To vie Its benefits with the day's, night had bestowed Refreshing slumbers upon all that owed .300
It to the last day's labour ; when, without Fear of approaching danger, hemmed about With guards of honest valour, all his train, Save such as mere necessity detain,
269 force] Orig. 'fort.' 277 whole] Orig. 'whose."
( '40 )
Canto II] Pharonntdu
Lodged in the city, fearless Argalia in
The castle lies : where having tempted been
By midnight revels, full crowned cups, to be
Betrayed from reason to ebriety.
But nought prevailing, he at length is led,
Like an intended sacrifice, t' the bed 310
Ordained to be his last, until the earth
AVithin her womb afford him one. The birth
O' the morn grew near her slow approach, ere all
Those engines, by whose strength they meant his fall,
Could be prepared. The governor, that held
The helm of this black mischief, had expelled
The poisonous guilt of staining his own sword
With blood, providing villains that abhorred
No sin's contagion, though revenge did wait
On every guilty step. That evening's bait 320
Their liquid mirth had laid, although it took
No use of reason from his soul, had shook
Its labouring faculties into a far
More sudden slumber ; which composed the war
Of wandering fancy in a harmony
Of the concordant humours, until, by
The sudden noise of those ordained to be
His murderers, he wakes. Amazed to see
His chamber so possessed, he catches hold
On one of them, but finds his strength controlled 330
By the assistance of the other : in
The embryo of this treachery, ere their sin
Was past to execution, he conjures
Them to forbear so black a deed, assures
Them of rewards, greater than hope could call
A debt from him that basely sought his fall.
But deadly silence had barred up the gates
Of every voice ; those cursed assassinates
Prepared for action were ; but Heaven prevents
That aged sin of murdering innocents 340
With miracles of mercy. There was found
Not long before an ancient story, crowned
With a prophetic honour, that contained
This sacred truth : — ' When Ardenna is stained
With treachery, in friendship's veil disguised.
Her sable tower shall be by foes surprised.'
This known, but misconceived, to cozen Fate, They did unwounded bear without the gate The now resistless lion, that did lie,
Like that brave prince o' the forest, fettered by 350
A crew of trembling hunters. To the brow Of a high promontory, that did bow- Its black clifts o'er the clamorous waves, they had Conveyed the noble youth. The place a sad
( HI )
William Chamber layne [book in
And dismal horror wore ; the grim aspects
Of lowering rocks the grey-eyed sea reflects
In ugly glaring beams ; the night-raven beats
His rusty wings, and from their squalid seats
The baleful screech-owls fly, to bear their parts
In the sad murmur of the night. Those hearts 360
Custom had steeled with crimes, perhaps had been
Here frighted to repentance, had not sin,
Assisted by the hands of avarice, drawn
The bridge of reason, and obscured the dawn
Of infant goodness. To redeem the time
Astonishment had lost, towards their crime
They now themselves precipitate ; the hand
Ordained to ruin that fair structure, and
Unravel his life's even thread, prepares
To strike the fatal blow ; but He that dares 370
Obstruct commanded villany forbid
The further progress of their guilt, and chid
That pale sin in rough language of a strange
Confused sound, striking their ears — did change
The ominous dirges of the night into
A various noise of human voices. Who
Durst in that secret place approach, 'twas now
Too late to think on ; the rock's spacious brow
Was clouded o'er with men, whose glittering arms
Threatened destruction, ere their swift alarms 380
Could summon sleep's enfeebled aid. Whilst they
Forsake their prisoner, who becomes a prey
To the invaders, seeking safety in
Their flight, they fall before him that had been
Ordained to speedier ruin ; entering at
The open sallyport, they give by that
Rash act directions to the foe that mixed
Promiscuously with them, and now had fixed
Their standards on the gates. The castle, in
Feverish alarums sweating, did begin 390
To ease her fiery stomach, by the breath
O' the full-mouthed cannon : ministers of death
In this hot labour busily distils
Extracted spirits ; noise and tumult fills
The frighted city, whose fired turrets lent
A dismal light. But the assailants spent
Their blood in vain, the soldiers that had been
At the first trembling fit distracted in
Confusion's giddy maze, had rallied now
Their scattered spirits, and were seeking how 400
To purge dishonour's stains in the bright fire
Of rage-contracted valour. To retire
393, 4 distils, fills] Singer corrects both false concords — things which, it may be well to repeat just once, Chamberlayne certainly commits knowingly in some places.
( mO
Canto II] Phuronnida
Unto their ships in safety, now is all
The invaders hope for ; but so many fall
In that attempt, it leaves no triumph due
To Fortune's temple. By this winding clew
Of various fate, Argalia only finds
That stroke of death deceived ; no hand unbinds
His corded arms, but that which meant to lay
Bondage as hard; so corrosives do stay 410
A gangrene, fed by springs of poisonous blood,
When reaching at the heart, as these withstood
The cataracts of death. With tyrants more
Indomitable than the sea that bore
Their black fleet, leave our hero to untie
This knotty riddle of his fate, whilst, by
The ignis fatuus of a fancy led.
With slow-paced feet through other paths we tread.
The tumults of the city silenced in A peaceful calm ; what the effects had been 420
Of those loud clamours, whilst all seek to know, Argalia's loss makes giddy wonder grow Into suspicion — that this act might be Some stratagem o' the governor, to free Himself from a successor. But those sly Darts of mistrust were rendered hurtless by His prince's mandates, whose envenomed hate That spurious birth had made legitimate. Yet swift revenge affronts his treason in
Its full career ; his master, having been ^ 430
By him informed of a surprisal where AH sounds but death affrighted, could not bear The burthen of his fears, and yet not sink Deeper in sin. Ere the poor wretch could think On aught but undeserved rewards, he, by A brace of mutes being strangled, from the high But empty clouds of expectation drops. To let the world know what vain shadow props Those blood-erected pyramids that stand On secret murder's black and rotten sand. 440
When thus the Syracusan had secured His future fame, passion, that still endured A strong distemperature, slept not until The story of their crossed design did fill Palermo's prince's ear. Argalia's loss Was now the ball that babbling Fame did toss Thorough the court; upon whose airy wing, Reaching the island, it too soon did bring The heavy news, disguised in robes more sad Than truth, to her, whose stock of virtues had 450
444 crossed] Orig. ' crosse ' : and ' cross ' is not at all impossible.
445 Palermo's] ' Palermo ' introduces a fresh confusion of scene.
(H3)
William Chamber lay 7^e [book hi
Been ventured on that sea of merit. In
Such forms of grief, as princes that have been
Hurled from the splendent glories of a throne
Into a dungeon, her great soul did groan
Beneath the weights of grief: the doleful tale
Had thunder-struck all joy ; her spirits exhale
Their vigour forth in sighs, and faintly let
That glorious fabric, unto which they're set
Supporters, fall to the earth. Yet sorrow stays
Not in this frigid zone, rude grief betrays 460
Her passions to her father's jealous ear.
Who, fearing least Argalia's stars might clear
Their smoky orbs, and once more take a flight
From death's cold house, by a translated light.
To separate from sorrow, and again,
In fortune's house, lord of the ascendant reign ;
He doubts that island's safety, and from thence
Removes her with what speedy diligence
Fear could provoke suspicion to. Her train,
Shook with that sudden change, desire in vain 470
The island's pleasure, ere they know how much
Their fates must differ. As it oft in such
Unlooked for changes happens, each man vents
His own opinion ; — some said, discontents
Of the young princess ; others, that the season
O' the year was cause : but though none know his reason.
All must obey his will. The pleasant isle,
Whose walks, fair gardens, prospects, did beguile
Time of so many happy hours, must now,
A solitary wilderness whose brow 480
Winter had bound in folds of ice, be left
To wail their absence ; whilst each tree, bereft
Of leaves, did like to virgin mourners stand.
Clothed in white veils of glittering icelets, and
Shook with the breath of those sharp winds that brought
The hoary frost. The pensive birds had sought
Out springs that were unbarred with ice, and there
Grew hoarse with cold ; the crusted earth did wear
A rugged armour; every bank, unclad
With flowers, concealed the juicy roots that had 490
Adorned their summer's dress ; the meadows' green
And fragrant mantle, withering, lay between
The grizly mountain's naked arms; — all grows
Into a swift decay, as if it owes
That tribute unto her departure, by
Whose presence 'twas adorned. Seated did lie,
Within the circuit of Gerenza's wall.
Though stretched to embrace, a castle, which they call
474 said] Orig. 'did.' 486 frost] 'Frost' is Singer's correction for 'fish'
which cannot be right, and was piobably suggested by 'birds.'
( M4 )
Canto II] Pharo7inida
The prince's tower — a place whose strength had stood
Unshook with danger. — When that violent flood 500
Of war raged in the land hither were brought
Such, if of noble blood, whose greatness sought
From treacherous plots extension ; yet, although
To those a prison, here he did bestow
His best of treasure : briefly, it had been
Unto the Spartan kings a magazine
Since first they ruled that kingdom, and, whene'er
A war drew near them, their industrious care
Made it their place of residence. The hill
'Twas built upon, with 's rocky feet did fill 510
A spacious isthmus ; at its depth a lake.
Supplied b' the neighbouring sea let in to make
The fort the more impregnable, with slow
But a deep current running, did bestow
A dreadful prospect on the bended brow
O' the hill ; which, covered with no earth, did bow
Its torn clifts o'er the heavy stream. The way
That led to it was o'er a bridge, which they
That guard it did each night draw up ; from whence
A steep ascent, whose natural defence 520
Assisted by all helps of art, had made
The fatal place so dangerous to invade —
Each step a death presented. Here when he
Had placed his daughter, whose security
Rocks, walls, nor rivers warranted, without
A trusty guard of soldiers hemmed about
The walls less hard than they. Those gentlemen
That on her happier court attended, when
Argalia did command them, as too mild
Were now discharged ; their office on a wild .^3°
Band of those mountain soldiers, who had in
His last great war most famed for valour been,
Being conferred ; and these, lest they should be
Forced by commands into civility.
Bestowed upon the fierce Brumorchus ; one
Whose knotty disposition nature spun
With all her coarsest threads, composing it
For strength, not beauty, yet a lodging fit
For such a rough unpolished guest as that
Black soul ; whose dictates it oft trembled at 540
In feverish glooms, whose subterranean fire
Inflamed that ill-formed chaos with desire
Its vigour to employ in nought of kin
To goodness, till 'twas better tempered in
The prince's court ; where, though he could not cast
His former rudeness off, yet having past
540 oft] Orig. ' ought,' another, no doubt, of the slips oi ear. ( 145 ) L
JVillia^n Cha7nherlay7te [bookiii
The filing of the courtiers' tongues, at length
It thus far wrought him — he converts that strength
To 's prince's service, which till then had lay
In passion's fetters, learning to obey 550
The gentle strokes of government. Though bred
In savage wildness, nurst with blood, and fed
With hourly rapine, since he had forsook
Those desert haunts a firm obedience took
Hold on 's robustious nature, not to be
By that effeminate wanton, Flattery,
Stroked to a yielding mildness. Which being known
To the mistrustful prince, whose passions, grown
So far above the reach of reason that
Her strength could not support them, bending at 560
Their own unwieldy temper, sunk into
Acts that his milder thoughts would blush to do,
Make him from all his nobler captains choose
Forth this indomitable beast. To use
So harsh a discipline unto the sole
Heir to his crown, a lady that did roll
More virtues on the spindle of her life.
Than Fate days' length of thread, had raised a strife
So high in his vexed subjects' blood, that all
Murmur in secret ; but there 's none durst call 570
His prince's acts in question : to behold
Her prison through their tears, and then unfold
Their friends a veil of sorrow, is the most
Their charity durst do. But that which crost
Distressed Pharonnida above the grief
Of her restraint, or aught but the belief
Of her Argalia's death, is — now to be
Barred, when she wants it most, society
With sorrowful Florenza, whilst she staid,
The partner of her secrets, now betrayed 580
By false Amphibia to her father, and
Banished the court, retiring, to withstand
The storms of greatness, to her father's own
Poor (juiet home ; which, as if ne'er she'd known
The beauties of a palace, did content
Her even thoughts, at leisure to lament
In pensive tears her wretched mistress' fate,
Whose joys eclipsed, converts her robes of state
To mourning sables. What delights the place
Was capable of having, to deface 590
The characters of grief, her fatlier strives
To make them hers; but no such choice flower thrives
In the cold region of her breast, — she makes
Her prison such as theirs, whose guilt forsakes
All hopes of mercy. The slow-footed day,
Hardly from night distinguished, steals away
(146)
Canto II] Pharonntdu
Few beams from her tear-clouded eyes, and those
A melancholy pensiveness bestows
On saddest objects. The o'ershadowed room,
Wherein she sat, seemed but a large-sized tomb, 600
Where beauty buried lay ; its furniture
Of doleful black hung in it, to inure
Her eyes to objects like her thoughts. In which
Night-dress of sorrow, till a smile enrich
Impoverished beauty, I must leave her to
Her sighs, those sad companions ! and renew
His fatal story, for whose love alone
She dares exchange the glories of a throne,
THE END OF THE SECOND CANTO.
Canto III
THE ARGUMENT
From treachery, which two princes' annals stained,
The brave Argalia by protecting fate Dehvered, land on Rhodes' fair isle attained. Being there elected champion for their state.
In which design, although with victory blest,
The common fate him soon a prisoner makes To a proud Turk, beneath whose power distressed,
His virtue proffered liberty forsakes.
Through the dark paths of dusty annals, we,
Led by his valour's light, return to see
Argalia's story ; who hath, since that night
Wherein he took that strange distracted flight
From treacherous Ardenna, performed a course
So full of threatening dangers, that the force
Of his protecting angel trembled to
Support his fate, which cracked the slender clew
Of destiny almost to death. His stars,
Doubting their influence when such horrid wars 10
The gods proclaimed, withdrew their languished beams
Beneath heaven's spangled arch. In pitchy streams
The heavy clouds unlade their wombs, until
The angry winds, fearing the flood should fill
The air, their region where they ruled, did break
Their marble lodgings ; nature's self grew weak
'^^'g- 3' on] Orig. ' or,' and I would not undertake that Chamberlayne's restless and unconventional thought did not understand by 'land' 'continent' or 'main,' and suggest a sort of parenthesis of correction.
15 their] Singer ' the region,' to some positive loss.
( 147 ) L 2
Willi a 771 Cha77therlay7ie [bookiii
With these distemperatures, and seemed to draw
Toward dissolution ; her neglected law
Each element forgot — the imprisoned flame,
When the clouds' stock of moisture could not tame 20
Its violence, in sulphury flashes break
Thorough the glaring air ; the swoln clouds speak
In the loud voice of thunder ; the sea raves
And foams with anger, hurls his troubled waves
High as the moon's dull orb, whose waning light
Withdrew to add more terror to the night.
When the black curtain of this storm that took The use of art away, had made them look For nought but swift destruction, being so vain For th' mariners to row that the proud main 30
Scorned to be lashed with oars, to ease distress. The night forsook them : but a day no less Dreadful succeeds it ; by whose doubtful light The wretched captives soon discover right Near them a Turkish navy ; to whose aid The renegadoes (having first displayed Their silver crescents) join. Nor did they meet That help untimely ; a brave Rhodian fleet Set forth from those, the Christian bulwarks, to Obstruct the Turks' invasions, was in view. 40
To meet the threatening danger, which 'twas then Too late to waive, that miracle of men, The brave Argalia, chained unto an oar, Is with a thousand noble captives more Forced to assist damned infidels. And now The well-armed fleets draw near, their swift keels plough The ocean's angry front. First, they salute Each other with their cannon ; those grown mute, Come to more desperate fight ; unfriendly bands Unite their vessels ; the fierce soldier stands 50
Firm on his hatches, whilst another boards His active enemies, whose ship affords No room for such unwelcome guests, but sends Their scattered limbs into thin air ; each bends His strength to 's foe's destruction. Plunging in Which bloody sweat, the Rhodians' hopes had been Lost with their fleet, had not kind fortune smiled Thus on their fear. — Whilst action had beguiled Each soul of passive cares, Argalia sees
A way to unlock his rusty chain, and frees 60
Himself and fellows from their bank ; which done, Those that continued at their oars did run The vessel from the rest, and, ere unto Their sight betrayed, the trembling pirates slew.
34 right] Orig. ' night.' ( M8 )
Canto III] Pharofinida
Then, closing with their unsuspicious foes,
r the vigour of the fight, they discompose
Their well-ranged fleet, and such confusion strook
Into the van, to see their rear thus shook
With an unlooked for hurricane, that in
A fearful haste the numerous Turks begin 70
To stretch their fins and flee. But all their speed
Was spent in vain, Argalia's hand had freed
So many captives, that their galleys must
Unto the winds' uncertain favour trust,
Or else, becalmed, but feebly crawl before
Their eager foes, who both with sail and oar
Chased them to ruin. Glorious victory
Thus to the Christian party being by
A stranger purchased, with such high applause
As those that rescue a declining cause 80
From the approach of ruin, welcomed, he
Is now received into th' society
Of the brave Christian order. But they not
Long joyed in victory, ere the Turk, to blot
The stains of being conquered out, had made
A mighty army ready to invade
The valiant Rhodians ; where Argalia shows
So brave a spirit, their whole army owes
His valour for example. The Turks had oft
Made desperate onslaughts on the isle, but brought 90
Nought back but wounds and infamy ; but now,
Wearied with toil, they are resolved to bow
Their stubborn resolutions with the strength
Of not-to-be-resisted want. The length
O' the chronical disease extended had
To some few months, since, to oppress the sad
But constant islanders, the army lay
Circling their confines. Whilst this tedious stay
From battle rusts the soldier's valour in
His tainted cabin, there had often been, 100
With all variety of fortune, fought
Brave single combats, whose success had brought
Honour's unwithered laurels on the brow
Of either party ; but the balance now.
Forced by the hand of a brave Turk, inclined
Wholly to them. Thrice had his valour shined
In victory's refulgent rays, thrice heard
The shouts of conquest, thrice on 's lance appeared
The heads of noble Rhodians, which had strook
A general sorrow 'mongst the knights. All look no
89 oft] Orig. ' ought.' There can be no doubt about the right word in meaning, but it is an interesting point in the History of Rhyme, whether 'brought' was pro- nounced 'broft,' with the sound of 'cough,' or whether 'oft' was forced, in a />/«<sfy«a»/- Spenserian fashion, to suit the eye.
( 149 )
William Chafnberlayjte [book hi
Who next the lists should enter; each desires
The task were his, but honour now requires
A spirit more than vulgar, or she dies
The next attempt, their valour's sacrifice ;
To prop whose ruins, chosen by the free
Consent of all, Argalia comes to be
Their happy champion. Truce proclaimed until
The combat end, the expecting people fill
The spacious battlements, the Turks forsake
Their tents, of whom the city ladies take 120
A dreadful view, till a more noble sight
Diverts their looks. Each part behold their knight
With various wishes, whilst in blood and sweat
They toil for victory. The conflict's heat
Raged in their veins, which honour more inflamed
Than burning calentures could do ; both blamed
The feeble influence of their stars that gave
No speedier conquest ; each neglects to save
Himself — to seek advantage to offend
His eager foe. The dreadful combat's end 130
Nought but their loss of blood proclaims ; their spirits
In that reflux of heat and life inherits
Valour's unconquered throne. But now so long
The Turks' proud champion had endured the strong
Assaults of the stout Christian, till his strength
Cooled on the ground, with 's blood, he fell at length
Beneath his conquering sword. The barbarous crew
O' the villains, that did at a distance view
Their champion's fall, all bands of truce forgot,
Running to succour him, begin a hot 14c
And desperate combat with those knights that stand To aid Argalia, by whose conquering hand Whole squadrons of them fall : but here he spent
His mighty spirit in vain, their cannons rent
His scattered troops, who for protection fly
T' the city gates ; but, closely followed by
Their foes, did there for sad oblations fall
To dying liberty. Their battered wall
Groaned with the wondrous weight of lead, and in
Its ruins hides her battlements; within 150
The bloody streets the Turkish crescents are
Displayed, whilst all the miseries of war
Raged in their palaces. The common sort
Of people make the barbarous soldier sport
In dying, whilst those that survive them crave
Their fate in vain ; here cruelty did save
And mercy only kill, since death set free
Those happier souls from dire captivity,
At length the unrestrained soldier tires,
Although not satisfies his foul desires, 160
('50)
Canto III] Pharofifiida
With rapes and murder. When, amongst those poor
Distressed captives that from thence they bore,
Argalia lies in chains, ordained to die
A sacrifice unto the cruelty
Of the fierce bashaw, whose loved favourite in
The combat late he slew ; yet had not been
In that so much unhappy, had not he,
That honoured then his sword with victory,
Half-brother to Janusa been,— a bright
But cruel lady, whose refined delight, i^o
Her slave, though husband, Ammurat, durst not
Ruffle with discontent. Wherefore to cool that hot
Contention of her blood, which he foresaw
That heavy news would from her anger draw.
To quench with the brave Christian's death, he sent
Him living to her, that her anger, spent
In flaming torments, might not settle in
The dregs of discontent. Staying to win
Some Rhodian castles, all the prisoners were
Sent with a guard into Sardinia, there iSo
To meet their wretched thraldom. From the rest
Argalia severed, soon hopes to be blest
With speedy death, though waited on by all
The hell-instructed torments that could fall
Within invention's reach. But he 's not yet
Arrived to 's period, his unmoved stars sit
Thus in their orbs secured. — It was the use
O' the Turkish pride, which triumphs in the abuse
Of suffering Christians, once, before they take
The ornaments of nature off, to make 190
Their prisoners public to the view, that all
Might mock their miseries. This sight did call
Janusa to her palace window, where.
Whilst she beholds them, love resolved to bear
Her ruin on her treacherous eye-beams, till
Her heart infected grew ; their orbs did fill,
As the most pleasing object, with the sight
Of him whose sword opened a way for th' flight
Of her loved brother's soul. At the first view
Passion had struck her dumb, but when it grew 200
Into desire, she speedily did send
To have his name ; which known, hate did defend
Her heart, besieged with love ; she sighs, and straight
Commands him to a dungeon ; but Love's bait
Cannot be so cast up, though to deface
His image in her soul she strives. The place
For 's execution she commands to be
'Gainst the next day prepared ; but rest and she
Grow enemies about it : if she steal
A slumber from her thoughts, that doth reveal 210
(151)
Willia7n Chamber lay?ie [book hi
Her passions in a dream ; sometimes she thought
She saw her brother's pale grim ghost, that brought
His grisly wounds to show her, smeared in blood,
Standing before her sight, and, by that flood
Those red streams wept, imploring vengeance ; then,
Enraged, she cries — Oh, let him die. But when
Her sleep-imprisoned fancy, wandering in
The shades of darkened reason, did begin
To draw Argalia's image on her soul,
Love's sovereign power did suddenly control 220
The strength of those abortive embryoes, sprung
From smothered anger. The glad birds had sung
A lullaby to night, the lark was fled,
On drooping wings, up from his dewy bed,
To fan them in the rising sun-beams ; ere
Whose early reign, Janusa, that could bear
No longer locked within her breast so great
An army of rebellious passions, beat
From Reason's conquered fortress, did unfold
Her thoughts to Manto, a stout wench, whose bold 2,50
Wit, joined with zeal to serve her, had endeared
Her to her best affections. Having cleared
All doubts with hopeful promises, her maid.
By whose close wiles this plot must be conveyed
To secret action, of her council makes
Two eunuch-panders; by whose help she takes
Argalia from his keeper's charge, as to
Suffer more torments than the rest should do.
And lodged him in that castle, to affright
And soften his great soul with fear. The light, 240
Which lent its beams unto the dismal place
In which he lay, without presents the face
Of horror smeared in blood — A scaffold, built
To be the stage of murder, blushed with guilt
Of Christian blood, by several torments let
From the imprisoning veins. This object set
To startle his resolves if good, and make
His future joys more welcome, could not shake
The heaven-built pillars of his soul, that stood
Steady, though in the slippery paths of blood. 250
The gloomy night now sat enthroned in dead
And silent shadows, midnight curtains spread
The earth in black for what the falling day
Had blushed in fire, whilst the brave prisoner lay
Circled in darkness ; yet in those shades spends
The hours with angels, whose assistance lends
Strength to the wings of Faith, which, mounted on
The rock of hope, was hovering to be gone
Towards her eternal fountain, from whose source
Celestial love enjoined her lower course. 260
Canto III] Pha7^07t7lida
270
Whilst in this holy ecstasy, his knees' Descent did mount his heart to Him that sees His thoughts developed ; whilst dull shades opprest The drowsy hemisphere ; whilst all did rest, Save those whose actions blushed at day-light, or Such wretched souls whose sullen cares abhor Truce with refreshing slumbers ; he beholds A glimmering light, whose near approach unfolds The leaves of darkness. Whilst his wonder grows Big with amazement, the dim taper shows What hand conveyed it thither ; he might see False Manto entered, who, prepared to be A bawd unto her lustful mistress, came, Not with persuasive rhetoric to inflame A heart congealed with death's approach, but thaw Him from the frozen rocks of rigid law With brighter constellations, that did move In spheres, where every star was fired with love.
The siren, yet to show that she had left Some modesty, unrifled by the theft 280
Of mercenary baseness, sadly wept — Her errand's prologue ; but guilt was not kept Within the curtain long, she only sate A mourner for the sickness of his fate Until esteemed for pitiful, and then Prescribes this remedy : — ' Most blest of men Compose thy wonder, and let only joy Dwell in thy soul ; my coming 's to destroy, Not nurse thy trembling fears. Be but so wise To follow thy swift fate, and thou may'st rise 290
Above the reach of danger. In thy arms Circle that power, whose radiant brightness charms Fierce Ammurat's anger, when his crescents shine In a full orb of forces. What was thine Ere made a prisoner, though the doubtful state Of the best Christian monarch, will abate Its splendour, when that daughter of the night, Thy feeble star, shines in a heaven of light. If life or liberty, then, bear a shape
Worthy thy courting, swear not to escape 3°°
By the attempts of strength, and I will free The iron bonds of thy captivity.'
A solemn oath, by that Great Power he served, Took and believed, his hopes no longer starved In expectation. From that swarthy seat Of sad despair, his narrow jail, replete With lazy damps, she leads him to a room, In whose delights Joy's summer seemed to bloom ; There left him to the brisk society Of costly baths and Corsic wines, whose high v-o
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William Cha^nberlayne [bookiii
And sprightly temper from cool sherbets found A calm allay. Here his harsh thoughts unwound Themselves in pleasure, as not fearing fate So much, but that he dares to recreate His spirits, by unwieldy action tired, With all that lust into no crime had fired.
By mutes, those silent ministers of sin. His sullied garments were removed, and in Their place such various habits laid, as Pride Would clothe her favourites with, she means to hide 320
From those deformities, which, accident. On Nature's issue, striving to prevent Form's even progress, casts, when she would twine That active male with matter feminine.
Unruffled here by the rash wearer, rests Fair Persian mantles, rich Sclavonian vests. The gaudy Tuscan, or transmuted shape Of the fantastic French — the British ape, The grave and constant Spaniard, all might here Find garments, such as princes would appear .^3°
To grace their honoured nuptials in, or tell Strangers how much their treasure doth excel. Though on this swift variety of fate He looks with wonder, yet his brave soul sate Too safe within her guards of reason, to Be shook with passion : that there 's something new And strange approaching after such a storm. This gentle calm assures him ; but the form Of pleasure softens not that which the other And worse extreme not with fear's damps could smother. 34° He flies not with the rugged separatist Pleasure's smooth walks, nor doth, enjoying, twist Those threads of gold to fetters ; he dares taste All mirth, but what religion's stock would waste. His limbs, from wounds but late recovered, now Refreshed with liquid odours, did allow Their suppled nerves no softer rest, but in Such robes as wore their ornament within. Veiled o'er their beauty. Linen, smooth and soft As Phoenix' down, and whiter than what's brought 35°
From furthest China, he puts on; and then, "What habit custom made familiar, when Clothed in his own, makes choice of for to be Most honoured of that rich variety.
In an Italian garb t' the doublet clad, Manto, lust's swift and watchful spy, that had With an officious care attended on That motion, entering, hastes him to be gone
312 allay] Orig. ' ally.' ( 'H )
Canto III] Pharofinida
Toward more sublime delights. Which though a just
And holy doubt proclaim the road of lust, ?,6o
Knowing his better angel did attend
Upon each step, he ventures to descend
The dreadful precipice so far, until
The burning vale was seen, then mounts the hill
Of heaven-bred fortitude, from whence disdain
Floods of contempt on those dark fires did rain.
His guilty conduct now had brought him near
Janusa's room ; the glaring lights appear
Thorough the window's crystal walls ; the strong
Perfumes of balmy incense, mixed among 37°
The wandering atoms of the air, did fly ;
Sight's nimble scouts yet were made captive by
A slower sense, as if but to reveal
What breathed within, those fugitives did steal
Thorough their unseen sallyports, which now
Were useless grown ; The open doors allow
A free access into the room^ where come,
Such real forms he saw as would strike dumb
Their Alcoran's tales of paradise ; the fair
And sparkling gems i' the gilded roof impair 380
Their tapers' fires, yet both themselves confess
Weak to those flames Janusa's eyes possess.
With such a joy as bodies that do long For souls, shall meet them in the doomsday's throng, She that ruled princes, though not passions, sate Waiting her lover, on a throne whose state Epitomized the empire's wealth ; her robe, With costly pride, had robbed the chequered globe Of its most fair and orient jewels, to
Enhance its value ; captive princes, who 39°
Had lost their crowns, might here those gems have seen That did adorn them : yet she trusts not in These auxiliary strengths, her confidence In her own beauty rests, which no defence Of chastity ere yet withstood ; and now She scorns to fear it, when her power did bow Unto a slave condemned, that ne'er could look To see the light, but whilst some torment took The use of eyes away. Whilst he draws near By her command, no less it did appear 4°°
Her wonder, to behold his dauntless spirit. Than his, what virtue to applaud as merit.
Placed in a seat near her bright throne, to stir His settled thoughts, she thus begins : — ' From her Your sword hath so much injured, as to shed Blood so near kin to mine, that it was fed
367 conduct] 'Conduct' for 'conductress' may just deserve a note because of the odd reversal of meaning involved. 383, 4 Blake ! 398 light] Orig. ' sight.
(155)
William Cha7nberlay7te [book hi
By the same milky fountains, and within
One womb warmed into life, is such a sin
I could not pardon, did not love commit
A rape upon my mercy : all the wit 410
Of man in vain inventions had been lost,
Ere thou redeemed ; which now, although it cost
The price of all my honours, I will do : —
Be but so full of gratitude as to
Repay my care with love. Why dost thou thus
Sit dumb to my discourse? It lies in us
To raise or ruin thee, and make my way
Thorough their bloods that our embraces stay.'
This on the spur of passion spoke, she strains His hand in hers ; where feeling the big veins 420
Beat with intemperate heat, conceiving it The strokes of lust, to aggravate the fit Into a paroxysm of guilt, she shows More than with modesty, how much she owes To Nature's treasure, for that ill-spent stock Of beauty she enjoyed : — Her eyes unlock Two cabinets of sparkling diamonds, which The even foils of ebon brows enrich With a more orient brightness ; on her cheek The roses, conquering the pale lily, seek 430
To counterfeit a blush, but vanquished shame Submits to love, in whose insulting flame The modest virgin a sad martyr dies, And at Fame's wounds bleeds — Passion's sacrifice ; Nature's embossed work, her soft swelling breasts, Those balls of living ivory, unprest Even with the weight of tiffany, displays Whiteness that shamed the swan's : the blood, that strays In azure channels over them, did show
By their swelled streams, how high the tide did flow 440
Wherein her passions sailed ; the milky way, Love's fragrant valley that betwixt them lay. Was moist with balmy dew, extracted by The busy spirits that did hovering fly Thorough her boiling blood, whose raging flame Had scorched to death the April flowers of shame.
To charm those sullen spirits that within The dark cells of his conscience might have been Yet by religion hid — that gift divine.
The soul's composure, music, did refine 450
The lazy air ; whose polished harmony, Whilst dancing in redoubled echoes, by A wanton song was answered, whose each part Invites the hearing to betray the heart.
434 bleeds] Orig. * bled.' (156)
CANTO III] Pharonnida
Having with all these choice flowers strewed the way
That leads to lust, to shun the slow delay
Of his approach, her sickly passions haste
To die in action. ' Come (she cries) we waste
The precious minutes. Now thou know'st for what
Thou'rt sent for hither, which if active at, 460
Thou only liv'st in my esteem.' And then.
Oh, impudence ! which from the worst of men
Might force a blush, she swiftly hastes to tread
Within lust's tropics, her polluted bed.
And here, black sinner, thou, whose blood's disease,
Of kin to hell's, wants numbers to appease
Its flaming calenture, blush to behold
A virgin virtue spotless leaves unfold
In youthful volume, whilst thy ripe years, spent
In lust, hath lost thy age's ornament. 470
In this, as hot and fierce a charge of vice, As, since he lost the field in Paradise, Man ever felt, the brave Argalia sits. With virtue cooled in passion's feverish fits : Yet at life's garrisons his pulses beat In hot alarums, till, to a soft retreat Called by that fair commandress, spite of all Beauty's prevailing rhetoric, though he fall Ruined beneath her anger, he by this
Unwelcome language her expected bliss 480
Converts to rage:— 'And must my freedom then At such a rate be purchased? Rather, when My life expires in torments, let my name Forgotten die, than live in black-mouthed fame, A servant to thy lust. Go, tempt thy own Damned infidels to sin, that ne'er had known The way to virtue : not this cobweb veil Of beauty, which thou wear'st but as a jail To a soul pale with guilt, can cover o'er
Thy mind's deformities ; a tainted whore _ 49°
Conscience proclaim thee will, when thou shalt sit, Shook with this spotted fever's trembling fit. Rent from these gilded pleasures, send me to A dungeon dark as hell, where shadows do Reign in eternal silence; let these rich And cosdy robes, the gaudy trappings which Thou mean'st to clothe my sin in, be exchanged For sordid rags. When thy fierce spleen hath ranged Through all invented torments, choose the worst To punish my denial ; less accursed 5°°
I so shall perish, than if by consent I'd taught thy guilty thoughts how to augment
470 hath] Singer, as usual, changes to ' have.' (^57)
William Chamber layiie [book hi
Their sins in action, and, by giving ease
To thy blood's fever, took its loathed disease.'
To have the spring-tide of her pleasures, swelled By lust's salt waters, thus by force expelled Back to confusion's troubled sea, had made Such troops of passion ready to invade An ill-defended conscience, that her look. Like a cast felon's out of hopes o' the book, 510
Was sad with silent guilt. The room she leaves To her contemner, who not long receives The benefit of rest ; she that had been The prologue unto this obstructed sin, With six armed slaves was entered, thence to force Him to his dismal jail : but the divorce Of life from those which first approached, joined to The others' flight, had put her to renew That scattered strength, had not that sacred tie. His solemn oath, from laurelled victory 520
Snatched the fair wreath, and, though brave valour strives To reach at freedom through a thousand lives. At her command more tamely made him yield, Than conquered virgins in the bridal field.
THE END OF THE THIRD CANTO.
Canto IV
THE ARGUMENT
Anp:er, improved by lust's enormous flame,
Fires vexed Janusa with such sad extremes Of rage, that her sweet sex's native shame
Is scorched to death in those prodigious beams.
Which whilst they to her angry lord betray Her honours loss, such tumults in him breed,
That both their deaths must serve for an allay ; Whose sudden fall our Christian champion freed.
Our noble captive, to fair Virtue's throne
In safety passed, though through Lust's burning zone,
Finds in his dungeon's lazy damps a rest
More sweet, though with the heavy weights opprest
Of iron bondage, than if they had been
Love's amorous wreaths, Janusa's arms, within
Whose ivory circles he had slept. IJut she.
Her grief composed of all malignity,
Lust's flames unquenched converts to, whilst they burn,
Black thoughts within her breast— the beauteous urn 10
510 hopes o' the book] i.e. ' benefit of clergy.' (158)
Canto IV] Pliarofinida
Of lust's corruption. Sometimes anger flies
Above the sphere of reason, and there dies
With tears extinguished ; she breathes curses in
Her soul's pale agony, such as had been
More deadly than infectious damps if not
Strangled in the embryo, — dead before their hot
Poison could work upon her fancy more
Than spleenful thoughts, which were recalled before
Ripened for execution. Now she steeps
Her down in tears, a flood of sorrow weeps, 20
Of power, if penitent, to expiate
Youth's vigorous sins ; but all her mourning sate
Beneath a darker veil than that which shades
Repentant grief, since sin but wished invades
The soul with that which leads to horror, when
Grief for sins past brings into light again :
One through a sea of trouble leads the way
To a safe harbour, the other casts away
Poor shipwrecked mortals, wheii by death's swift stroke
Life's feeble hold is from Hope's anchor broke. 30
So far the fair Janusa in this sad Region of grief had gone, till sorrow had That fever turned, upon whose flaming wings At first lust only sat, to one which brings Death's symptoms near her heart ; which had so long Beneath the burden groaned, until the strong Disease had wrought up all the blood within Her cheeks into consuming flames ; the skin Had lost its soft repose of flesh, and lay
On nought but bones, whose sharpness did betray 40
Their macerated nerves ; the rose had lost His ensigns in her cheeks, and though it cost Pains near to death, the lily had alone Set his pale banners up ; no brightness shone Within her eyes' dim orbs, whose fading light. Being quenched in death, had set in endless night, Had not the wise endeavours of her maid, The careful Manto, griefs pale scouts betrayed By sly deceit : knowing if she should want Health, until cured by that exotic plant, 50
The captive's love, what lust at first did burn With inflammations might a gangrene turn. Although she cures not, yet gives present ease By laying opiates to the harsh disease.
A letter, which did for uncivil blame His first denial, in the stranger's name Disguised, she gives her ; which, with eyes that did O'erflow with joy, read o'er, had soon forbid Grief's sullen progress, whose next stage had been O'er life's short road, the grave — death's quiet inn. 60
. ( »59 )
William Chamber lay7te [book in
From whose dark terror, by this gleam of h'ght, Like trembling children by a lamp's weak light Freed from night's dreadful shadows, she'd embraced Sleep, Nature's darkness, had not joy defaced Those sooty characters, and on the wings Of airy hope — that wanton bird which sings As soon as fledged — advanced her to survey The dawning beauties of a longed-for day.
But ere this pyramid of pleasure to Its height arrives, with 's presence to undo 70
The golden structure, dreadful Ammurat From 's floating mansion safely landed at The city's port, impatient love had brought In an untimely visit : ere swift thought. Fettered with guilt, could from his eager eye By an excuse to sanctuary fly. He enters, and she faints ! In which pale trance His pity finds her, but to no such chance Imputes the cause ; rather conceives it joy, Whose rushing torrent made her heart employ 80
Its nimble servants, all her spirits, to Prevent a deluge, which might else undo Love's new-made commonwealth. But whilst his care Hastens to help, her fortune did declare Her sorrow's dark enigma : from her bed The letter drops — which, when life's army fled Their frontier garrisons, neglected had Been left within 't ; — this seen, declares a sad Truth to the amazed bassa, though 'twere mixt With subtle falsehood. Whilst he stands, betwixt 90
High rage and grief distracted, doubtful yet In what new dress to wear revenge, the fit Forsakes Janusa ; who, not knowing she Detected stood of lust's conspiracy 'Gainst honour's royal charter, from a low Voice strains a welcome, which did seem to flow From fickle discontent, such as the weak Lungs breathe the thoughts in whilst their fibres break.
To counterfeited slumbers leaving her. He 's gone, with silent anger to confer ; 100
And, though rage lives in fire, the fury lies Unseen through the false optics of his eyes. With such a farewell as kind husbands leave Their pregnant wives, preparing to receive A mother's first of blessings, he forsakes The room, and into strict inquiry takes The wretched Manto ; who, ere she could call Excuse to aid, surprised, discovers all Her sin's black art, from whose dark theorems he This method draws: — That night, designed to be no
(,60)
Canto IV] Pharofinida
Lightened with lust's hot triumphs, he pretends
Commanded absence, yet the false stroke bends
But towards that guard, ere, by a swift reverse
Brought back, his soul's sly scouts had gained commerce
With all those enemies to honour, by
Whose aid Janusa ruins chastity.
Placed by false Manto in a closet, which, Silent and sad, had only, to enrich Its roof with light, some few neglected beams Sent from Janusa's room, which serve as streams 120
To waft intelligence ; — here he beheld, Whilst she, who with his absence had expelled All thoughtful cares, was with her joy swelled high As captives are when called to liberty. Her linen, like a princely bride's that meets In the soft folds of her first nuptial sheets Perfumed and costly ; her fair bed was more Adorned than shrines, whose saints rich kings adore ; Incense, in smoky curls, climbs to the fair Roof, whilst choice music rarifies the air : 130-
Each element, in more perfection here Than in their first creation, did appear. Yet Hved in harmony ; — the winged fire lent Perfumes to the air, that, to moist cordials pent In crystal vials, strength ; and those impart Their vigour to that ball of earth, the heart. The nice eye here epitomized might see Rich Persia's wealth, and old Rome's luxury.
But now, like Nature's new made favourite, Who, until all created for delight 140
Was framed, did ne'er see paradise, comes in Deceived Argalia, thinking he had been Called thither to behold a penitent Arming for death, not heaven's choice blessings, spent On th' vanities of life ; but mirth soon gives That thought its mortal wound, and shows she lives Beyond that dark sphere — where her joys did move As if her eyes alone gave laws to love ; Where beauty's constellations all did shine As if no cross aspect could e'er untwine 150
Their clasped conjunctions, which did seem to guide Old nature's steps, till from their zenith's pride. By virtue, the soul's motion, which the world In order keeps, into confusion hurled : For here gay Vanity, though clothed in all Her gaudy pageants, lets her trophies fall Before bright virtue's throne. With such a high Heroic scorn as aged saints, that die Heaven's favourites, leave the trivial world, he slights That gilded pomp ; no splendent beam invites 160
( 161 ) M
William Chamber lay?ie [book hi
His serious eye to meet their objects in
An amorous glance : reserved as he had been
Before his grave confessor, he beholds
Beauty's bright magic, while its art unfolds
Great love's mysterious riddles, and commands
Captive Janusa to infringe the bands
Of matrimonial modesty. When all
Temptation fails, she leaves her throne to fall,
The scorn of greatness, at his feet : but prayer,
Like flattery, expires in useless air, 170
Too weak to batter that firm confidence
Their torment's thunder could not shake. From hence
Despair, love's tyrant, had enforced her to
More wild attempts, had not her Ammurat, who,
Unseen, beheld all this, prevented by
His sight the death of bleeding modesty.
Made swift with rage, the ruffled curtain flies His angry touch— he enters— fixed his eyes. From whence some drops of rage distil, on her Whose heart had lent her face its character. 180
Whilst he stood red with flaming anger, she Looks pale with fear; — passion's disparity, In such extremes as nature's laws require, 'Twixt earth's cold centre and the air's circling fire. Dwelt in their troubled breasts ; his wild eyes stood, Like comets when attracting storms of blood, Shook with portentous sadness, whilst hers sate Like the dull earth, when trembling at the fate Of those ensuing ills — heavy and fixt
Within their orbs. Passions thus strangely mixt, 190
No various fever e'er created in
The frenzied brain, when Sleep's sweet calm had been From her soft throne deposed. This lightning past, Thunder succeeds ; as burning mountains cast But horrid noise after their flaming smoke. So having paused, his dreadful voice thus broke The dismal silence :—' Thou prodigious whore. The curse of my nativity, that more Afflicts me than eternal wrath can do
Spirits condemned — some fiends instruct me to 200
Heighten revenge to thy desert ; but so I should do more than mortals may, and throw Thy spotted soul to flames. Yet I will give Its passport hence; for think not to outlive This hour, this fatal hour, ordained to see More than an age before of tragedy.'
She that fell from a firmament of pride To fortune's lowest region, and there died
207-220. A remarkable and almost unique example of a passage where poetry is absolutely 'above grammar.'
( 162 )
Canto IV] Phuronntda
A sad example to ensuing times —
That honour's altitude supports not crimes, 210
When in their stretched extensions reaching to Justice, which can through reversed optics view Giants, though pigmy sins do oft appear, Like the dim moon, more great, because more near; Sins that, till fear their guilt did aggravate, Wore virtue's frontispiece, since now too late To hope for life, in their own monstrous form Encounter reason's guards, till the big storm Of various passions all were settled in
Dregs of despair. When, fearing tears should win 220
The victory of anger, Ammurat draws His cimetar, which had in blood writ laws For conquered provinces, and with a swift And cruel rage, ere penitence could lift Her burthened soul in a repentant thought Towards Heaven, sheathes the cold steel in her soft And snowy breast. With a loud groan she falls Upon the bloody floor, half breathless, calls For his untimely pity ; but perceiving
The fleeting spirits with her blood, were leaving 230
Her heart unguarded, she employs that breath Which yet remained, not to bewail her death. But beg his life that caused it — on her knees Struggling to rise. But now calmed Ammurat frees Her from disturbing death, in 's last great work, And thus declares some virtue in a Turk. — 'I have, brave Christian, by perusing thee In this great act of honour, learnt to be Too late, thy slow-paced follower : this ring (with that Gives him his signet) shall, when questioned at 240
The castle-guards, thy safety be. And now I see her blood's low water doth allow Me only time to launch my soul's black bark Into death's rubric sea — for to the dark And silent region, though we here were by Passion divorced, fortune shall not deny Our souls to sail together. From thy eyes Remove death's load, and see what sacrifice My love is offering.' With that word, a stroke Pierces his breast, whose speedy pains invoke 250
Death's opiates to appease them. He sinks down By's dying wife, who, ere the cold flood drown Life in the deluge of her wounds, once more Betrays her eyes t' the light ; and though they bore The weight of death upon their lids, did keep Them so long open, till the icy sleep Began to seize on him, and then she cries — ' Oh see, just Heaven ! see, see my Ammurat dies,
( 163 ) M 2
William Chamber layne [book hi
To wander with me in the unknown shade
Of immortaHty — But I have made 260
The wounds that murdered both : his hand that gave
Mine, did but gently let me blood to save
An everlasting fever. Pardon me,
My dear, my dying lord ! Eternity
Shall see my soul washed white in tears ; but oh !
I now feel time's dear want — they will not flow
Fast as my stream of blood. Christian, farewell !
Whene'er thou dost our tragic story tell,
Do not extenuate my crimes, but let
Them in their own black characters be set 270
Near Ammurat's bright virtues, that, read by
The unpractised lover, which posterity,
Whilst wanton winds play with our dust, shall raise
On beauty's throne, the good may justice praise
By his example, and the bad by mine
From Vice's throne be scared to Virtue's shrine.'
And here the speed Death's messengers did make To hurry forth their souls, did faintly shake Her words into imperfect accents. ' This,' She cries, 'is our last interview' — a kiss 380
Then joins their bloodless lips— each close the eyes Of the other, whilst the parting spirit flies Mounted on both their breaths, the latest gasp They e'er must draw. Whilst with stiff arms they clasp Each other's neck, Argalia through a cloud Of liquid sorrow did behold the proud Triumphs of death in their untimely fate : He sees great Ammurat for a robe of state Grovelling in blood, the fair Janusa lie,
Purpled in death, like polished ivory 290
Dipped in vermilion ; the bright crystals, that Her soul in conquering flames looked thorough at, Both quenched and cooled in death. But time did lend His tears scarce passage, till a drop could end Its journey o'er his cheeks, before a page, Whose cruelty had far out-grown his age, Enters in haste; and with an anger that, Though indiscreet, at wrongs seemed kindled at, In wounds did on the bassa's body vent A spleen that death's discharge could not content. 300
This seen, Argalia, to whom all must be Ofience that injures fair humanity. Stops the vain torrent, and a nearer way To just revenge directs the angry boy : Who, by unfolded truth, now lets him know, His rage to that uncivil height did grow, Not from a childish spleen, but wrongs that he, A Christian, suffered in captivity.
(164)
Canto IV] Pharonnida
Assured by this confession that he might
Be useful, more than in a secret flight, 310
Argalia bids him, in his bassa's name,
A mandate write for some of worthiest fame,
'Mongst all the Christian citizens, and those
To send the guard for, ere the morning rose
On the black ruins of the night. This done,
Before that time the victory had won
Of opportunity ; their warders slain,
Each Christian captive from his rusty chain
His bold hand frees, and by their happy aid,
The gates being first secured, with ease dismayed 320
The drowsy garrison, from whom they found
But weak resistance ; — some soft sleep had bound
To beds of ease, intemperate riot kept
Others more vainly waking ; here one slept
Between a mistress' arms, and there another,
Stole to a private catamite, did smother
Delight in whispers ; in which loose garb found.
Ere time rolls up what slow neglect unwound,
Even in security's soft lap surprised,
They met grim death in pleasure's shape disguised. 330
All now being slain but feeble eunuchs and Poor trembling maids, the new but valiant band Of late, freed captives crown the walls, from whence They saw the soldiers' wicked diligence In finding those which the false mandate had Designed for ruin general : as sad The city's sorrows were ; a desolate And silent horror unregarded sate In the empty streets, which action had not filled Yet with employment. But when day did gild 340
The ebony of night, to hear the rude Murmur that did from the mixed multitude Open together with their doors, assures Argalia, that their fear, which yet secures That handful of insulting tyrants, might. With anger being charged home, be put to flight With a reserve of hope ; whilst every breast Was swelled with stifled spirits ; whilst, opprest With silent grief, helpless spectators, they
Saw those they once for virtue did obey — 350
Their reverend senators, whose silvered heads Age now made fit for ease, forced from their beds By feverish power's rude fits, whose heat, not all /
The juleps of their tears, though some drops fall From Beauty's lovely blossoms, cool— Their rage Neglected youth slights like unreverent age.
343 open] Orig. ' opened.'
( 165 )
Willia?n Cha^nberlayne [book hi
But when the conquering captives, by the brave Argaha rescued from the castle, gave Bright victory's signal ; when they saw each lance The bleeding head of a grim Turk advance, 360
Anger, like unobstructed love, breaks forth In flaming haste. Yet here the want of worth And valour 'mongst the city herd, had drove Them all to death's dark fields, if, whilst they strove With that stout band of Janissaries, they Had not been by Argalia taught the way To victory ; who in a sally meets Retreating fear when creeping from the streets T' the vain protection of their doors. And now, His, conquering sword having taught all to bow 370
Beneath its burnished splendour, since the high Applause o' the loudest acclamations fly Beneath his worth, a general vote elects Him for their prince : but his brave soul affects Not so sublime a burthen, knowing they, Bred under a democracy, obey Contracted power; but harshly he returns All to their senate, who of late, like urns. Nought but the useless ashes did contain Of their own laws, which were by conquest slain. 380
But his refusal, where acceptance not Envy could say Ambition had begot, But new plants virtue ; who from thence did take The deeper root, and 'mongst the throng did make That choice so epidemical, that he, For valour feared, loved for humility. The people's prayer, those humble shrubs that owe For safety to power's cedars, join to grow Shadowed beneath his merit, and create
Him prince o' the senate ; who, their doubtful state 390
Requiring strong allies, a fleet prepared. To seek those princes who their danger shared. Which ready, with a prosperous gale of wind. He, though employed by honour, sails to find Out Love's rich Indies ; and, with 's white-winged fleet, Hastens Palermo's nearest port to meet.
THE END OF THE FOURTH CANTO. 363 herd] Orig. * heard.'
( '^^' )
Canto V] Pharomtidu
Canto V
THE ARGUMENT
With prosperous sails moved from Sardinia's shore,
Argalia safe doth now from danger set The Cyprian prince, who, though so largS in score
With noble friendship, soon repays the debt.
In Sparta's court they're now arrived, where he
That life he saved ventures, to save him in An act so great — it sets the princess free,
Who for his sake had long a prisoner been.
Whilst with bent oars Argalia's squadrons move,
Like the light wings of Time's physician, Love,
Who steered his course, and now had safely drawn
Him through the Ionian waves, when by the dawn
Of a still morning, whose pale sickly light,
Yet bounded in the ebony of night,
Showed like a dull quicksilver foil spread o'er
The world's great glass, whose even surface bore
W^ithin their view two galleons, whom they saw,
Like timorous hares base hunters give no law, lo
Chased by a nimble numerous fleet. Drawn near.
Christians the chased, the chasers Turks appear ;
Which, like a shoal of smaller fishes made
So bold by number that they durst invade
The big-bulked whale, on every side assails
The slow-paced fleet : who, since not strength prevails
Against such odds, their fiery spirits spent
In thunder, which had from their broadsides sent
The last great groan for power's decease, and they.
Not their foe's terror, but good fortune, lay. 20
Whilst cramped in this convulsion of their fear. Which honour gilding, made despair appear The child of fortitude, they all prepare Bravely to die, Argalia's squadrons bear Up with the wind ; and ere the Turk's proud fleet. Deceived by their own crescents, fear to meet. A danger, like a hurricane, falls in Destruction ; which was suffered whilst unseen. So wealthy merchants, whose returning cost A storm on the pacific sea hath lost, 30
Fall from the arms of hope : sudden and swift As inundations, whose impetuous drift Swallows a sleeping city up, had they Lost the firm hold of victory, and lay Sad captives in their own lost ship — for flight Saves few, where all in hopes of conquest fight.
Fair victory made more bright by accident, (Even when despair hope's wasted stock had spent), (167)
JVilliam Cha^nherlayite [book in
Those that were rescued from their soft prayers raise.
To pay Heaven's tribute in their louder praise : 40
Which oft-neglected debt discharged, they gave,
Allayed with thanks, to him, whose hand did save —
A miracle in their delivery — all
Deserved applause, that can when mounted, fall
r the circle of humanity. To kiss
Those hands which plucked him from the black abyss
Of death, their brave commander goes ; where he
Discovered by majestic courtesy
Such real forms of worth, that he was grown
Rich in esteem before more fully known. 50
But long truth stands not veiled in a disguise Of ignorance, ere they are taught to prize His friendship at a higher rate, by seeing Their active valour had been blest in freeing The Cyprian prince ; for such he was, and then Bound for Morea. This made public, when Acquaintance had taught love more boldness, he, All that discretion would permit to be Lodged in the closet of a friendly breast, Tells to Argalia : who, though in his best 60
Of hopes a rival knowing him, was in Love too secure to harbour envious sin.
Their prosperous fleet, ere Time's short steps had trod In hours a full day's journey, safely rode At anchor in Gerenza's bay ; from whence, When known, their cannons in a loud expense Proclaim their welcome. The acquaintance that The Cyprian's father, ere his youth staid at Its summer solstice, with Cleander had.
Revives i' the son's embraces, which the glad 70
City i' the triumphs echoes, ere 'twas known That his resolves were such — as love was grown The wishes of the people's throng, who thought That that unpolished prince Zoranza brought Unequal strength of merit, ere to win The fort Pharonnida lodged virtue in.
When first they entered the admiring court. Fame (wise men's care, but the fools' busy sport) Making the ear the eye's wise harbinger,
By learning first their virtues, did confer 80
More honour on their persons. They beheld r the Cyprian prince heroic worth, yet swelled With no ambitious tumour ; calm and free As wholesome air, when its ubiquity
Breathes healthful blasts, were his smooth thoughts — to all Most sweetly affable, but few could call
69 Cleander] Cleander, seldom if ever named before, is the King, Pharonnida's father.
(168)
Canto V] Pharonfitda
His love familiar; his youth had not
Yet learnt rough war^ although from precept got
Its useful rudiments, and by valour shows
Future command may pay what action owes 90
To speculation : by the grave sad man,
Whose counsel could conspiracies unspan
When ready to give fire, he is beheld
As one whose virtues far his years excelled,
And might, when at maturity, afford
Length to the sceptre from 's victorious sword.
From this young prince, Heaven's hopeful blossom, they,
Pleased but not satisfied, their souls convey
On those winged messengers — their eyes, unto
Manly Argalia ; finding there a new 100
And various form of worth : — on 's brow did sit
Reserved discretion reconciled to wit ;
Serious and grave his carriage, yet a face
Where Love's fair shrine did Wisdom's temple grace ;
His scars, those broad seals which protecting fate
His future safety signed in, on him sate
Not to deform, but until age remain.
Like maids of honour placed in Beauty's train.
True worth dwelt in the other, but in this
Brave hero's breast had her metropolis. j 10
The Cyprian's safety and Sardinia's brave
Redemption, were the passports which fame gave
Unto his travelling praise ; which, fled in haste
Through the ears' short stages, in each breast had placed
A love of 's worth ; which wise men softly praise
Whilst the loud throng to acclamations raise.
Not long these true-born sons of honour in Palermo's court remain, ere, what had been The cause which had the youthful Cyprian drew From 's father's court, white fame presents unto 120
Busy inquirers. Which design from all — Those swift but weak recruits, good wishes — call. Except from some it most concerned ; 'mongst which Cleander staggers unresolved. The rich And powerful kingdom, which affinity With Cyprus promised, was a prize to be Valued before Epirus' wealth, who, though Of late victorious, yet could never grow Up to that glorious height. This thought, the most Of all that e'er obstructed love, had crost 130
Zoranza's hopes, had not his wishes been, Though covetously vast, confined within The other's merits ; amongst which the chief Opposes first itself, and, the relief. Whispers in 's soul, that had been thence brought by Him, when his state wept blood for liberty. (169)
William Chafnberlayne [book hi
This in the scale of justice seemed as large As love's dimensions, till a second charge Of thoughts proclaim the Cyprian's power to do The same if in necessity sought to ; 140
Which blames becoming gratitude, as, in Relation to servility, a sin In the great soul of princes, who can be^ If they remain in debt for courtesy, But captives in the throne— too oft the cause Why meritorious subjects meet the law's Harsh rigour for reward, when their deserts, Many and great, o'erfill their princes' hearts.
Before Cleander's gravity had laid This tempest of his passions, fame betrayed 150
Their cause to the Epirot prince, who hears The Cyprian's welcome ; which his various fears But briefly comment on, before, without More slow delays than what were spent about The swiftest preparations, he intends To visit fair Pharonnida, and ends His journey, ere a thought unwinged with love Could lead him forth of 's court : which haste did prove His passions stronger than the strength of age Appeared to promise. What it might presage, 160
To see at once two royal strangers in Their glorious court, which both employed had been About one amorous errand, strangely did Affect the citizens ; whose fears, forbid The public stage, in private whispers tells What danger lay betwixt those parallels.
Yet, in the opposition of those stars That shine in passion's sphere^ Love's civil wars Had no field army ; all his power did rest ^^'ithin the private garrisons o' the breast, 170
Which, though besieged by sly suspicion, made No verbal sallies, but prepare to invade Beauty's bright province. Yet, each only had A single visit given unto the sad Sweet object of their hopes, and thence received A welcome, such as neither had bereaved The other's hopes — both rather finding cause Of cold despair. Cleander pleads the laws Of nature and free choice, to wave his own Engagements to Zoranza ; which had blown 180
Love's sickly flame with the tempestuous breath Of anger forth, had not those thoughts to death r the bud been doomed. Whilst thus his passions slept In Love's soft arms, the noble Cyprian kept A distance 'twixt his hopes and wishes by The staid Epirot's interest : — both rely
Canto V] Pharo7t7iida
On their own merits, and Love's doubtful fate Makes subject to the monarchy of Fate.
But whilst this busy combat of the heart On equal terms is fought, time bent to part 190
The royal champions. Through the obscure ports Of dark disguise into Love's field resorts A third brave combatant, whose merit had (Though not i' the armour of great titles clad) By parley won that maiden fort, which they. Although they scaled on golden mountains, lay Before in vain. Argalia, though within Gerenza's court, had yet a stranger been, More than in fame and big report, to her Whose best of thoughts wore his soul's character: 200
And yet, although a virgin's bashful grace Concealed her own, for to behold that face So much in debt t' the people's praises, to Her window oft the royal maid had drew ; Where, whilst his eyes did. waste their beams in vain To pierce those stubborn walls that did contain Rich Love's unvalued treasure, she beholds His brave deportment ; which, since strange, unfolds New volumes of unprinted joy, which she
(Sorrow affording so much liberty) 210
Oft with delight looks o'er, beholding in 't Argalia's virtues in a different print.
But his wise fate, even when his prayer grew weak In faith, did through hope's cold antarctic break In a long summer's day. — His noble friend, The princely Cyprian, did so largely spend His stock of eloquence in 's praise, when he Last saw divine Pharonnida, that she, Although from no remoter cause than springs From virtue's public love, tells him — he brings 220
His next best welcome with his friend : which, proud To be observant in, when time allowed A visit, he performs. Now to the court, Beauty's dull cloister, which no thronged resort Of clients fill they're come ; the surly guard, Those wakeful dragons, did without reward Let in that danger in disguise, which had Met death i' the entrance, if in that unclad.
The way that cleft the scowling rock being by A thousand steps ascended, they i' the high 230
Clifts find the royal eaglet, trying that Bright eye of her fair soul, discretion, at The fiery beams of anger, which were shot From her majestic father. Being got
187, 8 fate] The first ' fate ' should of course be ' state.'
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William Chafnberlayne [bookiii
Once more to breathe his soul upon that hand
Where love's first vows, sealed with his lips, did stand,
(Knowledge inflaming passion's fever), like
Unpractised saints, which miracles do strike
Into a reverend zeal, he trembling takes
That holy relic, which a cold fear shakes 240
In that warm touch. Her eyes' fair splendour shone
Like bright stars in heaven's trepidation.
Shook with the general motion, though betwixt
The spheres of love and wonder they stood fixt
In their own orbs, and their united beams
Centred on him ; yet (like dead friends which dreams
Imperfectly present) his lovely form,
As mariners when land is through a storm
With doubtful joy descried, she sees : but yet
Knowledge had met with no prospective fit 250
To guide her through the dark disguise unto
The road of truth ;— his valour was in new
Habiliments of honour clothed, and scars
Made her love's heaven adorned with unknown stars.
But whilst her recollecting spirits were All busied — his idea to compare With what she saw, a sudden glance of the eye Develops truth ; that jewel, which was by His first protector left, is seen, by which
Hope, near impoverished with despair, grows rich 260
In faith, heaven's tenure. But the rushing tide O'erflows so much, that love's fresh rivers glide Over weak Nature's banks, — she faints, and in A silent joy contracted what had been By love dilated : from which giddy trance To rescue her, Argalia doth advance To charge those troops of passions, which o'er her Had proved victorious ; nor did Fate defer The conquest long, ere she displays again Beauty's fair banner in Love's ivory plain. 270
'i'he imprisoned spirits freed, the blood in haste, Tearing her love had Wisdom's throne defaced, To Beauty's frontiers flies ; so mornings weep And blush together, when they oversleep
Themselves in night's black bed. Though fear's dull charms, \Vhilst in the circle of Argalia's arms. Like dream's fantastic visions, vanish in Her waking joys ; yet, knowing they had been Betrayed into a stranger's view, they both Stood mute with passion, till the Cyprian, loath 280
To add more weights unto affliction, by Imping Love's wings with noble courtesy. Fans off the southern clouds of fear, and thus Calms the loud storm : — ' Doubt not, because to us,
(^70
Canto V] Pharofinida
Fair princess, Love's mysterious riddles are
By accident resolved, the factious war
Shall be renewed ; such base intelligence
Traitors and spies give, when the dark offence
Starts at discovery. If my service may
Be useful, know I sooner dare betray 290
My sins t' the world, than your intentions to
A smooth seducer. This rare interview
May be my wonder — but shall never prove
My guilt, though all the stratagems of Love
Lay open to my heart, which, though unskilled
In his polemics, yet with truth is filled.'
Since now too late to seek protection by A faint denial, the wished privacy Their room afforded, gives them leave to lead His apprehension where conceit did read 300
The story of Love's civil wars : whose rage, Since treaty could not calm, makes him engage His stock of power in their defence, and end His passion's progress to let Love attend On Friendship's royal train ; what not the force Of earth's united beauties could divorce ; Nor wealth's, nor honour's strong attractions draw To other objects ; by that holy law Informed, as hateful sacrilege, doth fiy The bold intrusion on love's hierarchy. 310
With joy assured of such a powerful friend, The hopeful lovers sadder cares suspend, To lay the platform of their safety by A fair escape. But fear doth oft untie The golden webs of fancy. When they come To name the means, invention, then struck dumb. Startles into distraction ; no smooth stroke Of soft-palmed flattery could ere provoke Sleep in her watchful dragons, nor no shower Of ponderous gold pierce through her sable tower — 320
The harsh commander of her surly guard. Wakeful as foaming Cerberus, and hard As Parian quars, a heart that could not melt In love's alembic ; the slave never felt His darts but when lust gave the wound, and then, Seared with enjoying, the blood stops again, And leaves behind the fever ; which disease Now in him raged. Amphibia, that could please None but a sympathizing nature, in
His blood had both disease and medicine been, — 330
With lust's enchantments, thick loose glances, first Breeding a calenture, whose sickly thirst Consenting sin allays again. But long This monster thrives not in the dark, ere, strong
(^73)
William Chamberlayne [bookiii
By custom grown, with impudence he dares
Affront unveiled report, and boldly bears
Himself above those headstrong torrents, by
Whose streams harsh censure grew to calumny.
Which careless pride did unobstruct the way,
Through which to liberty love's progress lay. 34°
A short delay, which lets not fancy rest In idle thought, their actions did disgest Into a method. The succeeding night To that great day, by whose triumphant light Their annual feasts her birth did celebrate. The time designed. Which done, to stroke rough fate Into a calm, Argalia first finds out Despised Florenza, then employed about Coarse housewifery in the dull country, where She soon became a partner of his care ; 35°
Prepares for safety with a diligence Whose privacy pays lavish time's expense.
Now from night's swarthy region rose that day, 'Gainst which Invention taught her babes the way To level at delight, though she flew high As monarchs' breasts. Beauty and valour vie Each other in a conquering pride within A spacious field, that oft before had been The theatre of martial sports ; each knight. Whom the desire of honour did invite 360
By her swift herald, Fame, were met ; and all, Whom the respects of either part did call To the Epirot's or young Cyprian's part. Repair unto their tents, which, rich in art. Adorned both sides o' the stately lists, and lent Their beauties to be prospect's ornament.
Near to the scaffold every seat was filled With bright court beauties, ladies that did gild Youth, Nature's throne of polished ivory, in Pride — there but greatness, though low fortune's sin. 370
Ranged next to these the city madams, that Came both to wonder and be wondered at. Fine as on their first Lady-days, did sit Comparing fashions, to commend their wit; Besides the silk-worms' spoils, their husbands' gain. Jewels they wore, like eyes in beauty's wane Grown dim with age, so dim, that they did look As if they'd been from plundered Delphos took ; Although that sprung from faction, yet each face Was all set form, hardly affording place 380
342 disgest] Sic in orig. : and perhaps worth keeping, the pronunciation being even now hardly obsolete as a vulgarism.
366 be] Singer ' the' for ' be.' It is not at all improbable, considering his system of versification, that Chamberlayne wrote 'be th'.'
('74)
Canto V] Pharo7tnicia
For a stolen smile, save when some ticklish lord
Strikes sail, which they could wish should come aboard.
Below, near to the over-heated throng.
Sweet country beauties, such as ne'er did wrong
Nature with nicer art, were seated ; where
Though big rude pride cast them in honour's rear,
Yet in Love's province they appeared to have
Command from their acknowledged beauty gave ;
Humble their looks, yet Virtue there kept state,
And made e'en Envy wish to imitate 390
Their fashions — not fantastic, yet their dress
Made gallantry in love with comeliness.
Whilst here the learned astronomers of love Observed how eyes, those wandering stars, did move. And thence with heedful art did calculate Approaching changes in that doubtful state ; The princess, like the planet of the day. Comes with a lustre forth that did betray The others' beams into contempt, and made The morning stars of meaner beauties fade, 400
Sadly confessing by their languished light. They shone but when her absence made it night. Stately her look, yet not too high to be Seen in the valleys of humility ; Clear as Heaven's brow was hers, her smiles to all, Like the sun's comforts, epidemical ; Yet by the boldest gazer, with no less Reverence adored, than Persians in distress Do that bright power, who, though familiar by An airy medium, still is throned on high. 410
Lest the ungoverned multitude which raise Their eyes to her, should in their lavish praise From zeal to superstition grow, they 're now Drawn off — the entered combatants allow Their eyes no further leisure, but beginning Their martial sports, with various fate were winning Bright victory's laurels. But I here must let Honour in their own stories live, the debt I owe to promise but extends unto
The fortune of our royal lovers; who, 420
Though both concerned in this, have actions far More full of fate approaching. That bright star Which gave Argalia victory here, scarce shows Its spangled records, unto which he owes Far more sublime protection, yet it lends Vigour to that bright planet which attends His future fortune, and discovers all His astracisms in rising cosmical.
Followed with acclamations, such as made The troops of envy tremble to invade 430
(^75)
Willi a 7n Chamber layne [book hi
His conquering fame, he leaves the field ; and by
Cleander, with rewards of victory
First honoured in the public view, is brought
From thence to meet delicious mirth in soft
Retired delights ; which in a spacious flood,
From princes' breasts to tenify the blood
Of the blunt soldiers, hastes; whose dull souls swelled
With airy pleasures had from thought expelled
All sullen cares, and levelled paths unto
Designs which did to their neglect ensue. 440
The black-browed night, to court the drowsy world. Had put her starry mantle on, and hurled Into the sea (their spacious-breasted mother) Her dark attendants ; silent sleep did smother Exalted clamours ; and in private meets The busy whisperer, sporting 'twixt his sheets. Veiled in which shady calm, Argalia, by The noble Cyprian only in his high Attempt assisted, now prepares to free The great preserver of his liberty. 4-0
Come to the bridge, that to secure the sleep O' the careless guard, which slender watch did keep, Finding it drawn, the depth and ugly look O' the heavy stream had from the Cyprian took All hopes of passage, till that doubt did end In greater fear — the danger of his friend ; Who, with a courage high as if in that He'd centred all the world did tremble at In his precedent victories, had cast
Himself t' the mercy of the stream, and past 460
In safety o'er, though nets enough were spread On her dark face to make his death's cold bed.
Giving his spirits leave to fortify His heart with breath, he then ascends the high Opposing clifts, which in an ugly pride Threatened beneath her ruined scales to hide That rising flame of honour. Being come To the other side, a sentry, but struck dumb With sleep's prevailing rhetoric, he finds;
Upon whose keys he seizes, and then binds 470
His sluggish limbs, ere full awake, conveys Him to a place whence no loud cry betrays The sounds of danger to his fellows, that Revelled in louder mirth. Unstartled at
433> 4 brought] This couplet confirms the view of the pronunciation of ' brought,' taken above.
436 tenify] This unusual word should of course be ' tenuify' and was very probably written so. Singer, in next line, ' haste.'
466 scales] ' Scales ' no doubt in sense of 'staircase.'
('76)
Canto V] Pharoitfiida
The river's depth, the wondering Cyprian now Crossed the united bridge, and, being taught how By imitation to slight danger, goes ^^^ith his brave friend toward their careless foes.
Not far were they advanced before they hear Approaching steps ; a soldier was drawn near, 480
Which to relieve the other came, but shared In his misfortune ere he had prepared To make resistance ; which attempt succeeds So equal to their wishes, that there needs No more to strengthen faith. By the command O' the will's best leader, reason, both did stand Awhile to view their danger ; — through a way Narrow and dark their dreadful passage lay; The rugged rock upon each side so steep, That, should they 've missed, no trembling hold could keep 490 Them from the grasp of death : to add to this More forms of horror, from the dark abyss Which undermined the rock's rough sides, they hear A hollow murmur ; the black towers appear Flanked with destruction, every part did hold Peculiar terror, but the whole unfold, Through the black glass of night, a face like that AVhich chaos wore, ere time was wakened at The first great fiat — or, could aught appear More dark and dreadful, know 'twas emblemed here. 500
Safe passed through the first steps of danger, they Now to the main guard come ; whom they betray By a soft knock — of all conceived 't had been The voice their sentry called for entrance in. Their errand undisputed, postern-gates Are open thrown, at which the royal mates Both rushing in, strangely amaze them ; but Now being entered, 'twas too late to shut The danger forth, nor could confusion lend Their trembling nerves a strength fit to defend 510
By opposition. In base flight lay all Their hopes of life, which some attempting fall On the dark road of death, but few escape To show their fellows danger's dreadful shape.
Whilst here, like powerful winds that dissipate Infectious damps, in unobstructed state Their valour reigned, to tell them that the way Which led unto the princess' freedom lay Yet through more slippery paths of bloody with haste Wild as their rage, Brumorchus' brothers, placed 520
That guard's commanders, enter. Loose neglect, Which drew them thence, since cause of that effect, They now redeem with speed. Riot had not Unnerved their limbs ; although their blood grew hot
( 177 ) N
Williafn Chamberlayne [book hi
With large intemperate draughts, the fever yet
I' the spirits only dwelt, till this rude fit
On the stretched heart lays hold in flames, which had
Scorched valour's wings if not in judgement clad.
Here, though their numbers equal were, yet in
A larger volume danger had not been 530
Often before presented to the view
Of the brave champions ; as if she had drew
With doubtful art lines in the scheme of fate
For them and their proud foes, pale virtue sate
Trembling for fear her power should not defend
Her followers, 'gainst that strength which did attend
Those big-boned villains' strokes. Beneath whose force
The Cyprian prince had felt a sad divorce
Of Nature's wedlock, if, when sinking in
The icy sleep, Death's wide gorge had not been 540
Stopped by a stroke from fierce Argalia, sent
To aid him when in his defence he'd spent
His stock of strength. Freed by which happy blow
From Janus' guard, since now his friend lay low,
Near Death's dark valley, he contracts his power
To quench the other's lamp of life : a shower
Of wounds lets fall on 's enemy, which now
Clogged his soul's upper garments, and allow
His eyes' dim optics no more use of light,
Than what directs him in a staggering flight. 550
Yet in the darkness of approaching death.
In mischief's sables, that small stock of breath
That yet remains, to clothe, he suddenly
Gives fire unto a cannon that was by
Wise care ordained to give intelligence,
When big with danger fear could not dispense
With time's delays. The princess, that within
Her closet had that fatal evening been
Retired and sad, whilst strong-winged prayer acquaints
Her flaming zeal with Heaven's whole choir of saints, 560
Thus startled by the treacherous thunder, all
Her yet unnumbered stock of beads lets fall
'Mongst those that prayer had ranked, and did implore
In one great shriek deliverance ; to her door
Hastes to behold the danger of those friends
On whose success love's fortress — hope, depends.
Where being come, her eyes' first progress met
Her prayers' reward, e'en whilst his sword was wet
With blood, the balm of victory. But long
The ecstasies of fancy, though more strong 570
Than sacred raptures, last not, all was now
Too full of noise and tumult to allow
544 Janus' guard] ' Janus' guard ' I suppose means that if he had had to face the two, he would have had to look both ways at once, to prevent being attacked behind.
('78)
Canto V] PharoTinida
A room for passion's flow : disputes within The schools of action, loud alarums in The castle court and city raged ; all were Huddled into confusion ; some prepare To fly what others with an ignorance As great (though bolder) to oppose advance.
Here had our heaven-protected lovers lost What such large sums of prayer and tears had cost, 5 So
Had not the torrent of the people's throng, When rushing towards the castle, by a strong Voice — danger, been diverted, to prevent A hungry flame which, in the Cyprian's tent Begun, had spread its air-dilated wings Over the city : whose feared danger brings On them a worse distemperature than all Their last night's surfeits. Whilst proud turrets fall In their own ashes, the discordant bells,
Ordained to call for aid, but ring their knells 590
That in a drunken fury, half-awake, First their warm beds, and then their lives forsake ; For to destruction here big pride had swelled, Had not night's errors been by day expelled.
With swift calls frighted, but more terrified At their sad cause, fear being his doubtful guide, The stout Epirot to Cleander's court Repairs ; and there amongst a thick resort Of subjects, finds the prince distracted by Those epidemic clamours that did fly 6co
From every part o' the city. To appease Whose fury whilst he goes, the sharp disease In flames feeds on her ruined beauty, and Mounts on insulting wings ; which to withstand, The mazed inhabitants did stop its flight With the whole weight of rivers, till that light, Which an usurper on the sooty throne Of darkness sat, vanished, or only shone From their, dim torches' rays. The prince thus staid In 's hasty journey till the flames allayed 610
Lent safety to the city, by it gave The royal fugitives the time to save Themselves by flight from those ensuing ills, Whose clamorous scouts, rude sounds, the stirred air fills.
Descended to the garden's postern gate, A place where silence yet unrufiled sate (A night obscure and an unhaunted way. Conspiring their pursuers to betray To dark mistakes) with silent joy, which had All fear's pale symptoms in love's purple clad, 6ao
Close as that bold Attempter, whose brave theft Was sacred fire, the walks behind them left,
( 179 ) N 2
Williajn Chamberlayne
Argalia hastes unto the castle moat With his rich prize, there a neglected boat, Half-hid amongst the willow beds, finds out ; In which Pharonnida, that nought could doubt Whilst her successful lover steered, passed o'er To meet the safety of a larger shore.
THE END OF THE THIRD BOOK.
(.80)
BOOK IV. Canto I
THE ARGUMENT
Whilst noise and tumult fill the court, the sad
Orlinda, to lament alone retired, Finds the brave Captain in death's symptoms clad,
Whose perfect health her friendly care acquired.
The scouts with an unwelcome emptiness
Of news returned ; the princess' secret flight
Yet well succeeds, but now in sad distress Finds a black morning to that dismal night.
When Fear, like an unskilful pilot in
A storm distracted, long in vain had been
Placed at the helm of Action, whilst those rude
Waves raised by greater winds, the multitude,
Swelled with uncertain counsels, all met in
A thick and dangerous confluence ; those within
The castle, by a hotter passion to
A high-wrought fury startled, did undo
Those links of counsel, which the other broke
With corrosives of fear, by the rude stroke lo
Of heedless anger; whose uncivil strife
Had robbed revenge of justice, and each life
That here was in death's inundations spilt,
Shed but to aggravate a private guilt.
Had not the prince, whose anger's flame they feared
More than grim death, to appease the storm appeared.
Beat from the out-works of their hopes, aU in A busy tumult are employed within The princess' lodgings ; but there only find Their knowledge by her secret flight struck blind, 20
Stumbled on errors. No characters, but what The wasteful hand of death had scattered at The guard, inform them ; and even those seem left The weak opposers of successful theft, Dropt as their foe's victorious fate flew by. To show his fortune and their loyalty. Leaving which late warm tenements of breath, Without once throwing up that bed of death, Their grave-clothes o'er them, every active friend Hastes toward her search, whilst suffering females spend 30 The hours (grown slow since burdened by their fears) In prayers, whose doubts they numbered by their tears.
■^'S'- 3) Captain] Singer * Cyprian ' which is no doubt correct in sense, but by no means necessary. Arg. 8 finds] Orig. ' find.'
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William Chamberlayne [book iv
But amongst all of those that sacrificed
Tears to her loss, sorrow had most disguised
Lovely Orlinda, the fair sister to
The vexed Messenian ; who, with love that grew
From equal attributes of honour, in
The parallels of beauty placed, had been
In this restraint of liberty so long
Her pleased companion, that her grief too strong 40
For comfort grown, to mourn her absence she,
Forsaking all her friends' society.
Whilst seeking of some shady grove, is brought
To one whose veil, black as her darkest thought.
Appeared so much a stranger to the light,
That solitude did thither soon invite
The pensive lady : who, whilst entering, by
A deep groan's sound diverted, turns her eye
Toward one, who, near the utmost ebb of life
Disguised in 's blood, was with the latest strife 50
Of death contending. At the dreadful view
Of which sad object she, retreating to
Some of her maids, who, fearing to intrude
Whilst she appeared intending solitude,
A distance kept ; made bold by number, now Return to see if life did yet allow
A room for help, or, if his soul were fled,
To let their care entomb the helpless dead.
Arrived so near, that through the rubric veil Of's blood they saw how life did yet prevail 60
O'er death's convulsions, they behold one lie, Whose wounds, an object for their charity. Soon drew them nearer in such trembling haste, As if they feared those lavish springs would waste Life's stock too fast. Where come, with linen soft And white as were those hands that thither brought That blessing, having gently wiped away His blood, his face discovered did betray Him to their knowledge. For the Cyprian prince All soon conclude him, whose desert e'er since 70
That court she knew, had to Orlinda proved A dear delight ; yet she ne'er knew she loved, Till her soft pity and his sad distress, Conspiring to betray that bashfulness Whose blushes scorched that tender plant, did now, Even in their fortune's roughest storm, allow It leave to grow safe, since yet passing by No other name but noble charity.
By all the nimblest stratagems which Art E'er learnt from Nature, striving to impart 80
The best of mortal blessings, health, unto Her royal patient, praised Orlinda grew ( 182)
Canto I] Pharo7i7iida
So high in his deserved esteem, that, though
Posterity doth to his friendship owe
For their most perfect copy, knowing she
Too much adored Pharonnida to be
Her base betrayer, when his health's advance
Gave way for language, every circumstance
Declares which was in that so fatal night
The sad preludiums to her secret flight. 90
By which when she, whose love (though full of fire)
Yet lay raked up in a remote desire,
Unstirred by hope, with joy had learned that he,
More than what friendship patronized, was free
From all affection to the princess ; in
Her eyes, which unto then had clouded been.
Love, with as bright and pure a flame as e'er
Did in the shades of modesty declare
Passion, breaks forth. Which happy signs by him
Whose heart her eyes, e'en whilst they shone most dim, 100
With mutual flames had fired ; — that loyal love.
Which fate in vain shall struggle to remove,
Begins with flames as innocently bright
As the first rays of new-created light.
But stay, rash reader ! think not they are led Through these smooth walks unto their nuptial bed ; But now, behold that their misfortune prove. Which thou hast wept for if thou e'er didst love, A separation. The suspicion, that
Sparta's vexed king (when first distempered at no
His daughter's loss) did of this stranger prince Justly conceive, persuades him now, that since Not found within the Cyprian court, that he Who had been vainly sought abroad might be Yet lodged at home. Which suppositior^ bred So strict a search, that, though the silent dead Not silenter than her attendants were. Yet kind Orlinda, whom a pious care Prompted to save what she did yet possess. Whilst seeking with a lover's tenderness lao
How to secure him, doth at length convey Her roving fancy to this hopeful way. —
Not long before, though now 'twere silenced in Domestic ills, report had busied been In the relating of the sad distress Of a brave Lybian prince ; whom Heaven, to bless With an eternal crown, in midst of all His youth's fresh glories, by a powerful call Summons to serve her : and that faith, which he Had from the early dawn of infancy 130
Sucked from the great Impostor of the East, Though now by time opinion's strength increast,
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Williajn Chamber lay7ie [book iv
Spite of a people's prayers or father's threats, Wholly forsaking ; which revolt begets So much aversion, pity could invent Nought easier than perpetual banishment, To punish what their faith, mistaken in Its object, terms a black apostate's sin.
Disguised in such a dress as pity might Expect to encounter so distressed a wight 140
As was that wandering prince, attended by No train but what becomes the obscurity Of such a fortune, to the Spartan court Amindor comes \ where, though the thick resort Of well-known friends might justly make him fear Some treacherous eye, knowledge could ne'er appear Through that black veil his happy art had took, To make him like a sun-burnt Lybian look.
Yet what engaged them more than safety in Prayers to Heaven, his person had now been 150
Not long the wonder of the court, before His fairer virtues, which adorned him more Than the other could disguise, did justly prove The happy object of the prince's love : Whose influence, whilst it him to power did raise, Taught by reflex the people how to praise That fair election, till the pyramid. Raised to his fame, had fixed its lofty head Above the clouds of fortune. Yet not this Fate's fairest smile, a lover's best of bliss — 160
A free commerce (which unsuspected rnight. Though long and pleasant as the summer's light, Be ne'er disturbed) with fair Orlinda, gives Content such fullness, that although he lives To all unknown but her alone, in that Enjoyed more than ambition e'er aimed at.
And now from all the fruitless diligence Of inquisitions, and the vain expense Of time, returned were every troop that had Through forlorn hopes been active in the sad 170
Search of Pharonnida ; which ending in A just despair, some that till then within The castle walls had (though as vainly) sought Their sorrow forth, before the grieved prince brought Brumorchus ; whom they in a small lodge, where, Secured by solitude, the household care Of locks and bolts were vain, unsought, they found In the soft bands of grief's best opiate bound, Sleep ; who, though throned within her ebon seat, From lust's hot field appears but his retreat ibo
150 now] Orig. 'not.'
( >S4 )
Canto I] Pharofifiida
When tired with action ; for besides him they,
Where 's poison's antidote, Amphibia, lay
Locked up in 's arms, beheld. The air, with all
Their voices struck, at length had raised a call
That drowned their sleeping thunder ; from the bed
Brumorchus starting struggles to have fled
The shameful danger, whilst Amphibia creeps
Beneath her sheets' protection, but nought keeps
Pursuing vengeance back. They 're took and brought
Before the prince; who, startled at the thought 190
Of such a complicated crime, refers
Their punishment to death's dire messengers.
The yet successful lovers, long ere this Safely arrived at their first stage of bliss, Florenza's low and envied roof, did there, Since speed was now the fairest child of care, Stay only to exchange their horse, and take With her a guide whose practic skill could make Their untrod paths familiar. Through a low Dark vale, where shade-affecting weeds did grow 200
Eternal strangers to the sun, did lie The narrow path, frequented only by The forest tyrants, when they bore their prey From open dangers of discovering day.
Passed through this desert valley, they were now Climbing an easy hill, where every bough Maintained a feathered chorister to sing Soft panegyrics, and the rude winds bring Into a murmuring slumber ; whilst the calm Morn on each leaf did hang her liquid balm, 210
With an intent, before the next sun's birth, To drop it in those wounds which the cleft earth Received from 's last day's beams. The hill's ascent, Wound up by action, in a large extent Of leafy plains, shows them the canopy Beneath whose shadow their large way did lie. Which being looked o'er, whilst thankful praise did pay Their debts to Heaven, they thence with a convey Of prayers, those swift ambassadors, did send A hopeful glance toward their large journey's end. 220
These short surveys past, since the place assures A safe repose, to cool the calentures Of feverish action, down a way that led From Pleasure's throne unto her fragrant bed, A rank of laurels, spreading to protect The flowery path which not unpruned neglect Robbed of delight, they passed ; the slow descent Soon brings them where her richest ornament
218 ' Convey ' = convoy.
William Chamherlayne [book iv
(Although with art unpleited) Nature in
A lovely landscape wore, that once had been 230
Sacred to the island's fruitful goddess. Here
Whilst they behold the infants of the year
r the spring's unsullied livery clad, the fair
And large-limbed trees preparing to repair
Autumn's spent stock, from out a humble hill
A tributary fountain did distil
The earth's cold blood, and murmuring conveys
It on a bed of pebbles, till it pays
Her debts to the neighbouring river; near to it
Full choruses of feathered heroes sit 240
Amidst their willow mansions, to whose ease
Their shrill notes call the sportive Dryades.
^ Whilst by the brightest glories of that age This royal robe, worn in a hermitage. Is seen with such a silent sad delight As smoothes the furrows of an anchorite, Their solemn walk had brought them to a green Skirt of that mantle, fairly spread between Two mossy rocks, that near the crystal flood Appendices to larger mountains stood. 250
Near which they saw, with mournful majesty A heap of solitary ruins lie, Half sepulchred in dust, the bankrupt heir To prodigal antiquity, whose fair Composures did, beneath time's pride sunk low, But dim vestigia of their beauty show.
Yet that it might unreverend gazers tell It once was sacred, Ceres' image, fell From a throne's splendour, did neglected lie, Sunk with her temple to deformity. 260
Dark gloomy groves, which holy altars shade With solitude, such as religion made Full of an awful reverence, and drew The ravishing soul from the world's wandering view, Circled the sacred valley : into one Of which our royal lovers were alone Retired, in private solitude to pay Sleep's forfeitures, whilst the bright bloomy day Sweats the hydroptic earth ; but joy denies That sullen guest an entrance in their eyes — 270
Their eyes, which now like wandering planets met After a race of cross aspects, and set Within a firmament of beauty, thence On Love's cold region dropped their influence ; Warmed by whose vigour, springs of pleasure had, Watering their cheeks, those fields in roses clad.
239 unpleited] Singer ' unplighted.' But I should rather take the orig. as = 'un- pleated,' i. e. not 'folded up in,' 'complicated with.'
( -Sfi )
Canto I] j Pharoiinida
Fear, that till now had made them languish in A dangerous hectic, or at best had been But eased with intervals, which did include Ambiguous hopes in time's vicissitude, 280
Ceased to usurp ; yet (though the throne expelled) A large command in Reason's empire held, Leading those parties which wise counsel sent Close ambuscadoed dangers to prevent : Nor could the conduct fail, assailed by aught Within the circuit of extended thought ; Deliberation, the soul's wary scout. Being still employed to lead fresh parties out 'Gainst the known enemies of hope. But here Black troops of danger, undiscerned of fear^ 290
Assaults unrallied Fortitude, whilst she Slept 'mongst the rose-beds of security,
Exalted far above the gross mistakes Of vulgar love — clothed in such thoughts as shakes Ripe souls from out their husks of earth to be Picked up by angels, joy's stenography In their embraces met; not with less strength Of love (though yet not to be wrought at length) Than that which meets in nuptial folds when they Reap Heaven's first blessing, in their blood's allay 300
Met their full seas of passion ; yet both, calm As Virtue's brow, their blood but warmed like balm To pour in sorrow's wounds, not boiled into A scum of lust; the world's first man did woo The blushing offspring of his side, the first Unpractised virgin, with as great a thirst Of blood as theirs, when, in the safe defence Of paradise, each act was innocence.
Here whilst their sweet employment was discourse, Taught in the school of virtue, to divorce 310
Those maiden brides, their twisted eye-beams, Sleep^ Which flies the open gates of care, did creep In at their crystal windows, to remove The lamp of joy filled with the oil of love. The princess' spirits, fled from the distress Of action into forgetfulness. Having the curtains drawn, Argalia's head Softly reposing on her lap, that bed Of precious odours, there receives awhile
A rest, for sweetness — such as saints beguile 320
Time [with] in their still dormitories, till Heaven's summons shall their hopes on earth fulfil. Removed from them, feeding his horses in A well-fleeced meadow, which that age had seen
321 'with' is Singer's insertion, no doubt rightly.
(^87)
JVillia^n Cha7nberlay7te [book iv
Till then ne'er lose its summer robe before
Russet with age he put it off, and wore
A glittering tissue furred with snow, did lie
Their careful guide, secured ; till frighted by
A dreadful noise of horse, whose rushing wakes
Him to behold— what seen, with terror shakes 330
Off sleep's declining weights, in such a strange
Amaze as (forts surprised) the scared guards change
Their swords for fetters : flying he looks back
On the steel-fronted troop, till at his back
Approaching danger, gathering in a cloud
Of death, o'erwhelms him ; frighting with its loud
Exalted clamours from their then closed eyes —
Love's altars, sleep's intended sacrifice.
Shook from their slumber with the first salutes Of light to meet their ruin, thick recruits 340
Of brave resolves into Argalia's breast Had swiftly summoned ; but the princess' rest Exchanged for wild amazement : in which sad Restraint of spirits, life with beauty had Fled to the silent region, if not by Her royal friend supported; who, the high Pitch of exalted anger, whilst he draws His sword to vindicate their righteous cause. Descends to comfort her. Thinking those troops Her father's messengers, his brave soul stoops 350
Not to request a favour ; but although Their multitude, in hope's account outgrow Life, more than those diseases which attend On age's cold extreme, he dares defend Love, though, by vigour of supreme commands, Deprived of favour's mercenary bands.
Prompted by power, that sovereign antidote 'Gainst Nature's poison, baseness, and by rote, Not Art's fair rules, taught lessons of defence, These dregs of men, not having more pretence 360
Than what from riot was extorted, in Unwieldy throngs the concjuest strive to win From single valour. Not the powerful prayer Of her, whose voice had purified the air To a seraphic excellence, the sweet Heaven-loved Pharonnida, could come to meet Pity in this rude wilderness ; her words. Losing their form in the wild air, affords Their busy souls no heedful leisure, but With wilder passions the soul's portals shut. 370
That sober friend to happy solitude. Silence, which long those blest shades did include, By rude noise banished from her solemn throne, Did in a deep and hollow echo groan ; (188)
Canto I] Pharon7iida
Whilst the brave champion, whose own worth did bring
Assistance, yet had in a bloody ring
Strewed death's pale triumphs, and in safety stands
The dangerous business of so many hands.
All which had in the grave joined palms, if by
One stroke, that index unto victory, 380
His sword, had not with sudden breaking proved
Traitor t' the strength by whose command it moved.
Robbed of this safe defence, valour's brave flame In vain is spent ; that pyramid of fame, Built by his hand o'er Love's fair temple, now Even in the view of 's saint, is forced to bow Beneath an earthquake. His commanding soul, In this sharp conflict striving to control Nature, rebellious to her power, lets fly
In vain the piercing lightning of the eye, 390
Whose dark lids, drooping in a death-like close, Forbid high fury thundering on his foes. He falls, and from each purple sallyport Of wounds, tired spirits, in a thick resort, Fly the approach of death ; in which wild trance, His eyes did their declining lights advance Above their gloom of darkness, to convey The last faint beam of nature's falling day To his distressed Pharonnida. But she.
In clouds of sorrow lost, was gone to be 400
Close mourner for his rigid fate beneath A pale swoon's shady veil, and could not breathe One sigh to welcome those sick guests, nor lend A beam to light them to their journey's end. Which being deprived of, in death's dark disguise Forgetful shadows did obscure his eyes.
Branded with an ignoble victory, His base oppressors, staying not to try Whe'er fire remain in life's dark lamp, forsake Their bleeding shame, and only with them take 410
The trembling ladies ; whose amazement yet Grief's flood-gates shuts in a distracting fit Of wilder passions : circled in which cloud She 's hurried thence ; and, ere that damp allowed Light through her soul's prospectives, had passed o'er Much of the desert, and arrived before A barren rock's proud front ; which, being too steep For the laborious traveller, a deep Dark vault did pierce, whose dismal black descent Safe passage to a distant valley lent. 420
With slow ill-boding steps this horrid way O'ercome, they meet the beauties of the day
409 'Whe'er 'is Singer's reading, and very likely ; but the 'where ' of the original is not quite impossible.
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William Chamberlay^ie [book iv
Within the pregnant vale, a place that showed Some art had pruned what nature's hand bestowed. No earth-encumbering weeds, but wholesome plants, Such as relieve the winter of our wants, Were here in comely order placed; each tree, Tired with his fruitful burden, stoops to be Eased by the lowliest hand ; for want of which Their feeble stems had dropped them to enrich 43°
Their pregnant mother. This civility. Proclaiming more than art had meant to be The dress of deserts, did at first appear As if those useful blessings had, for fear That wasteful man should ravish them to feed His luxury, fled thither : none that need Such thrifty joys, in the circumference O' the valley seeming to have residence. All whose exalted pride did terminate The levelled eye, was a round hill that sate 44°
As centre to the golden vale ; come near
To which, what did externally appear
A rock in ivy dressed, being entered, shewed
The beauties of a gorgeous palace, hewed
Out of the Uving stone, whose vaulted breast
Had by the union of each part exprest
The strength of concord. The black rock was all
Tinselled with windows, over which did fall
Thin ivy wreaths, like cobweb veils that shade
The sallyports of beauty, only made 45°
To cool, not darken, and on those that sit
Within bestow a shady benefit.
They being drawn near, a sad old man that sate
Unwilling porter, from the spacious gate
Withdrew the verdant curtain. — She is now
Entered the castle, where, could fear allow
Her eyes that liberty, she had surveyed
Buildings, whose strength with beauty joined, betrayed
Time's modern issues to contempt, and by
A lasting glory praised antiquity. 460
But pleasure spreads her baits in vain; she sate
Beneath the frozen arctic of her fate,
Whilst he, from whose aspect she only felt
Delightful heat, in's winter-solstice dwelt. More to depress her sinking spirits, she
Too soon finds cause to think that gravity
She met in the entrance but the reverend shade
Of injured worth, which accident had made
Stoop to that bondage ; — virtue drooping in
His furrowed cheeks, as if disposed, she'd been 470
Thither confined within the walls, to let
Imjxirious vice her painted banners set.
( 193)
Canto I] Pharofintda
A troop of wild bandits, villains whose guilt Shunned public haunts, Heaven's private blessings spilt There in luxurious riot, which grown bold By toleration, durst t' the light unfold Vice's deformedst issues ; nought b' the name Of sin being known, but sin's betrayer, shame : In such a loose intemperance as reigns
In conquered cities, when the soldier's pains 480
With spoils of peace is paid, they lived. 'Mongst these Some few unhappy women, kept to appease Lust's tumults, she beheld ; whose looks betrayed A sickly guilt, and made the royal maid, Amidst her grief's cold symptoms, blush to see How pale they looked with lust's deformity.
Whilst these are viewed, with such a change as that Poor village drunkards are enforced to at An officer's approach, when the night grows Deep as their draughts, she sees them all compose 490
Their late wild looks ; nor was this dress of fear In vain put on, Almanzor did appear — Dreaded Almanzor, who on them had built A power, which though by unsuccessful guilt Banished t' the desert, forced their wants to be The helpless sufferers of his tyranny.
Passed through the fear-dispersed throng, he 's to The princess come ; where, startled at the view Of majesty, shrinks back. Unsteady haste, Which brought him there but to view beauties placed 500
Within the reach of 's lust, assaulted by Objects that both to love and loyalty Had proved him an apostate, to retreat Within a blush attempts ; but that 's too great A friend to bashful virtue, in that face. Whose heart deposes her, to sprinkle grace.
Ruffled with this recoil of spirits, in Such troubled haste as novices begin New conned orations, he himself applies
To the injured lady; whose brave spirit flies 510
Not what see feared, but with the brave defence Of scorn opposes blushless impudence, Crushing the embryos of that language, in Whose guilty accents he attempts to win Opinion's favour, and by that redeem What former guilt had lost in her esteem.
Contemned with such a look as princes cast On overbold usurpers, he is past The first encounter of her eye, and she Turned in disdain, to show her great soul free 520
473 bandits] Note the accent of Aa/irf/V/j preserved in 'bandits,' (>90
Willia7n Chamber layne [book iv
From low submission ; by which fired into A sullen anger, he resolves to mew The royal eaglet, until freedom grow A favour, whose fair streams might overflow Those barren fields of indesert, in which His fortune pines — lest this fair prize enrich The cursed soil, and on its surface place The long-abstracted beams of princely grace.
She to the narrow confines of a room Restrained, to let his muffled thoughts resume 530
Their calm composture, counsel's throne, he goes Aside, and on that doubtful text bestows The clearest comment of his judgement ; yet Falls short of truth, and must contented sit To know her there^ though not the accident Which from her father's glorious court had sent Her so ill guarded : but referring that To time's discovery, he, transported at What was a truth confirmed, within the wide Arms of his hope, grasps what aspiring pride 540
Or lust's loose rhetoric, when youth's vigorous fire Beauty hath kindled, prompts him to desire.
Yet by two several paths to tread that way, His crimes' dark roads, lust and ambition, lay, The poor Florenza, that long since had been The trembling object of the baser sin, To make his sly access to either free From the other's thoughts, must from her lady be In this dark storm removed ; he fearing less That counsel aiding virtue in distress, 550
Though wanting strength the battle to maintain. Might countermine the engine of his brain.
To this sad separation leaving them, Whom innocence had licensed to condemn Fortune's harsh discipline, Almanzor goes, Fate's dark enigmas, by the help of those That took her, to unveil ; but 'twas a work Too full of subtle mystery : — A Turk, Her brave defender, by those garments which Rash fear had only rifled to enrich 560
Nice inquisition, seemed. By which betrayed To dark mistakes, his policy obeyed Domestic counsels ; and by subtle spies, Whose ears were more officious than their eyes, Soon from the love-sick lady's close complaints His wiser knowledge with their cause acquaints.
THE END OF THE FIRST CANTO.
526 lest] Orig. ' least,' is here as not seldom = * unless.* 541 vigorous] Orig. ' rigorous,' possibly.
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Canto II] Pharon?iic!a
Canto 11
THE ARGUMENT
From all the hopes of love and liberty
O'envhelmed in the vast ocean of her grief,
The wretched princess is constrained to be
A prisoner to her youth's first dreadful thief —
The cursed Almanzor ; in whose dismal cell She comments on the various texts of grief
In every form, till from the tip of hell, When seeming darkest, just Heaven sent relief.
Distracted in the agony of love,
Pharonnida, whose sad complaints did prove
Her sorrow's true interpreters, had made
Argalia's name, wrapped up in sighs, invade
The ears of an unseen informer ; whence,
Almanzor's thoughts, delivered from suspense,
Shake off their doubtful dress of fears, and teach
Hypocrisy by paths untrod to reach
The apex of his hopes. What not the fear
Of ills, whilst her own interest did appear lo
The only sharer, could perform, he now
Presumes affection to her friend would bow
With low submission, if by that she might
Aid his dim stars with a reserve of light.
With frequent visits, which on sin's dark text Wrought a fair gloss, Almanzor oft had vext The calmer passions of the princess in- To ruffled anger ; but when all could win No entrance on her favour, fury tries
A harsher corrosive — Stern power denies 20
Her even of those poor narrow comforts which Her soul's dark region, that was only rich In sorrow's sables, could possess. Withdrew Were all those slippery parasites that knew To her no pity, but what did reflect The rays o' the tyrant's favour, whose neglect Taught them the lesson of disdain, whilst she Her practised soul trained in humility.
Pensive as an unpractised convert, in A bath of tears she shadowed lies within 30
The unfrequented room ; a curtain-bed Her close retreat, till light's fair angel fled
Arg. 7 tip] ' lip ? '
20 denies] ' denies of is a characteristic blending — ' deprives of and ' denies.' 31 curtain-bed] Singer ' curtained,' but ' curtain-bed ' (cf. ' arm-chair ') is quite prob- able.
( 193 ) O
JVilliam Chamber layne [book iv
The swarthy region. But whilst here she lies, Like in a dark lantern that in black disguise
Circles imprisoned light
Grief from the sullen world concealed : to turn
The troubled stream — as if the silent urn
Of some dead friend, to private sorrow had
Summoned her hither, entered was a sad
And sober matron ; in her hands she bore 40
A light, whose feeble rays could scarce restore
The sick successor of the day unto
A cheerful smile. Sad pilgrims, that renew
Acquaintance with their better angels by
Harsh penitence, have of humility
Less in their looks than she ; — her habit showed
Like costly ruins that for fashion owed
To elder pride, in whose reversion she
Appeared, the noble choice of charity.
This shadow of religious virtue drawn 50
Near her disordered bed, a sickly dawn Of light breaks through the princess' clouded eyes To meet the welcome object ; the disguise Of sorrow, which at first appearance sate Fixed on her brow, a partner of her fate Making her seem. Nor was the fancy crushed In the infancy of faith, fair truth first blushed For verbal crimes. Near to the bed reposed Where the sad lady lay, she thus disclosed Her cause of entrance : — ' Cease, fair stranger, to 60
Monopolize a sorrow, which not you Here share alone ; pity, instructed by Experience in the rules of misery, Hath brought me from complaining of my own To comfort thine. This castle once hath known Me for its mistress, though it now behold Me (in the dress of poverty grown old) Despised and poor, the scorn of those that were Nursed into life by my indulgent care.'
This, in her tears' o'erflowing language spoke, 70
Persuades the pensive princess to revoke Depraved opinion's doom, confessing she Wedded not grief to singularity. But comfort in the julep of her words Was scarce dissolved, ere a reply affords Conceived requital, striving to prevent The oft more forward thanks. ' Rise to content, Fair soul, (she cries) ; be but so wise to let Sick passion die with just neglect, I'll set Thy dropped stars in their orbs again. I have, 80
P'orced by command, a late attendance gave Unto a wounded stranger, that remains
( '94)
Canto II] Pkaronntda
Within this castle in the heavy chains
Of cruel bondage ; from whose weight unless
Your love redeem him, dark forgetfulness
Will draw the curtains of the grave about
His dull mortality, and the sick doubt
Of hope resolve in death. This evening I
O'erheard his heavy doom, from which to fly
He hath no refuge but your mercy ; which 90
Stripped of light passion, must be clothed in rich
But graver robes of reason, when it sits
In council how to reconcile the fits
Of feverish love — when, being most prepense
To passion's heat, a frost of abstinence
Benumbs it to a lethargy. In brief,
'Tis he, whose prosperous tyranny the chief
Command within this castle gave, that in
His swift destruction doth attempt to win
Free passage to enjoying you, then prove ico
He friend to him that begs you to change love
For now more useful pity, and so save
A life that must no longer live to crave.
If now denied. This ring' (with that presents
A jewel, that, when love's first elements
The harmony of faith united, she
Gave to confirm her vows) ' he sends to be
A note that he denies whate'er was made
Authentic, when your mixed vows did invade
Unwilling Heaven, which in your sufferance shows no
We may intend, but wiser powers dispose.'
Pharonnida, whose fears confirmed, did need No more to wound a fancy that did bleed At all the springs of passion, being by The fatal present taught, whose liberty Her love's exchange must purchase, with a sad Reverse of the eye beholding it, unclad Her sorrow thus: — 'And did, oh, did this come By thy commands, Argalia ? no ; by some Unworthy hand thou'rt robbed of it— I know 120
Thou sooner wouldst be tempted to let go Relics of thy protecting saint. — Oh, cease, Whate'er you are, to wrong him ; the calm peace He wears to encounter death in, cannot be Scattered by any storm of fear. Would he, That hath affronted death in every shape Of horror, tamely yield unto the rape Of's virgin honour, and not stand the shock Of a base tyrant's anger? But I mock
My hopes with vain phantasms; 'tis the love 130
He bears to me, carries his fear above
loi He] So orig. and Singer. Emendation is not easy. ( 195 ) 0 2
JVilliafn Chajnberlayne [book iv
The orb of his own noble temper to
An unknown world of passions, in whose new
Regions ambitious grown, it scorns to fall
Back to its centre — reason, whither all
The lines of action until now did bend
From 's soul's circumference. Yet know, his end,
If doomed unto this cursed place, shall tell
The bloody tyrant that my passing bell
Tolls in his dying groans, and will ere long 140
Ring out in death — if sorrow, when grown strong
As fate, can raise the strokes of grief above
The strength of nature ; which if not, yet love
Will find a passage, where our souls shall rest
In an eternal union — whilst opprest
With horror, he, by whose commands he dies.
Falls to the infernal powers a sacrifice.
' If that your pity were no fiction, to Betray my feeble passions, and undo
The knots of resolution, tell my friend — 150
I live but to die his, and will attend Him with my prayers, those verbal angels, till His soul 's on the wing, then follow him, and fill Those blanks our fate left in the lines of life Up with eternal bliss, where no harsh strife Of a dissenting parent shall destroy The blooming springs of our conjugal joy.'
Vexed by this brave display of fortitude To sullen anger, with a haste more rude
Than bold intrusions, lust's sly advocate 160
Forsakes her seat, and though affronts too late Came to create a blush, yet passion had Her cheeks in red revenge's livery clad ; Her eyes, like Saturn's in the house of death, Heavy with ills to come ; her tainted breath Scattering infectious murmurs : with a look Oblique and deadly, the cursed hag forsook That ebon cabinet of grief, and hastes To tell Almanzor how his passion wastes
More spirits in persuasion's hectic, than 170
If power had quenched ambition's fever when 'Twas first inflamed with hope, whose cordials prove Oft slow as opiates in the heat of love.
This, with a heat that spoiled digestion, by The angry tyrant heard, rage did untie The curls of passion, whose soft trammels had Crisped smooth hypocrisy ; from which unclad, Developed nature shows her unfiled dress Rough as an angry friend, by no distress
Of beauty to be calmed. Since sly deceit i8o
Virtue had now unmasked, no candid bait
( '96 )
Canto II] P/iaronnida
Conceals his thoughts, which soon in public shows From what black sea those mists of passion rose.
Day's sepulchre, the ebon-arched night, Was raised above the battlements of light; The frenzied world's allaying opiate, sleep, O'ertaking action, did in silence steep The various fruits of labour, and from thence Recovers what pays for her time's expense : In which slow calm, whilst half the drowsy earth 190
Lay in the shade of nature, to give birth Unto the burthen of sick fancy — fear. Groans, deep as death's alarums, through her ear Fly toward the throne of reason, to inform The pensive princess, that the last great storm Of fate was now descending, beyond which Her eyes, o'erwhelmed in sorrow, must enrich Their orbs with love no more, but in the dawn Of life behold her friend's destruction drawn, Since threatened danger sad assurance gives — ^co
In those deep groans he now but dying lives.
More swiftly to destroy the falling leaves Of blasted hope, with horror she receives, By a convey of wearied light, that strook Through rusty gates, intelligence which shook The strength of fortitude — There was a room, Deep and obscure, where, in a heavy gloom, The unstirred air in such a darkness dwelt As masked Egyptians from Heaven's vengeance felt, Till by the struggling rays of a faint lamp 210
Forced to retreat, and the quicksilver damp Shed on the sweaty walls, which hid within That glittering veil, worn figures that had been The hieroglyphic epitaphs of those Which charity did to the earth dispose In friendship's last of legacies, except What is to cure loose fame's diseases kept.
Here, 'mongst the ruins of mortality, In blood disfigured, she beholds one lie.
Who, though disguised in death's approach, appears 220
By 's habit, that confirmer of her fears Her gentle love, alone and helpless, in The grasp of death, striving in vain to win The field from that grim tyrant; who had now Embalmed him in his blood, and did allow Him no more spirits, but what in that strife Served to groan out the epilogue of life. And then depart Nature's cold stage, to be Sucked up from time into eternity.
When thus the everlasting silence had 230
Locked up his voice, and death's rude hand unclad
( 197 )
William Chamber layne [book iv
His hovering soul, whose elemental dress
Is left to dust and dark forgetfulness ;
When Nature's lamps being snuffed to death, he lay
A night-pieced draught of once well-modelled clay :
With such a silent pace. as witches use
To tread o'er graves, when their black arts abuse
Their cold inhabitants, his murderers were
Entered the vault, from the stained floor to bear
The cold stiff corpse ; which having softly laid 240
In's doomsday's bed, unto the royal maid,
Whose beauty, in this agony defaced,
Grief's emblem sat, with eager speed they haste.
Either a guilty shame, or fear to be Converted by her form's divinity, Made them choose darkness for protection ; in AVhose hideous shade, she of herself unseen Is hurried thence unto that dreadful place Where he entombed lay, whom she must embrace In death's dark lodgings ; and, ere life was fled, 250
Remain a sad companion of the dead- Confining beauty, in youth's glorious bloom, To the black prison of a dismal tomb : Where, fast enclosed, earth's fairest blossom must Unnaturally be planted in the dust ; Where life's bright star, Heaven's glorious influence, Her soul, in labour with the slow suspense Of lingering torments, must expecting lie, Till famine Nature's ligatures untie.
And can, oh, can we never hope to save 260
Her that 's in life a tenant to the grave ! Can aught redeem one that already lies Within the bed of death, whose hot lust fries In the enjoyment of all beauties that The aged world ere had to wonder at ! To feed whose riot, the well-tempered blood, That sanguine youth's smooth cheek mixed with a flood Of harsh distemperatures, o'erflows, and brings Some to their lodgings on the flaming wings Of speedy fevers; whilst the others creep 270
On slow consumptions, millions from the steep And dangerous precipice of war : some in A stream of their own humours that have been Swelled to a dropsy, being even pressed to death By their own weight ; whilst others part with breath From bodies worn so thin, they seemed to be Grown near the soul's invisibility.
But whither strays our fancy ? have we left The woful lady in a tomb, bereft
261 to] Singer, unnecessarily and I think unwisely, 'of.' {.98)
Canto II] Pharonnidu
Of all society, and shall I let 280
My wandering pen forsake her ? Such a debt
Would bankrupt pity. The undistinguished day,
Whose new-born light did but e'en then display
Its dewy wings, when first she was confined
To the dark tomb, was now grown almost blind
With age, when thus through Fate's black curtain broke
Unlooked-for light : that darkness — which did choke
All passages by which the thin air held
Commerce with neighbouring rooms, being now expelled
By the dim taper's glimmering beams — let fall 290
Part of the rays through an old ruined wall
That fenced an ugly dungeon, where the night
Dwelt safe as in the centre. By the sight
Of which unlooked-for guest, some prisoners, who
Had there been staid, even till despairing to
Be e'er released, in eager fury tries
To force their way, where their directing eyes.
Led by the light, should guide them ; come at length
Where, with time's burden tired, the building's strength, .
Losing its first firm union, was divorced 300
With gaping clefts, an easy strength enforced
Those feeble guards : but come into the room
Where, o'er the living lady's sable tomb,
Hung the directing light, they there in vain
For further passage seeking, were again
To the black dungeon, horror's dismal seat,
In sad despair making their slow retreat.
Now near departing, a deep doleful groan
Reversed their eyes, amazement almost grown
To stupefaction stays them, whilst they hear 310
New sighs confirm their wonder, not their fear ;
Till thus Euriolus, whose bold look spoke
The braver soul, the dismal silence broke.
' Whate'er thou art that hoverest here within This gloomy shadow, speak what wrong hath been Thy troubled ghost's tormentor? art thou fled From woe to stir the dust o' the peaceful dead ? Or com'st from sacred shadows to lament Some friend's dead corpse, which this dark tenement Hath lodged in dust?' The trembling lady, hearing 320
A human voice again, and now not fearing The approaches of a greater danger, cries : — ' Whate 'er you are, fear mocks your faith ; here lies A woful wretch entombed alive, that ne'er Must look on light again ; my spirit were Blest if resolved to air, but here it must A sad companion, in the silent dust. To loathed corruption be, until the pale Approaching fiend, harsh famine, shall exhale,
( 199)
Williatn Chamber layne [book iv
In dews of blood, the purple moisture, that 330
Fed life's fresh springs -.—but none shall tremble at
My doleful story, 'tis enough that Fate
Hath for this tomb exchanged a throne of state.'
To active pity stirred^ the valiant friends Attempt her rescue, but their labour ends In fruitless toils, the ponderous marble Hes With too much weight to let the weak supplies Of human strength remove 't ; which whilst they tried To weary sweats^ kind fortune lends this guide To their masked virtue — The informing ear 34°
Proclaims approaching steps, which ushered fear Into Ismander's breast ; but his brave friend, The bold Euriolus, resolved to end By death or victory their bondage, goes Near to the gate, where soon were entered those Which in Pharonnida's restraint had been The active engines of that hateful sin, With them, that hag whose cursed invention had Revenge in such an uncouth dressing clad.
Whilst her Ismander seized, and with a charm 350
Of nimble strength commands, the active arm Of fierce Euriolus, directed by Victorious valour, purchased liberty By strokes whose weight to dark destruction sunk His worthless foes, and sent their pale souls, drunk With innocent blood, staggering from earth, to be Masked in the deserts of eternity.
This being beheld by her whose hopes of life With them departed, she concludes the strife Of inquisition by directing to 360
An engine, which but touched would soon undo That knot which puzzled all their strength, and give The captive princess hopes again to live Within the reach of light ; whose beams, whilst she Unfolds her eyes — those dazzled stars, to see, Dark misty wonder in a cloud o'erspread His faith that raised her from that gloomy bed, Amazed Euriolus ; whose zeal-guided eyes Soon know the princess through grief's dark disguise. Could his inflamed devotion into one 37°
Great blast of praises be made up, 't had gone Toward heavenly bowers on the expanded wings Of his exalted joy ; nor are the springs Of life less raised with wonder in the breast Of's royal mistress, whose free soul exprest
331 nonel Orig. ' now.'
357, 378 masked] Both these passages illustrate, in the same word 'masked,' Chambcrlayne's curious locution. The first passage looks quite wrong ; the second helps to gloss the word as = ' bewildered,' ' out of themselves.'
( 2C0 )
Canto II] Pharo7t7iida
As much of joy as, in her clouded fate, With reason at the helm of action sate.
Here had they, masked in mutual wonder, staid To unriddle fate, had not wise fear obeyed Reason's grave dictates, and with eager speed 3S0
Urged their departure ; for whose guide they need No more but her directions, who then lay Taught by the fear of vengeance to obey Their just demands. By whom informed of all That might within the castle's circuit fall AVith weights of danger, and taught how to free Confined Florenza, to meet liberty They march in triumph, leaving none to take Possession there, but her whose guilt would make The torment just, though there constrained to dwell 390
Till death prepared her for a larger hell. Whilst sleep's guards, doubled by intemperance, reigned Within the walls, with happy speed they gained The castle's utmost ward ; and furnished there With such choice horses, as provided were For the outlaws' next day's scouts, a glad adieu Of their loathed jail they take. Ismander knew Each obscure way that in their secret flight Might safely promise ; so that sullen night Could not obstruct their passage, though, through ways 400 So full of dark meanders, not the day's Light could assist a stranger. Ere the dawn O' the wakeful morn had spread her veils of lawn O'er the fair virgins of the spring, they 're past That sylvan labyrinth, and with that had cast Their greatest terror off, and taught their eyes The welcome joys of liberty to prize.
And now the spangled squadrons of the night. Encountering beams, had lost the field to light, The morning proud in beauty grown, whilst they 410
With cheerful speed passed on the levelled way By solitude secure ; of all unseen. Save early labourers that resided in Dispersed poor cottages, by whom they're viewed AVith humble reverence, such as did delude Sharp-eyed suspicion, they are now drawn near Ismander's palace ; whose fair towers appear Above the groves, whose green enamel lent The neighbouring hills their prospects' ornament.
A river, whose unwearied bounty brings 420
The hourly tribute of a thousand springs From several fragrant valleys here, as grown So rich, she now strove to preserve her own
381 Urged] Orig. ' urge.'
(201 )
William Chamberlayne [book iv
Streams from the all-devouring sea, did glide
Betwixt two hills, which Nature did divide
To entertain the smiling nymph, till to
An entrance where her silver eye did view
A wealthy vale she came — a vale in which
All fruitful pleasures did content enrich ;
Where all so much deserved the name of best, 430
Each, took apart, seemed to excel the rest.
Rounded with spacious meads, here scattered stood Fair country farms, whose happy neighbourhood, Though not so near as justling palaces Which troubled cities, yet had more to please By a community of goodness in That separation. Nature's hand had been To all too liberal, to let any want The treasures of a free inhabitant ;
Each in his own unracked inheritance 440
Where born expired, not striving to advance Their levelled fortunes to a loftier pitch Than what first styled them honest, after rich ; Sober and sweet their lives, in all things blest Which harmless nature, living unopprest With surfeits, did require ; their own flocks bred Their homespun garments, and on that they fed Which from their fields' or dairies' plenteous store Had fresh supplies : what fortune lent them more Than an indifferent mean, was sent to be 450
The harbingers of hospitality. Fair virgins, in their youth's fresh April drest, Courted by amorous swains, were unopprest By dark suspicion, age's sullen spies. Whose spleen would have the envious counted wise Love was religious here, and for to awe Their wilder passions, conscience was their law. More to complete this rural happiness, They were protected from the harsh distress Of long-winged power by the blest neighbourhood 460
Of brave Ismander ; whose known greatness stood Not to eclipse their humble states, although It shadowed them when injured power did grow To persecution, by which means he proved — • Not feared for greatness, but for goodness loved. Which gentle passion his unhappy loss Had soured to grief, and made their joy their cross.
But now their antidote approaches, he From heavy bondage is returned to be
435 Which troubled cities] In another writer one might suspect ' In troubled cities ' or ' Which trouble cities.' But it is quite like Chamberlayne to attract his verb into the form of ' stood ' and • had.'
( 202 )
Canto II] Pharonnidu
Their joyful wonder. At his palace gate 470
Being now arrived, his palace, that of late
With 's absence dimmed in her most beauteous age,
Stood more neglected than a hermitage,
Or sacred buildings, when the sinful times
To persecution aggravate their crimes :
But being entered, sadder objects took
Those outside wonders off; each servant's look
Spoke him a sullen mourner, grave and sad
Their sober carriage, in no liveries clad
But doleful sable, all their acts like those 480
Of weeping wives, when they t' the grave dispose
Their youthful husbands. Yet all these were but
Imperfect shadows of a sorrow, put
In distant landscape, when to trial brought
Near his fair Ammida's; whose grief had sought
As dark a region for her sad retreat
As desperate grief e'er made pale Sorrow's seat :
In sacred temples the neglected lamp
So wastes its oil, when heresies do cramp
Religion's beams ; with such a heavy look 490
Monarchs deposed behold themselves forsook
By those that flattered greatness ; shut from all
Those glorious objects of the world that call
Our souls in admiration forth, her time
Being spent in grief, made life but Nature's crime.
The rough disguise of time, assisted by The meagre gripe of harsh captivity, Had now expunged those characters by which Ismander once was known, and even the rich In love and duty rendered strangers to 500
Their honoured master; from whose serious view Neglective grief withdraws them, so that he An unknown pilgrim might have gone to be Theirs and his own afflicter, had that fear Not thus been cured : — A spaniel, being of dear Esteem to Ammida, since the delight Of her Ismander once, come to the sight Of's first protector, stays not till a call Invites acquaintance, but preventing all
The guides of reason by the sleights of sense, 510
Fawning on 's master, checks the intelligence Of's more forgetful followers. Which being seen By an old servant (whose firm youth had been Spun out amongst that family, till by Grave age surprised), it led his sober eye To stricter observations, such as brought Him near to truth, and on contracted thought Raised a belief, which though it durst conclude Nought on the dark text, yet, i' the magnitude ( 203 )
William Chamber lay7te [book iv
Of hope exalted, by his joy he hastes 520
To's mourning mistress, tells her that she wastes Each minute more she spends in grief, if he Dares trust his eyes to inform his memory.
Contracted spirits, starting from the heart Of doubtful Ammida, to every part Post through the troubled blood ; a combat, fought Betwixt pale fear and sanguine hope, had oft Won and lost battles in her cheeks, whilst she, Leaving her sullen train, did haste to see Those new-come guests. But the first interview 530
Unmasks Ismander ; winged with love she flew To his embraces : 'twas no faint disguise Of a coarse habit could betray those eyes Into mistakes, that for directors had Love's powerful optics ; nuptial joys unclad In all their naked beauties — no delight So full of pleasure, the first active night Being but a busy and laborious dream Compared with this — this, that had swelled the stream Of joy to fainting surfeits ; whose hot strife 540
Had overflowed the crimson sea of life, If not restrained by a desire to keep What each had lost in the eternal sleep.
But now, broke through the epileptic mist Of amorous rapture, rallied spirits twist Again their optic cordage ; whose mixed beams Now separate, and on collateral streams Dispersed expressions of affection bore To each congratulating friend, that wore
Not out those favours with neglect, but by 550
A speedy, though unpractic sympathy, Met their full tide of bliss. Glad Fame, which brings Truth's messages upon her silver wings In private whisper hovers for awhile Within the palace ; every servant's smile Invites a new spectator ; who from thence (Proud to be author of intelligence So welcome) hastes, till knowledge ranged through all. Diffusive joy made epidemical :
For though that noble family alone 560
Afforded pleasure a triumphant throne, Yet frolic mirth did find a residence In every neighbour's bosom. They dispense With their allegiance to their labour, and Revel in lusty cups ; the brown bowls stand With amber liquor filled, whose fruitful tears Dropped loved Ismandcr's health, till it appears In sanguine tincture on their cheeks. All now Had if not calmed their passions, smoothed a brow
( 204 )
Canto II] Pharoitnida
To temporize with pleasure. The sad story 570
Of his own fortune, and that age's glory, Pharonnida, whilst each attentive dwells On expectation, brave Ismander tells.
THE END OF THE SECOND CANTO.
Canto III
THE ARGUMENT
From the sad consort of her silent grief
The princess doth with pleasing wonder hear Poor Vanlore's fate, and the unjust relief Which his unworthy father freed from fear.
Whose hell-deep plots, the dregs of avarice
Had so defiled, that whilst he seeks for aid, '
His subtlety, masked on the road of vice, By his presumed assistant is betrayed.
Composing time did now begin to slack The reign of mirth ; exalted joy shrunk back From pleasure's summer-solstice, and gave way For more domestic passions to obey An economic government ; which brought Loose fancy on the wings of serious thought Back to her sober home, in that to find Those several burthens that were left behind In the career of mirth ; amongst which number, Pharonnida, that had let sorrow slumber, 10
In the high room of joy, awakes again That clamorous elf, which she must entertain At beauty's cost. Yet in this dark retreat, From pleasure's throne to sorrow's dismal seat. She finds a sweet companion ; one that had, By fatal love opposed, with loss unclad Delight of all his summer-robes, to dress Her trembhng soul in sables of distress. The sad Silvandra (for surviving fame Hath on record so charactered her name) 20
Being sister to returned Ismander, in This flourish of triumphant joy had been So much eclipsed with grief, that oft her tears Dimmed beauty's rays, whilst through them she appears A fit companion for the princess to Twist those discourses with, whose mourning clew Led through the labyrinth of their lives. They oft, In shades as secret as their closest thought
2 reign] Orig. ' rain,' Singer ' rein.' The curious thing is that both, as well as the text, are possible.
( 205 )
William Chamber layne [book iv
With pensive paces meeting, sit and tell
Stories so sad, that nought could parallel — 30
But love and loss ; a theme they both had been
By rigid power made hapless students in.
One eye-bright morning tempting them to take The start of time, soon as the lark did wake, Summons them from the palace to the side Of a small wood, whose bushy crest, the pride Of all the flowery plains, they chose to be 'Gainst the invading sun their canopy. Reposed beneath a full-grown tree, that spread His trembling arms to shade their fragrant bed, 40
They now are set ; where for awhile they view The distant vale, whilst contemplation grew Pregnant with wonder, whose next prosperous birth Had been delight, had they not sent their mirth In sad exchange, whilst tears did usher in Silvandra's fate ; who, weeping, did begin. With such a look as did command belief, The late-past story of a present grief.
' In yonder fields (with that directs her eye To a black fen, whose heavy earth did lie 50
Low in a dark and dirty vale) is placed Amarus's castle, which though now defaced More by the owner's covetous neglect
Than time's rough strokes, that strength, which did protect Once its inhabitants, being now but made Use of when want doth with weak prayers invade The gates, being thought sufficient — if they keep The poor at bay, or, whilst his stiff hinds sleep, Their labouring beasts secure. But I, alas, Blush to discover that this miser was 60
Father to my dead Vanlore, and to her Whose living virtues kind Heaven did confer As blessings on my brother ; but the sun Ne'er saw two sweeter streams of virtue run From such a bitter fountain. This accurst And wretched man (so hated that he durst •
Scarce look abroad, fearing oppression would Be paid with vengeance, if he ever should Fall into the hands of those whose faces he Ground with extortion, till the injury 70
Fear clothed like justice), venturing once to view A manor, whose intemperate lord outgrew In debts the compass of a bond, besides His common guard of clowns, fellows whose hides Served for defensive armour, he commands His son's attendance ; who, since from his hands Racked tenants hoped for ease, he thought that they Would for that hope with reverent duty pay. ( 206 )
Canto III] Phavonnida
But vain mistakes betray opinion to
A fatal precipice, which they might view 80
r the objects of each glance ; one side affords
Large plains, whose flocks — the wealth of several lords,
By him contracted, but the spoils appears
Of beggared orphans, pickled in their tears ;
Farms for whose loss poor widows wept, and fields,
Which being confined to strict enclosure, yields
To his crammed chests the starving poor man's food ;
For private ends robbing their public good,
With guilt enclosed those ways which now had brought
Him by some cottages, whose owners bought 90
Poor livelihoods at a laborious rate
From his racked lands ; for which pursuing Hate
Now follows him in curses : for in that
They yet take vengeance ; till arriving at
The thicker-peopled villages, where, more bold
By number made, the fire of hate takes hold
On clamorous women, whose vexed husbands thirst
I' the fever of revenge ; to these, when first
They kindled had the flame, swiftly succeeds
More active men, such as resolved their deeds, 100
Spite of restrictive law, should set them free
From the oppressors of their liberty.
' His son, the noble Vanlore, to appease The dangerous fury of this rash disease^ Spends all his stock of rhetoric, but in Fruitless attempts. His rustic guard had been At the first onset scattered, and were now Posting for safety ; whilst his son, taught how By frequent injuries to entertain
Anger's unusual guests, shows it in vain, no
Though brave attempts of valour, by whose high Unhappy flame whilst circling foes did die Unworthy hecatombs for him, at length Engaged him had beyond the power of strength, Though backed by fortune to redeem ; which when Beheld by those whose characters of men In rage was lost, they wildly persecute Revenge, till life, nature's harmonious fruit, Was blasted to untimely death.' — And here Her fatal story in its full career, 120
The memory of him, who died to be The people's curse and crime of destiny, Grief did obstruct, whilst liquid passion feeds Her crystal springs ; which stopped, she thus proceeds : —
' His brave defender now retreating to The road to death, whilst he did vainly sue
90 owners] Orig. ' honours.'
{ 207)
JVillia7n Chamherlayne [book iv
For undeserved remorse^ Amarus lies
Their fury's object ; in whose wild disguise,
Whilst giddy clouds of dark amazement dwell
O'er his dim eyes, the exalted tumult fell 130
In a black storm of danger ; in whose shade
They drag him thence, — that fury, being made
Wise by delays, might study torments great
As was their rage ; but in their wild retreat
They thus are stopped : — A wandering knight that near
The place approached, directed by his ear
How to inform his eye, arrives to see
The wretched trophies of this victory ; —
A dying son, whose latest beams of light
Through death's dim optics bids the world good night, 140
With looks that did so black a sorrow limn — ■
He frowned on earth though Heaven did smile on him ;
Hurried from thence by unrelenting hate,
A living father of more woful fate.
' Pity, that brave allay of manly heat, Persuades the noble stranger to entreat A parle with rage ; which, being denied, he then Attempts to force ; and since their ablest men Were wounded in the former conflict, soon Successful proves. Like mists i' the pride of noon, 150
Being huddled into hurtless clouds, they fly Before his fury, till from reach of the eye Shrunk to the wood's protection ; where, whilst each, With such a fear a sanguine guilt did teach The world's first murderer, seeks for safety, he Retreating leaves the scattered herd — to be Their own afflicters ; and hastes thence to find Him to whom fortune proved so strangely kind In his approach, as by his sword to be.
When hope lost anchor, blest with liberty, 160
Come to the place where old Amarus lay With fear so startled, that he durst betray Life through no motion ; yet he 's followed by That train of cowards, which, though they did fly The danger, when they saw their foes pursued, On the reward — the victory, intrude ; Whose easy spoils, those invitations to A coward's daring, such a distance drew Them from their homes, that they with labour were Recalled from rifling enemies to bear 170
Their feeble masters off— Amarus lying As weak with fear as Vanlore was with dying.
'Before the black obstructions of the night Did interpose, they were arrived i' the sight O' the castle's ruined walls, a place whose hue, Uncouth and wild, banished delight unto (208)
Canto III] Phavonnida
Uncomely profit, and at distance gives A sad assurance — that its owner lives By men so hated, and by Heaven unblest, ■ As he enjoyed not what he there possest. 180
'Come to the front of the house, whose dirt forbid A cleanly entrance, he sees pavements hid With heaps of rubbish — time's slow hand let fall From the neglected ruins of the wall \ Green arbours, pleasant groves, all which were now Swiftly dismantling to make way for th' plough ; Only his barns, preservers of that store Detained with curses from the pining poor, Their upper garments of warm thatch did wear So thick to keep them dry, whilst thin and bare 190
E'en his own lodging stood ; the hall, first built To have that wealth, which he in sparing spilt, Spent there in hospitality, ne'er by More heat warmed than a candle gave, did lie Moulded with lazy damps — the wall o'ergrown With moss and weeds — unhaunted and alone The empty tables stood ; for never guess Come there, except thin bankrupts, whom distress Spurred on with sharp necessity to crave
Forbearing months, which he, when bribed, forgave. 200
Hence, by a rude domestic led, he goes To view the cellar, where, like distant foes Or buildings in a new plantation, stand The distant barrels, yet from all command But his own keys exempted. To bestow A welcome on him, which he ne'er did show To man before, led by a rusty slave, Whose iron limbs, rattling in leather, gave Alarums to the half-starved rats, he here
Is by Amarus visited; whose fear 210
That place should too much suffer, soon from thence Sounds a retreat to supper, where the expense Became a usurer's purse : yet what was by Sparing defective, neatness did supply, A virtue, where repining penury Prepares, unusual ; but he soon did see Whence it proceeds — The sad sweet Ammida Whom shame and grief attempted to withdraw From public view, was by her father's call. To crown that entertainment, brought; whose all 220
178 o^vne^] Orig. again 'honour.' The constant occurrence of this suggests not merely dictation, as observed before, but a probably Irish dictater.
197 guess] Singer boldly prints 'guests,' which the sense of course requires. But 'guess ' is in original, and I leave it to the reader to decide whether the sense, or the rhyme, or the pronunciation is to yield the place.
( 209 ) P
William Cha7nherlayne [book iv
Was else so bad, it the first visit might Repented make, not to the next invite.
' Here, with afflicted patience, he had spent Some few, but tedious days, whose slow extent Behind his wishes flagged, ere he had seen Vanlore interred, whose obsequies had been In secret huddled up, but then prepares To take his leave ; when adverse fate, that shares Double with man's intentions, in the tart
Of 's full resolves opposing, claims her part 230
By harsh command : — A dangerous fever, that Threatened destruction ere arriving at Its distant crisis, and on flaming wings, Posts through the blood ; whose mass infected brings Death's banners near the fort of life, which in Acute distempers it attempts to win From Nature's guards, had not the hot assault By youth sustained, made Death's black army halt Whilst marching to the grave— the swift disease Like a proud foe repulsed, forced to give ease 240
By slow retreats ; yet of those cruel wars Left long remaining bloodless characters.
' But ere the weak Euriolus (for he This hapless stranger was) again could be By strength supported, base Amarus, who Could think no more than priceless thanks was due For all his dangerous pains, more beastly rude Than untamed Indians, basely did exclude That noble guest : which being with sorrow seen By Ammida, whose prayers and tears had been 250
His helpless advocates, she gives in charge To her Ismander — that till time enlarge Her then restrained desires, he entertain Her desolate and wandering friend. Nor vain Were these commands, his entertainment being Such as observant love thought best agreeing To her desires. But here not long he staid, Ere fortune, prompted by his wit, obeyed That artful mistress, and reward obtains
By fine imposture for firm virtue's pains. 260
The gout, that common curse of slothful wealth. With frequent pain had long impaired the health Of old Amarus, who, though else to all Griping as that, for ease was liberal. From practised physic to the patient's curse — Poor prattling women, or impostors worse — Sly mountebanks, whose empty impudence Do frequent murders under health's pretence,
261. Although I have barred myself from frequent annotation on matter, the following passage may deserve an invitation to observe the poet's professional spirit,
( 2to )
Canto III] Pharo727tida
He all had tried, yet found he must endure
What, though some eased, none perfectly could cure. 270
Oft had his judgement, purse, and patience been
Abused by cheats, yet still defective in
The choice of men ; which error known unto
My brother and Euriolus, they drew
Their platform thus : — Euriolus, clad in
An antic dress, which showed as he had been
Physician to the Great Mogul, first by
Ismander praised at distance, doth apply
Himself unto Amarus : where, to enhance
The price of's art, he first applauds the chance 280
That had from distant regions thither brought
Him to eclipse their glory, who had sought
For 't in his cure before, then seconds that
With larger promises ; which^ tickled at,
Amarus vies with his, threatening to break
His iron chests, and make those idols speak
His gratitude, though, locked with conscience, they
To his own clamorous wants had silent lay.
'Some common medicines which the people prize, 'Cause from their knowledge veiled in slight disguise, 290
Applied to 's pain, and those assisted by Opinion, whose best antidotes supply The weak defects of art, he soon attains So much of health, that now his greatest pains Had been the engaged reward, had he not been By future hopes kept from ungrateful sin So far, that in performing action he Exceeds his passion's prodigality — Large promises, with such performance, that, Whilst his deluders smile and wonder at, 3°°
Thus speaks its dark original. To show Euriolus how fortune did outgrow Desert in his estate, he was one day From th' castle walls taking a pleased survey Of spacious fields, whose soils, made fertile by Luxurious art, in rich variety
Still youthful nature clothed ; which, whilst he views, An old suspicion thus his tongue renews : —
' " How blest, my worthy friend, how blest had I Been in my youth's laborious industry 310
T' have seen a son possessed of this ! But now, A daughter's match a stranger must endow With what I've toiled to get ; and what is more My torment, one that, being betrothed before My son's decease, wants an estate to make Her marriage blest. But knew I how to shake This swaggerer off, there lives, not far from hence. One that to match her to were worth the expense
( 211 ) p 2
JVilliam Chamber lay7ie [book iv
Of my estate ; his name is Dargonel —
A wary lad, who, though his land do swell 320
Each day with new additions, yet still lives
Sparing and dose, takes heed to whom he gives.
Or whom he lends, except on mortgage, by
Whose strength it may securely multiply.
This worthy gentleman, with wise foresight
Beholding what an object of delight
Our Hnked estates would be, hath, since I lost
My heir, been in 's intention only crost
By this Ismander, whom though I confess
A braver man, yet since a fortune less, 330
Ne'er must have my consent ; only since by
Her contract I have lost the liberty
Of second choice, unless I vainly draw
Myself in danger of the o'erbusy law,
I want some sound advice that might inform
Me how to rid him, yet not stand a storm
Broke from his rage. Although my daughter love
Him more than health, I shall command above
Her feeble passions, if you dare impart
So much of aid from your almighty art 340
As to remove this remora." — And here
He stopped, yet lets a silent guilt appear
In looks that showed what else the theme affords
He 'd have conceived, as being too foul for words.
Which seen by him whose active wit grew strong
In friendship's cause, as loath to torture long
His expectations, thus their streams he stays
With what at once both comforts and betrays : —
' " Raise up your spirits, my blest patron, to Sublime content, Heaven sent me to renew 350
Your soul's harmonious peace ; that dreadful toy Of conscience wisely waived, you may enjoy Uninterrupted hopes. Yet since we must Be still most wary where we're most unjust. Let 's not be rash ; swift things are oft unsure, Whilst moles through death's dark angles creep secure. Then, since it 's full of danger to remove Betrothed Ismander, whilst his public love, By your consent raised to assurance, may A granted interest claim — first let us stay 360
His fury and the people's censures by A nuptial knot, whose links we will untie. Ere the first night confirms the hallowed band, By ways so secret, that death's skilful hand Shall work unknown to fate, and render you To the deluded world's more public view,
329 whom] Singer ' who,' obliterating attraction and not quite conciliating the more rigid grammar.
( 212 )
Canto III] Pharonnida
A real mourner, whilst your curtained thought Triumphs to be from strict engagements brought. Besides the veiling of our dark design
Like virtue thus, this plot will sink a mine 370
Whose wealthy womb in ample jointure will Bring much of dead Ismander's state, to fill The vast desire of wealth. This being done, I with prevailing philtres will outrun Sorrow's black bark, which whilst it lies at drift, I'll so renew her mirth, no sigh shall lift Its heavy sails, which in a calm neglect Shall lie forgot ; whilst what 's not now respect To Dargonel, shall soon grow up to be.
Like Nature's undiscovered sympathy, 380
A love so swift, so secret, all shall pause At its effects, whilst they admire the cause." ' This by Amarus, with belief which grew Into applause, heard out, he doth renew With large additions what he'd promised in His first attempts. Then hasting to begin The tragic scene, which must in triumph be Ushered to light, his known deformity Of wretched baseness for awhile he lays
Aside, and by a liberal mirth betrays 390
Approaching joy ; which, since incited by His wishes, soon lifts Hymen's torches high As their exalted hopes. The happy pair, Dear to indulgent Heaven, with omens fair As were their youthful paranymphs, had been In the hallowed temple taught without a sin To taste the fruits of paradise ; and now The time, when tedious custom did allow A wished retirement, come, preparing are
To beautify their beds, whence that bright star, 400
Whose evening's blush did please the gazers' eyes, Eclipsed in sorrow, is ordained to rise. But such whose superficial veil opprest Only her friends, whose knowledge were not blest With the design, which to our proscript lovers Euriolus with timely zeal discovers. The morning opens, and the wakened bride, By light and friends surprised, attempts to hide Her bashful beauty, till their hands withdrew The curtains, which betrayed unto their view 410
Ismander cold and stiff. Which horrid sight, Met where they looked for objects of delight, At first a silent sad amazement spread Through all the room, till Fear's pale army fled In sad assurance ; Sorrow's next hot charge Began in shrieks, whose terror did enlarge
( 213)
William Chamberlayne [book iv
Infectious grief, till^ like an ugly cloud
That cramps the beauties of the day, grown proud
In her black empire. Hymen's tapers she
Changes to funeral brands, and, from that tree 420
That shadows graves, pulls branches, which, being wet
In tears, are where love's myrtles flourished set.
Their nuptial hymns thus turned to dirges, all
In sad exchange let cloudy sable fall
O'er pleasure's purple robes, whilst from that bed,
Whence love oppressed seemed, to their sorrow, fled
To death for refuge, sadly they attend
T' the last of homes— his tomb — their sleeping friend :
Who there, with all the hallowed rights that do
Betray surviving friendship, left unto 4r.o
Darkness and dust, they thence with sober pace
Return ; whilst shrouded near that dismal place
Euriolus conceals himself, that so.
When Sleep, whose soft excess is Nature's foe,
Hath spent her stupefactive opiates, he
Might ready to his friend's assistance be.
' And now that minute come, which, to comply With Art's sure rules, gives Nature leave to untie Sleep's powerful ligatures, his pulses beat
The blood's reveille, from whose dark retreat 440
The spirits thronging in their active flight. His friend he encounters with the early light ; By whose assistance, whilst the quiet earth Yet slept in night's black arms, before the birth O' the morn, whose busy childhood might betray Their close design, Ismander takes his way Toward a distant friend's, whose house he knew To be as secret as his love was true.
There whilst concealed e'en from suspicion he
In safety rests, Euriolus, to free 4.=^o
Her fear's fair captive, Ammida, hastes back
To old Amarus ; who, too rash to slack
Sorrow's black cordage by degrees that might
Weaken mistrust, lets mirth take open flight
Into suspected action, whilst he gives
To Dargonel, who now his darling lives.
So free a welcome that he in 't might read.
If love could not for swift succession plead,
Power should command ; yet waives the exercise
Of either, till his empiric's skill he tries. 460
Who now returned, ere Dargonel, that lay
Slow to attempt since certain to betray,
Had more than faced at distance, he pretends
To close attempts of art, whose wished-for ends,
Ere their expecting faith had time to fear.
In acts which raised their wonder did appear. —
(214)
Canto III] Phavonnida
' Love, which by judgement ruled, had made desert In her first choice the climax to her heart. By which it slowly moved ; now, as if swayed By heedless passion, seems to have betrayed 470
At one rash glance her heart, which now begins To break through passion's bashful cherubins, Spreading, without a modest blush, the light Of morning beauty o'er that hideous night Of all those dull deformities that dwell, Like earth's black damps, o'er cloudy Dargonel. Who, being become an antic in the mask Of playful love, grows proud, and scorns to ask Advice from sober thought, but lets conceit Persuade him how his worth had spread that bait ; 4«o
Which sly Amarus, who presumed to know From whence that torrent of her love did flow. With a just doubt suspecting, strives to make His thoughts secure, ere reason did o'ertake Passion's enforced career. Nor did his plot Want an indulgent hope ; like dreams, forgot In the delights of day, his daughter shook Off grief's black dress, and in a cheerful look Promised approaching love, no more disguised Than served to show strict virtue how she prized 490
Her only in applause ; whose harmony Still to preserve, she is resolved to be. If secret silence might with action dwell. Swift as his wish, espoused to Dargonel.
* More joyed than fettered captives in the year Of Jubilee, Amarus did appear
Proud with delight ; in whose warm shine, when 's haste Had with officious diligence embraced Euriolus, he, waving all delays.
To Dargonel the welcome news conveys ; 500
Who, soon prepared for what so long had been His hope's delight, to meet those joys within The sacred temple, hastes. The place they chose For Hymen's court, lest treacherous eyes disclose The bride's just blushes, was a chapel, where Devotion, when but a domestic care. Was by his household practised ; for the time — 'Twas ere the morn blushed to detect a crime.
' All thus prepared, the priest conducting, they With sober pace, which gently might convey 510
Diseased Amarus in his chair, they to The chapel haste : which now come near, as through The ancient room they pass, a sad deep groan Assaults their ears ; which, whilst with wonder grown Into disease they entertain, appears A sad confirmer of their doubtful fears —
William Cha7nherlayne [eook iv
Ismander, whom but late before they had
Followed t' the grave, his lively beauty clad
In the upper garments of pale death. Which sight
The train avoiding by their speedy flight, 520
Except the willing bride, behind leave none
But lame Amarus ; who, his chair o'erthrown
By his affrighted bearers, there must lie
Exposed to fear, which, when attempts to fly,
Through often struggling, proved his labour vain,
He grovelling lies unseen to entertain.
'Thus far successful, blest Ismander, thence Conveys his lovely bride, whilst the expense Of time being all laid out in fear, by none He was observed. Amarus long alone 530
Lying tormented with his passions, ere His frighted servants durst return to bear Their fainting master off; but being at length, When greater numbers had confirmed the strength Of fortitude, grown bold, entering again The room, which yet fear told them did retain The scent of brimstone, there they only found Their trembling master, tumbling on the ground. Horror, augmented by internal guilt.
Had in his conscience's trepidations spilt 540
Both prayers and tears, which, since Heaven's law they crost, For human passions in despair were lost. Obscured in whose black mists, not daring to Unclose his eyes, fearing again the view Of that affrighting apparition, he Is hurried from that dreadful place, to be Their mirth, whom he (for fiends mistaking) cries For mercy to, scarce trusting of his eyes, When they unfolded had discovered none But such whom long he 'd for domestics known. 550
'Yet to torment him more, before these fears Wholly forsake him, in his room appears Some officers ; whose power, made dreadful by The dictates of supreme authority, As guilty of Ismander's death, arrest Him for his murderer. By which charge opprest More than before with fear, he, who now thought On nought but death, to a tribunal brought, Ere asked, confesses that foul crime, for which He this just doom receives : — Since to enrich 560
What had before wealth's surfeit took, this sin Was chiefly acted, his estate, fallen in 1"' the hands of justice, by the judge should be From hence disposed of; then, from death to free
556 charge] Orig. ' change.'
(316)
:anto III] Pharonftida
His life, already forfeited, except
Murdered Ismander, whom he thought had slept
In 's winding sheet, his hopeless advocate
Should there appear. In which unhappy state
The wretch, now ready to depart, beholds
This glorious change ; — Ismander first unfolds 570
Himself and her, who, bound by Nature's laws.
Implore his pardon ere they plead his cause ;
Which done, the judge, that his lost wealth might be
No cause of grief, unmasking, lets him see
Euriolus, by whom from th' worst of sin
To liberal virtue he 'd deluded been.'
THE END OF THE THIRD CANTO.
Canto IV
THE ARGUMENT
Whilst we awhile the pensive lady leave
Here a close mourner for her rigid fate, Let "s from the dark records of time receive
The manner how Argalia waived the hate
Of his malignant stars ; which, when they seem
To threaten most, through that dark cloud did lead Him to a knowledge of such dear esteem, — He his high birth did there distinctly read.
Freed from the noise o' the busy world within
A deep dark vale, whose silent shade had been
Religion's veil, when blasted by the beams
Of persecution, far from the extremes
Of solitude or sweaty labour, were
Some few blest men, whose choice made Heaven their care,
Sequestered from the throngs of men to find
Those better joys, calms of a peaceful mind.
Yet though on this pacific sea^ their main
Design was Heaven, that voyage did not restrain 10
Knowledge of human arts, which as they past
They safely viewed, though there no anchor cast ;
Their better tempered judgements counting that
But hoodwinked zeal, which blindly catches at
The great Creator's sacred will, without
Knowing those works that will was spent about ;
Which being the climax to true judgement, we
Behold stooped down to visibility
In lowliest creatures. Nature's stock being nought
But God in 's image to our senses brought. 20
In the fair evening of that fatal day, By whose meridian light love did betray
William Chamberlayne [book iv
Engaged Argalia near to death, was one
Of these, Heaven's happy pensioners, alone,
Walking amongst the gloomy groves, to view
What sovereign virtues there in secret grew,
Confined to humble plants ; whose signatures
Whilst by observing, he his art secures
From vain experiments. Argalia's page.
Crossing a neighbouring path, did disengage 3^
His serious eye from Nature's busy task.
To see the wandering boy, who was to ask
The way ; for more his youth's unprompted fear
Expects not there, to the blest man drawn near.
But when, with such a weeping innocence
As saints confess those sins which the expense
Of tears exacted, he had sadly told
What harsh fate in restrictive wounds laid hold
Of 's worthy master, pity, prompted by
Religious love, helps the poor boy to dry 4^
His tears with hopes of comfort ; whilst he goes
To see what sad catastrophe did close
Those bloody scenes, which the unequal fight
Foretold, before fear prompted him to flight.
Not far they 'd passed ere they the place had found Where, grovelling in a stream of blood, the ground His purple bed, the wearied prince they see Struggling with death : from whose dark monarchy Pale troops assail his cheeks, whilst his dim eyes, Like a spent lamp, which, ere its weak flame dies, 50
In giddy blazes glares, as if his soul Were at those casements flying out, did roll. Swifter than thought, their blood-shot orbs ; his hands Uid with death's agues tremble ; cold dew stands Upon his clammy lips ; the springs of blood. Having breathed forth the spirits, clotted stood On that majestic brow, whose dreadful frown Had to death's sceptre laid its terror down.
The holy man, upon the brink o' the grave Finding such forms of worth, attempts to save 60-
His life from dropping in, by all his best Reserves of art ; selecting from the rest Of his choice store an herb whose sovereign power No flux of blood, though falling in a shower Of death, could force ; which gently bruised, and to His wound applied, taught Nature to renew Her late neglected functions, and through short Recruits of breath, made able to support His blood-enfeebled body, till they reach The monastry, where nobler art did teach 70
70 monastry] Chamberlayne probably meant this spelling.
(-8)
Canto IV] Pharo7inida
Their simple medicines to submit to those Which skill from their mixed virtues did compose.
Life, which the unexpected gift of Fate Rather than Art appeared, in this debate Of death prevailing, in short time had gained So much of strength, that weakness now remained The only slothful remora that in His bed detained him. Where, being often seen By those whom art alike had qualified
For his relief, as one of them applied 80
His morning medicines to a spacious wound Fixed on his breast, he that rare jewel found Which, in his undiscerning infancy There hung by 's father, fortune had kept free From all her various accidents, to show How much his birth did to her favour owe.
Shook with such silent joy as he had been In calm devotion by an angel seen. The good old man, his wonder rarified
Into amazement, stands : he had descried 90
What, if no force had robbed him of it since 'Twas first bestowed, none but his true-born prince Could wear, since Art, wise Nature's fruitful ape, Ne'er but in that had birth which bore that shape. Assured by which, with unstirred confidence He asks Argalia — Whe'er he knew from whence, When Nature first did so much wealth impart To earth, that jewel took those forms of art? But being answered — That his infancy.
When first it was conferred on him, might be 100
The excuse of 's ignorance ; that voice alone Confirms his aged friend : who, having known As much of fortune, as in Fate's dark shade His understanding legible had made. From weak Argalia, to requite him leads Knowledge where he his life's first copy reads Dressed in this language :
'Twas, unhappy prince !
(For such this story must salute you, since
Told to confirm 't a truth) my destiny 110
When youth and strength rendered me fit to be
My dearest country's servant, placed within
Mantinea's glorious court ; where, having been
Made capable by sacred orders, I
Attained the height of priestly dignity,
Being unto him, whose awful power did sway
That crown, in dear esteem ; but honour's day.
Which gilded then the courtly sphere, sunk down,
I lost my mitre in the fall o' the crown.
Sad is the doleful tale; yet, since that in 120
( 219 )
William Chamberlayne [book iv
Its progress you may find where did begin
Your life's first stage, thus take it. — When the court,
Stifled with throngs of men, whose thick resort
Plenty and peace called thither, being grown
Sickly with ease, viewed, as a thing unknown.
Danger's stern brow, which even in smiling fates
Proves a quotidian unto wiser states ;
Whilst Pride grew big, and Envy bigger, we,
Sleeping i' the bed of soft security,
Were with alarums wakened. — Faction had, 130
To show neglect's deformities, unclad
That gaudy monster, whose first dress had been
The night-pieced works of their unriper sin ;
And those that in contracted fortunes dwelt.
Calmly in favour's shadow, having felt
The glorious burthen of their honour grown
Too large for all that fortune called their own,
Like fishes which the lesser fry devour.
Pride having joined oppression to their power,
Preyed on the subject, till their load outgrew 140
Their loyalty, and forced even those that knew
Once only to obey, in sullen rage
To mutter threats, whose horror did presage
That blood must in domestic jars be spilt,
To cure their envy, and the people's guilt.
'These seeds of discord, which began to rise To active growth, by the honourable spies Of other princes seen, had soon betrayed Our state's obscure disease, and called, to aid Ambitious subjects, foreign powers ; whose strength, 150
First but as physic used, was grown at length Our worst disease, which, whilst we hoped for cure, Turned our slow hectic to a calenture.
' A Syracusan army, that had been Against our strength often victorious in A haughty rebel's quarrel, being by Success taught how to ravish victory Without his aid, which only useful proved When treason first for novelty was loved.
Seizing on all that in 's pretended cause 160
Had stooped to conquest, what the enfeebled laws In vain attempted, soon perform, and give The traitor death from what made treason live : This done, whilst their victorious ensigns were Fanned by Fame's breath, they their bold standards bear Near to our last hopes ; — an army which. Like oft-tried ore, disasters made more rich
133 ' Night pieced,' ' secrelly combined,' is quite Chamberlaynian ; but the word »iay have been tiiat odd ' Ti\^\.-pieked ' which we have had before.
(230)
Canto IV] Pharo72nida
In loyal valour than vast numbers, and
By shaking fixed those roots on which did stand
Their well-elected principles; which here, 170
Opprest with number, only did appear
In bravely dying, when their righteous cause,
Condemned by Fate's inevitable laws,
Let its religion — virtue — valour — all
That Heaven calls just, beneath rebellion fall.
' Near to the end of this black day, when none Was left that durst protect his injured throne ; When loyal valour, having lost the day, Bleeding within the bed of honour lay ;
Thy wounded father, when his acts had shown iSo
As high a spirit as did ever groan Beneath misfortune, is enforced to leave The field's wild fury, and some rest receive In faithful Enna ; where his springs of blood Were hardly stopped, before a harsher flood Assails his eyes : — Thy royal mother, then More blooming than Earth's full-blown beauties when Warmed in the ides of May, her fruitful womb Pregnant with thee, to an untimely tomb. Her fainting spirits, in that horrid fright 190
Losing the paths of life, from time, from light. And grief, steals down : yet ere she had discharged Her debts to death, protecting Heaven enlarged Thy narrow lodging, and that life, which she Lost in thy fatal birth, bestowed on thee — On thee, in whom those joys, thy father prized More than loved empire, are epitomized.
'And now, as if the arms of adverse fate Had all conspired our ills to aggravate
Above the strength of patience, we are by 200
Victorious foes, before our fear could fly To a remoter refuge, closed within Unhappy Enna ; which, before they win. Though stormed with fierce assaults, the restless sun His annual progress through the heavens had run ; But then, tired with disasters which attend A slow-paced siege, unable to defend Their numbers from resistless famine, they With an unwilling loyalty obey
The next harsh summons, and so prostrate lie 310
T' the rage or mercy of their enemy. But ere the city's fortune was unto This last black stage arrived, safely withdrew T' the castle's strength thy father was, where he, Though far from safety, finds the time to be Informed by sober counsel how to steer Through this black storm ; love, loyalty, and fear, (221 )
JVilliam C hamper layne [book iv
Had often varied judgements, but at last Into this form their full resolves were cast.
'To cool hot action, and to bathe in rest 220
More peaceful places, darkness dispossest The day's sovereignty ; to usher whom Into her sable throne, a cloud's full womb, Congealed by frigid air, as if that then The elements had warred as well as men. In a white veil came hovering down — to hide The coral pavements ; but forbid b' the pride O' the conqueror's triumphs, and expelled from thence As that which too much emblemed innocence — Since that the city no safe harbour yields, 230
It takes its lodging in the neighbouring fields ; Which, mantled in those spotless robes, invite The prince through them to take his secret flight.
' In sad distress leaving his nobles to Swallow such harsh conditions as the view Of danger candied o'er, from treacherous eyes Obscured in a plebeian's poor disguise, His glorious train shrunk to desertless I — The sad companion of his misery ;
He, now departing, thee, his infant son, 240
Heir to his crown and cares, ordained to run This dangerous hazard of thy life before Time taught thee how thy fortune to deplore When venturing on this precipice of fate, We slowly sallied forth, 'twas cold and late ; The drowsy guard asleep, the sentries hid Close in their huts did shivering stand, and chid The whistling winds with chattering teeth. When now A leave as solemn as haste would allow,
Of all our friends, our mourning friends, being took, 250
We, like the earth, veiled all in white, forsook Our sallyport ; whilst slowly marching o'er The new-fallen snow, thee in his arms he bore. Whilst this imposture made the scared guards, when They saw us move — then make a stand again. Either to think that dallying winds had played With flakes of snow, or that their sight betrayed Their fancy into errors ; we were past The reach of danger, and in triumph cast Off, with our fears, what had us safety lent, 360
When strength refused to save the innocent. The eager lover hugs himself not in Such roseal beds of joy, when what hath been His sickly wishes is possessed, as we, Through watchful foes arrived to liberty,
263 roseal] Singer again 'rosea/f,' which is even worse than before, because it would simply mean a ' pink ' bed, not a ' bed of roses.'
( "2 )
Canto IV] Pharofinida
Embrace the welcome blessing. First we steer Our course towards Syracuse, whose confines near The mountain stood, upon whose cloudy brow Poor Enna did beneath her ruins bow.
' The stars, clothed in the pride of light, had sent 270
Their sharp beams from the spangled firmament. To silver o'er the earth, which being embost With hills, seemed now enamelled o'er with frost ; The keen winds whistle in the justling trees, And clothed their naked limbs in hoary frieze ; When, having paced some miles of crusted earth, Whose labour warmed our blood, before the birth O' the sluggish morning from his bed had drawn The early villager, the sober dawn
Lending our eyes the slow salutes of light, 280
We are encountered with the welcome sight Of some poor scattered cottages, that stood I' the dark shadow of a spacious wood That fringed an humble valley. Towards those. Whilst the still morn knew nought to discompose Her sleepy infancy, we went ; and now, Being come so near, we might discover how The unstirred smoke streamed from the cottage tops ; A glimmering light from a low window stops Our further course : we're come to a low shed, 290
Whose happy owner, ne'er disquieted With those domestic troubles that attend On larger roofs, here in content did spend Fortune's scant gifts ; at his unhaunted gate Hearing us knock, he stands not to debate With wealthy misers' slow suspicion, but Swift, as if 'twere a sin to keep it shut. Removes that slender guard. But when he there Unusual strangers saw, with such a care
As only spoke a conscious shame to be 300
Surprised, whilst unprovided poverty Straitened desire, he starts ; yet entertains Us so, that showed by an industrious pains He strove to welcome more. Here being by Their goodness and our own necessity Tempted awhile to rest, we safely lay Far from pursuing ill ; yet since the way To danger by suspicion lies, we still Fear being betrayed by those that meant no ill. Since oft their busy whispers, though they spring 310
From love and wonder, slow discoveries bring.
' Being now removing, since thy tender age Threatened to make the grave its second stage,
291 owner] Here again in orig. the misprint, or misprision, of ' honour.' ( 223 )
William Chamber layne [book iv
If thence conveyed by us, whose fondest love
Could to thy wants but fruitless pity prove :
T' enlarge thy commons though increase our fears,
To those indulgent rurals, who for tears
Had springs of milk to feed thee, thou remain'st
An infant tenant ; for thy own name gain'st
What since thou hast been known by; which when we 320
Contracted had to the stenography.
Some gold, the last of all our wealth, we leave
To make their burden light ; which they receive
With thankful joy, amazed to see those bright
Angels display their strange unwonted light
In poverty's cold region, where they had
Been pined for want, if not by labour clad.
' When age should make thee capable to tell Thy wonder how thy infancy had fell
From honour's pyramids, a jewel, which 33°
Did once the splendour of his crown enrich, About thy neck he hangs ; then breathing on Thy tender lips a parting kiss, we're gone — Gone from our last delight, to find some place Dark as our clouded stars, there to embrace Unenvied poverty, in the cold bed Of sad despair; till on his reverend head. Once centre to a crown, grief makes him wear A silver frost, by frequent storms of care
Forced on that royal mount, whose verdure fades, 342
Ere Time — his youth's antagonist, invades.
' Not far, through dark and unknown paths we had Wandered within those forests, which, unclad By big winds of their summer's beauteous dress, Naked and trembling stood, ere fair success. Smiling upon our miseries, did bring Us to a crystal stream, from whose cold spring, With busy and laborious care, we saw A feeble hermit stooping down to draw
An earthen pot, whose empty want supplied 35°
With liquid treasure, soon had satisfied His thirsty hopes : who now returning by A narrow path, which did directing lie Through the unfrequented desert, with the haste Of doubtful travellers in lands laid waste By conquering foes, we follow, till drawn near To him whom innocence secured from fear,
319 gain'st] Orig. 'against,' wliich Singer duly corrected, as he did nearly all such things. And I should like to observe that the notes in which I have sometimes differed with him imply no slight to the very great care and intelligence which he bestowed on our text.
341 This is Singer's reading. The orig. has ' Time by' and I am not sure that, as in some other cases, it is not right. If it is, ' youth's antagonist ' would be Age, Time's general in the attack. 1 do not think this is unlike Chambcrlayne.
Canto IV] Pharo7t7ticia
Disburthening of his staff, he sits to rest What was with age and labour both opprest.
'Our first salutes when we for blessings had 360
Exchanged with him ; being set, we there unclad All our deformed misfortunes, and, unless A kingdom's loss, developed our distress. Which heard with pity, that he safely might Be the directing Pharos, by whose light We might be safely guided from the rocks Of the tempestuous world, his tongue unlocks A cabinet of holy counsel ; which More than our vanished honour did enrich Our souls (for whose eternal good was meant 370
This cordial) with the world's best wealth, content, Content, which flies the busy throne, to dwell With hungry hermits in the noiseless cell.
' More safe than age from the hot sins of youth, Peaceful as faith, free as untroubled truth, Being by him directed hither, we Long lived within this narrow monastry ; Whose orders, being too strict for those that ne'er Had lost delight i' the prosecuting care
Of unsuccessful action, suited best 380
With us whose griefs compared taught the distrest To slight their own, as guests that did intrude On reason in the want of fortitude. That brave supporter, which such comfort brings. That none can know but persecuted kings.
'The purple-robe, his birth's unquestioned right, For the coarse habit of a carmelite Being now exchanged ; and we retired from both Our fears and hopes, like private lovers, loath AVhen solved from the observant spy, to be 390
Disturbed by friends, from want or greatness free, Secure and calm, we spent those happy days, In nought ambitious, but of what might raise Our thoughts towards Heaven, with whom each hour acquaints, In prayer more frequent than afflicted saints. Our happy souls ; which here so long had been Refining, till that grand reward of sin, Death, did by Age, his common harbinger — Proclaim 's approach, and warned us to defer For the earth's trivial business nought that might 400
Concern eternity, lest life and light, Forsaking our dark mansions, leave us to Darkness and death, unfurnished of a clew Which might conduct, when time shall cease to be, Through the meanders of eternity.
362 Here, as elsewhere, 'unless '=' except.' 391 from] Orig. ' for.'
22
)
William Chamherlayne [book iv
'Thy pious father, ere the thefts of age, Decaying strength, should his stiff Umbs engage In an uneasy rest, to level all Accounts with heaven, doth to remembrance call A vow, which though in hot affliction made, 410
Whilst passion's short ephemeras did invade His troubled soul, doth now, when the disease Time had expunged, from solitary ease Call him again to an unwilling view Of the active world, in a long journey to Forlorn Enna ; unto whose temple he Had vowed, if fortune lent him liberty, Till tired with the extremes of weary age, The cheap devotion of a pilgrimage.
THE END OF THE FOURTH CANTO.
Canto V
THE ARGUMENT
To the grave author of this happy news
The pleased Argalia with delight did hear, Till, whilst the fatal story he pursues,
He brings his great soul near the gates of fear
By letting him in full discovery know
The dreadful danger that did then attend His royal sire ; who to his sword must owe
For safety, ere his sad atHictions end.
' Forsaking now our solitary friends,
Whose prayers upon each slow-paced step attends,
From danger by a dress so coarse exempt,
As wore religion to avoid contempt,
Through toils of many a tedious day, at last
We Enna reach ; where when his vows had past
The danger of a forfeiture, and we.
That debt discharged to heaven, had liberty
To look abroad, with sorrow-laden eyes
We view those ruins in whose ashes lies 10
Sad objects of our former loss, not then
Raked up so deep, but old observant men,
When youths were in procession led, could tell
Where towers once stood, and in what fights they fell ;
Which to confirm, some in an aged pride
Show wounds, which then though they did wisely hide
As signatures of loyal valour, they,
Now unsuspected, with delight display.
' Hence when commanded by the wane of light, We sought protection from approaching night 20
( 326 )
Canto V] Pharonnidu
In an adjacent monastry ; where we,
The wandering objects of their charity,
Although by all welcomed with friendly zeal,
Found only one whose outside did reveal
So much of an internal worth, that might
To active talk our clouded souls invite
From grief's obscure retreats ; his grave aspect.
Though reverend age dwelt with unpruned neglect,
Seemed dressed with such a sacred solitude,
As ruined temples in their dust include. 30
' My royal master, as some power divine Had by instinct taught great souls how to twine, Though 'mongst the weeds of poverty, with this Blest man consorting ; whilst their apt souls miss, In all their long discourse, no tittle set For man's direction in Heaven's alphabet ; Whilst controverted points, those rocks on which Weak faiths are shipwrecked, did with gems enrich Their art-assisted zeal, a sudden noise.
Clamorous and loud, in the soft womb destroys 40
That sacred infant ; — The concordant bells Proclaim a joy, which larger triumph tells To be of such a public birth, that they In quiet cells for what they late did pray In tears — the soul's o'erflowing language, now (Being by example's common rule taught how) They vary passions, and in manly praise Their silent prayers to hallelujahs raise. By swift report informed that this day's mirth From the proclaiming of their prince took birth, 50
These private mourners for the public faults Of busy nations, by the hot assaults Of triumph startled from their gravity, Prepare for joy ; all but grave Sophron : he Then with the pilgrim prince, who both were sate Like sad physicians when the doubtful state O' the patients threatens death : — the serious eye Of Sophron as a threatening prodigy Viewing that flattering smile of Fate, which they Of shallower souls praised as approaching day. 60
'When both, their souls from active words retired Awhile had silent sat, the prince desired To know the cause why in that triumph he Of all that convent found the time to be With thoughtful cares alone ; whom Sophron gave This satisfaction : — " Worthy sir, I have In the few hours of our acquaintance found In you such worth, 'twould question for unsound My judgement, if unwilling to impart
A secret, though the darling of my heart. — 70
( 227 ) Q 2
Willia7n Chamber layne [book iv
Know then, this hapless province, which of late
Faction hath harassed, a wise prince, whom Fate
Deprived us of, once ruled ; but so long since,
That age hath learned from time how to convince
The hot enormities of youth, since we
With such a ruler lost our liberty.
For though at first, (as he alone had been
Our evil genius, whose abode brought in
All those attendant plagues), our fortune seemed
To calm her brow, and captive hope redeemed 80
In the destruction of our foes, which by
A hot infection were enforced to fly
From conquest near obtained : yet we^ to show
That only 'twas our vices did o'erthrow
The merits of his weaker virtues, when
Successful battles had reduced again
Our panting land from all external ill,
Domestic quarrels threatened then to kill
What foreign powers assailed in vain, and made
Danger surprise, which trembled to invade. 90
For many years tossed by the uncertain wind
Of wild ambition, we had sailed to find
Out the Leucadian rocks of peace ; but in A vain pursuit : for we so long had been A headless multitude, the factious peers Oppressing the injured commons, till our fears
Became our fate, few having so much left Unsequestered, as might incite to theft
Even those whom want makes desperate ; all being spent
On those that turn to th' worst of punishment 100
What wore protection's name — villains that we,
Enforced, maintained to Christian tyranny
I' the injured name of justice, such as kept
Litigious counsels, for whose votes we wept,
From punishment so long, till grown above
The blinded people's envy or their love. ' " But lately these prodigious fires, that led
Us through the night of anarchy, being fled
At the approach of one, who since hath stood
Fixed like a star of the first magnitude, no
Diff"usive power, which then was only shown
In faction's dress, being now rebellion grown,
By the uniting of those atoms in
One haughty peer, ambitious Zarrobrin ;
Whose pride, that spur of valour, when 't had set
Him in the front of honour's alphabet.
The sole commander of those forces whence
Our peace distilled, and in as large a sense
As subjects durst, whilst loyal, hope to have
Adorn their tombs, the highest titles gave 120
( "8)
Canto V] Pharo7i7iida
Of a depending honour ; to repay Their easy faiths that levelled had the way Unto his greatness, that command he made The steps by which he struggled to invade A throne, and in their heedless votes include Unnoted figures of their servitude.
' " When with attempts, frequent as fruitless, I With others, whose firm love to loyalty Time had not yet expunged, had oft in vain Opposed our power; which found too weak to gain 130
Our country's freedom, we, as useless, did Retire to mourn for what the Fates forbid To have redressed. Since when, his pride being grown The people's burthen whilst he urged his own Ambitious ends, he hath, to fix their love On principles whose structure should not move, Unless it their allegiance shook, brought forth Their prince, whose father's unforgotten worth Did soon command their full consent, and he, For treason feared, made loved for loyalty. 140
But since that 'mongst observant judgements, this So sudden change might stand in doubt to miss A fair construction, to confirm 't he brings An old confessor of their absent king's, The reverend Halophantes ; one whose youth Made human hearts submit to sacred truth So much, that now, arrived to graver age, He (like authentic authors) did engage The people's easy faith into a glad
Belief — that, when his youth's afflictions had 150
Unthroned their prince, he in that fatal night, Wisely contracting his imagined flight, As roads unto destruction leaving all Frequented paths, did in the night's silence call At 's unfrequented cell ; where, entertained With all the zeal that subjects, which have gained From gracious sovereigns, study to express A virtue in, which thrives by the distress Of an afflicted patron's, he betrays
Inquiring scouts, till some expunging days 160
Make them forsake their inquisition in Despair to find : which vacancy did win Time to bestow his infant burthen where Some secret friends did with indulgent care Raise him from undiscerning childhood, to Be such as now exposed unto their view."
'Thy father, who with doubtful thoughts had heard This story, till confirmed in what he feared. Starts into so much passion as betrays Him, through the thick mask of those tedious days 170
( 229 )
Williafn Chamber layne [book iv
Time had in thirty annual journeys stept,
To Sophron ; who, when he awhile had wept
A short encomium to good fortune, in
Such prostrate lowliness as seemed — for sin
To censure guiltless ignorance, he meets
His prince's full discovery ; whom he greets
With all the zeal, such whose uncourtly arts
Make tongues the true interpreters of hearts,
To those wise princes whom they know to start
At aguish flattery, as if indesert i8o
Ushered it in :— Those that know how to rate
Their worth, prize it by virtue, not by fate.
' With arguments, which to assist he made Reason's firm power Passion's light scouts invade, He had so oft the unwilling prince assailed, That importunity at length prevailed On his resolves ; from peaceful poverty. His age's refuge, hurrying him to be Once more an agent unto fortune in
Uncertain toils. Whose troubles to begin, 190
Leaving his prince to so much rest as those Whose serious souls are busied to compose Unravelled thoughts into a method, now Sophron forsakes him, to discover how His fellow-peers of that lost party stand Disposed for action, if a king's command Should give it life ; all which he finds to be So full of yet untainted loyalty. That in a swift convention they prepare
By joining judgements to divide their care. 200
From distant places, with such secret haste As did declare a flaming zeal, though placed In caution's shadow, old considerate peers. Such whose light youth the experienced weight of years Had long since ballast with discretion, met To see their prince, and to discharge the debt Of full obedience. Each had with him brought His state's surviving hope, snatched from the soft Hands of lamenting mothers, that to those, If fit for arms, they safely might dispose 210
The execution of those councils, which Their sober age with judgement did enrich.
' In Sophron's palace, which being far removed From the street's talking throngs, was most approved For needful privacy, these loyal lords. Whose faithful hearts— the infallible records The heedless vulgar (whose ncglective sin Had lost the copies of allegiance in
179 To those] Singer ' Do,' of which I fail to make sense.
( 230 )
Canto V] Pharo7i7iida
This interregnum) trust to — being met,
To shun delays, man's late-repented debt, 220
The prince with speed appears ; whom no disguise
Of youth's betrayer, time, could from their eyes
Long undiscovered keep : through the rough veil
Of age, or what more powerful did prevail
On beauty's ruins, they did soon descry
The unquenched embers of a majesty,
Too bright for time to hide with curtains less
Dark than that mansion of forgetfulness.
The grave, which man's first folly taught to be
The obscure passage to eternity. 230
' That their example might be precept to Unknowing youth, with all the reverence due To awful princes on their thrones, the old Experienced courtiers kneel ; by which grown bold In their belief, those of unriper age Upon their judgements did their faith engage So far, that they in solemn vows unite Their yet concordant thoughts, which, ere the flight Of time should leave the day behind, desired To live in action. But this rising fire 240
Of loyal rage, which in their breasts did burn, The thankful prince thus gently strives to turn Into a milder passion, such as might Not scorch with anger, but with judgement light. —
' " How much 'tis both my wonder and my joy, That we, whom treason studied to destroy With near as much of miracle, as in The last of days lost bodies, that have been Scattered amongst the elements, shall be
Convened i' the court of immortality. 250
Depressed with fortune, and disguised with age, (Sad arguments, brave subjects, to engage Your loyal valour !) I had gone from all My mortal hopes, had not this secret call Of Heaven, which doth with unknown method curb Our wild intention, brought me to disturb Your peaceful age, whose abler youth had in Defending me exposed to ruin been. I had no more, my conscience now at rest. With widows' curses, orphans' tears opprest ; 260
No more in fighting fields, those busy marts Where honour doth for fame with death change hearts,
246 we] Left entirely ' in the air,' for the reader to supply 'are now convened' or something similar.
259 had] Similarly deprived of ' been.' I note these two because, little as Cham- berlayne seems to have revised the earlier books, he appears to have left this last part even more in ostrich-fashion.
(231 )
William Chamber layne [book iv
Beheld the sad success of battles, where
Proud victors make youth's conquest age's care ;
But, hid from all a crown's false glories, spent,
Like beauteous flowers, which vainly waste the scent
Of odours in unhaunted deserts, all
My time concealed till withered age should fall
From that short stem of nature — life, to be
Lost in the dust of death's obscurity. 270
' " When in the pride of youth my stars withdrew Their influence first, I then had stood with you Those thunderbolts of fate, and bravely died, Contemning fortune, had that feverish pride Of valour not been quenched in hope to save My infant son from an untimely grave. But he, when from domestic ills conveyed In safety, being by treacherous fate betrayed. Either by death or ignorance, from what
His stars, when kindled first, were pointed at, 2S0
Either lives not, or else concealed within Some coarse disguise, whose poverty hath been So long his dull companion, till he 's grown
Not less to us than to himself unknown.
'"AH this being weighed in Reason's scale, is there
Aught in 't can tempt decrepit age to bear
Such glorious burthens, which if fortunate
In the obtaining of, in Nature's date
Can have no long account, ere I again
What I had got with danger, kept with pain, 290
Summoned by Death — the grave's black monarch, must
With sorrow lose ? Yet since that Heaven so just,
And you so loyal I have found, that it
Might argue fear, if I unmoved should sit
At all your just desires, I here, i' the sight
Of Heaven declare, together with my right,
To prosecute your liberties as far
As justice dares to patronize a war." ' This, with a magnanimity that showed
His youth's brave spirits were not all bestowed 300
On the accounts of age, had to so high
A pitch of zeal inflamed their loyalty,
That in contempt of slow-paced counsels they
Did, like rash youth, whose wit wants time's allay,
Haste to unripe engagements, such as found
The issue weak, whose parents are unsound.
' All, to those towns where neighbourhood had made
Them loved for virtue, or for power obeyed.
Whilst each with his peculiar guard attends
His honoured prince, employ their active friends; 3'o
Who having with collecting trumpets made
Important errands ready to invade
( 332 )
Canto V] Phuronnida
The people's censure, for a theme to fame —
Their long-lost prince's safe return proclaim :
Which, though at first a subject it appeared
Only for faith, when circumstance had cleared
The eye of reason, from each nobler mind
The embraces of a welcome truth did find.
In public throngs, whilst every forward friend
Spoke his resolves, his sullen foes did spend 320
Their doubts in private whispers ; by exchange
Of which they found hate had no further range
Than close intelligence, whose utmost bounds
Ere they obtain, the useful trumpet sounds
No distant summons, but close marches to
His loyal friends ; whom now their foes might view
In troops, which if fate favour their intents.
Ere long must swell to big-bulked regiments.
Through country towns, and cities' prouder streets,
The murmuring drum in busy marches meets 330
Such forward valour — husbandmen did fear
The earth would languish the succeeding year
For want of labourers ; nor could business stop
The straitened 'prentice, who, the slighted shop
Left to his angry master (who must be
Forced to abridge his seven years' tyranny),
Changes the baser utensils of trade
For burnished arms, and by example made
More valiant, scorns those shadows which they feared
More than rough war, whilst 'mongst the city's herd. 340
'To regiments from scattering bands being grown, From that to armies, whose big looks made known Those bold designs, which justice feared to own, Though her's till placed in Power's imperial throne. They now toward action haste. Which to begin, Whilst castles are secured, and towns girt in With armed lines, whose palisadoes had Whole forests of their whispering oaks unclad ; The prince, his mercy willing to prevent
Approaching danger, by a herald sent 35°
To Zarrobrin, commands him to lay down His arms, and, as he owed unto his crown A subject's due allegiance, to appear. Before a month was added to that year, Within his court ; which now, since action gave Life to that body whose firm strength did save His life — by treason levelled at, was in His moving camp. But this too weak to win
358 this] Here either ' is ' might be absorbed or ' being ' left out. Singer apparently thought the former was the case and put a semi-colon at 'rebel.' I think the latter more Chamberlaynian, and prefer a comma. Cf. ' But come ' infra, 1. 365.
( 233 )
William Chaml?erlay?te [book iv
The doubtful rebel, since his lawful right
Swords must dispute, the prince prepares to fight. 360
' Proud Zarrobrin, who had by late success Taught Syracuse how to avoid distress By seeking peace, like a black storm that flies On southern winds, which in a tumult rise From neighbouring seas, was on his march. But come So near the prince, that now he had by some Of 's spreading scouts made full discovery where His army lay, whose scarce discovered rear Such distance from their well-armed van appeared, That such, whose judgements were with numbers feared, 370 Making no further inquisition, fled — • By swift report their pale disease to spread. Disturbing clouds, which rather seemed to rise From guilt than fear, spread darkness o'er the eyes O' the rebels, who, although by custom made To death familiar, wish their killing trade In peace concluded ; and with murmurs, nigh Grown to the boldness of a mutiny. Question their own frail judgements, which so oft Had life exposed to dangers, that had brought 380
No more reward than what preserved them still The slaves unto a proud commander's will. To stop this swift infection, which, begun In lowly huts, to lofty tents had run, Sly Zarrobrin, who to preserve the esteem Of honour, least liberality might seem The child of fear, with secret speed prevents What he appears to slight — their discontents. As if attending, though attended by
Their young mock-prince, whose landscape royalty 390
Showed only fair when viewed at distance, he Passing with slow observant pace to see Each squadron's order, he confirms their love With donatives, such as were far above Their hopes if victors ; then, to show that in That pride of bounty he'd not strove to win Assistance by unworthy bribes, he leads Them far from danger, since his judgement reads In long experience — that authentic story.
Whose lines have taught the nearest way to glory — 400
That soft delays, like treacherous streams, which by Submitting let the rash intruder try Their dangerous depth, to an unwilling stay His fierce pursuers would ere long betray : Whose force, since of the untutored multitude. By want made desperate and by custom rude. Would soon waste their unwieldy strength ; whilst they, Whom discipline had taught how to obey,
(^34)
Canto V] Pliaronnida
By pay made nimble and by order sure,
Would war's delays with easier wants endure. 410
' This sound advice meeting with sad success From the pursuing army, whose distress, From tedious marches being too clamorous grown For's friends' estates to quiet, soon was shown In actions such, which though necessity Enforced on virtue, made their presence be To the inconsiderate vulgar, whose loose glance For virtue takes vice glossed with circumstance, Such an oppression, that comparing those Which fled with mildness, they behold as foes, 420
Only their ruder followers, whom they curse — Not that their cause, but company was worse.
'When thus their wants had brought disorder in, And that neglect whose looser garb had been At first so shy, that what was hardly known From business then, was now to custom grown ; This large-limbed body, since united by No cement but the love to loyalty, Loses those baser parts, such as to please Unworthy ends turned duty to disease, 430
Retaining only those whose valour sought No more reward than what with blood they bought. But here, — to show that slumbering Justice may, Oppressed with power, faint in the busy day Of doubtful battle — when their valour had So many souls from robes of flesh unclad Of his brave friends, that the forsaken prince. Whose sad success taught knowledge to convince The arguments of hope, unguarded, left
Unto pursuing foes, was soon bereft 440
Of all that in this cloud of fortune might, By opposition or unworthy flight. But promise safety ; and, when death denied Him her last dark retreat, to raise the pride Of an insulting foe, is forced to see The scorn of greatness in captivity.
' Yet with more terror to limn sorrow in His mighty soul, such friends, as had not been By death discharged in fatal battle, now
Suffered so much as made even fear allow 450
Her palest sons to seek in future wars Brave victory, got by age's honour — scars, Or braver death— that antidote of shame. Whose stage none pass upon the road of fame ; Those that fared best being murdered, others sent With life to more afflicting banishment.'
436 flesh] Orig. ' fresh.' 447 hmn] Orig. ' limb.'
( 235
William Cha7nberlay7te
When thus by him, whose sacred order made The truth authentic, from his fortune's shade Argaha was redeemed ; the prelate, to
Confirm his story, from his bosom drew 460
The jewel, which having by ways unknown To him that wore it opened, there was shown By wit contracted into art, as rare As his that durst make silver spheres compare With heaven's light motion, an effigies, which His royal sire, whilst beauty did enrich His youth, appeared in such epitome. As spacious fields are represented by Rare optics on opposing walls, where sight Is cozened with imperfect forms of light. 470
When with such joy as Scythians, that grow proud Of day, behold light gild an eastern cloud, Argalia long had viewed that picture, in Whose face he saw forms that said his had been Drawn by that pattern, with such thanks, as best The silent eloquence of looks exprest. The night grown ancient ere their story's end, With solemn joy leaves his informing friend.
465-467 which . . . appeared] 'In which' or 'displayed' would of course be required bj' precisians.
THE END OF THE FOURTH BOOK.
('36)
BOOK V. Canto I
THE ARGUMENT
Tired with afflictions, in a safe retreat
From the active world, Pharonnida is now Making a sacred monastry her seat ;
Where, near approaching the confirming vow,
A rude assault makes her a prisoner to
Almanzor's power ; to expiate whose sin, The subtle traitor swiftly leads her to
The court, where she had long a stranger been.
Here harsh employments, the unsavoury weeds
Of barren wants, had overrun the seeds
Of fancy with domestic cares, and in
Those winter storms shipwrecked whate'er had been
My youth's imperfect offspring, had not I,
For love of this, neglected poverty —
That meagre fiend, whose rusty talons stick
Contempt on all that are enforced to seek
Like me a poor subsistence 'mongst the low
Shrubs of employment ; whilst blest wits, that grow lo
Good Fortune's favourites, like proud cedars stand.
Scorning the stroke of every feeble hand.
Whose vain attempts, though they should martyr sense,
Would be repulsed with big-bulked confidence :
Yet blush not, gentle Muse ! thou oft hast had
Followers, by Fortune's hand as meanly clad.
And such as, when time had worn envy forth,
Succeeding ages honoured for their worth.
Then though not by these rare examples fired To vain presumption, with a soul untired 20
As his, whose fancy's short ephemeras know No life — but what doth from his liquor flow. Whose wit, grown wanton with Canary's wealth. Makes the chaste Muse a pandress to a health, Our royal lovers' story Til pursue
Through Time's dark paths ; which now have led me to Behold Argalia, by assisting Art Advanced to health, preparing to depart From his obscure abode, to prosecute
Designs, which, when success strikes terror mute 30
With pleasing joy, shall him the mirror prove Of forward valour, glossed with filial love.
But let us here with prosperous blessings leave Awhile the noble hero, and receive
( 237 )
Willia?n Chamber layne [book v
From Time's accounts the often varying story
Of her whose love conducted him to glory,
Distressed Pharonnida; whose sufferings grown
Too great for all that virtue ere had known
From human precepts, flies for refuge to
Heaven's narrowest paths, where the directing clew 40
Of law, to which the earth for order owes.
Lost in zeal's light, a useless trouble grows.
Returned were all the messengers, which she Had at the first salutes of liberty To seek Argalia sent : but since none brought Her passion's ease, sick Hope no longer sought Those flattering empirics ; but at Love's bright fires Kindhng her zeal, with sober pace retires From all expected honours, to bestow
What time her youth did yet to Nature owe, 50
A solemn recluse, by a sacred vow Locked up from action, whilst she practised how,
By speculation safely to attain
What busier mortals doubtfully do gain. Within the compass of the valley, where
Ismander's palace stood, the pious care
Of elder times had placed a monastry.
Whose fair possessors, from life's tumults free,
In a calm voyage towards Heaven— their home, there spent
The quiet hours, so sweetly innocent, 60
As if that place, that happy place, had been
Of all the earth alone exempt from sin ;
Some sacred power ordaining (when 'twas given)
It for the next preparing school to heaven,
From whence those vestals should, when life expires,
Be for supplies advanced to heavenly choirs.
Lost to the world in sorrow's labyrinths, here
Pharonnida, now out of hope to clear
This tempest of her fate, resolves to cast
Her faith's firm anchor: but before she passed Jo
The dangerous straits of a restrictive vow,
She, to such friends as judgement taught her how
To prize, imparts it; 'mongst which few, the fair
Silvandra, whom lost love had taught despair,
With sad Florenza, both resolve to take
The same strict habit, and with her forsake
The treacherous world. But to disturb this clear
Stream of devotion, soon there did appear
Dissuading friends — Ismander, loath to lose
So loved a guest, whilst she 's of power to choose, 80
Together with the virtuous Ammida,
Spend their most powerful arguments to draw
Her from those cold thoughts, that her virtue might,
Whilst unconcealed, lend weaker mortals light.
Canto I] PkarO?272tcla
Long had this friendly conflict lasted, ere Her conquered friends, whom a religious care Frighted from robbing Heaven of saints, withdrew To mourn her loss ; yet ere they left her to Her cloistered cell, Ismander, to comply
With aged custom, calls such friends whom nigh 90
Abode had made familiar, to attend His royal guest. Some hasty days they spend In solemn feasting, where each friend, although Clothed as when they at triumphs met, did show A silent sadness, such as wretched brides. When the neglected nuptial robe but hides The cares of an obstructed love, before Harsh parents wear. The mirthless feast passed o'er. The noble virgins, in procession by
The mourning train, unto the monastry 100
Slowly conducted are ; each led by two Full-breasted maids, whom Hymen, to renew The world's decaying stock, his joys to prove By contracts summoned to conjugal love. These as they passed, like paranymphs which led Young beauties to espouse a maidenhead. With harmony, whose each concording part Tickled the ear, whilst it did strike the heart With mournful numbers, rifling every breast Of their deep thoughts, thus the sad sense exprest. 110
To secret walks, to silent shades, To places where no voice invades The air, but what 's created by Their own retired society, Slowly these blooming nymphs we bring To wither out their fragrant spring ; For whose sweet odours lovers pine. Where beauty doth but vainly shine : Cho. Where Nature's wealth, and Art's assisting cost,
Both in the beams of distant Hope are lost. 120
II.
To cloisters where cold damps destroy The busy thoughts of bridal joy ; To vows whose harsh events must be Uncoupled cold virginity ; To pensive prayers, where Heaven appears Through the pale cloud of private tears ; These captive virgins we must leave, Till freedom they from death receive : Cho. Only in this remote conclusion blest.
This vale of tears leads to eternal rest. 130
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William Chamber layne [book v
in.
Then since that such a choice as theirs, Which styles them the undoubted heirs To Heaven, 'twere sinful to repent ; Here may they live, till beauty spent In a religious life, prepare Them with their fellow-saints to share Celestial joys, for whose desire They freely from the world retire : Cho. Go then, and rest in blessed peace, whilst we
Deplore the loss of such society. 140
Through all the slow delays of love arrived
To the unguarded gate. Friendship, that thrived
Not in Persuasion's rhetoric, withdravvs
Her forces to assist that juster cause —
Prayers for their future good — with which whilst they
Are taking leave, the unfolded gates give way
For the blest votaries' entrance, whom to meet,
A hundred pair of maids, more chastely sweet
Than flowers which grow untouched in deserts, were
Led by their abbess; to whose pious care 150
These being joined, with such a sad reverse
Of eyes o'erflowing, (as the sable herse
Close mourners leave, when they must see no more
Their coffined dead), their friends are from the door
With eager looks, woe's last — since now denied
A further view — departs unsatisfied.
This last of duties, which the dearest friend Ought to perform, brought to successful end ; For here no custom with a dowry's price
At entrance paid, nursed slothful avarice ; 160
They 're softly led through a fair garden where Each walk was by the founder's pious care, For various fancies, wanton imagery. To catch the heart, and not to court the eye, Adorned with sacred histories. From hence T' the centre of this fair circumference. The fabric come, the roving eye, confined Within the buildings, to enlarge the mind In contemplation, saw where happy art
Had on the figured walls the second part 170
Of sacred story drawn, in lines that had The world's Redeemer, from His first being clad In robes of flesh, presented to the view Through all His passions, till it brought Him to
156 departs] Singer, on general grammatical principles as usual, 'depart.' But he does not seem to have noticed that, if any alteration is made. Ti. participle is required for *are.' Chambcrlayne would not have hesitated to write 'are departed ' and I am not sure that he would have hesitated to scan 'depart'd.'
( 240 )
Canto I] Pharo7tnida
The cross, that highest seal of love, where He A sinless offering died, from sin to free The captived world, which knew no other price But that to pay the debts of paradise.
Passed through this place, where bleeding passion strove Their melting pity to refine to love, i8o
They 're now the temple entered ; where, to screen Their thoughts yet nearer Heaven, whom they had seen I' the entrance scourged, contemned, and crucified, They there beheld, though veils of glory hide Some part of the amazing majesty. In His ascension, as when raised to be. For them that hear His death freed from the hate Of angry Heaven, the powerful advocate.
Besides these bold attempts of art that stood To fright the wicked, or to prompt the good, 190
Something more great, more sacred, than could by Art be expressed, without the help of the eye Reached at the centre of the soul ; from whence To Heaven, our raised desires' circumference, Striking the lines of contemplation, she. Wrapped from the earth, is, in an ecstasy Holy and high, through faith's clear optic shown Those joys which to departed saints are known.
Before those prayers, which zeal had tedious made, With their last troops did conquered Heaven invade, 200
The day was on the glittering wings of light Fled to the western world, and swarthy night In her black empire throned ; from silver shrines The kindled lamps through all the temple shines With dappled rays, that did to the eye present The beauties of the larger firmament. In which still calm, when all their rites were now So near performed, that the confirming vow Alone remained, a sudden noise, of rude
And clamorous sound, did through the ear intrude 210
On their affrighted fancies, in so high A voice, that all their sacred harmony. In this confusion lost, appeared so small, As if that whispered which was made to call.
Although the awful majesty that here Religion held, the weak effects of fear With faith expelled, yet when that nearer to Their slender gates the murmuring tumult drew, The abbess sends not to secure, but see
Who durst attempt what Heaven from all kept free 220
By strictest law, save those unhallowed hands That follow curses whilst they fly commands : But they being entered, ere the timorous scout Could notice give, fear, which first sprung from doubt,
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William Chamherlayite [book v
Being into wild confusion grown, from all
Set forms affrights them ; whilst at once they call
For Heaven's protecting mercy, to behold
That place where peaceful saints used to unfold
Heaven's oracles, possessed with villains that
Did ne'er know aught but want to tremble at, 230
Which looked like those that with proud angels fell,
And to storm Heaven were sent in arms from Hell ;
Converts that scene, where nothing did appear
But calm devotion, to distracting fear.
Amazed with horror, each sad vot'ress stands.
Whilst sacred relics drop from trembling hands ;
Here one whose heart with fear's convulsions faint,
Flies to the shrine of her protecting saint ;
By her another stands, whose spirits spent
In passion, looks pale as her monument : 240
One shrieks, another prays, a third had crossed
Herself so much, ill angels might have lost
The way to hurt her, if not taught to do 't,
'Cause she t' the sign too much did attribute.
The royal stranger, by her fear pursued, To the altar fled, had with mixed passion viewed This dreadful troop, whilst from the temple gate They passed the seat where trembling virgins sat Free from uncivil wrongs, as if that they
That entered had been men prepared to pray, 250
Not come to ravish ; from which sight her fear Picks flowers of hope, but such as, they drawn near, From fancy's soft lap, in a hurricane Of passion dropped her prayers and tears in vain, As words in winds, or showers in seas, when they Prepare for ruin the obstructed way To pity, which her stock of prayers had cost, In the dark shade of sudden horror lost.
Seized on by two o' the sacrilegious train, Whose black disguise had made the eye in vain 260
Seek to inform the soul, she and the poor Florenza, whilst their helpless friends deplore With silent tears so sad a loss, are drew I'Vom the clasped altar in the offended view Of their protecting saints ; from whose shrines in A dismal omen dropped whate'er had been With hopes of merit placed. Black sulphury damps With swift convulsions quenched the sacred lamps, The fabric shakes, and, as if grieved they stood To circle guilt, the walls sweat tears of blood. 270
Shrieks, such as if those sainted souls, that there Trod Heaven's straight paths, xw their just cjuarrel were
071 sainted] Orig. ' fainted ' — of course a mere * literal ' for the long s.
Canto I] Pharon7iida
Rose from their silent dormitories to
Deter their foes, through all the temple flew.
But here in vain destroying angels shook The sword of vengeance, whilst his bold crimes struck 'Gainst heaven in high contempt ; with impious haste, Snatched from the altar, whilst their friends did waste Unheard orisons for their safety, they
Unto the fabric's utmost gate convey 280
Their beauteous prizes, where with silence stood Their dreadful guard, which, like a neighbouring wood, When vapours tip the naked boughs in light, With unsheathed swords through the black mists of night A sparkling terror struck, with such a speed As scarce gave time to fear what would succeed To such preceding villanies. Within Her coach imprisoned, the sad princess, in A march for swiftness such as busy war
Hastes to meet death in, but for silence far 290
More still than funerals, is by that black troop, With such a change as falling stars do stoop To night's black region, from the monastry Hurried in haste ; by whom, or whither, she Yet knows no more than souls departing, when Or where to meet in robes of flesh again.
The day salutes her, and uncurtained light Welcomes her through the confines of the night, But lends no comfort ; every object that
It showed her, being such as frighted at, 300
The prince of day, grieved he 'd no longer slept. To shun, shrunk back beneath a cloud, and wept. When the unfolded curtains gave her eyes Leave to look forth, a troop, whose close disguise Were stubborn arms^ she only saw, and they So silent, nought but motion did betray The faculties of life ; by whom being led. In such a sad march as their honoured dead Close mourners follow, she, some slow-paced days 'Mongst strangers passing, thorough stranger ways 310
At both amazed, at length, unfathomed by Her deepest thought, within the reach of the eye Her known Gerenza views ; but with a look From whence cold passion all the blood had took, And in her face, that frozen sea of fear. Left nought but storms of wonder to appear.
Convened within the spacious judgement-hall Of Reason, she ere this had summoned all Her weaker passions to the impartial bar Of moral virtue, where they sentenced are 320
310 thorough] Orig. ' through,' contrary to contemporary practice where this metrical value is required.
( 243 ) R 2
JVilliam Chamberlayiie [book v
Only to an untroubled silence ; in
Which serious act whilst she had busied been,
She is, unnoted, ere the fall of day
Brought by her convoy to a lodge that lay
Off from the road, a place, when seen, she knew
Ere his rebellion had belonged unto
Her worst of foes, Almanzor ; which begins
At first a doubt, whose growing force soon wins
The field of faith, and tells her timorous thought.
Her father's troops would ne'er have thither brought 330
Her, if designed to suffer, since that he
Knew those more fit for close captivity.
But long her reason lies not fettered in These cross dilemmas ; the slow night had been With tedious hours passed o'er, whilst she by none But mutes, no less unheard than they're unknown, Is only waited on ; by whom, when day To action called, she veiled, is led the way To the attending convoy, who had now
Varied the scene ; — Almanzor, studying how 340
To court compassion in his prince, dares not At the first view, ere merit had begot A calm remission of rebellious sin. Affront an anger which had justice been In his confusion ; his arms he now behind, As that which might too soon have called to mind His former crimes, he leaves, and for them took. To gain the aspect of a pitying look, A hermit's homely weed : his willing train. By that fair gloss their liberties to gain, 350
Rode armed ; but so, what for offence they bore. Was in submission to lay down before The throne of injured power, to cure whose fear Their arm^d heads on haltered necks appear.
Near to the rear of these, the princess in A mourning litter, close as she had been In a night-march unto her tomb, is through The city's wondering tumults led unto The royal palace, at whose gates all stay, Save bold Almanzor ; whom the guards obey 363
For his appearing sanctity so much, That he unquestioned enters, and, thought such As his grave habit promised, soon obtained The prince's sight ; where with a gesture feigned To all the shapes of true devotion, he By a successful fiction comes to be Esteemed the true converter of those wild Bandits, which, being by their own crimes exiled,
345. 347 he] One of these is of course superfluous and the first is not even necessary for the metre.
( 244 )
Canto I] Pharo7inida
In spite of law had lived to punish those
Which did the rules of punishment compose. 370
These being pardoned, as he 'd took from thence Encouragement, veiled under the pretence Of a religious pity, he begins. In language whose emollient smoothness wins An easy conquest on belief, to frame A sad petition ; which, although in name It had disguised Pharonnida, did find So much of pity as the prince, inclined To lend his aid for the relief of her
Whose virtue found so fair a character 380
In his description, it might make unblest That power which left so much of worth distrest.
Though too much tired with private cares to show In public throngs, how much his love did owe To suffering virtue ; yet since told that she AVas too much masked in clouds of grief to be The object of the censuring court, he to The litter goes, whose sable veil withdrew, With wonder, that did scarce belief admit. Shadowed in grief, he sees his daughter sit, 390
His long-lost daughter, whom unsought, to be Thus strangely found, to such an ecstasy Of joy exalts him, that his spirits by Those swift pulsations had been all let fly With thanks towards Heaven, had not the royal maid With showers of penitential tears allayed Those hotter passions, and revoked him to Support her griefs, whose burthen had outgrew The powers of life, but that there did appear Kind Nature's love to cure weak Nature's fear. 400
In this encounter of their passions, both With sorrow silent stood, words being loath To intrude upon their busy thoughts, till they In moist compassion melted had away His anger's fever and her frozen fears In nature's balm, soft love's extracted tears : Like a sad patient, whose forgotten strength Decayed by chronic ills, hath made the length Of life his burthen, when near death, meets there Unhoped-for health ; so from continual care, 410
The soul's slow hectic, elevated by This cordial joy, the slothful lethargy Of age or sorrow finds an easier cure Than the unsafe extreme, a calenture.
Nor are these comforts long constrained to rest Within the confines of his own swelled breast, Ere its dismantled rays did in a flight. Swift as the motions of unbodied light,
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William Chafnberlayne [book v
Disperse its epidemic virtues through
The joyful court ; which now arrived unto 420
Its former splendour, Heaven's expected praise
Doth on the wings of candid mercy raise :
Which spreading in a joyful jubilee
To all offenders, tells Almanzor he
Might safely now unmask; which done, ere yet
Discovered, at the well-pleased prince's feet.
Humbled with guilt, he kneels ; who, at the sight
As much amazed as so sublime a flight
Of joy admitted, stands attentive to
What did in these submissive words ensue. 430
' Behold, great sir, for now I dare be seen An object for your mercy, that had been Too dreadful for discovery, had not this Preceding joy told me no crime could miss The road of mercy, though, like mine, a sin The suffering nation is enveloped in. Sunk in the ocean of my guilt, I 'd gone, A desperate rebel, waited on by none But outlaws, to a grave obscure, had not
Relenting Heaven thus taught me how to blot 440
Out some of sin's black characters, ere I Beheld the beams of injured majesty.'
This, in his passion's relaxation spoke, Persuades the prince's justice to revoke Its former rigour. By the helpful hand Of mercy raised, Almanzor soon did stand Not only pardoned, but secured by all His former honours from a future fall, Making that fortune, which did now appear Their pity's object, through the glass of fear 450
With envy looked on ; but in vain, he stood Confirmed in love's meridian altitude, The length of life from Honour's western shade, Except in new rebellion retrograde : Which plotting leave him, till the winding clew Of fancy shall conduct your knowledge to Those uncouth vaults ; and mounting the next story, See virtue climbing to the throne of glory.
THE END OF THE FIRST CANTO.
426 prince's] Singer, nodding, ' princess'.' In orig. these words arc often inter- changed.
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Canto II] Pharomiida
Canto II
THE ARGUMENT
1^, Leaving Pharonnida to entertain
The various passions of her father, vi'e Must now return to see Argalia gain
That power by which he sets his father free.
From the command of haughty rebels, who
By justice sent to a deserved death, Argalia takes the crown, his merits' due.
And the old prince in peace resigns his breath.
Returned to see what all the dark records
Of the old Spartan history affords
r the progress of Argalia's fate, I found
The chahied historian here so strictly bound
To follow truth, although at danger's cost,
No silent night, nor smoky battle lost
The doubtful road ; which often did appear
Through floods of faction filled with storms of fear,
Obscure and dark to the belief of that
Less guilty age ; though then to tremble at lo
Rome's bold ambition, and those prodigies
Of earth, their tyrants, to inform their eyes,
Left mourning monuments of ill, but none
Like what they now attempt, a sin unknown
To old aspirers, which should have been sent
Some ages forward for a precedent
To these, with whom compared, their crimes had been,
Though past to act, but weak essays of sin.
With such a speed as the supplies of air, Fearing a vacuum, hasten to repair 20
The ruptures of the earth, at our last view We left revived Argalia posting to ^tolia's distant confines ; where arrived. He found their army, whose attempts had thrived, Since he Epirus had forsook, so far Advanced, that now the varied scene of war, Transferred to faithless Ardenna, was there Fixed in a siege, whose slow approaches were The doubts of both. The city pines for fear Remote supplies might fail, which drawn so near, 30
The circling army knows, that either they Must fly from conquest near obtained, or stay To meet a danger, which by judgement scanned, Their strength appears unable to withstand.
Whilst thus their pensive leaders busied are In cross dilemmas, as by public war He meant to meet revenge in private, to Their camp x^rgalia comes ; a camp which knew
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JVillia^n Cha^nberlayiie [book v
Him by the fair wrought characters of fame
So well, that now he needs no more than name 40
Himself to merit welcome, all mistrust
Being cleared by them which left, as too unjust
To be obeyed, the false Epirot's side, *
When by his loss made subject to the pride
Of stranger chiefs ; these for their virtue praised,
For number feared, to such a height had raised
Applauding truths of him, that Zarrobrin,
Conjoined to one he trembled at whilst seen
In opposition, slights what did of late
Appear a dreadful precipice of fate. 50
Lest poor employments might make favour show Like faint mistrust, he doth at first bestow On the brave stranger the supreme command Of some choice horse, selected to withstand The fierce Epirot's march ; whose army, ere The slow ^tolians could their strength prepare Fit to resist, if not by him withstood. With ease had gained a dangerous neighbourhood. But he, whose anger's thunderbolts could stay, Though hurled from clouds of rage, if the allay 60
Of judgement interposed, here finding nought More safe than haste, ere his secure foes thought Of opposition, strongly had possessed A strait in which small troops had oft distressed Large bodied armies, until brought so low, Those they contemned did liberty bestow.
Whilst stopped by this unlooked-for remora. The baffled army oft had strove to draw Argalia from his safe retreats, but found
His art of more advantage than his ground ; 70
In the dead age of unsuccessful night A forward party, which had learned to fight From honour's dictates, not commands, being by Youth's hasty guide, rash valour, brought so nigh Argalia's troops, that in a storm which cost Some lives, they many noble captives lost : Amongst which number, as if thither sent By such a fate as showed Heaven's close intent Pointed at good, Euriolus appears
First a sad captive : but those common fears 80
Soon, whilst in conflict with his passions, rest On the wished object of his long inquest — Admired Argalia, to whose joy he brings As much of honour, as elected kings Meet in those votes, which so auspicious prove, They light to honour with the rays of love.
Having from him in full relation heard Pharonnida yet lived, whom long he feared (248)
Canto II] Pha?^072nida
Beyond redemption lost, they thence proceed
To counsels, whose mature results might breed 90
Their heedless foes confusion ; which, since they
That now were captives bore the greatest sway
In the opposing army, proves a task
So free from danger, death did scarce unmask
The face of horror in a charge, before
Argalia's name, echoed in praises o'er
The rallied troops, summons from thence so large
A party, that the valour of a charge
In those that stood were madness, which to shun,
Base cowards taught brave fighters how to run. 100
This easy conquest gained, ere Zarrobrin ^Vas with his slower army drawn within The noise o' the battle, to such vast extent Of fame, high virtue's spreading ornament. Had raised Argalia's merits, that the pride Of his commander wisely laid aside For such advantage, to let Honour stand On her own basis, the supreme command Of all the strangers in his camp to him
He freely gives; a power which soon would dim 110
His, if ere by some harsh distemper placed In opposition, but his thoughts embraced In all suspicion's darkest cells no fiend So pale as fear ; fixed on the sudden end Of high designs, he looks on this success As the straight road to future happiness.
With such a speed as prosperous victors go To see and conquer, when the vanquished foe Retreats from honour, the ^tolian had
Followed success, till that fair hand unclad 120
The sunk Epirot of his strength ; and now. Secured from foreign ills, was studying how To cure domestic dangers : which since he The weak foundation of his tyranny Had fixed in sand but only cemented With loyal blood, such just contempt had bred In the age's deep discerning judgements, that The unsettled herd, ere scarcely lightened at Those sober flames, like ill-mixed vapours break In blustering murmurs forth; which, though too weak 130 To force his fortune on the rocks of hate. With terror shook the structure of his fate.
Like wise physicians, which, when called to cure Infectious ills, with antidotes make sure Themselves from danger ; since hypocrisy Could steal no entrance to affection, he Leads part of 's army for his guard, that they, Where mines did fail, by storm might force a way.
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William Chamber lay?ie [book v
But since he doubts constrained domestics, tliough
Abroad obedient, might, when come to know 140
From burthened friends their cause of grief, forsake
Unjust commands, his wiser care did take
ArgaHa and his stranger troops, as those
Which, unconcerned, he freely might dispose
To wind up all the engines of his brain.
So guilt was gilded with the hopes of gain.
By hasty marches being arrived with these Within ^tolia, where his frowns appease Those bubbles that, their Neptune absent, would Have swelled to waves ; ere his hot spirits cooled 150
Were with relaxing rest, he visits him. The weak reflex of whose light crown looks dim T' the burnished splendour of his blade, that set Him only there to be the cabinet Of that usurped diadem ; which he. Whose subtle arts in clouded brows could see The heart's intended storms, beheld without His unstrained reach, until the people's doubt, A\^hich yet lived in the dawn of hope, he saw O'ershadowed with the forms of injured law. 160
Though Time, that fatal enemy to truth, Had not alone robbed the fresh thoughts of youth O' the knowledge of their long lost prince, but been. Even unto those that had adored him in His throne. Oblivion's handmaid ; yet left by Some power occult, that in captivity Forsakes not injured monarchs, there remained In most some passions, which first entertained At Pity's cost, at length by Reason tried
Grew so much loved, that only power denied 170
Them to support his sinking cause. Which seen By Zarrobrin, whose tyranny had been At first their fear, and now their hate, he brings His army, an elixir, which to kings Transforms plebeians, by the strength of that To bind those hands that else had struggled at Their head's offence ; which wanting power to cure, They now with griefs convulsions must endure.
A court convened of such whose killing trade The rigid law so flexible had made, 180
That their keen votes had forced the bloodiest field To the deep tincture of the scaffold yield ; Forth of his uncouth prison summoned by The rude commands of wronged authority. An object which succeeding ages, when But spoke of, weep, because they blushed not then, The prince appears — a guarded captive in That city where his morning star had been
( »5o )
Canto II] P/iar 072721 da
Beheld in honour's zenith ; slowly by
Inferior slaves, which ne'er on majesty, 190
Whilst uneclipsed, durst look, being led to prove
Who blushed with anger, or looked pale with love.
By these being to a mock tribunal brought. Where damned rebellion for disguise had sought The veil of justice, but so thinly spread, Each stroke, their envy levelled at his head, Betrayed black Treason's hand, couched in that vote Which struck with law to cut Religion's throat. From a poor pleader, whose cheap conscience had Been sold for bribes, long ere the purple clad 200
So base a thing, their calm-souled sovereign hears Death's fatal doom ; which when pronounced, appears His candour, and their guilt : the one exprest • By a reception, which declared his breast Unstirred with passion ; the other struggling in Their troubled looks, which showed this monstrous sin. That this damned plot did to rebellion bear. Even frighted those that treason's midwives were.
Hence, all their black designs encouraged by The levelled paths of prosperous villany, 210
High-mounted mischief, stretched upon the wing Of powerful ill, pursues the helpless king '
To the last stage of life, a scaffold ; whence, With tears, cheap offerings to his innocence, Such of his pitying friends as durst disclose Their passions, view him ; whilst insulting foes, Exalted on the pyramids of pride By long-winged power, with base contempt deride Their sorrow, and his sufferings whom they hate, Had followed near the period of his fate ; 220
Which being now so near arrived, that all With various passion did expect the fall Of the last fatal stroke, kind Heaven, to save A life so near the confines of the grave, Transcends dull hope by so sublime a flight, That dazzled faith, amazed with too much light, Whilst ecstasies of wonder did destroy Unripe belief, near lost the road of joy.
Even with the juncture of that minute when The axe was falling, from those throngs of men 230
Swayed by 's command, Argalia, with a speed That startled action, mounts the stage, and freed The trembling prince from death's pale fear ; which done. To show on what just grounds he had begun So brave, so bold an action, seizes all That knowledge or suspicion dares to call
235 action] Singer reads ' act, he.' But the nominative is quite easily supplied from ' mounts.'
William Chamber layfie [book v
The tyrant's friends. The guilty tyrant, who,
Whilst he doth from his distant palace view
This dreadful change, with a disdain as high
As are his crimes, being apprehended by 240
Argalia's nimble guards, is forced to be
Their sad conductor to a destiny
So full of horror, that it hardly lies
In 's foes to save him for a sacrifice
From their wild rage, who know no justice but
What doth by death a stop to fury put.
From noiseless prayers and bloodless looks being by The bold attempters of his liberty Raised to behold his rescue; heedless fear. Hatched by mistake, from those that bordered near, 250
Had with such swiftness its infection spread, That the more distant, knowing not what bred The busy tumult, in so wild a haste. As vanquished troops which at the heels are chased Fly the pursuing sword, they madly run To meet those dangers which they strove to shun : In which confusion none o' the throng had been Left to behold how justice triumphed in Revenge's throne, had not a swift command. By power enabled, hastened to withstand 260
That troubled torrent which the truth outgrew, Until their fears' original they knew.
The onset past, Argalia, having first Secured the tyrant, for whose blood the thirst Of the vexed people raged, he mounted on That scaffold whence his father should have gone
A royal martyr to the grave, did there
By a commanded silence first prepare
The clamorous throng to hear the hidden cause
Which made him slight their new-created laws. 270
Then, in that mart of satisfaction which
With knowledge doth the doubtful herd enrich,
The public view, he freely shows how far
Through Fortune's deserts the auspicious star
Of Heaven's unfathomed providence had led
Him — from the axe to save that sacred head;
Whose reverend snow his full discovery had
In the first dress of youthful vigour clad,
Could constant Nature sympathize with that
Reviving joy his spirits panted at. 280
His son's relation, seconded by all
That suffering .sharer in his pitied fall,
Mantinea's bishop, knew, joined to the sight
Of that known jewel, whose unwasted light
Had served alone to guide them, satisfies
The inquisition e'en of critic eyes
( 252 )
Canto II] Pha?^07l72ida
With such a fullness of content, that they,
Each from his prince being lightened with a ray
Of sprightly mirth, endeavoured to destroy
Their former grief in hope of future joy : 290
Which to attain to, those whose counsels had
The land in blood, and then in mourning clad.
Called forth by order to confession, there
Are scarce given time the foulness to declare
Of their past crimes, before the people's hate.
That head-strong monster, strove to anticipate
The sword of vengeance, and in wild rage save
The labour of an ignominious grave
To every parcel of those rent limbs that.
When but beheld, they lately trembled at. 300
Such being the fate of falling tyrants, when
Conquering, the fear, conquered, the scorn of men.
But here lest inconsiderate rage should send
Their souls to darkness, ere confession end
Their tragic story, hated Zarrobrin,
With that unhappy boy whose crown had been
Worn but to make him capable to die
A sacrifice to injured liberty.
Rescued by order from the rout, is to
A public trial brought ; where, in the view 310
Of all the injured multitude, the old
Audacious traitor did t' the light unfold
His acts of darkness, which discovered him
They gazed on, whilst unquestioned power did dim
Discerning wits, but a dull meteor — one
By hot ambition mounted to a throne.
By an attractive policy, which when
Its influence failed, back to that lazy fen.
His fortune's centre, hurling him again.
The only star in honour's orb would reign. 320
This sly impostor, seconded by that Rebellious guilt his actions offered at In all its bold attempts, had kindled in The late supporters of unprosperous sin So high a rage, that in wild fury they. Their anger wanting what it should obey — ■ A sober judgement, stands not to dispute With the slow law, but with their strength confute All tending to delay; like torrents broke
Through the imprisoning banks, to get one stroke 330
At heads so hated, all rush in, until Their severed limbs want quantity to fill A room in the eyes' receiving beams. This done, With blood and anger warmed, they wildly run To search out such whom consanguinity Had rendered so unhappy, as to be
( 253 )
JVilliam Chamber layne [book v
Allied to them : all which, with rage that styled
Beasts merciful, and angry soldiers mild.
They to destruction chase ; whilst guiltless walls,
In which they dwelt, in funeral blazes falls ; 340
Where burns inviting treasure, as they saw
In the gold's splendour an anathema
So full of horror, as it seemed to be
A plague beyond unpitied poverty.
Impetuous rage, like whirlwinds unopposed, Hushed to a calm, as hate had but unclosed The anger-blinded eyes of love, the bold Flame, like a fire forced from repulsive cold, Breaks through the harsh extreme of hate, to show How much their loyal duty did outgrow 350
Those fruits of forced obedience, which before They slowly to intruding tyrants bore.
In which procession of their joy, that he j
Might meet their hopes with a solemnity
Large as their love, or his delight, the prince, ,
Taught by informing age how to convince |
Ambition's hasty arguments, calls forth His long-lost son, whose late discovered worth Was grown the age's wonder, to support
The ponderous crown, whilst he did tread the short 360
And sickly step of age, untroubled by The burthen of afflicting majesty.
His coronation passed, in such a tide Of full content, as to be glorified Blest souls in the world's conflagration shall From tombs their reunited bodies call, The feeble prince, leaving the joyful throng Of his applauding subjects, seeks among Religious shades, those cool retreats, to find That best composer of a stormy mind — 370
A still devotion ; on whose downy bed Not long he 'd laid, before that entrance led Him to the court of Heaven, though through the gate Of welcome death, a cross, which though from fate, Not accident, he being instructed by Age and religion to prepare to die On Nature's summons, yet so deep a strain Spreads o'er those robes that joy had died in grain, That his heroic son, to meet alone
So fierce a foe, leaving the widowed throne, 380
Retreats to silent tears ; whose plenteous spring, By the example of their mourning king, From those small clouds there first beheld to rise, Begets a storm in every subject's eyes.
353 procession] Singer ' profession,' b3' no means necessarily, I tliinlt.
{ '^54 )
Canto II] Pharo7i7tida
Betraying Time, the world's unquestioned thief, Intending o'er obliterated grief Some new transcription, to perform it brings A ravished quill from Love's expanded wings. Presenting to Argalia's willing view
Whate'er blind chance rolled on the various clew 390
Of his fair mistress' fate, unfolded by Euriolus ; who was, w'hen victory First gave him freedom, by Argalia sent With speed that might anticipate intent, The unconfined Pharonnida to free From her religious strict captivity. But being arrived where, contrary to all His thoughts, he heard how first she came to fall Into Almanzor's hand, by whom conveyed Thence to her father's court, his judgement stayed 400
Not to consult with slow advice, but hastes On the pursuit of her ; whom found, he wastes Few days before fair opportunity Was so auspicious to his prayers, that he Not only proves a happy messenger Where first employed, but in exchange for her Returns the story of what had been done Since first this tempest of their fate begun. — How she forsook the monastry, and in
What agonies of passion thence had been 410
Forced to her father's court, where all her fears Dissolve in pity, he related hears With calm attention ; but when come to that. Whose first conceptions he had trembled at, The Syracusan's fresh assaults unto That virgin fort, whose strength although he knew Too great for storm, yet since assisted by Her father's power, the wreaths of victory, Rent by command from his deserts, might crown Another's brows. To pull those laurels down, 420
Ere raised in triumph, he prepares to move By royal steps unto the throne of love.
THE END OF THE SECOND CANTO.
(^55)
William Cha7nherlay7te [book v
Canto III
THE ARGUMENT
From the ^tolians' late victorious king Ambassadors in Sparta's court arrive ; Where slighted, back they this sad message bring, That force must only make his just claim thrive.
Which to confirm, the Epirot's power invades
His land, in hopes for full reward to have Pharonnida ; but close Almanzor shades
His glorious hopes in an untimely grave.
An unripe rumour, such as causes near
Declining catch at, when betraying fear
Plunges at hope, had through Gerenza spread
The story of Argalia's fate, but shed
From such loose clouds of scattered fame, as by
Observant wits were only thought to fly
In the airy region of report, where they
Are forced each wind of fancy to obey ;
Whose various blasts, when brought unto the test
Of judgement, rather the desires exprest, lo
Than knowledge of its authors. Here, 'mongst those
Of various censure, sly Almanzor chose
To be of the believing part, since that
Might soonest crush all hopes that levelled at
Affection to Pharonnida, whom he
Strove to preserve in calm neutrality.
But here he fails to countermine his plot, This seeming fable soon appears begot By solid truth ; a truth which scorns to lie Begging at th' gates of probability : 20
Which to avoid, she from Argalia brings Ambassadors, those mouths of absent kings. To plead her right ; at whose unlooked-for view, Almanzor, whose fallacious schemes were drew Only for false phenomena, is now Forced to erect new figures, and allow Each star its influence ; but declared in vain, Since pride did lord of the ascendant reign — Pride, which, conjoined to policy, had made All other motions seem but Pctrograde. 30
His black arts thus deceived, since nought could make The dull spectator's ignorance mistake This constellation for a comet, he Attempts with fear of its malignity To fright each busy gazer ; and since all The circles of opinion were to fall
( 256 )
Canto HI] Pharo?t7tida
Like spacious azimuths in that zenith, to
Settle the prince, through whom the people view
All great conjunctions, where the different sign
Should force those aspects, which might 'mongst that trine 40
Of love else hold a concord, to dispense
On him its most destructive influence.
The court being thus prepared, he boldly now Dares the delayed ambassadors allow A long expected audience, which in brief Makes known their master's fate in the relief Of's injured father; thence proceeds to show How much of praise his thankful friends did owe To Heaven for his own restored estate, which he Desires to join in calm confederacy 50
With them, his honoured neighbours ; hence they past To what concerned Pharonnida, their last And most important message. Which, when heard In such a language as the rivals feared ; A language, which, to prove his interest In her unquestioned, come but to request The freedom of a father's grant, a high But stifled rage began to mutiny In all their breasts, such as, if not withheld B' the law of nations, had her father swelled 60
To open acts of violence ; which seen By some o' the lords, they calm his passion in A cool retreat, such as might seem to be. Though harsh contempt, wrapped in civility.
Fired with disdain, the ambassadors, in such A speed which showed affronts that did but touch Their master's honour wounded theirs, forsook Gerenza ; whilst Euriolus betook Himself to some more safe disguise that might Protect him, till the subject of delight, 70
The course his royal master meant to steer In gaining her, his story makes appear Unto distressed Pharonnida : who, in That confidence secure as she had been From all succeeding ills protected by A guard of angels, in a harmony Of peaceful thoughts, such as in dangers keep Safe innocence, rocks all her cares asleep.
But here she rests not long before the fall Of second storms proves this short interval 80
But lightning, which in tempests shows unto Shores, which the shipwrecked must no more than view. Anger, Ambition, Hate, and jealous Fear, Had all conspired Love's ruin, which drew near
54 the] Singer ' their.'
( 357 ) s
JVilliam Chamherlay?ie [book v
From hasty counsels' rash results, which in
His passion's storm had by her father been,
Like rocks which wretched mariners mistake
For harbours, fled to, when he did forsake
That safer channel of advice that might,
From free conventions, like the welcome light 90
Of Pharos, guided his designs, till they
At anchor in the road of honour lay.
As if his fears by nothing could have been Secured, but what proved him ungrateful in Argalia's ruin, all discourses are Distasteful grown, but what to sudden war Incites his rage : which humour, though it needs No greater fire than what his envy feeds, Besides those court tarantulas whose breath Stings easy princes, till they dance to death 100
At the delightful sound of flattery, there Were deeper wits, such whom a subtle care, Not servile fear, taught how to aggravate His anger's flame, till their own eager hate. Though burning with a mortal fury, might Pass unobserved, since near a greater light. Amongst those few whose love did not depend So much on fortune, but the name of friend Was still preserved, the faithful Cyprian prince Durst only strive by reason to convince 1 10
Their wilder passions ; but each argument With which affection struggled to prevent A swift destruction, only seemed to prove His friendship more eff"ectual than his love. From which mistake, such as did strive to please The angry prince's passionate disease. With what might feed the sickly humours, draw A consequence that proves Pharonnida A blessing which was to his merits due
Who most opposed the bold aspirer to 120
That throne of beauty, which before possest, Whole armies must dispute their interest.
The slighted Cyprian, since their fear could trust None but confederates, from their counsels thrust, Those swift conclusions, which before to stay Their violence had reason's cool allay, Hurried to action, strict commands are sent From fierce Zoranza through each regiment Which stooped their ensigns to his power, — that, by Such marches as they'd follow victory, 130
They reach ./Etolia, ere its new-crowned king, Warned by report, had liberty to bring
91 guided] The omission of ' have ' is characteristic.
Canto III] Pharo?inida
opposing strengths, — a task too hard to be
Performed with ease in power's minority.
Nor fails this counsel, for their army draws
No sooner near, but such as in the cause
Of unsuccessful rebels late had been
Exposed to danger, seek for refuge in
A fresh revolt ; and, since their ulcerous guilt
Was so malignant, that e'en mercy spilt 140
Its balm in vain, their injured prince forsake,
To strengthen his proud enemies, who make
Those poisons up in cordials, and compound
Them with their army : which being thus grown sound,
Whereas it lately fainted, durst provoke
Unto the trial of another stroke
His late victorious forces ; which, though yet
Faint with the blood lost in the last great fit
Of honour's fever, when the crisis proved
To cure's prognostic, had with ease removed 150
The proud invaders, had Morea been.
As heretofore, a hurtful neuter in
That war ; which now, since double strengths oppose,
Brave fortitude like base oppression shows.
So long both parties with variety Of fortune fought, that fearing whose might be The sad success, that old Cleander, in Such speed as if his crown engaged had been, Raises an army ; whose command, since he Base flattery takes for brave fidelity, 160
Waiving those peers to whose known faith he owes The most of trust, in hoodwinked hope bestows On false Almanzor; who by power advanced Near to those hopes at which ambition glanced, But like weak eyes upon the dazzling sun, From that last fatal stage his plots begun Mischiefs dark course, which, ere concluded, shall Crush the Epirot in Morea's fall.
In this, the hot distemper of their state, Amindor, whom the destinies of late, 170
To double-dye his honour's purple thread, Robbed of a father, most disquieted Their secret counsels ; since they knew the love He bore Argalia, propped with power, might prove A sad obstruction to their plots, if he. Urged by distastes, shook their confederacy Off to assist his friend. Which to oppose. With flattery — fleeting as the gourd that rose But to discover his just wrath that made
The plant to cover, when it could not shade, — 180
They all attempt ; though he engage not in Their party, yet his easy youth to win ( 259 ) s 2
William Chamber layne [book v
By honour's moths, by time's betrayers, soft
And smooth deUghts, those serpents which too oft
Strangle Herculean virtues : but they here
In age's April find a wit appear
Of such full growth, that by his judgement they
Are undermined, who studied to betray.
Being thus secured from foreign fears, they now Employ that rage, whose speed could scarce allow 190
Advice from counsel, to extirpate those New planted laurels victory did compose To crown Argalia. But before they go To ravish conquest from so cheap a foe. Whose valour by o'erwhelming power was barred From lying safe at a defensive guard. Till old Cleander, that their league might be Assured by bonds whose firm stability Death only could divorce, intends, though she, With such aversion as their destiny aoo
Wretches condemned would shun, attempt to fly The storm of fate ; yet countermanded by His power, the fair Pharonnida, although He not to love, but duty, seemed to owe For such a blessing, should Zoranza's be, Confirmed by Hymen's high solemnity.
This resolution, whose self-ends must blame Her father's love, once registered by fame, Submits to censure ; whilst Pharonnida
Laments her fate, some, prompted by the law 210
Of love and nature, are to entertain So much of freedom, as they prove in vain Her advocates ; others, whose cautious fear Dares only pity, in that dress appear Silent and sad ; only Almanzor, in This state distemper, by that subtle sin, Dissimulation, so disguises all His black intentions, that whilst truth did call Him treason's agent, its reflected light.
Appearance, spoke him virtue's proselyte; 220
So much a convert, as if all those hot Crimes of his youth ambition had begot, Discreeter age had either cooled, or by Repentance changed to zeal and loyalty.
Whilst thus i' the court the most judicious eyes Deluded were by faction's false disguise, By rumours heav}' as the damps of death When they fly laden with the dying breath Of new-departed souls, this fatal news
Assaults the princess ; which whilst reason views 230
With sad resentments, to support her in This storm of fate, Amindor, who had been ( 360 )
Canto III] Pharonnicla
In all her griefs her best adviser, now
Enters, to tell her fainting sorrows how
They 'd yet a refuge left, from whom she might
Reap hopes of safety. The first welcome sight
Of such a friend, whose former actions had
Enhanced his worth, encountering with her sad
And serious thoughts, so rarifies that cloud
Of grief, that ere dissolving tears allowed 240
A vocal utterance, as intended words
Something contained too doleful for records,
Both sighed, both wept : at length the princess broke
Silence, and thus her dismal passions spoke.
' Dare you, my lord, approach so near unto A factious grief, in this black storm to view Distressed Pharonnida ! Have either I Or my Argalia's slighted memory Yet in Morea a remaining friend,
Whose virtue dares by its own strength contend 250
Against this torrent of court factions ? Now, Now, royal sir, that doom which will allow My soul no more refreshing slumbers, by My father's passed — my father, sir, whom I Must disobey with all the curses due To black rebellion, or else prove untrue Those vows, those oft repeated vows, which in Our love's full growth hath to Argalia been Sealed in the sight of Heaven.' — About to speak Her passions fuller, sorrow here did break 260
The sad theme off, and to proclaim her fears, Except the o'erflowing language of her tears. No herald left. In which sad silent fit The valiant Cyprian, who at first did sit His passion's prisoner, from that bondage free, To her disease prescribes this remedy.
' Cease, madam,
Cease to eclipse illustrious beauty by
Untimely tears ; your grief's deformity
Frights not Amindor from his friendship. When 270
I first beheld that miracle of men,
Adored Argalia, pluck from victory
His naval laurels, honour told me I
Was then so much his virtue's captive, that
Not all the dangers mortals tremble at
Can make me shun assisting of him in
Retaining you ; though my attempts have been
Employed in vain, in public council to
Procure your peace, there 's something left to do.
By which our private plots may undermine 280
Their public power, and unperceived, decline
That danger which, without this secret friend,
(261)
William Chamber layne [book v
It lies not in our fortune to defend.'
From griefs cold swoon to living comforts by
This cordial raised, Pharonnida's reply
Owns this pathetic language : ' If there be
In all the dark paths of my destiny
Yet left a road to safety, name it, sir.
What I'll attempt, no danger shall deter,
So brave Amindor be my conduct through 290
The dismal road ; but my wild hopes outgrow
AVhate'er my reason dictates. Noj my lord,
Fly that sad fate whose progress can afford
Nought but disasters, and live happy in
Orlinda's love. Should I attempt to win
You from so fair a virtue, 'twere a wrong
Too full of guilt to let me live among
The number of your friends, 'mongst whom let me
In all your future thoughts remembered be
As the most wretched — to whom rigid fate 300
All hope's weak cordials hath applied too late.' Here ceased the sorrowing lady, to suspend
Whose following tears, her charitable friend
Prescribes this comfort : — ' I'hough my zeal hath been,
When serving you, so unsuccessful in
My first attempts, it gives just cause to doubt
My future actions ; yet to lead you out
Of this dark labyrinth, Avhere your sorrow stands
Masked with amazements, not the countermands
Of my affection to Orlinda, though 310
Confirmed by vows, shall stop ; let Grief bestow
But so much time, unclouded by your fear.
To look Hope's volumes o'er, there will appear
Some lines of comfort yet ; which that we may
Not in a heedless horror cast away,
Prepare for speedy action ; to prevent
Ensuing ills, no time is left unspent,
But only this approaching night ; by which,
To fly from danger, you must stoop to enrich
A coarse disguise, whose humble shadows may 320
Inquiring eyes to dark mistakes betray.
'Our first retreat, which is designed to be
No further than the neighbouring monastry.
Where I of late did lie concealed, I have
Thus made secure : — There stands an ancient cave,
Close hid in unfrequented shadows, near
Your garden's postern-gate ; which, when the fear
Of bordering foes denied a free access
To the old abbey, they, from the distress
Of threatening scouts were safe delivered by 330
A vault that "through it leads ; which, though so nigh
Unto the city, careless time, since not
( 262 )
Canto III] PharoTinida
Forced to frequent, hath wholly left forgot
By busy mortals. In this silent cell,
Where nought but light's eternal strangers dwell
In the meridian depth of night, whilst all
Are robed in rest, you none encounter shall
Except myself, but him, who may with us
This secret share, esteemed Euriolus ;
With whom, and your endeared Florenza, we, 340
Within the unsuspected monastry
Protected by some secret friends, may stay
Till fruitless searches waste their hopes away,
Whose watchful spleen, by care conducted, might
Stop our intentions of a further flight.'
Raised from the cold bed of despair from this Mature advice to hopes of future bliss. The heavenly fair Pharonnida had now Withdrawn the veil of grief, and could allow Some smiles to wait upon those thanks which she 350
Returned her friend; who, that no time might be Lost by neglect from needful action, in A calm of comforts, such as had not been Her late associates, leaves the princess to Pursue those plots, which Fortune bent to undo, Whilst Hope on Expectation's wings did hover, Did thus by fatal accident discover.
That knot in her fair thread of destiny, That lurking snake, the purgatory by
Which Heaven refined her, cursed Amphibia, had, 360
Whilst mutual language all their thoughts unclad. Close as an unsuspected plague that in Darkness assaults, an unknown sharer been Of this important issue ; which with hate Her genius met, soon strives to propagate A brood of fiends. Almanzor, whose dark plots, Like images of damned magicians, rots Themselves to ruin others, like in this Last act of ill by too much haste to miss The road that led through slippery paths of sin, 35-0
From pride's stupendous precipice falls in A gulf of horror ; in whose dismal shade A private room his dark retreat is made.
Here, whilst his heart is boiled in gall, his brain O'erwhelmed in clouds, whose darkness entertain No beam of reason ; whilst ambition mixed Examples of the bloodiest murders fixed Upon the brazen front of time, all which Lends no unfathomed policy to enrich
346 from this] Singer ' by this,' probably, according to expectation, and still more probably in consequence of the previous 'from': but not, I think, Chamberlayne being Chamberlayne, quite certainly.
(263)
Williajn Cha7nberlay7ie [book v
His near impoverished brain, he hears one knock, 380
Whose sudden noise soon scattering all the flock
Of busy thoughts, him in a hasty rage
Hurries t' the door ; where come, his eyes engage
His tongue to welcome one whose cursed advice
His tortured thoughts turned to a paradise
Of pleasing hopes, on whose foundation he
Prepares to build a future monarchy.
A slow-consuming grief, whose chronic stealth Had slily robbed Palermo's prince of health, In spite of all the guards of art had long 39°
Worn out his strength, and now had grown too strong For age to bear. Each baffled artist in A sad despair forsaking what had been Tried but to upbraid their ignorance, except An aged friar, whose judgement long had slept From watchful practice, but i' the court of arts Been so employed, that the mysterious parts
Of clouded theories, which he courted by
High contemplation, to his mind's clear eye
Lay all undressed of that disguise which in 400
Man's fall, to afflict posterity, they'd been
By angry Heaven wrapped in ; so that he knew
What astral virtues vegetables drew
From a celestial influence, and by what
Absconded magic Nature fitted that
To working humours, which they either move
By expulsive hate, or by attractive love.
This art's true master, when his hope was grown
Faint with delays, to the sick prince made known,
A swift command calls from his still repose 4'°
The reverend sire : who come, doth soon disclose
That long concealed malignity which had
The feeble prince in sickly paleness clad :
Nor stays his art at weak prognostics, but
Proceeds to practise whatso'er may put
His prince in ease — cordials abstracted by
A then near undiscovered chemistry,
Such as in single drops did all comprise
Nature e'er taught Art to epitomize :
Such as, if armed with a Promethean fire, 420
Might force a bloodless carcass to respire ;
Such as curbed Fate, and, in their hot assault
Whilst storming Life, made Death's pale army halt.
This rare elixir by the prince had been,
With such success as those that languish in
Consuming ills, could wish themselves, so long
Used, that those fits, which else had grown too strong
389 Palermo's] Observ^e that we are once more hovering between the Morea and Sicily,
(264)
Canto III] Pliarofinida
For Nature to contend withal, were now
Grown more remiss ; when Fate, that can allow
No lasting comforts, to declare her power 430
O'er Art itself, arrests that conqueror
Of others' ills with a disease that led
Him a close prisoner to an uncouth bed.
Which like to prove Nature's slow chariot to
The expecting grave, loath to the public view
To prostitute a secret, yet bound by
The obligation of his loyalty
To assist his prince, he to Pharonnida
That sovereign secret, which could only awe
Her father's threatening pain, declares ; which she 440
Hath since composed, whene'er 's extremity
Suffered those pains : whose progress to prevent
She'd by Amphibia now the cordial sent.
The sly Amphibia, who did soon obey
What lent her hate a freedom to betray.
His first salutes being past, with such a speed As did declare the guilt of such a deed Might doubt discovery, she unfolds that strange Amazing truth, which from the giddy range Of wild invention soon contracts each thought 450
Into resolves, such as no object sought But the destruction of whate'er might stop Ambition's progress ; towards the slippery top Of which now climbing, on Conceit's stretched wings, He silent stands, whilst teeming Fancy brings That monster forth, for whose conception he Long since deflowered his virgin loyalty.
Few minutes, by that auxiliary aid Which her discovery lent, his thoughts conveyed Through all the roads of doubt ; which safely past, 460
Strictly embracing her who in this last And greatest act of villany must have A further share, he thus begins : — ' Oh save, Save, thou that art my better genius now. What thou alone hast raised ; my hopes must bow Beneath impossibilities, if not By thee assisted. Fortune hath begot The means already ; let this cordial be With poison mixed — Fate knows no enemy Dares grapple with me— Do not start, there's here 470
No room for danger, if we banish fear.'
His thoughts thus far discovered, finding in Her various looks, that apprehended sin, The soul's mercurial pill, did penetrate Her callous conscience, in whose cell this sat With gnawing horror, whilst all other lives Whom her fraud spilt, proved hurtless corrosives,
( 265 )
William Chamherlayne [book v
From the cold ague of repentance he
Thus rouses her : — ' Can my Amphibia be
By fear, that fatal remora to all 480
That 's great or good, thus startled ? Is the fall
Of an old tyrant grown a subject for
This soft remorse ? Let thy brave soul abhor
Such sickly passions : when our fortune stands
Fixed on their ruin, the unwilling hands
Of those that now withstand our glorious flight,
Will help enthrone us ; whilst unquestioned right,
Which is for power the world's mistaken word,
Is made our own b' the legislative sword,'
Raised from her fear's cold trepidations by 490
These hot ingredients, in an ecstasy Of flatuous hopes, she casts herself into This gulf of sin ; and being prepared to do An act, which not the present times could see With sense enough, whilst in the extremity Of wonder lost, through all his guards' strict care Death to the unsuspecting prince doth bear. Freed from this doubt, Almanzor, to avoid That storm of rage, which, when their prince destroyed The court should know, might rise from fear, pretends 500 Haste to the army ; but being gone, suspends That speedy voyage, and being attended by A wretch whose guilt assured his privacy, Through paths untrod hastes to the cave wherein Those habits, which had by Amindor been (Whilst he his beauteous charge did thence convey) Prepared to cloud illustrious beauty, lay : Of which, in such whose size did show they were For th' largest sex, they both being clad, with care Secret as swift, haste to augment the flood 51°
Of swelling sins with yet more royal blood. The Epirots' constant prince, by custom had Made known a walk, which, when the day unclad Of glittering tissue in her evening's lawn Sat coolly dressed, to court the sober dawn, — He often used. Near this, Almanzor, by Hell made successful in his villany. Arrived some minutes ere the other, lies Concealed, till darkness and a close disguise, Those safe protectors, from his unseen seat 520
Call him to action ; where, with thoughts replete With too much joy to admit suspicion, he Finds the Messenian, whom no fear to be Assaulted there had armed, his spacious train Shrunk into one that served to entertain Time with discourse. Upon which heedless pair The armed Almanzor rushing unaware,
( 266 )
Canto III] Phavonnida
Ere strength had time their valour to obey,
In storms of wounds their senses lose the way
To external objects ; in which giddy trance 530
The other lord, whose spirits' re-advance
To life they fear not, lies secure, whilst by
Redoubled wounds his prince's spirits fly
From the most strong retreats of life ; which now,
Battered by death, no safety could allow.
Revenge's thirst being in this royal flood Quenched for awhile, that from the guiltless blood His honour might not yet a stain receive. First hasting to the cave, he there doth leave Those injured habits, which by him were meant 540
For the betrayers of the innocent. This done, that he e'en from suspicion might Secure his guilt, before the wasted night Looks pale at the approach of day, he flies T' the distant army ; there securely lies. Till all those black productions of his brain, Now ripening to perfection, should attain Maturity, and in the court appear In their most horrid dress ; knowing the fear Of the distracted city soon would call 550
Him and his army, to prevent the fall Of such distracting dangers, as might be Attendants on the eclipse of majesty.
THE END OF THE THIRD CANTO.
Canto IV
THE ARGUMENT
Now, as if that great engineer of ill,
Accursed Almanzor, had accomplished all
Those black designs, which are ordained to fill The Spartan annals, by his prince's fall ;
With secret spite, yet such as seemed to be From an advised protector of the state,
Pharonnida's ill fate assisting, he
Toward her destruction prosecutes his hate.
That dismal night, which in the dark records
Of story yet so much of fate affords
In the Morean annals, had to day
Resigned its reign, whose eastern beams display
Their morning beauties ; by whose welcome light,
The early courtier, tired with tedious night,
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William Chamber layne [book v
Rises to meet expected triumphs in
Their princess' nuptials, which so long had been
The joyful business of their thoughts, that now
Sallying to action, they 're instructed how lo
To court observance from the studied pain
Of best inventions — by attractive gain,
Joined to the itch of ostentative art,
Were thither drawn from each adjacent part.
In this swelled torrent of expected mirth. Which all conclude must make this morning's birth To future ages celebrated by An annual triumph, the disparity Of passion, sorrow, first breaks forth among The slain Epirot's followers ; who so long 20
Had missed their master, that they now begin To doubt his safety. Every place had been By strict inquiry searched, to which they knew Either affection or employment drew His frequent visits ; but with an effect So vain, their care served only to detect Their love, not him its object ; who might have Lain till corruption sought itself a grave, Had not an early forester so near
The place approached, that maugre all that fear 30
Alleged to stop a full discovery, he Beheld so much as taught him how to free His friends from further fruitless searches, in Discovering what beneath their fears had been.
In sorrow, such as left no power to vent Its symptoms, but a deep astonishment. The amazed Messenians, whom a sad belief Deprived of hope, did entertain their grief. Whose swift infection to communicate —
Their murdered prince, as if pale death kept state 4^
Clad in the crimson robes of blood, is to The city brought ; where, whilst the public view In busy murmurs spread her sable wings. Pale terror to the court, griefs centre, brings The dreadful truth; which some officious lord. Whom favour did the privilege afford Of easy entrance, through the guards of fear In haste conveys, to assault the prince's ear.
With such a silence as did seem to show Unwelcome news is in its entrance slow, 50
Entered the room, he's with soft pace unto The bed approached ; whose curtains when withdrew, Discovered Horror in the dismal dress Of Death appears — Freed from the slow distress Of Age, that coward tyrant which ne'er shows His strength till man wants vigour to oppose, ( 268 )
Canto IV] Pharo7i7iida
Through Death's dark gates fled to the gloomy shade,
Whose fear, or hope, not knowledge doth invade
Our fancies yet, he man's material part
There only sees ; which Form, whose heavenly art 60
Tunes motion into th' faculties of life.
Had now forsook ; the elemental strife,
Which had so long at concord aimed, was now
Silenced in death ; on his majestic brow
No awful frown did sit ; the blood's retreat
From life and action left his cheeks the seat
Of Death's cold guest, which, summoned by his fate,
There in a pale and ghastly horror sat.
Whilst the astonished courtier did behold This, with such trembling as, when graves unfold 70
Their doomsday's curtains, sinful bodies shall Rise from their urns, eternally to fall — His stay, caused from restrictive fear, had drew In more spectators ; to whose wondering view This ghastly object when opposed had strook So swift a terror, that their fears forsook The safe retreats of reason. Seeing life Had now concluded all the busy strife Of Nature's conflicts, by delivering those
Time-shaken forts unto more powerful foes, So
Outcries in vain attempt for pity to
Scale Heaven; whose ear when from their prayers withdrew, The court, now of her royal head bereft, In a still calm of hopeless sorrow left.
Infectious grief, disdaining now to be Confined within the brief stenography Of first discoverers, spreads itself among The city herd ; whose rude unsteady throng Raised grief, which in the mourning court did dwell In such a silence as an anchorite's cell 90
Ne'er knew a heavier solitude, into Exalted outcries : whose loud call had drew From their neglected arts so many, that What first was choler, now being kindled at Their rage, like humours grown adust, had been The open breach to let rebellion in ; Had not the wiser nobles, which did know That vulgar passions will to tumult grow When backed with power, by a new-modelled form Of counsel soon allayed this rising storm. 100
Their tears, those fruitless sacrifices to Unactive grief, wiped off, whilst they did view The state's distempered body, to supply The wants of that departed majesty, Which, when their prince from life's horizon fell, Fled from their view, before report should tell ( 369 )
William Cha7nberlayne [book v
This fatal story to the princess^ they A council call; by whose advice she may, Whilst floating in this sea of sorrow, be
Saved from those unseen rocks, where Treachery, no
Rebellion's subtle engineer, might sit To wreck the weakness of a female wit ; Which, though in her such that it might have been The whole world's pilot, could, since clouded in Such a tempestuous sea of passions, see No star that might her safe director be. A messenger, whose sad observant wit By age allayed, seemed a conveyer fit For such important business, with the news Hastes towards the princess. Whom whilst Fear pursues 120 On wings of Pity, being arrived within The palace, he, as that alone had been The only seat where rigid Sorrow took Her fixed abode, beholds each servant's look Obscured with grief; through whose dark shades whilst he Searches the cause, the strange variety Explains itself — As families that have Led their protecting ruler to the grave. Whose loss they in a heedless sorrow mourn So long, till care doth to distraction turn, 130
Her servants sat ; each wildly looking on The other, till even sense itself was gone In mourning wonder ; whose wild flight to stay, Its cause they to the pitying lord display In such a tone, as, whilst it did detect The princess' absence, showed their own neglect.
When this he'd heard, with such a sympathy Of sorrow, as erected Grief to be The mourning monarch of his thoughts, to those Returned that sent him, he that transcript shows J40
Of this obscure original — the flight Of the absent princess, whilst the veil of night Obscured her passage, tells : but, questioned — how, With whom, or whether knowledge did allow No satisfaction, all inquiry gained From her amazed attendants, but explained Their grief; whose troubled rivulet flowed in To that vast ocean, where before they'd been By sorrow shipwrecked, in the general flood Mixed, wants a language to be understood 150
In a peculiar character, and so Conjoined, makes up one universal woe.
Only, as if Love knew alone the art
114 pilot] Orig. as elsewhere 'Pilate'
120 Whom] Singer 'Who,' not only unnecessarily, but, 1 think, wrongly.
( 270)
Canto IV] Phuronnida
That taught his followers how to mourn apart,
Sad, sweet Orlinda, whose calm innocence
Had fostered passion at her health's expense ;
Whilst wet with griefs o'erflowing spring, she to
Her brother's ghost did pay soft Nature's due,
In sorrow of such sad complexion, that
Others might lose their own to wonder at ; .160
Yet when, as in the margin placed, she hears
Amindor lost, with new supplies of tears
Grief sallying forth, as if to be betrayed
Love now did fear, he draws the bashful maid
From those that did the mourning concert keep.
Where she unseen for Love's decease doth weep ;
Frail woman's faith, and man's neglect doth blame,
And softly then sighs out Amindor's name —
Her lost Amindor, whose supposed disdain
Destroyed those spirits grief could ne'er have slain. 170
And now before that power's decay engage Too many hands in a vindictive rage, The wise supporters of the state, to stay Increasing factions, which can ne'er obey Lest Fear commands, unto Almanzor send A mandate, which enjoins him to attend Their councils in this interregnum, till Their joint consent had found out one to fill The empty throne. Which summons, prompted by A care which they interpret loyalty, 180
Though truly called ambition, he obeyed With such a speed as Love would fly to aid A ravished lady ; having to impede His march no more than what his care could lead — Even with a winged speed, yet that a strength Enough to make his will confine the length Of their desires, who soon in council sit But to bewail the abortion of their wit.
The frighted city having entered in A mourning march, as if his thoughts had been 190
A stranger to the sad events of this So dismal night, he by relation is Informed of each particular : which he Seeming to hear in griefs extremity. From silent sorrow which appeared to wait On still attention, his prepared deceit Disguised in rage appears ; a rage which, in Its active flight to find what hearts had been Defiled with thoughts of such foul crimes, did seem So full of zeal, its actions did redeem 200
185 winged] This is Singer's ingenious emendation for the orig. vox nihili ' singes.'
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William Cha^nherlayne [book v
The lost report of loyalty in those
His former crimes made his most constant foes.
By guarded gates, and watchful parties that
Surround the walls, till th' people, frighted at
Their fury, shrink from public throngs. They now
Assured of safety, whilst inquiring how
Hell hatched these monsters — whose original
Whilst searching, they, by the consent of all
His best physicians, whose experienced skill
From outward signs knew what internal ill 210
Death struck the prince, informed the cause could be
From nought but such a subde enemy
As poison ; which, when every accident
They had examined, all conclude was sent
Mixed with that cordial, whose concealed receipt
Unknown to art, their envy termed the bait
To tempt the easy prince's faith into
That net which Death, allured by Treason, drew.
With power, from this embraced suspicion sprung, Almanzor, whom not envy's spotted tongue 220
Durst call profane, though rudely forcing those Weak gates, which need no greater strength to oppose
Unclean intruders, than the reverence they,
Enforced by zeal, did with religion pay
Unto that place's sanctity; which he
Contemning, ere the wronged society
Expecting such injurious visits, in
Rude fury entering, those whose power had been
Employed by noble pity to attend
The suffering princess, in such haste did send 230
Them to her close and dark abodes, that now
Their doubts confirmed, they're only studying how
To shun that danger which informing fear
Falsely persuades towards them alone drew near.
Which dark suspicion, ere unclouded by
Seizing on him whose innocence durst fly
To no retreat, the royal fugitives
Back to the vault where first they entered, drives. Now, at the great'st antipathy to day,
The silent earth oppressed with midnight lay 240
Vested in clouds, black as they had been sent
To be the whole world's mourning monument;
When through the cave's damp womb, conducted by
A doubtful light that scarce informed the eye
To find out those unhaunted paths, they, in
A faint assurance, with soft pace begin
To sally forth ; where, unsuspected, they
Are seized by guards that in close ambush lay :
Which, ere amazement could give action leave
To seek for safety, did their hopes deceive 250
(37O
Canto IV] Pharo?inicla
By close restraint. Awed by whose power, they're to Almanzor brought ; who from that object drew Such joy as fills usurpers, when they see Wronged princes struggling with captivity.
From hence in such disdainful silence led As taught their fear, from just suspicion bred, To tremble at some unknown ill ; about That sober time when Hght's small lamps go out At the approach of day's bright glories, brought Back to the court, they there not long had sought 260
Their sorrow's sad original, before A court convened of such whose power had bore (Whilst God's own choice, a monastry, had lent Their dictates law) the weight of government. They, hither called by summons that did sound Like bold rebellion, in sad omen found More than they feared : — A mourning train of lords Placed round a black tribunal, that affords To the spectator's penetrated eye
A dismal horror clothed in majesty. 270
Like hieroglyphics pointing to that fate Which must ensue, all yet in silence sate — A dreadful silence ! such as unto weak Beholders seemed to threaten, when they speak. Death and destruction dictates. When they saw Their princess entered, as if rigid law To loyal duty let the sceptre fall. In an obedient reverence raised, they all Lowly salute her ; but that compliment
To bribe their pity, fear in vain had spent. 28c
When all resuming now their seats, command The royal captives, whose just cause did stand On no defence but unknown truth, to be Summoned t' the bar ; where, that they first might see What rigour on the royal blood was shown, From no unjust conspiracy had grown, A sable curtain from their herses drawn. Betrays her eyes, then in the sickly dawn Of grief grown dim, unto that horrid place Where they met death drawn in her father's face ; 290
By whom, now turned into well-modelled clay, Fitted for 's tomb, the slain Epirot lay.
At this, as if some over-venturous look For temperate rays, destructive fire had took In at her soul's receiving portals, all Life's functions ceased ; sorrow at once lets fall
269 penetrated] Singer, with less than his usual judgement, ' penetrating.' ' Pene- trated ' of course means, as it does in French and did in English as late as Madame d'Arblay, ' strongly moved.'
( 273 ) T
Willia^n Chamber layiie , [bookv
The burthen of so many griefs> which in
A death-Hke slumber had forgotten been,
Till human thoughts, obliterated by
The wished conversions of eternity, 300
Oppressed no more, had not injurious haste,
Before this conflict could those spirits waste,
Which had, to shun passion's external strife,
Fled to the priimim mobile of life.
Recalled with them her sorrows to attend
Their nimblest motions, which too fast did spend
Her strength, to suffer weakness to obey
The court's intentions of a longer stay.
From ruffled passions which her soul opprest, By the soft hand of recollecting rest 310
Stroked to a calm, which settled Reason in Her troubled throne ; by those that first had been Her guards, the princess — that fair pattern whence Men drew the height of human excellence. Is now returned, to let her proud foes see. That the bright rays of magnanimity. Though envy like the ungrateful moon do strive To hide that sun, except what 's relative Ne'er knows eclipse, the darkness taking birth From what 's below, whilst that removed from earth, 320
Her clear unclouded conscience, ever stays Amongst bright virtue's universal rays.
The mourning court, those ministers of fate, In expectation of their prisoners sate : — They now appear in those disguises which They first were took, being habits, though not rich Enough to gild their rare perfections, yet Such as did seem by sorrow made to fit Their present sufferings : — both the men clothed in Monastic robes, black as their threads had been 330
Spun from Peruvian wool ; the women, clad Like mournful votaries, showed so sweetly sad, As if their virtues, which injurious fate Did yet conceal, striving to anticipate The flights of time, had to the external sense Showed these as emblems of their innocence.
But love, nor pity, though they both did here Within their judges' sternest looks appear. Durst plead for favour ; their indictments read. So guilty found, that those whose hearts e'en bled, 340
Disdained their eyes should weep, since justice did In such foul crimes mercy as sin forbid. Yet more to clear what circumstance had made Level with reason, from the approaching shade Of death redeemed, that lord, whose wounds had been But slumbers to recover safety in,
( 274)
Canto IV] Pharo7t7iida
When the Messenian murdered was, did now
Declare, as far as reason could allow
The eyes to judge, those habits, which they then
Did wear, the same which clothed the murderers when 350
His prince was slain ; which open proof appears
So full of guilt, it stops her friends' kind fears.
Ere raised to hope, and in appearance shows
A guilt, which all but pity overgrows.
The vexed Epirots, who for comfort saw Revenge appearing in the form of law, Retired, to feed their spleen with hope, until The extent of justice should their vengeance fill. When noWj by accusations that denied
Access to pity, for a parricide 360
The princess questioned, whose too weak defence, Being but the unseen guards of innocence. Submits to censure. Yet to show that all Those scattered pearls, which from her eyes did fall. Dropped not to attempt their charity, but show That no injurious storm could overflow Her world of reason — which exalted stood Above the surface of the spacious flood, (Her tears for grief, not guilt, being shed), whilst in The robes of magnanimity, not sin 370
Grown impudent, her brave resolved soul sate Unshaken in this hurricane of fate.
To meet her calm, which like religion drest Doth all become, but female virtues best. The rough Amindor, whose discoloured face Anger did more than native beauty grace. Since justly raised, disdaining thus to be By a plebeian base captivity Forced to submit his innocence unto
Their doubtful test, had from his anger drew 380
A ruin swifter than their hate intends, Had not his rage, while it toward danger bends, Been taught by her example to exclude Vain passions with a princely fortitude ; Whose useful aid, like those good works which we For comforts call in death's necessity. Brought all their better angels to defend Them from those terrors which did death attend.
In busy whispers, which discovered by Their doubtful looks the thoughts' variety, 390
Long in sad silence sat the court ; until Those noiseless streams of fancy which did fill Each several breast, united by consent, Want only now a tongue so impudent As durst condemn their sovereign ; which being in Theumantius found, a lord whose youth had been
( 275 ) T 2
JVillia7n Chamber layne [book v
By favours nursed, till power's- wild beast, grown rude.
Repays his foster with ingratitude.
This bold, bad man, love's most unhappy choice,
From flattery's treble now exalts his voice, 400
Without the mean of an excuse^, into
The law's loud bass, and what those feared to do
That had been favoured less, that black decree
Pronounced, which discords all the harmony
Of subject fear and sovereign love, by what
Succeeding ages justly trembled at
Whilst innocent, but have of late been grown
So bad to show such monsters of their own.
This sentence passed, which knew no more allay Of mercy, than what lets their judgement stay 410
From following life to death's obscure retreat. Till twenty nights had made their days complete, The court breaks up ; yet ere from public view To close restraint the royal captives drew, Grant them this favour from their rigid laws — That if there durst, to vindicate their cause, In that contracted span of time appear Any whose forward valour durst endear The people's love and prayers so much — to be Their champion, that his victory should free 420
Them from that doom's strict rigour \ to oppose Which brave attempter they Almanzor chose. Since high command that honour did afford To him alone, to wield the answering sword.
Now near departing, whilst the Cyprian in A brave disdain, which for submissive sin Looks on an answer, as his haste would show An anger that did scorn to stoop so low To strike with threats, stands silent ; whilst that she, Whose temper Heaven had made too calm to be 430
By rage transported, with a soul unmoved By stormy passions, thus their sin reproved : —
'Should I, my lords, here with a female haste Discharge my passions, 'twere, perhaps, to waste My prayers or threats, whilst one you would not fear, Nor the other pity : but when Heaven shall clear This curtained truth, wrapped in whose cloudy night, Unjustly you, from my unquestioned right By birth, obedience, into faction stray,
Then, though too late, untimely sorrow may 44^
Strive by repentance to expunge these stains Cast on your honour. These exhausted veins, Fixed eyes, pale cheeks, death's dismal trophies, in This royal face I now could not have seen
398 foster] 'forester' which Singer prints, is of course a result of confusion with the form of that word common in Malory, &c.
(276)
Canto IV] Pharo7inida
With a less sorrow than had served to call
Me to attend him, had not the rude fall
Of your injustice, like those dangerous cures
Performed by turning into calentures
Dull lethargies, upon my heart laid hold
In such a flame of passion, as the cold 45°
Approach of death wants power to quench, until
You add that crime to this preceding ill.
'Yet, though no fear can prompt my scorn to crave A subject's mercy for myself, to save This noble stranger, whose just acts, being crost By misconstruction, have their titles lost, I shall become your suppliant, lest there be A sin contracted by his serving me ; And only in such noble ways as might
Unveil themselves t' the sun's meridian light. 460
Sure he unjustly suffers ; which may cause You want more swords to vindicate your laws, Than his you late elected to make good Your votes, ere scarce cleansed of that loyal blood He in rebellion shed : — but I am now Too near my fatal period, to allow Disturbing passion any place within My peaceful soul. Whate'er his crimes have been In public war, or private treason, may
Kind Heaven, when with the injustice of this day 470
Those shall be quickly questioned, to prevent Their doom, conceal them in the large extent Of Mercy's wings, which there may prove so kind To you, though here I can no justice find ! '
This spoken, in a garb that did detect A sorrow which was ripened to neglect. She silent stands ; whilst through the thick resort Of thronged spectators, toward the rising court Orlinda comes, with such a haste as showed That service she by Love's allegiance owed — 480
Love, which had Sorrow's sable wings out-fled, To mourn the living, not lament the dead. Come where her fears' now near lost object she Within the shadow of the grave might see By sentence shut, neglecting death that lay In ambush there her reason to betray To hate, when, by the false informing law, Her friend she as her brother's murderer saw, In actions such as Scythian tyrants feel
Some softness from, she that ne'er used to kneel 490
To aught but Heaven, a lowly suppliant falls Before the court; from whose stern breast she calls So much of sorrow as perhaps had strook Them all with horror, if a sudden look
{277)
JVillia^n Chamber lay 7ie [book v
Obliquely on her murdered brother cast,
Had not, ere Love assaulted with her last
And powerfuUest prayers, whilst hot with action, in
A cool retreat of spirits silenced been.
She, fainting fallen, as an addition to Their former grief, is from the throng withdrew 500
Into the free untainted air — where, by Assisting friends, which gently did apply Their needful aid, heat, which was then grown slack In Nature's work, antipathy calls back To beauty's frontiers ; where, like bashful light, It in a blush meets the spectators' sight, But such an one, as, ere full blown, is by Her friend's disasters forced again to fly Beneath those clouds of grief, whose swelling pride, Spread by report, did now not only hide 510
The court or city, but to bear a part Of that sad load summons each subject's heart.
Whilst now the prisoners, ere the people's love To anger turn, the active guards remove. To still the clamorous multitude, who, swayed By various passions, did, whilst each obeyed Opinion's dictates, but in darkness rove At shadowed truth, whence now they boldly strove To pluck the veil from declarations that
Contained those falsehoods, which whilst wondering at, 520 They wept to force upon their faith, are sent Through th' land's each town, and army's regiment ; By which Almanzor, who attempted in This plot to join security with sin, Doubting, if e'er this story reach his ear, Argalia might their combatant appear. Besides those stains which common fame did take For sin's just debts, slily attempts to shake The heaven-erected fabric of his love
By closer engines, such as seemed to move 530
On noble pity, which with grief engrost That faith which envy in disdain had lost.
Black rumour, on the wings of raised report Flying in haste, had soon attained the court Of the amazed Aetolian prince ; who hears The dreadful story with such doubtful fears As shook his noble soul, but not into An easy faith each circumstance was true ; He knew Almanzor's villainy to be
Of that extent, so foul a progeny 540
As all those horrid murders, might from thence Take easy birth : but when the innocence Of's virtuous princess, and his honoured friend. The noble Cyprian prince, come to contend (278)
Canto IV] Pharo7i7iida
With oft confirmed report, that strikes a deep
And solemn grief, yet such as must not keep
A firm possession in his soul, until
A further inquisition either kill
His yet unfainting hopes, or raise them to
Joy by confirming those reports untrue. 550
THE END OF THE FOURTH CANTO,
Canto V
THE ARGUMENT
Through royal blood to level that dark way
Which rebels pass unto the injured throne, Pharonnida is now condemned to pay
A debt for crimes that none durst call her own.
When near the last step, brave Argalia, who In close disguise Truth's secrets had betrayed,
When most did doubt 'twas now too late to sue To Heaven for pity, brings a timely aid.
If on those vanished heroes that are fled
Through the unknown dark chasms of the dead,
To rest in regions so remote from hence —
'Twixt them and life there's no intelligence,
Whene'er thou look'st through Time's dim optics, then
Brave emulation of those braver men
Rouses that ray of heaven — thy soul, to be
A sharer in their fame's eternity ;
Thou 'st then a genius fit to entertain
A muse's flight : which may be raised again 10
To sing thy actions, when there 's left no more
Of thee, but what by life, whilst passing o'er
Nature's short stage, had either scattered been
By careless youth, or firmly planted in
Maturer age ; whose wasted talent spent,
Those were his friends — This is his monument
Is all, except some muse thy life records.
That to thy worth the unthankful world affords.
But if thy uninspired soul do bear A lower sail, which, flagging with the care 20
Of humid pleasures, ne'er is swelled into Sublimer thoughts than such as only view Earth for its object, which ne'er yet did lend Her favourites more than what they here do spend To improve her barren wants, may none rehearse Thy name — beneath the dignity of verse. But trivial flatterers, such as strive to gain Thy favour from ephemeras of the brain,
( 279 )
Williafn Chaml?erlay72e [book v
Unsalted jests ! Pleased at whose painted fire
1 leave fond thee in vapour to expire, 30
Whilst from thy living shadow I return
To crown the dust in brave Argalia's urn.
From common Fame, that wild impostor, he Had often heard what Love denied should be For truth admitted — his Pharonnida Accused for sins which envy strove to draw Objects for Heaven's severest wrath ; and now, Ere his considerate judgement would allow Report for real, secret messengers
To Corinth sends ; who, ill-informed, transfers ^o
His further trouble, in confirming what. Whilst others wept for, he, transported at So sad a change in her whose virtue had Inflamed his thoughts, by passion near unclad His soul of all his robes of flesh, which now So loosely hung, as if she practised how To strip herself, should unexpected death To Heaven's hard course call forth the nimble breath.
Could earth here conquer, or had it within The power of whatsoe'er is mortal been, 50
T' have wrought disorders of amazement, where The noble soul such true consent did bear With the harmonious angels, (he in all His acts like them appears, or, ere his fall, Perhaps like man, that he could only be Distinguished from some hallowed hierarchy, By being clothed in the specific veil Of flesh and blood), this grief might then prevail Over his perfect temper, but he bears
These weights as if unfelt ; on his soul wears 60
The sable robes of sorrow, whilst his cheek Is dressed in scarlet smiles ; no frown his sleek And even front contracts — like to a slow
And quiet stream, his obscured thoughts did flow,
With greater depths than could be fathomed by
The beamy lines of a judicious eye.
Whilst those good angels, which fond men call wit
Reformed by age, did all in council sit.
To steer those thoughts by which he did attend
Pharonnida's escape, they to this end 7°
At length reduced his counsels : — That he must,
To succour her, leave grovelling in the dust
His kingdom, which being by domestic strife
Late wounded, was but newly rubbed to life :
Yet since that there to her redemption lay
In all the progress of his thoughts no way
Less full of danger, such of's lords as he
Honoured for age, and praised for loyalty,
( 280 )
Canto V] Phuromtida
Called to a secret council, he discovers
His fixed resolves ; which they, though now no lovers, 80
With such consenting souls did hear, that though
They knew his danger might e'en fear outgrow,
They, to oppose that score of cowards, brings
His vows, his sacred vows, those sceptred kings
AVhich justly rule the conscience, that awed by
Usurping fear submits to tyranny.
Their first proposals, whence their judgement sought To hide his absence, to conclusion brought, They thence proceed to level him a way
Through that thick swarm of enemies that lay 90
Circling the walls ; where reason stays awhile In various censure, ere 't could reconcile Their differing judgements ; but at length in this, As that which in this danger's dark abyss Seems to lend fear most of the helpful light Of hope, concludes — That when succeeding night With strength of age was grown so gravely staid. That dark designs feared not to be betrayed B' the wanton twilight, he in close disguise. Whilst some of's troops diverted by surprise 100
His watchful foes, might pass their guards ; which done. Their care might be with 's further march begun. In dismal darkness — that black throne of fear, Night's silent empress awed the hemisphere ; ^^'hen now Argalia's ready troops with slow And noiseless marches issued through their low Close sallyports, are swiftly rallied by Such as had long taught Valour how to die For Honour's rescue — captains that had been, From youth's first bud till age was reverenced in no
Her honoured scars, such strict disciples to War's hardest precepts, that their fame outgrew Their power, which that had so authentic made, Where fear was scorned, they were for love obeyed.
By these brave heroes, which had often led Armies to sleep in Honour's purple bed, The prince assisted, was with secret haste, By ways where fear no sentinel had placed. Drawn near the leaguer ; which, the alarum took From a stormed fort, had with such speed forsook 120
Their huts, that haste, which was intended to Preserve, being now to wild confusion grew. Helps to destroy. In undistinguished sounds, Which not inform, but frighted sense confounds With wild amazement, the unnoted words Even of command are lost; no ear affords Room for advice, nor the most serious eye A place for order ; ensigns vainly fly, (281)
JVillia^n Chamberlayne [book v
Since unperceived, through the dark air, which in
A storm ne'er knew more tumult than had been, 130
Since first their fear on this alarum fled
From reason, through the troubled leaguer spread.
In this loud horror, whilst they need no lamp To guide them more than their own flaming camp, His frighted foes, fled from their quarter, lend The prince some hope this sudden charge might end Their slow-paced siege ; yet since approaching day, Persuading haste, denies his longer stay. The power to those commanders left, which he For valour knew might force from victory 140
Unwilling laurels, though their judgement such. Those hallowed wreaths they ne'er durst rashly touch. He leaves (when first his sword, which none did spare Within its reach, had of his being there Left bloody marks) the conquered foes, to find Out sterner foes in his afflicted mind : Which, since usurping doubt with peaceful love For empire strove, taught passion how to move In spheres so differing from his reason's right Ascension, tha,t his cares' protracted night 150
From this oblique position caused, had made His sorrow tedious as those nights which shade Cold arctic regions, when the absent sun Doth underneath the ant^-rctic tropic run.
This passage forced through his obstructed foes. That now the treacherous day might not disclose Him, whilst unguarded, to their view that might In larger troops pursue a baser flight.
Through deep dark paths, which ne'er t' the sun had shown Their uncouth shades, being to all unknown 160
Save neighbouring rurals, he, conducted by A faithful guide, directs his liberty Towards stately Corinth. Near whose confines, ere Six morning dews had cooled the hemisphere, Arrived in safety, that kind Heaven might bless His future actions with desired success To seek to them, he first sought those that in The wane of 's blood had life's supporters been, Those holy hermits, to whose art he owed For life, next Heaven, which first that gift bestowed 170
Come to their quiet cell, where all receive Him with a wonder that did hardly leave A room for welcome, till their fear had, in A full relation of his fortune, been Changed for as much of sanguine mirth as they Could know, that had religion's cool allay To check delight. He being retired with him, Whose first discoveries in his fortunes' dim {282)
Canto V] Pharoftfiida
Imperfect light directed him to know
His royal offspring, lets his language flow i8o
With so much freedom as discovers what,
Whilst he by active war was aiming at
His kingdom's safety, called him thence to save
Sweet virtue from an ignominious grave.
The fatal story heard by him, whose love Fixed by religion, passion could not move, Although he pitied all the afflicted, to More softness than what had its offspring drew From Heaven's strict precepts, which are then misspent When easy man mistakes the innocent; 190
Since what permits hypocrisy to win Remorse, by mercy doth but cherish sin. Which to avoid, ere his consent approve Of the design, neglecting all which love, Prompted by pity, could allege to draw Him to the combat, though he in it saw Nought to defend but innocence, since in That shape deluded, charity hath been Too oft deceived ; that his victorious sword Might not, but where fair Justice could afford 200
Victory, be drawn, he, like a Pharos placed 'Mongst rocks of doubt, thus rectifies his haste : — •
' Take heed, brave prince, that, in this doubtful way 'Twixt love and honour, thy bright virtues stray Not from religion's latitude into More dangerous stations ; reason's slender clew Is here too short to guide thee, and may in Its conduct but obliquely lead to sin. Be cautious then, and rashly venture not
On unknown depths, where valour seems begot 210
By vain presumption. Mortal beauty, that Imperfect type of Heaven, though wondered at, Yet may not be so much adored to make Our passions Heaven's directing road mistake.
' Though thy affections were legitimate As man's first choice, since in that happy state Of innocence frail woman then found out A way to fall, still let thy reason doubt The same deceit, since that affected she
Which thou ador'st, yet wears mortality; 220
A garment which, since man first wore, hath been But once cast off without some spots of sin. Yet, know, my counsel strives not to prevent Thy sword's assisting of the innocent ; As much of mercy on neglect being spilt. As there 's got vengeance from presumptuous guilt. Only, before thy valour dares to tread This rubric path, whose slippery steps have led
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Williajn Cha7nberlay7te [book v
So oft to ruin, let religion be
Thy prompter unto so much policy 230
As may secure thy conscience ; which to do,
(31aim my assistance as thy virtue's due.'
The grateful prince with lowly looks had paid His thankful offerings, when, that promised aid Might not fall short of expectation, he. Whose words, like vows that hold affinity With Heaven, breathed nought but constant truth, did thus Proceed towards action : — ' Whilst, loved prince, with us Of this poor convent, you, by wounds restrained From action, lived ; you know that what 's contained 240
In our calm doctrine, gives us leave to be So intimate with each society, No secret, though masked in the clouds of sin. Flies those discoveries which informs us in Their last confessions ; by which means you may Know whether justice calls your sword to pay These bloody offerings, as a victim to 'J'he appeasing of an inward virtue due.'
By this advice instructed to convince What love suggests, the apprehensive prince, 250
Since this includes nothing but what 's too just 'I'o disobey, although he all mistrust Of her, like sin, avoids, consents to be Ruled by his counsel, whose assistance he So oft successful found. Which, that delay, That slow-paced sin, might not obstruct the way With time's too oft neglected loss, he now So fast toward action hastes, they could allow The night scarce time to steal a dark retreat. Ere, having left that melancholy seat, 260
Devotion's dark retiring place, he goes To see how much her frowns did discompose That city's dress, of whom he'd ne'er a sight Before, but when 'twas polished with delight.
His arms, bright Honour's burnished robes, into Such weeds as showed him to the public view A coarse monastic, changed ; attended by His aged friend, soon as the morning's eye Adorned the east, the prosperous prince began His pious journey; which, before the sun 270
jBlushed in the west, found a successful end In clouded Corinth. Where arrived they spend. The hours of the succeeding night to find How, in that factious troubled sea, inclined The city stood ; whose shallow sons dare vent By nothing but their tongues, that discontent Their hands might cure, were not those useful parts Restrained from action by unmanly hearts, (284)
lantc. V] Pharo7i?iida
Which being at once with grief and fear oppressed, Durst do no more but pity the distressed ; 2S0
Which gentle passion, since so general, lends Some light of hope to her inquiring friends. To usher in that dismal day, whose light Designed to lead into eternal night As much of beauty as did e'er give place To death, the morning shows her gloomy face Wrapped up in clouds, whose heavy vapours had Hung Heaven in black ; when, to perform the sad And serious ofifice of confessors to
Those royal sufferers whom harsh Fates pursue 290
To Death's dark confines, through their guard of foes Argalia and his grave assistant goes. Where he, whose love to neither did surmount His zeal, to take the Cyprian's last account Himself addressed ; whilst his kind passions lead Argalia from Pharonnida, to read Her life's last story, made authentic by The near approach of her eternity.
Entered the room, which to his startled sight Appeared like sorrow sepulchred in night, 300
So dismal sad, so silent, that the cold Retreat of death, the grave, did ne'er unfold A heavier object ; by a sickly light, Which was e'en then to the artificial night That filled the room resigning 'ts reign, he saw Grief's fairest draught, divine Pharonnida, Amidst her tears, fallen like a full-blown flower, Whose polished leaves, o'erburthened with a shower, Drops from their beauties in the pride of day To deck the earth. — So sadly pining lay 310
The pensive princess, whom an ecstasy Of passion led to practise how to die, In such abstracted contemplations, that Angels forsook their thrones to wonder at.
Wet with those tears, in whose elixir she Was bathing of the lilies' nursery, Her bloodless cheeks — her trembling hand sustained A book, which, what Heaven's mercy hath ordained For a support to human frailty in
I Storms of affliction, lay ; which, as she'd been 320
I Now so well in repentant lectures read,
\ That Faith was on the wings of Knowledge fled
I To Meditation, her unactive grief
I Lets softly fall, whilst Time, wise Nature's thief,
That all might look like Sorrow's swarthy night,
j Is stealing forth of the neglected light ;
I Whose sullen flame, as it would sympathize
ji 318 which] for ' in which.'
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With those quenched beams that once adorned her eyes,
After a feeble blaze, that spoke its strife
But vain, in silence weeps away its life. 330
Come to behold this beauteous monument Of mourning passion, his great spirits spent On love and wonder, the astonished prince Here silent stands, valour could not convince His wild amazement. To behold her lie, By rigid laws restrained from liberty, To whom his soul was captive, troubles all His reason's guards : but when, how she must fall From beauteous youth and virtuous life, to be One of the grave's obscure society, — 340
Must fall no martyr, whose lamented death Grows pity's object, but depart with breath 'Mongst ignominious clouds of guilt, that must Stick an eternal odium on her dust — That thought transports him from his temper to Passions, in which he had forgot to do His priestly office : and, in rage as high As ever yet inflamed humanity, Sent him to actions, whose attempt had been The road his valour must have perished in, 350
Had not her sorrow's agony forsook The princess. By whose first unsteady look, He, being as far as his disguise gave leave Discovered, is invited to receive Those last confessions, in whose freedom she Seeks by absolving comforts how to free Her soul of all which a religious fear Like spots on her white conscience made appear.
Having from her unburthened soul learned how To ease his own, the priestly prince had now, 360
As far as bold humanity durst dive Into remission, Heaven's prerogative, Pronounced that pardon for whose seal there stood The sin-polluted world's redeeming blood : By which blest voice raised from what did appear Like sorrow, till her faith had banished fear, The princess, in such gentle calms of joy As souls that wear their bodies but to cloy Celestial flights can feel, to entertain
Her fatal doom with a resolved disdain 370
Of death, prepares. Whilst he, whom Heaven to her Had made their mercy's happy messenger. Forsaking her, repairs to him that had With the same hand the Cyprian's thoughts unclad. By whom informed, how that in their defence His sword protected nought but innocence ;
338 when] ' he thinks ' has of course to be supplied from ' that thought ' below. ( 286 )
Canto V] PharoHJiida
Armed with those blessings which so just a cause
Proclaimed his due, he secretly withdraws
To change those emblems of religious peace,
Monastic robes, for such as might increase 380
Their joy and wonder, whose contracted fear
Despaired to see a combatant appear.
Although they knew his sword defended then
The best of causes 'gainst the worst of men.
Whilst he prepares, with near as much of speed As incorporeal substances that need But will for motion, to defend her in The assaults of death, that hour, which long had been The dreadful expectation of those friends
That pitied her, arrived, in sorrow ends 390
Fear's cold disease. Those ministers of fate, The props to all that's illegitimate. The army, to suppress the weak essays Of love or pity, guarded had the ways By which illegal power conducted her From that dark room, grief's curtained theatre, To be beheld upon the public stage. The glory, yet the scandal of the age ; Which two extremes met on the scaffold in A princess' suffering, and a people's sin. 400
Which now, joined to the dreadful pomp that calls His subjects to attend the funerals Of her loved father, whose life's virtues won Tears for his death, thus solemnly begun.
Removed no farther from the city then An hour's short walk, though undertaken when Sol raged in Cancer, might with ease convey Scorched travellers, a dismal temple lay. In a dark valley, where more ancient times Had perpetrated those religious crimes 410
Of human offerings to those idols that Their hands made, for their hearts to tremble at. Yet this, since now made venerable by Those reverend relics of antiquity. The Spartan princes' monuments, by those Of latter times, though altered faith, is chose For their retreat, when life's extinguished glory Sought rest beneath a silent dormitory. Nor stood this fabric all alone ; long since A palace, by some melancholy prince 420
Which hated Hght, or loved the darkness, built To please his humour, or conceal his guilt. So near it stood, to distant eyes which sent Thither their beams, it seemed one monument; Whose sable roof 'mongst cypress shadows fills
393 Another of the interesting Royalist flashes.
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Willia^n Chamber layne [book v
The deep dark basis of those barren hills
With such a mournful majesty, as strook
A terror into each beholder's look,
Awful as if some deity had made
That gloomy vale to be the sacred shade, 430
Where he chose in enigmas to relate
The dark decrees of man's uncertain fate.
Betwixt this temple and the city stood, In squadrons thick as shows an ancient wood To distant sight, the army, placed to be In this sad march their guilt's security ; Whose glittering swords shone, as if drawn to light Day's beauties to the palace of the night. Toward which the prisoners, yet detained within The city, in this dreadful pomp begin 440
Their mournful march, led by that doleful call By which loud war proclaims a funeral. Those that had been the common guards unto The murdered princes, to the people's view Are first presented ; on an ebon spear Each bore a scutcheon, where there did appear The arms which once adorned those princes' shields. Sadly displayed within their sable fields.
Next these, some troops, whose prosperous valour in 'i'heir courts had steps unto preferment been, 450
Come slowly on ; but slowlier followed are By elder captains, such whom busy war. Whose victories had their youth in honour died, As useless now for council laid aside. r the rear of these, the oflicers of state, Grave as they'd been of council unto Fate, r the purple robes of royal mourners clad. With heavy pace conducted in a sad And dismal object — two black chariots, drawn Like hideous night when it assaults the dawn 460
In dreadful shadows ; where, to fright the day With sadder objects, on black herses lay The effigies of the murdered princes ; in Whose form those spots of treason that had been Fate's agents to unravel Nature's law, In bloody marks the mourning people saw. At which sad sight, from silent sorrow they Advanced, had let external grief betray Their love and loss, if not diverted by
Succeeding objects, which assault the eye 470
\Vith what, though living, yet more terror bred Than what they found for the lamented dead.
In such a garb as sorrow strives to hide The hot effluviums of a sullen pride,
474 effluviums] Singer, most improperly, * effluvia.' ( 288 )
Canto V] Pharonfitda
Almanzor next, with slow portentous pace,
Follows the herses ; his discovered face
So subtly dyed in sorrow, as it had
Strove to outmourn the sable arms which clad
His falser breast ; whose studied treason knew
No such disguise, as first to meet the view 480
O' the censuring people, in a dress that shows
Him by their state's maturer council chose,
'Gainst whoe'er durst maintain the prisoners' cause,
By 's valour for to vindicate their laws.
But now, to lose these rivulets of tears In the vast ocean of their grief, appears Their last and most lamented object, in The royal captives ; whose sad fate had been Not so disguised in attributes of guilt.
But that the love their former virtue built 490
In every breast, broke through their fear, to show How much their duty did to sorrow owe. In that black train they had beheld before, Though full of sadness, wearied life passed o'er The stage of Nature, is their darkest text To comment on ; which, since good men perplexed With life's cares are, finds less regret than now To living sufferers justly they allow : Friends, though less near, since death is but that rest They vainly seek that are in life distrest, 500
Being pitied more than those whose worst of fate We have beheld destruction terminate.
That nought might in this scene of sorrow be Wanting to perfect grief's solemnity. The kingdom's marshal — who supported in His hand a sword, which, glittering through a thin Wreathed cipers, through the sad spectator's eye Struck such a terror, as if shadowed by Death's sooty veil — conducting, after goes
The undaunted Cyprian, with a look that shows 510
A soul whose valour was of power to light Such high resolves as by their splendour might Make death look lovely ; on his upper hand Her sex's glory, she whose virtues scanned Her actions by Heaven's strictest rules, the sweet Pharonnida, unmoved, prepares to meet The ministers of death, her train being by Florenza, who must in that tragedy Act her last part, sustained. The garment which The beauteous princess did that day enrich, 520
507, 528 cipers] Singer, with more excuse perhaps, ' Cyprus.' But where an antique spelling definitely indicates pronunciation and the modern obscures it, it is probably better to keep the former.
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William Chambei^layne [book v
Was black, but cut on white, o'er which the fair
Neglected treasure of her flowing hair
Hung loosely down ; upon her head she wore
A wreath of lilies, almost shadowed o'er
With purple hyacinths, on which the stains
Of murder yet in bloody marks remains ;
Over all this, a melancholy cloud
Of thick curled cipers from the head did shroud
Her to the feet, through which those spots of white
Appeared like stars, those comforts of the night, 530
When stole through scattered clouds ; in her right hand
She held a watch, whose next stage should have spanned
The minutes of her life; her left did hold
A branch of myrtle, which, as grown too old
To live, began to wither ; — for defence
O' the falling leaves, as death and innocence
Had both conspired to save 't, the bough was round
In mystic wreaths of black and silver wound.
Near to the royal prisoners, many peers Of either kingdom, men o' the gravest years 540
And loyalest hearts, did with a doleful pace Bring up the rear ; each melancholy place Through which they passed being with those pensive flowers That wait on funerals strewed. The lofty towers Of chequered marble had their stately brows In sables bound, their pinnacles with boughs Of dismal yew adorned, as if their knell Should next be rung ; a solemn passing bell In every church was tolled, whose doleful sound, Mixed with the drum and trumpet's Dead March, drowned 550 The people's cries, whose grief can ne'er be shown In 'ts native dress, till loud and clamorous grown.
In this black pomp the mourning train had left The sable city, which, being now bereft Of all her sad and solemn guests, did bear The emblem of an empty sepulchre, — So full of silence, all her throng being gone With heavy pace to be attendants on Those funeral rites, which ere performed must have More virtue for attendants to the grave 560
Than e'er they could again expect to see, Whose hopes of life lay in minority.
Come to the desert vale, which yet had kept A solitary loveliness — that slept There in untroubled rest, a levelled green, Chose for the lists, which nature lodged between Two barren hills ; upon whose bare front grew, Though thinly scattered, here a baleful yew, And there a dismal cypress, placed as they Had only chose that station to display 570
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Canto V] Pharon7tida
The people's passions ; who, with eyes fixed in
Full orbs of tears, ere this had sorrowing seen
The pitied prisoners to those scaffolds brought,
Where those lamented lives whom treason sought
To ruin, must be sacrificed to please
Ambitious man, not angry Heaven appease.
This curds their bloods, which soon inflamed had grown,
Had not the varied scene of sorrow shown
The murdered princes ; who, produced as they
Had been reserved as opiates to allay 580
Their anger's flame, are both exposed unto
The satisfaction of the public view,
Mounted on herses, which, on either side
O' the temple gate, with death's most dismal pride
On ebon pillars stood, as raised to show
What justice did to their destruction owe.
Placed near to these, their sorrows' sad records, Almanzor's tent, to show that it affords For red revenge a close reception, stood
Like a black rock ; from whence in clouds of blood 590
The sanguine streamers through the thickened sky Did waving with unconstant motion fly. In view of which, though at the other end, If any durst appear that could defend Their cause, whom Heaven alone knew innocent, There to receive him stood an empty tent ; Whose outside, as if fancied to deter His entrance, there appeared a sepulchre. Over whose gate her false accusers had
Transcribed those crimes which so unjustly clad Soo
In purple sins those candid souls ; which seen In their bright virtue's spotless robes, had been The hated wonders of those foes, whose ends Now find success i' the pity of their friends.
Near this black tent, on mourning scaffolds, where Death did to encounter Innocence prepare His heaviest darts, such as were headed by That more than mortal plagues, foul infamy, The prisoners mounted. At the other gate, Almanzor, like the messenger of Fate, 610
Fraught with revenge, appears ; his dreadful form. More full of terror than a midnight storm To straitened fleets, appearing to the view O' the multitude ; who, whilst their prayers pursue The prisoners' safety on the flagging wings Of sickly hope, his sure destruction brings,
577 curds] This is Singer's reading for orig. 'curls' which is not quite impossible and even rather vivid — for passion meeting and ruffling the blood as wind docs water. And if one begins guessing, why not ' cools ' ?
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Since from their knowledge more remote to cure, Unto their hates' impatient calenture.
Thrice had their trumpet sadly sounded been, And thrice a herald's voice had summoned in 620
Some bold defendant ; but both yet so vain, As if just Heaven neglected to maintain That righteous cause : which sadly seen of all, The sorrowful but helpless people fall, Since hopes of life was shrunk into despair, To be assistant by their private prayer At death's distracting conflict. In a brief Effectual speech, which answered to the chief Heads of's indictment, in those powerful words Conceived his last, the Cyprian prince affords 630
Their sorrow yet a larger theme. Which done. Being first to die, having with prayer begun That doubtful road, he now a short leave takes Of all his mourning friends, then calmly shakes Off each terrestrial thought ; and, heightened by The speculations of eternity
Above those damps, which Nature's hand did weave, Of human fear, submitting to receive The fatal stroke, that centre to a crown, But orb of wit — his sacred head, lays down. 640
Fled to the dark cell of their utmost fears. With eyes whose lids were cemented in tears, Each still spectator's thoughts did now repair To the last refuge of a silent prayer ; In which close pari, from that deep lethargy They are to joy and wonder wakened by A trumpet's voice, which from the other gate Sounds a defiance. 'Twas not yet so late In Hope's dim twilight, but they once more may, In expectation of a glorious day, 650
Dare look abroad ; which done, unto their view, A Cyprian herald being designed unto That office, they, leading a stranger knight Into the lists, behold ; whose welcome sight Was entertained with acclamations that Raised thunder for his foes to trem.ble at.
This valiant hero, whose brave gesture gave Life to that hope which told them Heaven would save Such suffering virtue, now drawn near unto The tent, is taking a disdainful view 660
Of that accursed inscription ; whilst all eyes, Centred on him, see through his steel disguise A goodlier shape, though not so vastly great As that cursed lump Nature had made the seat Of's enemy's black soul. The armour which He wore, they knew not whether for more rich ( 392 )
Canto V] Pha7^07i7lida
Or rare to prize. The ground of it, as he
For those had mourned which now from infamy
His sword sought to redeem^ was black, but all
Enamelled o'er with silver hearts, let fall 670
From flaming clouds ; which hovering above
Them, looked like incense fired by heavenly love :
'Mongst these, in every vacant place, was found
A death's head scattered ; some of which were crowned
With laurel, others on their bare fronts wore
A regal diadem. In's shield he bore,
In a field argent, on the dexter side,
A new-made grave, to which a lamb, denied
Succour on earth, to shun the swift pursuit
Of a fierce wolf, was fled ; but ere one foot 680
Was entered there, from a red cloud, that charged
The field in chief, a thunderbolt, enlarged
By Heaven's just wrath, from 's sulphury seat was sent
So swiftly, that what saved the innocent
The guilty slew ; which now in 's blood doth lie,
A precedent for powerful tyranny.
Those short surveys o' the people hardly took, Ere, having now the unuseful tent forsook. The brave defendant with a loud salute
Had passed the scaffold in the bold pursuit 690
Of glorious victory ; whom his angry foe. Whose valour's flame ne'er an allay did know So cold as fear, in that wild flame which rage Opposed had kindled, hastens to engage Him with so high a storm of fury, that. Each falling stroke, others did tremble at What they sustained. Strength, valour, judgement, all Which e'er made conquerors stand, or conquered fall. Here seemed to meet. As if to outrun desire. Each nimble stroke, quick as aethereal fire 700
When winged by motion, fell ; yet with a heft So full of danger, most behind them left Their bloody marks, which in this fatal strife Seemed like the opened sallyports of life.
Sadly expecting w^hom by Fate would be This day chose favourite unto destiny, The people in such silent ecstasies, As if their souls only informed their eyes, Sat to behold the combat ; when, to give Their faith assurance, justice yet did live 710
Unchained by faction, from a fatal blow Struck near his heart, Almanzor fallen so low From hopes of victory they beheld, that in His ruin, what before their fear had been, Grew now their comfort. When, that speedy death Might not transport his soul ere his last breath
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Confessed his guilt, the noble champion stays
His just raised rage, whilst his own tongue displays
His thoughts' black curtains, by discovering all
Those crimes, beneath whose burthen he did fall, 720
Heavy as curses which from Heaven are sent
For th' people's plague, or prince's punishment.
In which short close of life, to ease the grief
Of late repentance, that successful thief.
Whose happiest hour his latest proved, being took
For precedent, he in a calm forsook
That world, which, whilst his plots did strive to build
Ambition high, he had with tempests filled.
The multitude, whose universal voice Had taught even such, though distant to rejoice, 730
As age or sickness had detained within The city walls, forced those that yet had been Her foes, converted by the general votes For joy, to change their envy's ill-set notes To calm compHance ; in whose concord they, With as much speed as duty did convey Her best of subjects, to congratulate '
Her freedom hastes. Who, in this smile of fate, AS'hilst all her friends strove to forget those fears AV'hose form they lately trembled at, appears 740
Shadowed in grief; on whose joy could reflect No beam of comfort, the supposed neglect Of her Argalia, whose victorious sword Did in her fears' extremity afford Some hopes of comfort, which to opinion lost. More sorrow than the assaults of death had cost ; Had not, whilst she did in dark passion stray,
His full discovery glorified the day.
Amidst the people's acclamations, she. Though from a scaffold now conveyed to be 750
Raised to a crown, all that vain pomp beholds With eyes o'ercast in grief, till he unfolds Her further comfort, by discovering what,
Whilst each spectator was admiring at.
Becomes to her so much of joy, that in
This calm, that courage which before had been
Unshook in tempests, now begins to move ;
And what scorned hate, submits to powerful love.
Prom whose fixed centre, with as swift a flight
And kind a welcome, as the nimble light 760
Salutes the morning. Pleasure now imparts
Her powerful beams, until those neighbouring hearts
That lived by Hope's thin diet, drew from hence
Substantial lines to Joy's circumference. Her innocence unveiled by his success,
And both by that black foil of wickedness,
( 294 )
Canto V] Pharon7tida
Almanzor's guilt, more glorious made, is now
The only volume wonder could allow
Those that before her worst of foes had been.
Sadly to read repentant lectures in. 770
Which seen by her observant peers, that all
Succeeding discords in that tyrant's fall
Might find a tomb, him, being their princess' choice,
The Spartan army's universal voice
Salute their chief. Which precedent affords
A pattern to the wise Epirot lords ;
Who had a law, age made authentic, which
Prohibited their diadem to enrich
A female brow : on him, whose title stood
Nearest of all collateral streams of blood, 780
They wisely fix a choice, which proves to be
Their glory and their state's security.
And now raised from that lowly posture in Which fear had left them, the vast rout begin Their motion toward fair Gerenza; where The varied scene did such proportion bear With joy's exalted harmony, which in Their rescued princess dwelt, all that had been Their sorrow's dismal characters they now Obliterate, and her late clouded brow 790
Crown with delights. The solemn bells, whose sad Toll, when they left your mourning city, had Frighted the trembling hearer, now are all Rung out for joy, as if so loud a call Only became a love which could not be Expressed until the full solemnity Of their approaching nuptials did unite Their hearts or crowns, not with more full delight Than what did near as great a blessing prove. Discording subjects, in your bonds of love. 800
Thus, after all the wild variety Through Fate's dark labyrinths, now arrived to be Crowned with as much content as e'er was known By any that death did enforce to own The frailties of mortality, we leave Our celebrated lovers to receive
Those blessings which Heaven on such kings showers down, Whose virtues add a lustre to the crown.
792 your] Singer, obviously, ' their ' : but strangely enough he leaves ' 3' our ' in 800. The double oddity suggests that Chamberlayne originally meant this to form part of a speech ; then changed his mind, and with his usual equanimity omitted the necessary adjustment.
806 celebrated] A vivid instance of the correct use of the word as opposed to tlie modern vulgarity.
( 295)
ENGLAND'S JUBILE[E]
[I do not know why Singer did not complete his edition by reprinting this Poem — but perhaps he had not seen it. To me, the tedium of copying it has been not a little alleviated by the interest of its prosody, and of the comparison with Dryden's. As we might expect, both from the fact of its being an address, not a narrative, and from its composition being later than at least the earlier part of Fharonnida, the stopped, or nearly stopped couplet is much more in evidence than the enjambed, though this latter is also common enough. And the good side of the change has sufficient exemplification — there are some couplets, and more lines, of the new stamp, of which Dryden himself need not have been ashamed. The older side is not so well shown : for the flowing similes and conceits which it so well suited would have been out of place. But the poem has vigour, adequacy, J and not more than a proper share of exaggeration, where required. It is certainly the best of the poems on the Restoration next to Dryden's \ — Ed.]
' The British Museum copy has no title-page.
i
( ^90
ENGLAND'S JUBILE :
OR, A POEM ON THE HAPPY RETURN OF HIS SACRED MAJESTY, CHARLES THE U
To THE King's Most Sacred Majesty.
Pardon, great Prince, for all our offering here,
But weak discoveries of our wants appear.
No language is commensurate with thee,
Our loftiest flights but plain humility.
Yet since we may, our frailty to conceal,
Be guilty of a crime in smothering zeal.
That bids thy blest returns more welcome then
Plenty to the starved, or land to shipwrackt men.
For such were we, or if there's ought can more
Demonstrate ill, that wo was ours before. lo
Heaven, to restore our lost light, sent us him.
Without whose raise our sphere had still been dim.
Dim as in that dark interval, when we
Saw nothing but the clouds of anarchy,
Raised by the witchcraft of Rebellion, to
So vast a height, none durst pretend to view.
Whilst they lay curtained in that black disguise,
Majestic beams, but 'twas with bloodshot eyes.
Then if such of necessity must pine. Who 're robbed of food, both human and divine, 20
How could we thrive, when those that did pretend To feed did all on their ambition spend. Who with the sword, not reason, did convince, And rackt the subject to unthrone the Prince. The doleful years of thy exile have been At once our Nation's punishment and sin ; Tost in a storm of dark afflictions we Floated at random, yet still looked on thee As our safe harbour, but had none to guide Us to 't ; False pilots with the winds complied. .^o
We saw what crime drenched the amazed rout. Yet wanted strength to cast that curst thing out.
7 then] then = than. 12 raise] raise = rise.
30 pilots] Orig. ' Pilates,' with a possible play (?), though, as we have seen in Pharomiida, the mere misprint is common.
( 297 )
William Chamberlayiie
Though oft 'twas vainly struggled for, yet we — ^Vho were exiled from nought but Liberty, Who durst hve here spectators of those times, Do now in tears repent our passive crimes, And with one universal voice allow We all deserve death, since we live till now.
But this is England's Jubilee, nor must Thy friends doubt mercy, where thy foes dare trust. 40
Thou art our great Panpharmacon, which by Its virtue cures each various malady. Giving their pride a cool allay of fears. Whilst to restore our hectic, Hope appears : And these began the cure, which to complete Expansive Mercy makes thy throne her seat : So that there now (except the guilt within) No sign remains there hath a difference been.
The giddy rout, who in their first address, Cried Liberty, but meant licentiousness, 5'=
When depraved judgements, not content to see A heaven of stars their prhmim mobile, Did change the system, and i' th' spite o' th' love Or fear of Heaven, taught earth's base dregs to move In the bright orb of Honour, where to all 'I'hat's great, or good, they were eccentrical — Having long found their direful influence In nought but plagues descended — did from thence Learn sad repentant lectures, and dare now Present the sword, where late the knee did bow : 60
Dare tell their damn'd impostors they but made False Zeal the light, whilst Treason cast the shade : Dare curse their new discoveries which placed in Hell's geography Americas of sin.
But these, like dust raised 'twixt two armies, do Hurt or assist, as they are hurried to Either by levity ; and therefore must By none be held an object of their trust; For though they are Usurpers' Lands, they've found They rent at night, what they i' th' morning crowned. 70
But you, great Sir, whose fate has been so mixt As to behold these volatile and fixt. May, since the offspring of their sufferings, be More certain of their future loyalty. And though your tide, and heaven-settled state, Needs not, usurper-like, measure your fate By such vain love, yet may you still be sure They'll ne'er again a rebel's scourge endure.
These past years of infatuation, which Hath drained their coffers, did their hearts enrich So
With so much eager loyalty that when With wonder — like those new recovered men, (298 )
England's yubile
A\'ho, by Our Saviour's miracles escaped
From darkness, thought men had Hke trees been shaped —
They only through mist rarefied, gazed at
Those glimmering beams, whilest they knew not what
Th' event would be, now, winged with hope, did they
Each feeble glance praise as approaching day.
But when, with such advantage as the light (iains by succeeding the black dress of night, 90
Through all the fogs of their preceding fear. They from the North saw loyal Monk appear, How in petitions did their prayers exhale To waft him on, until the gentle gale (Although by ways so wisely intricate They raised our fear whilst they did calm our fate) Brought him at length through all our doubts to be The great assertor of our liberty ! Then did we think that modest blush but just, Whose present dye displayed our late mistrust. 100
And to requite those injuries we'd done To myriads raised what single praise begun.
Through all the devious paths which he did tread, From the base Rump unto the glorious Head, We scanned his actions, which did nought comprise That might offend, but that he was too wise For vulgar judgements, whose weak fancies guessed By present actions what would be the rest.
But when their eyes unveiled, discovered who Had, to destroy the monster, found the clew, no
How did they praise his wisdom, valour, all That could within the name of subject fall, And to complete whate'er his due might be, Knit up those laurels with his loyalty — That noble virtue, without which the rest Had only burdened, not adorned, his crest. Then since we now by this heaven-guided hand Once more behold the glory of our land, Whom midnight plots long studied to exclude Again fixed in 's meridian altitude, 120
Let's cease to mourn, and whilst those fogs attend Such miscreant wretches as dare still offend By flying mercy, raise our souls, deprest E'er since this Star set in the gloomy West — For then begun that dreadful night, which we Have since with terror seen, brave Loyalty Being so opprest by a prevailing fate 'Twas only known by being unfortunate.
Yet, though Rebellion in unnatural wars So far did thrive, to prove us falling stars, 130
88 glance] one might expect ' glimpse.' ( 299 )
William Chamberlayne
The wiser world saw those that did aspire,
Not as Heaven's lamps, but Hell's impetuous fire.
As monsters of ambition, such whose wild
Chimeras since Rebellion first defiled
Our English annals, only were advanced ;
But Fortune's light ephemeras, to be glanced
A while with secret envy on, and then
Hurled from the ill-managed helm to be by men
Pursued with such a just deserved hate
As makes each curse add weights unto their fate, 140
Horrid as are their names, which ne'er shall be
Mentioned without adjuncts of infamy
So full of guilt, all ages to ensue
Shall weep to hear what this ne'er blushed to do.
Whilst we were in these uncouth shades o'ercast To tell what wild meanders hath been past By thee, our Royal Sovereign, is a task That would the tongues of inspired angels ask : Yet since domestic miseries hath taught
Us part of the sad story's ruder draught, 150
We may, by weak reflection, come to see With what dire weight these dark storms fell on thee : Who, whilst thou didst, from hence excluded, stand The pitied wonder of each foreign land, Learnd'st, by commanding passions, how to sway A nation more rebellious far than they. So that the school which thou wert tutored in, Though thy disease, our antidote hath been — We suffering not our crime's desert, because From hence you learned to pity, and the laws' ifio
Just harness with such candour mitigate As once you bore the rigour of your fate.
What earthquakes breeds it in our breasts, when we But think o'er thy progressive misery! How thou, our restless dove, seeing no mark Of land, wert hurried from our floating ark. And, whilst those villains, that exposed thee, lay Forced every wind of faction to obey, Wert long with billows of affliction beat
Ere thou didst with thy olive-branch retreat. 170
How by poor friends and powerful enemies, By flattering strangers, and by false allies, Were thy afflictions varied, for all these Shared in the complicating thy disease.
Like doleful mourners that surround the bed Of a departing friend, those few that fled
161 harness] Orig. 'harnesse': but it is almost certainly a misprint for ' harrf'noss.' candour] With the sense of ' mildness.' Thus ' a candid critic ' used to mean, what it scarcely does now, a favourable and polite censor.
( 300 )
England s yiihile
Hence on the wings of Loyalty, to be
Partakers of whate'er attended thee —
Whilst they did mourn, but could not lend relief
Did by their sorrow but increase thy grief. iSo
Such was the power of thy prescribing foes, No place afforded safety, some of those Whom poverty sent to attend thy train To cure that malady, did entertain Infectious counsels, which did festering lie Till rebels' gold outweighed their Loyalty, And from the black pernicious Embryo bred Monsters whose hands strove to destroy their head.
Nor whilst these secret sorrows sunk a mine Which, if not hindered by a power divine, 190
Had blown up all thy patience, wert thou free From public injuries — that amity. Which former leagues, or the more sacred ties Of blood could claim, veiled in the base disguise Of policy starts back, and doth give way For treason to expel or else betray. Great birth and virtues which did that excel As the meridian doth each parallel. Are but weak props : a rebel's threats convince And all avoid a persecuted Prince. 200
When after these big storms of ill abroad Some loyal subjects had prepared the road Unto thy throne, and thou didst once more here Armed for redemption of thy crown appear. Whilst all our hearts, whose distant Lands could not Come to assist thy righteous cause, waxed hot With loyal hopes — how were we planet-strook When Fortune, with pretended friends forsook Thy side at fatal Worcester, and to raise
A rebel's trophies, robbed thee of thy bays! 210
How dismal sad, how gloomy was each thought Of thy obedient subjects, whilst they sought Their flying Sovereign, curtained from their eyes, In the dark dress of an unsafe disguise ! All wished to know, what all desire should be A secret kept, such strange variety Of contradictions did our passions twist : We would behold the Sun, yet praised the mist. But whilst Desire thus shot at rovers, that More powerful sacrifice our prayers being at 220
Heaven's penetrated ear directed, found Our hopes by thy deserting us near crowned.
192 that] = ' so that.' Orig. has ' amitj'^s,' which is obviously wrong and easily accounted for.
232 crowned] Orig. absurdly, ' Crown.'
( 301 )
JVillia7n Chamberlayne
For though to want thee was our great'st distress, Yet now thy absence was our happiness.
Then, though we ne'er enough can celebrate The praise of this, yet thy mysterious fate, Great favourite of Heaven ! so often hath Advanced our wonder that the long trod path Directs us now without more guides to see Those miracles wrought in preserving thee 230
Were God's immediate acts, to whose intents Were often fitted weakest instruments, From whose success faith this impression bore, He that preserved thee would at length restore, Which now through such a labyrinth is done, We see the end, ere know how 'twas begun.
That big-bulked cloud of poisonous vapours in Whose dismal shades, our liberty had been Long in amaze of errors lost, was by
A wholesome northern gale enforced to fly 240
Easy as morning mists, so that the fate Seem'd not more strange, which did at first create. Than what did now destroy in it, did appear As far from Hope, as was the first from Fear.
When a rebellious tyranny had been So strengthened by a prosperous growth in sin That the contagious leprosy had left None sound but what were honest by their theft — Then to behold that hydra, which had bred So many, in an instant, her last head 250
Submit to justice, is a blessing we Must praise i' th' raptures of an ecstasy, Till from the pleasing trance, being welcomed by Loud acclamations, raised from Loyalty, We come, we come, with all the reverence due To Heaven's best gifts, great Prince, to welcome you — You, who by suffering in a righteous cause Safely restored that Liberty, those Laws, Which after long convulsive fits were now Expiring, so that future times, told how 260
This great work was performed, shall wonder most To see the fever cured, yet no blood lost.
But these are mercies fit to usher in Him to a throne, whose virtuous life hath been Beyond detraction good : therefore attend Those joys which Heaven to us, by you, did send : Whose sacred essence, waited on by all The most transcendant blessings that can fall. Within the sphere of human virtue, still Surround your throne ! May all imagined ill 270
243 in it1 If the poem were less badly printed, the extended form 'in if lur the usual ' in 't ' would have prosodic interest : but it is probably mere accident.
( 302 )
Kjigland s yuhile
Die in the embryo ! May no dark disguise
Of seeming friends, or foes that temporize,
E'er prejudice your peace ! May your foes prove
All blushing converts ! May all those that love
You do 't for zeal, not gain ; and though that we
(What was of late your mark) our poverty
Are still enforced to wear, oh may there thence
Ne'er spring a thought to take or give offence !
May all toward you be fraughted with desires
That may in flaming zeal outblaze the fires ;So
That you were welcomed in with ! May delight
Within your royal breast no opposite
E're find, but so let gentle pleasure grow.
That it may kiss the banks, but ne'er o'erflow !
When Hymen leads you to the temple, let
It be to take that gem which Heaven hath set
The world's adorning ornament — that we
May by that blest conjunction's influence see
Such hopeful fruit spring from our royal stem
As may deserve the whole world's diadem. 390
May Peace adorn your throne ! Yet if the sword
Must needs be drawn, may it no sound afford
But victory, until extended power
Adds weight unto your sceptre ! May no hour
E'en set a seal to the records of Time,
But what still makes your pleasure more sublime,
Till they, being grown too pure for earth, shall be
Called to the triumphs of Eternity !
By Will. Chamberi.aink.
London, Printed for Robert Clavell
at the Stags-head in St. Pauls
Church yard, 1660.
292 sound] So in orig.
299 Chamberlainej So here in orig. In Pharonnida ' Chamberla) ne.'
( 303 )
THEOPHILA
OR
LOVES SACRIFICE.
A
Divine Poem.
— — — — - - — " - — ■ ■ - ■
WRITTEN BY £. S. Efq- Several Tarts thereof fet to fit Jtres by M' f . ^E:I^:^(S.
Longum Iterfer Praecepta, breve cj7* efficaxfer Exempla, Si Praeceptis non accendimur, faltem Exemplis incitemur^ atq^^ in JppetitH Reditudinis niljibi Mens noftra difficile ajltmet, qHodferfeBeperagiahAliisvidet, Greg.Mag. 1. 9. c.^3. Id peragasY'm, qmdvellcs lAonzperaUum.
Lo:^(po^
Printed by '^ ^' Sold by Henrj Seile in Fleetfireet, and
Humphrey Mojeley at the Princes Arms in S. "Pauls Qhurch-jard. i6^i. __^___
I X
;
( t
INTRODUCTION TO EDWARD BENLOWES
The fate of Benlowes has been one of the hardest in the history of English poetry. Such approval as he met with, in his own time and from persons likely to sympathize with his general way of writing, was chiefly interested ; he was savagely though very amusingly satirized by the greatest satirist, save one, of his own later day ; he came in, long after his death, for sneers, suppressed and not suppressed, from Pope, as well as for a gratuitous salutation from Warburton's bludgeon ^ ; and at the Romantic revival he was almost entirely passed over. Neither Ellis nor Campbell, who were both pretty equitable to the Caroline poets, gave him admission : even Southey, so far as I remember, lets him alone, which is a pretty clear sign that he did not know him. Of late he has received more attention. But most of it has been of the unsatisfactory bibliographical character, little calculated to allay the thirst of the clear spirit in life or after death : and most, even of this, has been due to the very cause which (it may be more than suspected) has made Benlowes so rare. At one time (see biographical note ^), he was a rich man or at least well-to-do, and with the nascent interest in art which distinguished the Cavalier party, from the King downwards, he
^ Notices of Benlowes have been apt to dwell only on Warburton's note at Dune. iii. 21 which hits our poet's titles. But Pope himself, probably from some traditional Roman Catholic grudge ^t the convert-revert, had set the example. The actual passage just cited is not crushing :
Benlowes, propitious still to blockheads, bows.
But he had thought of including in Prol. Sat. the couplet :
How pleased I see some patron to each scrub ; Quarles had his Benlowes, Tibbald has his Bubb.
with the note, at 1. 250, — A. gentleman of Oxford who patronized all bad poets of that reign.
^ Information about Benlowes is mainly derived from Anthony Wood, with some slight SLippLements. According to it, he was born about 1603, the son and heir of a man of fortune who owned Brent Hall, in Essex. He was sent to St. John's College, Cambridge, in 1620 ; and after leaving the University, made the grand tour. Some say that he was brought up a Roman Catholic; others that he adopted Roman Catholicism abroad ; but it is agreed that he died a faithful Anglican. According to Butler he served in the Civil War, which may have assisted his lavishness to friends and relations, and his expenditure on collecting and otherwise, in producing that exhaustion of his fortune which is also agreed upon. He spent the last eight years of his life at Oxford, making good use of the Bodleian, but (according to Wood) in a state of great poverty, which on the same authority) even shortened his life by insufficient provision of food and firing during a severe winter. At any rate he died in December, 1676, aged seventy-three, and was buried in St. Mary's. Hazlitt attributes to him eight other works besides Theophila, and the Dictionary of National Biography ten with a possible eleventh ; but all of these are short and most of them are in Latin.
( 307 ) X 2
Edward Be7ilowes
set himself to embellish his principal work, Theophila, in a manner very uncommon before his time. An uncertain number (for hardly any two copies agree, and the tale seems to vary from six-and-thirty downwards) of illustrations— sometimes separate, sometimes in the text, and ranging from more than full folio plates to two-inch-square vignettes — decorate the poem. These have in most instances been ruthlessly ravished from it — often, in the case of those backing matter, to the mutilation of the text, and almost always to the danger and disintegration of the book. It is also probable that no very large number of copies was printed, while the poem was never reissued : so that its rarity is not surprising.
But rarity is very far from being always or necessarily a cause of neglect. On the contrary, it notoriously, and very often, serves as a direct attraction and stimulant to reprinters. It is more difficult to know whether to admit or disallow as a vera causa of Benlowes' obscurity, the fantastic ingenuity (as 'metaphysical' in reality as its prey) of Butler's attack. A similar combination of rarity and satire has had no doubt much to do with Shadwell's practical occultation : but this was never so complete as that of Benlowes, and moreover Dryden's consummate art had contrived to kill even curiosity about his victim. For few people care to explore simple and unmitigated dulness. There was something — at least after the eighteenth century was over — which might have excited, instead of quenching, this curiosity in Butler's * Character of a Small Poet ' where, after several pages of general ridicule, Benlowes is gibbetted by name. The woes of Mr. Prynne — when having put a new hat in a hat-box which had been unfortunately lined with leaves from Theophila, or something else of its author's, he suffered from singing in the head, vertigo, and even after blood-letting, a tendency to write harsh poetry ; the poet's mastery of high-rope ' wit ' and low-rope wit alike ; his improvement on altars and pyramids by frying-pans and gridirons in verse; his troop-horse's furniture 'all in beaten poetry ' ; the fatal effect of his printed sheets even upon tobacco ; his Macaronic Latin and so forth : — these are things which might rather tempt at least a slight exploration than discourage it. One does not object to a glimpse, at any rate, of the extravagant and absurd ; though one may have a holy horror of the merely dull. And as for Warburton nobody, even in his own time, took him for much of an authority on poetry: while his condemnation was rather likely to serve as a commendation, after the be- ginning of the nineteenth century, to anybody except the neoclassic remnant, whether the individual took his ideas of poetry from Coleridge or from Wordsworth, from Southey or from Byron, from Shelley or from Keats.
We shall hardly be epigrammatic out of season if we solve or evade the difficulty by saying that accident probably assisted rarity, and that Benlowes himself certainly assisted Butler. He has done (except in the (3c8)
hitrodiiCtt07i
matter of the sculpturesque embellishments which have so often disappeared) almost everything he could to ' fence his table ' against at least modern readers. Some (let it be hoped not too many) would drop off at once on perceiving that ' Theophila ' is but a name for the soul, in its mystical status as the bride of Christ. More might faint at the prospect before them on coming to the information in the Preface that ' The glorious projection and transfusion of ethereal light, both in the Sun and the six magnitudes, constitute, by astronomical computation, more than 300 suns upward to the Empyrean Heaven. A star in the Equator makes 12,598,666 miles in an hour, which is 209,994 miles in a minute, a motion quicker than thought.' For even Dante, though he may double Theology with Astronomy, does not cumulate both with Arithmetic in this fashion. And of those who still hold their course, across prefaces and prefatory poems, to the actual text, not a few more may break down at or a little past the gateway.
Benlowes has chosen one of the most awkward stanzas (if it is to be called a stanza) possible — a triplet composed of decasyllabic, octosyllable, and alexan- drine— the jolt of which only after long familiarity becomes rhythmical even to the most patient and experienced ear, and never reaches a perfect charm. These triplets are monorhymed : but the author begins with three on the same sound, and never expresses the slightest consideration as to symphonic or symmetrical effect in rhyme. He showers italics and capitals in a fashion which might give pause to the sternest stickler for literal typographic reproduction. But undoubtedly the most serious objects of distaste are likely to be found, w^here Butler long ago found them, in his style — taking that word in the wide sense which admits both diction and expression of thought.
Even before arriving at these one may quarrel (far from captiously) at his general plan and ordonnance. Despite more than one declaration of the author's design, explicit enough in intention, it is very difficult to put this design with any intelligible brevity : and his introductory panegyrists in verse take very good care not to attempt it. The Praelibation, Humiliation, Restoration, Inamoration, Representation, Contemplation, Admiration, Recapitulation, Translations, Abnegation, Disincantation, Segre- gation, Reinvitation, and Termination — as the several Cantos are headed — refuse reduction to any common denomination except perhaps this : — ' a very discursive treatise on mystical theology and passions of the soul, succeeded by an equally discursive comment on the sins of the flesh.' The author adopts as his vehicle sometimes English, sometimes Latin, sometimes both in face-to-face translation. The mere lexicon of the vernacular parts is distinctively Caroline : out-of-the-way catchwords such as ' remora ' and ' enthean,' both of which he shares with Chamberlayne, being alternated with extremely familiar phrases and archaisms, as well as with the hideous ( 309 )
Edward Benlowes
abbreviations (' who's days ' for ' who his days ' and the like), which are the greatest blot upon the poetry of this time. He coins pretty freely (e. g. ' angelence ' in a very early and by no means bad stanza) and one of the things which shocked Butler was the certainly tremendous Macaronic invention of hypocondruncicus : while one can imagine the almost stuttering rage of some critics to-day at such another word as ' Proteustant,' for the Covenanters. But, on the whole, his licences this way, though considerable and no doubt excessive, are certainly less frequent, if perhaps to the grave and precise more shocking, than the irresponsible and irrepressible libertinism of his composition as regards clause and sentence, material and contexture.
The late Greek rhetoricians, in that mania for subdividing and labelling figures which Quintilian soberly ridicules, might have lost themselves in endeavouring to devise tickets for the subdivisions of Benlowes' indulgence in good, or hectic, or horse-playful, conceit. Already the twentieth couplet of the ' Praelibation ' provides us with this : —
Each gallon breeds a ruby ;— drawer ! score 'um —
Cheeks dyed in claret seem o' th' quorum, When our nose-carbuncles, like link-boys, blaze before 'um.
But an even less dignified use of ' the blushmg grape of western France ' occurs later : —
War hath our lukewarm claret broach'd with spears where it would be really interesting to know whether there is an earlier instance of the ' fancy ' use of the word. It would not be easy to find a wilder welter of forced metaphors than here : —
Betimes, when keen-breath'd winds, with frosty cream,
Periwig bald trees, glaze tattling stream : For May-games past, white-sheet peccavi is Winter's theme \
And he surpasses even his usual quaintness when he concludes a long interruption of Theophila's address to him on heavenly things in the Fifth Canto :—
Fond that I am to speak. Pass on to bliss,
That with an individual kiss Greets thee for ever ! Pardon this parenthesis.
1 Of course Benlowes, ihough he added the absurdity of ' cream,' borrowed this from the famous locus of Sylvester which Dryden ridicules in the Dedication to The Spanish Friar. But what is even more noteworthy, and to my knowledge has never yet been noted, is that Dryden himself, in the error which Scott has detected in quoting 'And periwig with snow the bald-pate woods' for Sylvesters 'wool' has been anticipated by Benlowes in another passage of Theophila,
When periwigg'd with snow's each bald-pate wood. Now, Dryden, who was twenty-one when Theophila came out, and was probably not past the stage when he wrote the ■ Lines on Lord Hastings,' may very likely have read Benlowes himself. ( 310 )
Introduction
He does not hesitate to rhyme ' Hades ' to ' Shades ' and will draw attention in the margin, with modest pride, to a versus cancrinus (it is in Latin), that is to say one which reads the same with the letters taken backwards or forwards. I have thought it well to make no secret or 'abscondence' of these absurdities. They are such, and there are many others; indeed, the man who could commit some of them evidently could not have guarded himself against others if he would, and perhaps would not if he could. If any be of the mood of Butler on this particular occasion (for as I have hinted above his own method is often only that of Benlowes changed from unconscious indulgence to conscientious and deliberate utilization for comic effect), or of Boileau always, he had better abstain from Benlowes. For ' awful examples ' of the metaphysical gone mad are on record plentifully already, and there is no need to do again what Johnson did sufficiently more than a hundred years ago in the Life of Co7vley. Indeed, I do not know, despite the greater sureness of Crashaw's command of poetical expression, that Benlowes has ever gone beyond Crashaw when he pictured the eyes of St. Mary Magdalen as walking baths and portable oceans, though modern practice has brought out an extra whimsicality for us in this. But the arguments which have been sketched in the General Introduction apply here with special force. We know that Crashaw was not a fool ; and, though there is no reason for adopting the opinions of parasites and pensioners ^ about Benlowes, there is nearly as little for agreeing with Butler that our poet was one. We come in him to one of the most remarkable examples provided by English literature of the extreme autumn of the Elizabethan annus mirabilis. The belief in conceits is as strong as ever : and though the power of producing them poeti- cally is dying down, and except for flickers has almost died, a fresh, deliberate, critical, h€^\^i\\\ furor poeticus\\2,?, come to blow the embers. There is still a too exclusive reliance on one of the great pair of poetic instruments — the method of making the unfamiliar acceptable, of procuring a welcome for the strange. But the exercise and employment of this is forced, mechanical^ what was called two hundred years later, in a fresh though only momentary revival of the circumstances, ' spasmodic' One perfectly understands how, in presence of such things, men, especially not feeling any particular enthusiasm themselves, turned to the other method — the method of raising and inspiring the familiar, the ordinary, the common-sense. And one understands with scarcely less fulness and ease why men like Butler felt their own sense of the ridiculous stimulated and, as it were, exacerbated by the consciousness (half-conscious as it might be) that it was their own method which was thus caricatured and brought into contempt — that their own matters were at stake, or at least one side of them. Meanwhile the
^ Who anagrammatized his name into ' Benevolus,' and swallowed up his fortune. (311)
Edward Benlowes
other side — that which leant to the new dispensation of Prose and Sense — was wholly and genuinely hostile to all the works, all the spirit, all the tastes, methods, intellectual habits of persons like the author of Theophila. The opportunity of such understanding is not fully provided till we know these persons in their own work — in that ' horse-furniture of beaten poetry ' in which they ambled and jingled across the stage.
But we are, or ought to be, more disinterested now than Butler or even Dryden, though it is unnecessary to repeat what should have been said on this head before. And Benlowes, besides his interest of absurdity — his mere helotry which, though it might almost suffice for some, cannot be expected to do so for all — has other and less dubious claims. The earlier, larger, and better part of his poem is a really remarkable, and beyond all reasonable doubt a perfectly genuine, example of that glowing intensity of mystical devotion which plays, like a sort of Aurora, on the Anglican High Churchmanship of the seventeenth century, and has made it, to some, one of the most attractive phases of religious emotion to be found in all history. It may be prejudice or partisanship, but there seems to me some reason for connecting Benlowes' return to Anglican orthodoxy, as contrasted with Crashaw's permanent estrangement, with the freedom from over- lusciousness which is remarkable in the lesser poet. Benlowes is afraid of no metaphor, however extravagant and however doubtful in point of taste : but his metaphors are not, to use the Persian criticism,
Limber in loin and liquid on the lip
like those of some others. His ' Clevelandisms,' his astonishing contortions and bizarrenesses of thought and phrase, are not more incompatible with true and intense piety than some to be found in the poetical books of the Bible, and even no doubt, to some extent, owe suggestions to them. Those who insist upon ' sanity ' as the first and last distinction of religion cannot like him ; but they will find (and as is notorious enough have found) not very much less difficulty with a rather formidable body of Prophets, Saints, Apostles, Fathers, Divine Poets, from the earliest and the latest days of Christianity.
Coming to still closer quarters, the eccentricity of Theophila does not prevent it from containing not a few passages, sometimes of length, that require very little allowance or apology from any tolerably catholic-tasted reader of poetry. There is a fine outburst, justifying its own pretty phrase,
The opal-coloured dawns raise fancy high,
beginning at stanza LXHI of the * Praelibation ' itself; another, fantastic enough but not uncharming, on Theophila in penance, at Canto ii. LXX sq. Theophila's Love-Song, in the six-lined stanza, shows at once the relief from (312 )
Introduction
the stricture of the blood caused by the ' cross-gartered ' triplet which Benlowes has perversely used elsewhere ; the address to the Ancient of Days at vi. LII sq. is really impressive (one rather likes the idea of Blake illustrating Benlowes anew) and at the end there is a delightful country- and-evening piece to match the opal-coloured dawns of the opening.
But (as was once said in a phrase which, as it happens, chimes in with the Latin anagram that cost Benlow^es part of his fortune), apologies are things which lectori benevolo supervacanea, nihil curat malevohis. It is at any rate open to the former, as well as to the latter, to treat this poet each after his own kind.
In the setting up of Pharonnida Singer's reprint, already modernized in spelling, was utilized ; but as Theophila is printed directly from the original it may be desirable to explain the principles of orthography which have been observed here, and will be observed in similar cases. I am, of course, well aware that there is, as there has long been, a habit of demanding adherence to original spelling, and of regarding those editions which comply with this demand as ' scholarly,' and those which do not as ' slovenly.' I disagree with the opinion and decline to comply with the demand. As a matter of fact, the retention of the old spelling gives the editor very little trouble, and the alteration of it a very great deal. But this is nothing. In the first place there is no real reason, in the case of any writer at any rate later than the beginning of the seventeenth century, for throwing in the way of the modern reader an unnecessary obstacle to enjoyment. In the second place, and in the case of such authors as those with whom we are now dealing, the advantage of the original spelling, even to the severest reader for knowledge and not enjoyment, is almost infinitesimally small. I have before writing these words carefully gone over a page, selected at random, of the text which follows. It contains twenty-six lines, and in round numbers over two hundred words. Of these (putting some classes of typographical peculiarity, to be mentioned presently, aside) exactly eight zxid^ eight only are spelt differently from our present system, and these differences supply us with the immensely important and interesting knowledge that 'less' was spelt ' less^ (twice), that adjectives like ' natural' were spelt with two I's (twice), that ' obey ' was sometimes spelt ' obay,' that ' wild ' and ' find ' had a final e \ and that the contraction of ' over ' was carelessly written ' o're ' '. Of the general variations, the habit of beginning nouns with a capital can be neither surprising nor instructive to any one who has interest enough in English literature to open such a book as this : and it frets the eyes of some who have a good deal of such interest. The other habit of frequent
' By no means always. Those who think that each spelling should be registered, may also regret evidence that ' gem ' and 'jem ' were used according to the taste and fancy of the moment and the person ; and that ' to Day ' with a capital, and ' to morrow ' without, occur in the same line.
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Edward Ben low es
italicizing {without personification or the like) has a still more fretting effect, and is very difficult to reduce to any logical system ; while though the presence of apostrophes in such words as ' pow'r ' is undoubtedly important as showing metrical theory, and is therefore kept here, the absence of it in the genitive case is again fretting and sometimes confusing, so that it is worth correction. The same is not quite the case with Benlowes' frequent habit of pfrinting "whole words in capitals : and this is therefore frequently retained. But in those other things, general and particular, nothing is gained by the reproduction of what were in most cases mere arbitrary printers' caprices or fashions. And even putting aside, as a question not to be disputed, the question which makes the prettier page, there can be little dispute that retention of such things prevents that horizontal study of English poetry — that taking it all on equal terms — which some think the great desideratum and desiderandum. We want these things to be regarded as poems, not as curiosities and bric-a-brac. You cannot modernize Chaucer without loss, because his language itself is not modern: you cannot modernize Chatterton without unfairness, because his archaism was part^of his deliberate method. But Chamberlayne and Benlowes lose (except in the very rarest instances) nothing at all and may gain something : while innumerable instances — whole lines, whole stanzas, whole passages, present not a single actual variation from modern practice except the initial capital. And the extraordinary 'harlequin ' effect of the original printing of Theophila, of which a specimen is given, emphasizes unduly, for modern readers, the already sufficient eccentricity of the text. In every case where there is the slightest direct or indirect interest, historical, phonetic in the good sense, prosodic, grammatical, or other, attention will be drawn in the notes to the original spelling. Elsewhere, that method will be adopted which will give the poetry the best chance of producing any poetical effect of which it is capable.
After examining the minor poems attributed to Benlowes, I have decided to add only two, to Theophila, Most, as said above, are wholly in Latin ; and though I did not think it fit to exclude the Latin parts of his inagmim opus there is no reason for including these. Some are very doubt- fully his : — the initials E. B. being treacherous. The Summary of Wisdom, however, in a hundred triplets of the Theophila stamp, though it duplicates that poem largely does not do so wholly, and should therefore be given ; while the little musical piece which follows it is fresh, pleasing, and very characteristic ^
' I may perhaps refer to an article of mine on Benlowes in The [American] Biblio- grapher (New York, Jan. 19031 at the end of which is an elaborate collation, text and plates, of an iiniisiially complete copy of Theophila by Miss Carolyn Shipman.
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Mens Authoris^
Te, w/z'CHRISTE, Tuceq^cana7n Suf-
piria Spons^e ; Ardores^ pios, & Gaudia coelica,
Mundo Abdita\ divinas pandam Mysteria
Mentis, Accetifasq^ Faces Ccelo ! Fuge, cceca
Libido, Et Faftus populator Optem, Livorqs
sectindis Pallidus, &» rabidis violenta Calumnia
Dictis, Diraq^ pacatas lacerans Difcordia
Mentes, Et Scelerum male-fuada Cohors. Te,
mitis lES V, Da mild velle fequi ! Greffus alato
/eqiee?ttis ! DiviNiE/ww tejla RoTiE ; Vas obline
Jido
Rwiflfum Gyp/o, flc Vas ego reddar
Honoris : Sum tenebro/a Tui radiantis LUMINIS
umbra. Quod, veniente Die, quod, decedente,
videreni ! Ctijtis «^r ViSUS Spatium, nee GLORIA
Laudem, Nee Vox ulla capit Meritum, nee
Terminus itvum ! Unius est inN &\\>2. fatis jiiraffe Magi-
STRI,
Et Te prcEfetite7n Causae petiiffe PATRON UM !
ThemayzV yEthereofacranda Theo-
phila Templo, Pura repurgato folvens Libamina
Corde.
The Author's Design
Of Christ, and of the Spouse's sighs,
I sing, And of the joys that from those ardours
spring, The world ne'er knew ; of her soul's
mystic sense, And of her heav'nly zeal. Blind Lust,
pack hence, Hence Pride, exhausting Wealth ;
hence. Envy, fly, Pal'd at success ; hence foul-mouth'd
Calumny, And savage Discord, striving to divide LTnited minds ; with all Sin's troop
beside. Jesus ! grant I may follow Thee, my
feet Wing Thou, and make them in pur- suance fleet !
Close up my cracks by faith, so shall
I be A vessel made of honour unto Thee. I'm but a faint resultance from Thy
light, Which, at Sol's rise and set, encheers
my sight. No space Thy view, no glory bounds
Thy praise, No terms do reach Thy worth, no age
Thy days ! May I but swear obedience to Thy
laws. And crave Thee Patron to my pre- sent cause ! My subject 'sTheophil, for Heav'n
design'd, OfiTring pure Sacrifice with sacred
Mind.
^ Printed exactly from original as a specimen.
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Edward Be7ilowes
Ladies,
We jangle not in schools, but strain to
set Church-music, at which saints being
met, May warble forth Heav'n's praise, and
thence Heav'n's blessing get.
Church-anthems irksome to the
factious grow ; In what a sad case were they, trow, Should they be penn'd in Heav'n,
where hymns for ever flow ?
As, fir'd affections to your beauties
move — So, stillatories be of love ; That, what was vapour, may, by virtue,
essence prove.
Survey Theophila ; her rules apply, That you may live, as you would
die : Virtue enamels life ; 'tis Grace does
glorify.
O, may those fragrant flow'rs that in
her grew. Blown by such breath, drench'd by
such dew, Spring, and display their buds, ladies
elect, in you !
To this Spring-Garden, virgins, chaste
and fair, Coacht in pure thoughts, make your
repair, To recreate your minds, and take fresh
heav'nly air.
Ye snowy fires, observe her in each
grace ; So, may you, bright in soul as face, Have in the Gallery of Heroic Women
place.
Nay, when your days and piety shall
sum Up their completeness, may ye come To endless Glory's Court, and with
blest souls have room !
THE PREFACE
Sad Experience confirms, what the Ancient of Days foretold ; that the last times shall be worst : for, in this dot- age of the world (where Atheism stands at the right hand of Profaneness, and Superstition on the blind side of Ignorance ; where there is unmerci- ful oppression, and overmerciful con- nivence, her beloved favourites (who are of past things mindless, of future regardless, having different opinions, yet but one Religion, Money, one Cjod, Mammon) do laugh at others, who fall not down, and worship the Golden Image that secular Nabucho- donosors have set up ; but let them, who think themselves safe in the herd, being night-wildered in their intellects, prosecute their sensuality, which will soon, like Dalila, put out their eyes; for earthly complacencies and ex- terior gaieties are not only chaft' in the hand, Vanity, but also chaff in the eye, Vexation of Spirit, How art thou,
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foolish World, loaden with sin, fond of trifles, neglecting objects fit for Chris- tians, fit for men ! Could thy minions consider, that thou canst give but what thou hast, a smoke of Honour, a shadow of Riches, a sound of Pleasure, a blast of Fame, which can neither add to length nor happiness of life ; that thy whole self art an overdear bargain, if bought of the Devil, at the expense of a deadly sin, when as sudden chance or sickness may snatch and rend them hence in a moment, they would not then so madly rant it as they do, but court sobriety, being aware of the dangers that proceed from, and wait upon the abused opulency of an indul- gent fortune, whose caresses are apt to swell into exorbitances of spirit, and run wildly into dissoluteness of man- ners. But, for want of circumspection, men grow covetous as Jewish mer- chants, ambitious as Eastern poten- tates, factious as the giddy multitude.
Preface
revengeful as jealousy, and proud as usurpers ; though soon such swallowed baits dissolve into a gaily bitterness ; ■wherefore, it were highly to be wished, that in the midst of theirextravagancies they would ponder, that nothing is more unhappy than the felicity of sin- ners, who prosper as if they were the beloved of GOD, when, indeed, by His patience they are only (probably) hardened to their more dreadful de- struction ! How, how will eternal anguish be aggravated by temporary past happiness ! If we contemplate what unspeakable torments are for ever there, we should have no cause to envy Worldlings prosperity, but rather wonder that their portion on earth is not greater, and that ever they should be sensible of sickness, affront or trouble ; since, if their fortunateness should far exceed their ambition, it could not any way recompense that torture for an hour, which yet shall hold to the duration of an infinite Eternity I wh'en as all the play and pageantry of earth is ever changing, and nothing abides but the stage of the world, and the Spectator GOD. That bliss is not true of whose Eternity we may doubt. View then, Christian reader, the folly of ill counsel unmasked; and demonstrated that all policy is wretched without piety, without Scrip- tural wisdom, without Christ the Essential Wisdom ; and that all ini- quity has so much of justice in it, that it usually condemns, yea leads it- self to execution ; witness Absolon's head, Achitophel's hands, and the surrender of Caesar's citadel, (sum- moned by Judgement's herald, and all his glory's cobweb-guard yielded to the storm) just before the statue of Pompey, whose ruin he had so am- bitiously puisued. Would then any wise man choose to be Caesar for his glory, Absolon for his beauty, Achito- phelforhis policy, Dives lor his wealth, or Judas for his office ? Seeing then that happiness consists not in the afifluence of exorbitant possessions, nor in the humours of fickle honour, all external splendours being unsatis- factory, let Christians neglect terres- trial vanities, and retire into the re- cesses of Religion, nothing being so great in human actions as a pious
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knowing mind, which disposeth great things, and may yield such permanent monuments, as bring felicity to man- kind above the founders of empires ; being an Antepast to the overflowing Feasts of Eternity. Man endued with altitude of wisdom, in the sweetness of conscience and height of virtue, is of all creatures sub-angelical the Almighty's masterpiece, the image of his Maker, a candidate of Divinity, and model of the universe ; who, in holy colloquies, whisperings, and secret conferences with GOD, finds Him a torrent of pleasure, a fountain of hon- our, and an inexhaustible treasure ; whose divine life is a character of the Divine Nature, by taking GOD for the text, Truth for the doctrine, and Holi- ness for the use, without which the highest endowments of the most refined wit are but the quaint magic of a learned lunacy. Most wretched therefore are they, beyond all syno- nyms of misery, whose undisciplined education leaves them unfurnished of skill to spend their time in anything, but what in the prosecution of sin tends to death ; wealth and greatness rendering them past reproof, even ready to tempt their very tempter ; whereby they are wholly inclined to sensualities, being in their entertain- ments commonly intemperate, in their drink humorous, their humours quarrel- lous, their duels damnable, concluding a voluptuous and brutish life in a bloody and desperate death, preferring the Body before the Soul, Sense before the Spirit, Appetite before Reason ; temporary fooleries, fantastic visits, idle courtships, gay trifles, fascinating vanities (as if the pleasure of life were but the smothering of precious time in those things, which are mere putfs in expectation, vanity in enjoyment, and vexation of spirit in departure) before solid goodness, and eternal exultations. To divert thee, therefore, from such shelves of indiscreet vice, and to direct thee to the safe and noble channel of virtue, even to faith with good works, to piety with compassion, to zeal with charity, and to know the end which distinguisheth thee from a beast, and to choose a good end, which differenceth thee from an evil man, be so much thine own friend as to peruse seriously this
Edward Benlowes
spiritual poem which treateth on Sub- ccelestials, Ccelestials, and Supercosles- tials, whereby a delightful curiousness may steal thee into the pleasure of Good- ness. Know then that Sub-coelestials, or Sublunaries, have their assignment in the lowest portion of the universe, and being wholly of a corporeal nature do enjoy spiritual gifts, the chief of which is life, by loan only ; where there is no generation without corruption, no birth without death. From the surface of the earth to the centre is 3,436 miles, the whole thickness 6,872 miles, the whole compass 2 1 ,600 miles ; from its centre to the moon is 3,924,912 miles. Now Ccelestials, or aethereal bodies, are seated in the middle, which, participating of a greater portion of perfection, impart innumer- able rare virtues, and influential efifi- cacies to things below, not enduring a corruption, only subject, having obtained their period, to change. The glorious projection and transfusion of aethereal light, both of the sun and of the stars of the six magnitudes, con- stitute, by astronomical computation, more than 300 suns upward to the Empyrean Heaven. A star in the Equator makes 12,598,666 miles in an hour, which is 209,994 miles in a minute, a motion quicker than thought. Super-coelestials are intelligencies, al- together spiritual and immortal, excel- lent in their beings, intuitive in their conceptions ; such as are the glorious quire of the Apostles, the exulting number of the Prophets, the innumer- able armyof crowned Martyrs, triumph- ing Virgins, charitable Confessors, &.C., or the blessed hierarchy of Angels, participating somewhat of God and man ; having had a beginning as man, and now being immortal with GOD, having their immortality for His sempi- ternity ; void of all mixture, as is God, and yet consisting of matter and form as doth man ; subsisting in some subject and substance as doth man, yet being incorporeal, as is GoD ; they having charity, impassibility, subtility, and agility, having under- standing without error, light without darkness, joy without sorrow, will with- out perturbation, impassibility without corruption ; pure as the light, ordained to serve the Lord of Light. They are
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local and circumscribed by place, as is man ; yet are they in a place not properly by way of circumscription, but by way of definition ; though they cannot be in several places at once, yet are they able in a moment to be anywhere, as GOD always is every- where ; of admirable capacity and knowledge, resembling GoD ; yet ignorant of the Essence of GOD, much less see they all things in It, in that like man. Even these incorporeal substances would pine and starve, if an all-filling, and infinitely all-sufifi- cient and superabundant GOD were not the object of their high contem- plation, whose bliss of theirs is the nearest approach to that Divine Majesty, Who is a true, real, sub- stantial, and essential Nature, sub- sisting of Himself, an eternal Being, an infinite Oneness, the radical Prin- ciple of all things ; whose essence is an incomprehensible light. His power is omnipotency, and his beck an abso- lute act; Who, before the Creation, was a book rolled up in Himself, having light only in Himself; Who is a Spirit existent from everlasting to everlasting ; One Essence, Three Subsistencies ; whose Divine Nature is an essential and infinite Under- standing, which knows all things actually always ; which cannot possibly be comprehended by any finite creature, much less by Man grovelling on earth in the mud of error and gross ignor- ance, who are unable by any art or industry to find out the true nature, form and virtue of the least fly or gnat. The whole universe is the look- ing-glass of God's power, wisdom, and bounty ; He loves as Charity, knows as Truth, judges as Equity, rules as Majesty, defends as Safety, works as Virtue, reveals as Light, tSic. He is a never deficient Brightness, a never weary Life, a Spring ever-flowing, the Principle of Beginning, &c. If any creature knew what God is, he should be God; for none knoweth Him but Himself, Who is good without quality, great without quantity, present without place, everlasting without time; Who by a body is nowhere, by energy every- where, above all by power, beneath all by sustaining all, without all by com- passing all, within all by penetrating
Pf^eface
all, being absent seen, being present invisible ; of Whom to speak, is to be silent, Whom to value is to exceed all rate, Whom to define, is still to in- crease in definition ; Infiniteness being the right Philosopher's stone, which turns all metals into gold, and one dram of it being put, not only to a Seraphin, or to a whole element, but even to the least gnat in the world, or the least mote in the sun, is offeree to make it true and very GOD : For, first, It maketh it to be the first Essence, derived from none other. 2. It maketh it to be but One, because there can- not be two Infinites ; where there are two, there is division ; where division, there is end of one, and beginning of another, and so no Infinite. 3. It maketh the subject to be immaterial, for no matter can be infinite ; for, a body is contained, and, if contained, not infinite ; being without matter, it is also without passion ; for, sola materia paiitur : and so becometh also immutable, for there can be no change without passion. 4. It maketh a thing to be immoveable, for whatsoever moveth hath bounds, but in Infinite there is no bounds. 5. The Infinite Thing is simple, for in composition there is division and quality, and so by consequent limits. Thus, Infinite- ness distinguisheth from all creatures, and is first primary without cause, but existing absolutely in Himself, and of Himself, and is to all other things the cause and beginning, yet not diminish- ing Him, having all their essence, but no part of His Essence from Him. But oh, here the most superlative expres- sions of eloquence are no other than mere extenuations. I tread a maze, and thread a labyrinth on hills of ice, where, if I slip, I tumble into heresy ; I am with St. Peter in the deep, where, without the Hand of Power, I should sink eternally, and be swallowed up by the bottomless gulf. The prosecution of this argument were fitter for the pens of Angels, than for the sons of corruption ; whereof we may say, that if all should be written of Infiniteness, not only the whole world, but even Heaven itself would not suffice to hold the books which should be written. I satisfy my incapacity with rejoicing in God's incomprehensibility. And
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now, descending from these amazing heights, know, reader, that Divine Poesy is the internal triumph of the mind, rapt with St. Paul into the third heaven, where she contemplates in- effables : 'tis the sacred oracles of faith put into melodious anthems that make music ravishing, no earthly jubilation being comparable to it. It discovers the causes, beginnings, progress, and end of things, it instructeth youth, comforteth age, graceth prosperity, solaceth adversity, pleaseth at home, delighteth abroad, shorteneth the night, and refresheth the day. No star in the sphere of Wisdom outshines it : Natural Philosophy hath not anything in it which may satisfy the soul, be- cause that is created to something more excellent then all Nature ; but this divine rapture chains the mind with harmonious precepts from a di^- vine influence, whose operations are as subtle and resistless as the influence of planets ; teaching mortals to live as in the sight of God, by whom the coverts of the thickest hypocrisy (that white Devil) are most clearly seen through. Now 'tis Judgement begets the strength. Invention the ornaments of a poem ; both these joined form Wit, which is the agility of spirits : vivacity of Fancy in a florid style dis- poseth light and life to a poem, where- in the masculine and refined pleasures of the understanding transcend the feminine and sensual of the eye : From the excellence of Fancy proceed grate- ful similes, apt metaphors, &c. Sub- lime poets are by Nature strengthened, by the power of the mind inflamed, and by divine rapture inspired ; they should have a plentiful stock to set up, and manage it artfully, their concep- tions should be choice, brief, per- spicuous, well-habited. In Scripture Moses, Job, David, Solomon, and others, are famous for employing their talents in this kind. St. Paul like- wise cited three of the heathen poets (whom he calls prophets) as evident convictions of vice, and demonstra- tions of Divinity : viz. Epimenides to the Cretians, Tit. i. 12 K/j/jre? a^X yj/evarai, KaKO. drjpla, yaarepes apyai. Menander to the Corinthians, I Cor.
XV. 33 ^dflpovaiv I'jdr} )(prja6' op.i\iai
KUKai. And Aratus to the Athenians,
Edward Benlowes
Acts xvii. 28 ToC yap Km yevos icrfiiv. From these results I fell in love with our more divine and Christian poesy, observing that in the sayings and writings of our Blessed Saviour and His disciples, there are no less than sixty authorities produced from above forty of David's Psalms. Hence from that high Love, which hath no wea- pons but fiery rays, my spirit is struck into a flame to enter into the secret and sacred rooms of Theology, and, reader, if thou wilt not prejudice thine own charity by miscrediting me, I dare profess, thou wilt neither repent of thy cost or time in reviewing these interval issues of spiritual recreation, which may thus, happily, prove a pleasant lure to thy pious devotion. May likewise thy charity suggest to thy belief, that I have done my best to that end, and if thou thinkest that I have wanted salt to preserve them to posterity, know that the very subject itself is balsam enough to make them perpetual. Delightest thou in a Heroic Poem ? If actions of mag- nanimity and fidelity advancing moral virtue merit the title of heroic, much more may Theophila, a combatant with the world, hell, and her own cor- ruptions, gain an eternal laurel ; whose example and precepts, well followed, will without doubt bring honour, joy, peace, serenity, and hopes full of con- fidence. The Composer hath extracted out of the even mixture of theory and action this cordial water of saving wisdom, by distilling them through the limbeck of Piety, whereof they drink to their soul's health, who not only take it in, as parched earth docs rain, but turn it into nourishment by a spiritual digestion, being made like it Divine. This metrical Discourse of his serious day, to which he was led by instigation of conscience, not titillation of fame, inoculates grafts of reason on the stock of religion, and would have all put upon this important considera- tion, that the life of Nature is given to seek the life of Grace, which bringeth us to the life of Glory ; the obtainment of which is his only aim, being fully persuaded, that as every new star gilds the firmament, and in- creaseth its first glory : so those, who are instruments of the conversion of
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others, shall not only introduce new beauties, but, when themselves shine like other stars in glory, they shall have some reflexions from the light of others, to whose fixing in the orb of Heaven they themselves have been instrumental. He would not run thee out of breath by long-winded strains ; for in a poem, as in a prayer, 'tis vi- gour not length that crowns it ; Ou/c ev rci) /xe-yaXo) ro eii, aW iv rw ev ro/xeya.
TcBci/a ut Ambages pariaftt, nervosa Favorem Sic Brevitas J Labor est non brevis esse brevem.
He wisheth it might be his happiness to meet with such readers, as discern the analogy of Grounds, as well as the knowledge of the letter, and have as well a system of Reason, as the under- standing of Words : yea, such as have judgement and afifections refined, and with Theophila be love-sick too, which love is never more eloquent, than when ventilated in sighs and groans, Heaven's delighted music being in the broken consort of hearts and spirits, the will there accepted for the work, and the desire for desert. Behold here in an original is presented an example of life, with force of pre- cepts, happy who copy them out in their actions ! Indeed examples and precepts are as poems and pictures ; for, as poems are speaking pictures, and pictures are silent poems : so example is a silent precept, and precept a speaking example. And as musick is an audible beauty, and beauty a visible music : so precepts are audible sweets to the wise, and examples silent harmony to the illiterate, who may unclasp and glance on these poems, as on pictures with inadvertency ; yet he who shall contribute to the improve- ment of the author, either by a prudent detection of an error, or a sober communication of an irrefragable truth, deserves the venerable esteem and welcome of a good Angel ; and be who by a candid adherence unto, and a fruitful participation of what is good and pious confirms him therein, merits the honourable entcrt.'iinment of a faithful friend. But he who shall tra- duce him in absence, for what in presence he would seem to applaud,
Preface
incurs the double guilt of flattery and slander ; and he who wounds him with ill reading and misprision, does execution on him before judgement.
Noiv He who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, bring those to everlastifig Life, zvho love the Way, and Truth in sincerity /
The several Cantos
(Praelibation. Humiliation. Restoration. Inamoration. 'Representation. Association. Contemplation. \ Admiration.
/Recapitulation.
Translations ^.
Abnegation. The { Disincantation.
Segregation.
Reinvitation. \Termination.
Be pleased, Reader, first to correct these Typographical Errours.
Acres circuntfert cen/mn licet Argus Ocellos, Non iamen errantes cernat ubique Typos.
At the bottom B 4. Line 20. Read Ecstasies, Pag. i. Stanza i. Strains, p. 54. St. 23. Candescent, p. 76. St. 71. Unbounded, p. 84. St. 25. Thee. p. 106. St. 86. doth most. 132. 31. )ion. p. 144. rectifie the Figures, p. 169. St. 60. repurgat. 173. 90, eversis, 203. 82. For. 214. 1. 12. examines. 217. 1. 7. spkndet. 239. 29. didst, 268. 1. 25. Nectare, ifc.
Pneumato-Sarco-Machia : or Theophila's Spiritual Warfare
The life of a true Christian is a continual conflict ; each act of the good fight hath a military scene ; and our blessed Saviour coming like a Man of War, commands in Chief, under the Father, who hath laid help upon One that is mighty, by anointing Him with the Holy Ghost and with power. This world is His pitched field ; His standard the cross; His colours Blood ; His armour Patience ; His battle Per- secution ; His victory Death. And in mystical Divinity His two-handed sword is the Word and Spirit, which wounds and heals ; and what is shed in this holy war is not blood but Love ;
His trumpeters are Prophets and
Preachers; His menaces Mercies; and His arrows Benefits. When He offers Himself to us, He then invades us ; His great and small shot are volleys
of siy;hs and
when we are
converted we are conquered ; He binds when He embraceth us. In the cords of love He leads us captives ; and kills us into life, when He crucifies the old, and quickens in us the new man. So then here is no death, but of inbred corruptions : no slaughter, but of carnal affections, which being mortified the soul becomes a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable unto GoD.
(3^0
^ Plural in orig,
y
Edward Benlowes
When that great Gen'ralissimo of all
Infernal janissaries shall His legions of temptations raise, enroll, And muster them 'gainst thee, my Soul ; And ranks of pleasures, profits, hon- ours bring, To give a charge on the right wing ; And place his dreadful troops of deadly sins Upon the left, with murth'ring gins : And draw to his main body thousand lusts, And for reserve — wherein he trusts, Shall specious Sanctity's Brigade pro- vide. Whose leader is Spiritual Pride : And having treacherously laid his trains
In ambush, under hope of gains By sinning, as so many scouts, to find Each march andposture of thy mind: Then, Soul, sound an alarm to Faith, and press Thy Zeal to be in readiness ; And levy all thy faculties to serve Thy Chief. Take PrayV for thy reserve Under the conduct of His SPIRIT; see Under the banner that they be
Of thy Salvation's CAPTAIN. Then be sure That all thy outworks stand secure. Yet narrower look into th' indenting line Of thy ambiguous thoughts. Design With constant care a watch o'er every part ; Ev'n at thy Cinque-ports, and thy heart Set sentinels. Let Faith be captain o'er The life-guard, standing at the door Of thy well-warded breast : disloyal Fear That corresponds with Guilt, cashier. Nor let Hypocrisy sneak in and out
Thy garrison, with that spy. Doubt.
The watchword be I MMANUEL. Then
set
Strong parties of thy tears ; and let
Them still to sally forth prepared stand,
And but expect the Soul's command;
Waiting until a blest recruit from High
Be sent, with Grace's free supply.
Thus where the LORD of hosts the van leads, there Triumphant palms bring up the rear.
To My Fancy upon Theophila
Fly, Fancy, Beauty's arched brow.
Darts, wing'd with fire, thence spark- ling flow.
From flash of lightning eye-balls turn ;
Contracted beams of ^ crystal burn.
Waive ^ curls, which Wit gold-tresses calls.
That golden fleece to tinsel falls.
Evade thou peach-bloom cheek- decoys, Where both the roses blend false joys. Press not the two-leav'd ruby gates, Which fence their pearl-portcullis
grates. Suck not the breath, though it return Fragrant, as Phoenix' spicy urn.
Lock up thine ears, and so disarm The magic of enamouring charm. The lilied breasts with violets vein'd Are flow'rs, as soon deflowr'd as
gain'd. Love-locks, perfume, paint, spots dis- praise ; These by the black-art spirits raise.
Garnish no Bristows * with rich mine, Glow-worms are vermin, though they
shine. Should one love-knot all lovelies tie. This one, these all, soon cloy and die. Cupid, as lame as blind, being gone. Live one with Him, Who made thee
one.
' Corrected to ' on ' in my cop3'.
* Orig. 'Wave' : but this is the common spelling for 'waive,' which seems to be rcquiied to match ' Fly' and ' Evade.'
^ Bristol being famous as a stronghold and also for ' diamonds.'
(322 )
Commendatory Poems
Avoid exotic pangs o'th' brain, Nor let thy margent blush a stain. With artful method misc'line^ sow: May judgement with invention grow. Profit with pleasure bring to th' test, Be ore refin'd, before imprest.
Pass forge and file, be point and edge 'Gainst what severest brows allege. Mix balm with ink ; let thy salt heal : T' each palate various manna deal. Have for the wise strong sense, deep
truth : Grand-sallet of choice wit for youth.
Cull metaphors well-weigh'd and clear,
Enucleate mysteries to th' ear.
Be wit stenographied, yet free ;
'Tis largest in epitome.
Fly through Arfs heptarchy, be clad
^Vith wings to soar, but not to gad.
Thy pinions raise with mystic fire. Sometimes 'bove high-roof'd sense as- pire. So draw Theoph'la, that each line, Cent'ring in Heav'n, may seem divine. Her voice soon fits thee for that quire ; W are cind'red by intrinsic fire.
Magnetic Virtue 's in her breast Impregn'd with Grace, the noblest
guest. Who in Love's albo ^ are enroll'd, Unutterable joys behold. Geographers Earth's globe survey, Fancy, Heav'n's astrolabe display.
Six hast thou view'd of Europe's
Courts, Soon, as Ideas, pass'd their sports.
Sense, canst thou parse and construe
bliss? Only souls sanctified know this. Then hackney not, to toys, life's span. The Saint's rear tops the Courtier's van.
In Hope's cell holy hermit be :
Let ecstasies transfigure thee.
There, as Truth's champion, strive
always. To storm Love's tower with hosts of
praise. Keep strong Faith's Court of Guard.
The stars March in battalia to these wars.
Zealous in pray'r besiege the sky. Conquests are crown 'd by constancy : Stand sent'nel at the BRIDEGROOM'S
gates ; Who serve there, reign o'er earthly
states, Rais'd on Devotion's flaming wings Disdain the crackling blaze of things.
No music courts spiritual ears
Like high-tun'd anthems ; this up-
rears Thee, Fancy, rapt through mists of
fears. And clouds of penitential tears ; Eagling 'bove transitory spheres. Till ev'n the Invisible appears.
Divorc'd from past and present toys, 'Spouse New Jerus'lem's future joys ; Be re-baptiz'd in Eye-dew-Fall, Of all forgot, forget thou all.
These acts well kept, commence, and prove
Professor in Seraphic Love.
A Friend's Echo, to his Fancy upon Sacrata
When Fancy bright Sacrata courts, It is not with accustom'd sports ; 'Tis not in prizing of her eyes, To the disvalue of the skies ; Nor robbing gardens of their hue. To give her flow'ry cheeks their due.
II
'Tis not in stripping of the sea For coral, to resign that plea It hath to the vermilion dye. If that her ruddy lips be nigh, Or that I long to see them ope. As if I thence for pearl did hope.
* ' Misc'line ' in various forms = ' mixed seed. ( 323 ) Y 2
' Alhuni ' declined.
Edward Benlowes
III
Nor is't in promising my ears Ratiier to her than to the spheres ; Or that a smile of hers displays As much content as Phoebus' rays, Or that her hand for whiteness shames The down of swans on silver Thames.
IV Let such on these Romances dwell, Who do admire Love's husk and shell. Hark, wanton fair-ones, all your fawns Are Happiness's hapless pawns : With these alone the mind does flag ; Beauty is oft the soul's black bag.
V Pure flames that ravish with their fire, Ascend unmeasurably higher ; Which, after search we find to be In virtue link'd with piety. The radiations of the soul All splendours of the flesh control.
VI
Fond sense, cry up a rosy skin, Sacrata rosied is within : But brighter Theophil behold, Whose vest is wrought with purfled
gold. Love's self in her his flame em- beams, Love's sacrifice Zeal's rapture seems.
VII
Of Paradise before the Fall This Saint is emblematical. Then, Fancy, give her due renown. She 's Queen of Arts ; this book, her crown.
Sacrata turns Castara unto us.
And Benlowes (anagramm'd) Bene-
VOLUS.
Jer. Collier^, M.A. and Fell, of S.John's Coll., Camb.
Non me Palma negata Macrum, data reddet Opimum
A smooth clear vein should have it ^
source From Nature, and have Art but nurse : Which, though it men at Athens feasts, May fight at Ephesus with beasts.
Wits, rudely hal'd to Momus' bar, By braying beasts condemned are. Reason ! How many brutes there be 'Mong men, 'cause not inform'd by thee ?
Vates Poet-Prophet is ; if good. Alike both scorn'd, and understood. Though readers' censure's writers' fate,
Spleen sha'nt contract, nor praise dilate.
Or clap, or hiss. The moon sails
round, Though bark'd at by each yelping
hound. The brighter she, the more they bark ; But slumb'ring quetch^ not in the dark.
Deign him, bright souls, your piercing
glance, (Art's foes are sons of Ignorance) So, freed from Night's rude overseers, The Poet may be tried by his Peers.
' This is not the famous Jeremy, who was born only two years before Thcophila appeared.
■■' 'It' for 'it's,' as so often.
' 'Quetch,' more usually ' quitch,' 'to move,' ' stir.'
(3H)
Commendatory Poems
A Verdict for the Pious Sacrificer
To shine, and light, not scorch, thy
Muse did aim ; And so hath rais'd this quintessential
flame. By th' salt, and whiteness of her lines,
we think With holy water (tears) she mixt her ink ; And both the fire and food of this chaste
Muse [use.
Is more what Altars, than what Tables
Who does not pray with zeal thy Faith
may move, Rightly concentric with thy Hope and Love .' So, in the Temple these religious
hosts From Hecatombs may rise to Holo- causts.
Walter Montague S Co7n. Manch. Filius.
A Glance at Theophila
Who sacrificM last ? The hallow'd air Seems all ensoul'd with sweet per- fume. Which pleased Heav'ti deigns to assume, The smiling sky appeareth brightly fair ; Was'tnotTHEOPHiLA'sfam'd sire, Say, sacred Priest, obtain'd the holy fire To bless, and burn his victim of sub- lime desire ?
Know, curious mortal, this rare sacrifice. Scarce known to our now-bedrid
age. Was got by Zeal, and holy Rage, And offer'd by Benevolus the wise : For, speckled Craft, and a loose fit Of aguish knowledge, glimm'ring acts beget ; Chaste Piety bears fruit to Wisdom, not to Wit.
No tiger's whelp with blood-be- smear&d jaws, No cub of bears, lick'd into shape, No lustful offspring of the ape, No musky panther with close guileful claws.
No dirty gruntling of the swine, No Hon's whelp of e'er so high design. Is offer'd here : keep off, Unclean ! Here 's all divine.
The chosen wood (as harbinger to all Those future then, now passed
rites) Was Laurel, that guards lightning frights, The weeping Fir, sad Yew for funeral, The lasting Oak, and joyful Vine, The fruitful Fig-tree billets did con- sign ; The peaceful Olive with cleft Juniper did join.
On knees in tears think altar'd Theophil, Incensed with sweet Obedience, Who makes Love's life in death commence, Scaling with heart, hands, eyes, Heav'n's lofty hill : Hercircledhead you might behold Was glorified with burnish'd crown ot gold, Embost with gems ; embrac'd by Angels manifold.
Thus in a fiery chariot up She flies. Perfuming the forsaken earth
1 A rather remarkable person, born about 1603, who died in 1677 after becoming a Roman Catholic, being imprisoned lor Royalism in the Tower, and enjoying the abbacy of St. Martin, at Pontoise.
(325)
Edward Benlowes
(The midwife orbs do help her birth), Into the glory of the Hierarchies. Where ecstasies of joys do grow, Which they themselves eternally do
sow,
But 'tis too high for me to think, or thee to know. Priests thus by hieroglyphic keys Unlock their hidden mysteries.
W. Dennie, Baronet^.
To the Author, upon his Divine Poem
Till now I guess'd but blindly to what
height The Muses' eagles could maintain their
flight ! Though poets are, like eaglets, bred to
soar, Gazing on stars at Heav'n's mysterious
pow'r ; Yet I observe they quickly stoop to
ease Their wings, and perch on palace-pin- nacles : From thence more usefully they Courts
discern ; The Schools where greatness does
disguises learn ; The stages where iShe acts to vulgar
sight Those parts which statesmen as her
Poets write ; Where none but those wise poets may
survey The private practice of her public play ; Where kings, God's counterfeits, reach
but the skill . In studied scenes to act the Godhead
ill: Where cowards, smiling in their closets,
breed Those wars which make the vain and
furious bleed : Where Beauty plays not merely
Nature's part, But is, like Pow'r, a creature form'd by
Art; And, as at first, Pow'r by consent was
made. And those who form'd it did themselves
invade : So harmless Beauty (which has now far
more Injurious force than States' or Mon-
archs' power)
Was by consent of Courts allow'd
Art's aid ; By which themselves they to her sway
betray'd. 'Twas Art, not Nature, taught excessive
power ; Which whom it lists does favour or
devour : 'Twas Art taught Beauty the imperial
skill Of ruling, not by justice, but by will. And, as successive kings scarce seem
to reign. Whilst lazily they empire's weight sus- tain ; Thinking because their pow'r they
native call Therefore our duty too is natural ; And by presuming that we ought [t'J
obey. They lose the craft and exercise of sway : So, when at Court a native Beauty
reigns O'er Love's wild subjects, and Art's
help disdains ; When her presumptuous sloth finds
not why Art In Pow'r's grave play does act the
longest part ; When, like proud gentry, she does
level all Industrious arts with arts mechanical; And vaunts of small inheritance no less Than new States boast of purchas'd
provinces ; Whilst she does every other homage
scorn, But that to which by Nature she was
born : Thus when so heedlessly she lovers
sways. As scarce she finds her pow'r ere it
decays ;
^ Author of The Shepherd'' s Holiday, 1653, and other Poems, which might be included in this Collection if we had room. This piece strikes one as above the ordinary commendatory work.
(326)
Commendatory Poems
Which is her beauty, and which un-
supplied By what wise Art would carefully pro- vide, Is but Love's lightning, and does hardly
last Till we can say it was ere it be past ; Soon then when beauty 's gone she
turns her face, Asham'd of that which was erewhile her
grace ; So, when a monarch's gone, the chair
of State Is backward turn'd where he in glory
sate. The secret arts of Love and Pow'r ;
how these Rule courts, and how those courts rule
provinces. Have been the task of every noble Muse; Whose aid of old nor Pow'r nor Love
did use Merely to make their lucky conquests
known (Though to the Muse they owe their
first renown ; For she taught Time to speak, and ev'n
to Fame, Who gives the great their names, she
gave a name), But they by studying numbers rather
knew To make those happy whom they did
subdue. Here let me shift my sails ! and
higher bear My course than that which moral poets
steer ! For now (best poet !) I divine would be.
And only can be so by studying thee. Those whom thy flights do lead shall
pass no more Through dark'ning clouds when they to
Heav'n would soar ; Nor in ascent fear such excess of light As rather frustrates than maintains the
sight ; For thou dost clear Heav'n's darken'd
mysteries, And mak'st the lustre safe to weakest
eyes. Noiseless, as planets move, thy numbers
flow. And soft as lovers' whispers when they
woo ! Thy labour'd thoughts with ease thou
dost dispense, Clothingin maiden dress a manly sense ; And as in narrow room Elixir lies, So in a little thou dost much comprise. Here fix thy pillars ! which as marks
shall be How far the soul in Heav'n's discovery Can possibly advance; yet, whilst they
are Thy trophies, they but warrant our
despair : For human excellence hath this ill fate, That where it virtue most doth elevate It bears the blot of being singular, And Envy blasts that Fame it cannot
share : Ev'n good examples may so great be
made As to discourage whom they should
P^ ■ Will. Davenant.
Tower, May 13, 1652.
For the Author, truly Heroic, by Blood, Virtue, Learning
Scholar, Commander, Traveller com-
mixt ; Schools, Camps, and C^«r/j raise Fame,
and make it fixt. Your fame and feet have Alps and
Oceans past : [Envy blast.
Fam'd feet ! which Art can't raise, nor
Beaie7)umi diVid Fletcher coin'd a golden
way, [play.
T' express, suspend, and passionate a
( 327 )
Nimble and pleasant are all motions
there, For two intelligences rul'd the sphere.
Both sock and buskin sunk with them,
and then Davenant a.nd Denham buoy'd them up
agen. Beyond these pillars some think
nothing is : Great Britain's wit stands in a precipice.
Edward Ben low es
But, Sir, as though Heav'n's Straits
discover'd were. By science of your card, Unknowns
appear : Sail then with prince of wits, iUustrious
Dtinne ^, Who rapt earth round with Love, and
was its sun.
But your first love was pure : whose
ev'ry dress Is inter-tissu'd Wit and Holiness ; And mends upon itself; whose streams
(that meet \\'ith Sands' - and Herbert's) grow more
deep, more sweet.
I, wing'd with joy, to th' Praeliba-
TION fly ; Thence view I Error's Tragi-comedy : With Theophil from fear to faith
I rise, The mys'ic Bridge, 'twixt Hell and
Paradise.
Hell scap't seems double Heav'n :
Renew'd, with bands Of pray'rs, vows, tears, with eyes, and
knees, and hands, 1 see her cope with Heav'n, and
Heav'n does thence. As in the Baptist's days, feel violence.
But her ecstatic SONGS OF LovE declare,
Ho Jedidiah she's apparent heir.
Be those then next, The SONG OF Songs. Love styles
'B.er fourth, The Second Book of Can- ticles.
But with what dreadful yet delightful
tones She sings when glorified! then,
stingless drones Are Death and Hell : Joy's crescent
then 's increast. To fullest lustre, at her Bridal Feast.
Sixth, sev'nth, and eighth such ban- quets' frame would make
Wisdom turn Cormorant ; my spirits shake
V th' reading. Soul of joy ! thy ravish- ing sp'rit
Draws bed-rid minds to longing appetite.
* Donne.
Fame, wTite with gold on diamond
pages ; treat Upon the glories of a work so great. Be V then enacted, that all Graces
dwell In Thee Theoph'la, Virtue's Chro-
?ticle :
Who gemm'st it in Jerusalem above, Where all is Grace and Glory, Light
and Love. To that Unparallel this comes so
near, That, 'tis a glimpse of Heav'n to read
thee here.
O, blest Ambition ! Speculations high Enchariot thee, Elijah-like, to the
sky! What state worth envy, like thy sweet
abode, That overtops the world, and mounts
to God?
Walkt through your Eden stanzas, you
invite Our ravisht souls to recreate with
delight, In bow'r of compt discourse : great
verse, but prose Such, none but our great Master could
compose.
For bulk, an easy Folio is this all ; Yet we a volume may each Canto
call. For solid matter : where we should
consult On paragraphs, mark what does thence
result :
For, every period 's of Devotion proof,
And each resolve is of concern'd be- hoof.
Peruse, examine, censure ; oh, how bright
Does shine Religion, chequer'd with delight !
Diffusive Soul ! your spirit was soar- ing, when
This manna dew'd from your inspired pen.
Such melting passions of a soul divine,
Could they be cast in any mould but thine .''
^ George Sandi's.
Comme7tclatory Poems
Wonder arrests our thought ; that you
alone In suchcombustions, wherein thousands
groan, (And when some sparkles of the public
flame Seiz'd on your private state, and scorcht
the same)
Could warble thus. Steer ships each pilot may
Those ladies, Sir, we virtuosas
call. But copies are to this original ; Whose charming empire of her grace
does sense Astonish by a super-excellence.
And, \\\i&a.s Midas'' touch made gold:
so, thus Theophila's touch may make
Theophilus.
Zcuxes cuU'd out perfections of each
sort For his Pandora; yet did all come
short As far of this embellishment as she
In calms ; but whoso can in stonny
day May justly domineer. But what may
daunt Him, who, like mermaids, thus in
storms can chant t Grace crowns the suffering, Glory the
triumphing Saint.
Th. Pestil,
Regi quondam a Sacris.
Had been limn'd out in Painting's
infancy. For, magisterial virtue draws no
grace Fromcorp'ral limbs, or features of the
face.
Here Heav'n-born SuadaS ^ star-like,
gild each dress Ofthe Bride Soulespous'd to Happiness, Here Piety informs poetic art ; As all in all, and all in every part. For all these died not with fam'd
Cartwf-ight, though A score of poets join'd to have it so. T. Benlowes, a. M.
For the much honoured Author
The winged Intellect once taught to fly By Art and Reason, may be bold to pry Into the secrets of a wand'ring star, Although its motions be irregular : And from the smiles and glances that
those bright Corrivals cast, that do embellish night, Guess darkly at, though not directly
know, The various changes that fall here be- low. And perching on the high'st perimeter, May find the distances of every sphere. Which in full orbsdomove, tunicledso That the less spheres within the greater
As cell in cell, spun by the dying fly ; Or ball in ball, turn'd in smooth ivory. Each hath a prince circled upon a
throne. In a refulgent habitation.
Only the constellations seem to be
Like nobles, in an aristocracy.
Their Milky Way like Innocence, and thus
Should all great actions be diaphanous.
But the great Monarch, Light, dis- poses all :
His stores are magazine, and festival :
And by his pow'r Earth's epicycle may
Move in a silver sphere, as well as they.
Else, her poor little orb appears to be
A very point to their immensity.
Thus strung, like beads, they on their centres move ;
But the great centre of this all, is Love. Though the brute creatures by the height of sense
Foretell their calm and boisterous influence.
Yet to find out their motions is man's part,
* ' Suada' or ' Suadela," one of the subsidiary goddesses of Love and Marriage, who ' persuades ' the Beloved.
( 329 )
Edward Benlowes
Not by the help of Nature, but of Art, Which rarefies the soul, and makes it
rise, And sees no farther than that gives it
eyes. And by that prospect will directly tell What regions stoop to every parallel. Which cities furred are with snow,
which lie Naked, and scorch'd under Heav'n's
canopy. How men, like cloves stuck in an
orange, stand Still upright, with their feet upon the
land. And where the seas oppos'd to us do
flow, Yet quench they not that heat where
spices grow. It sees fairMorning's risingneck beset With orient gems, like a rich carcanet. W^ho every night doth send her beams
to spy In what dark caves her golden trea- sures lie : And there they brood and hatch the
callow race. Till they take vving, and fly in every
place. It sees the frozen Fir shrouding its
arms. While Cocus trees are courted with
blest charms, That swell their pregnant womb : whose
issue may Sweeten our world, but that they die
by th' way. It sees the Seasons lying at the door, Some warm and wanton, and some cold
and poor ; And knows from whence they come,
both foul and fair. And from their presence gilds, or soils
the air. It sees plain Nature's face, how rude
it looks Till it be polished by men and books: And most of her dark secrets can dis- cover To open view of an industrious lover, whatever under Heav'n's great
throne we prize Orvalue, in Art's chamber-practice lies. But when before the Almighty Judge
he come To speak of IIlM, my Orator is dumb. Go then, thou silenced Soul, present
thy plea
( 11^ )
By the fair hand of sweet Theophila. Hap'ly thy harsh and broken strains
may rise In the perfume of her sweet sacrifice ; And if by this access thou find'st a way To th' highest THRONE, alas ! what
canst thou say ? What can the bubble (though its breath
it bring Upon the gliding stream) say of the
spring .'' Can the proud painted flow'r boast
that it knows The root that bears it, and whereon it
grows ? Or can the crawling worm, though
ne'er so stout, With its meand'rings find the centre
out ? Can Infinite be measur'd by a span ? And what art thou, less than all these,
O man ? Man is a thing of nought I yet from
above There beams upon his soul such rays
of love, As may discover by FaitJCs optic,
where The Burning Bush is, though not see
Him there. The meekest man on earth did only see His shadow shining there, it was not
He, And if that great soul, who with holy
flame. And ravish'dspirit to the Third Heav'n
came. Saw things unutterable, what can we Express of those things that we ne'er
did see ? The Senses' strongest pillars cannot
bear The weight of the least grain of glory
there. No more than where to bound, or com- prehend Infinity, they can begin, or end.
Since then the Soul is circumscrib'd
within The narrow limits of a tender skin ; Let us be babes in innocence, and grow Strong upwards, and more weak to
things below. By sacred chemistry, the spirit must Ascend and leave the sediment to dust. This cordial is distilled from the eyes. And we must sprinkle 't on the sacri- fice:
Comme7idatory Poems
Ofifer'd i' th' virtue of Theoph'LA'S
name. Which must be to it holocaust and
flame. Then, wing'd with Zeal, we may aspire
to see
The hallow'd Oracles exprest by THEE, Who art Love'S Flai?ien, and with
Holy fire Refin'st thy Muse, to make her mount
the higher.
Arth, Wilson.
For the Renowned Composer
A Poet's ashes need nor brass, nor
stone To be their wardrobe ; since his name
alone Shall stand both brass and marble to
the tomb. Nor doth he want the cere-cloth's
balmy womb T' enwrap his dust, until his drowsy
clay Again enliven'd by an active ray. Shot from the last day's fire, shall
wake, and rise, Attir'd with Light. No ; when a
Poet dies. His sheets alone wind up his earth.
They'll be Instead of Mourner, Tomb, and Obse-
quy; And to embalm it, his own ink he
takes : Gum Arabic the richest mummy
makes. Then, Sir, you need no obelisk, that
may Seclude your ashes from plebeian
clay. For, from your mine of Fancy now we
see Y' have digg'd so many gems of Poesy, That out of them you raise a glorious
shrine, In which your ever-blooming name
will shine ; Free from th' eclipse of age, and
clouds of rust, Which are the moths to other com- mon dust. Then, could we now collect th' all-
worshipt ore,
With which kind Nature paves the Indian shore ;
And gather to one mass that stock of spice,
Which copies out afresh old Paradise,
And in the Phoenix' od'rous nest is pent.
All would fall short of this rich monu- ment. About the surface of whose verge, you stick
So many fragrant flow'rs of Rhetoric
That lovers shall approach in throngs, and seek
With their rich leaves t' adorn each beauty's cheek;
So that these sacred trophies will be- come
In after-times your altar, not your tomb.
To which the poets shall m well-dressed lays.
Offer their victims, with a grove of bays. For here among these leaves, no speckled snake,
Or viper doth his bed of venom make :
No lust-burnt goat, nor looser Satyr weaves
His cabin out, among these spotless leaves. A virgin here may safely dart her eye,
And yet not blush for fear, lest any by
Should see her read. These pages do dispense
A julep, which so charms the itch of sense,
That we are forc'd to think your guilt- less quill
Did, with its ink, the turtle's blood distil.
T. Philipot.
( 331 )
Edward Be7ilowes
Pietatis, Poeticesque, Cultori
Igne cales tali, quali cum Nuncius
Ora Seraphicus sacro tetigit Carbone
Prophetae. Macte Dei plenum Pectus ; Te his
dedito Flammis, Sancte Pdetarum Phoenix ! Repara-
bilis Ignis Te voret hie Totum ; Quo plus con-
sumeris Illo, Hoc magis ^Eterno Tu consummaberis
yEvo,
Incipe Censuri major, qui Fonte
Camtenas Idalias tingis casto ; Tua Metra
Sionem Parnasso jungunt celebri ; tam digna
Lituris Nulla canis, qukm sunt omni dignis-
sima Laude. Theiophilam resonare docens Modu-
lamine diam, Impia priscorum lustrasti Carmina
Vatum.
Perge, beatifico correptus Numine,
Perge, Vivida felici fundendo Poemata
Flatu, Pectore digna tuo, COELI penetrare
Recessus : Et, quK densa tegit Nubes, Mysteria
claro Lumine perlustra, solito non concite
Plectro, Quaslibet altisono prosterne Piacula
Versu.
Perfice, terrenum transcende, Poeta,
Cacumen : Conversus converte Vagos ; Quos
decipit Error Incautos, Meliora doce; Britonesque
bilingues Lingua fac erudiat Britonum, sit
quanta superbi Pectoris Ambitio et Veri Caligo ;
Camsenis Subdola vesani depinge Sophismata
Secli. Jo. Gaudentius, S.T.D.
In Sanctos Theophilae Amores
ViX mihi Te vidisse semel concessit Apollo, Inque tuo pictam Carmine Theiophi- lam : Ouum gemino Ipse miser, sed fortu- natus Amore Deperii ; dubius sic Ego factus Amans. Cur Dubius ? Fallor. Nam, quamvis partibus acquis, Igne simul duplici me novus urat Amor, Afficitur tamen Objecto, atque unitur in uno, Totaque divisis una Favilla manet. Ne, Lector, mircre ; Novum est. Sed protinus Ignes, Si sine felle legas, experiere meos. Theiophila ! In cunctis Prascellentis- sima Nymphis ; Nominisad Famam quot Tibi Corda cadent !
(332 )
Corporis, Ingeniique Bonis dotata triumphas, Binaque cum summa Laude, Tro- phasa geris. Docte, Tibi teternas quales Specta- cula Chartie, Ouotque Ilii efficient Pagina docta Procos I Sexus uterque pari, visa Hac, ardebit Amore ; Hacque frui ex aequo Sexus uterque volet. Ne vereare tamen, Cuncti licet Oscula figant Theiophilas,ne sit casta, vel una Tibi. FaniEe Ejus nil detrahitur si publica liat { Hanc ut ament Omnes, Nil Tibi, Amice, perit. Tu solus Domina dignus censeberis Ilia, 111am qui solus pingere dignus eras. P. DE CARDONEL.
Latin Comme?idatory Poems
In celeberrimam Theophilam, feliclter
elucubratam
Anne novi, veterisve prius Monumenta
revolvam Ingenii : et Tragicos superantia
Scripta Cothurnos, Atque Sophoclceis numerari digna Tri-
umphis ? Ou^m bene vivificis depingitur
Artibus Echo ? Qukm bene monstriferas Vitiorum
discutis Hydras? Carminibusque in doces quantum pec-
caverit yEvum ? Quanta Polucephalis repserunt Agmina
Sectis ? Sphinge Theologica quje dia Poemata
pangis ? Mira et Vera canens, nodosa ^nig-
mata solvis. Nee vit?e pars uUa perit, nee tran-
sigis unam Ingratam sine Luce Diem ; dum
pervigil Artes Exantlas, avidisque bibis Permessida
Labris. [catus Eoo,
Jamque, velut primo Phoenix revo-
Apparet nostris nova Sponsa Theo-
phila Terris. Illius h roseis flammatur Purpura malis ; Et Gemmis Lux major adest, et
blandius Aurum
A Calamo, Benlose, tuo ; dum Dotibus
amphs Excolis, Ingeniique Opibus melioribus
ornas. Lactea Ripheas praecellunt Colla
Pruinas ; Fronte Decor radiat, sanctoque Mode- st ia Vultu ; Suada verecundis et Gratia plena
Labellis Assidet, et casti Mores imitata Poetas, Te Moderatorem fusis amplectitur
Ulnis. Hisce Triumphatrix decorata Theo-
phiLi Gemmis, Celsior assurgit, Mundumque nitentior
intrat Virgineis comitata Choris ; Quam
Tramite longo Agmina Cecropiis stipant Heliconia
Turmis. Non ahter quoties adremigat
yEquoris Undas Fraenatis Neptunus Equis, fluit ocyus
Antris Nereidum Gens tota suis, Dominumque
salutant, Blandula caeruleo figentes Oscula
Collo.
P. F.
Qui Virtutes Theo[p]hilae praedicat, Religioni non Gloriae studeat. Noverim Te, Domine, noverim me .
Laudis in Oceano me submersistis, Amici : [patet.
Maxima pars Decoris me nihil esse, Laus, famulare Deo, submissi Victima Cordis Est Hecatombceis anteferenda Sacris. Christe, meas da par ut sit mea Vita Camaeuce ; Sim neque Laus Aliis prodiga, parca TiBI.
( 333)
O'ercome me not with your perfumes, O Friends ! My greatest worth, to show I'm nothing, tends. Praise, wait on Heav'n. Th' Host of an humble heart Excels the sacred hecatombs oi Art. Grant, LORD, my life may parallel my lays ! They me too much, I Thee too little, praise.
Edward Benlowes
In Divinos Poetas
Sancto Sancta Columba Musa Vati. Parnassus superte Cacumen ^thras. Christ! Gratia Pegasus supremus. Vati Castalis Unda Dius Imber. Pennam dat Seraphin suis ab
Alis. Agni scribitur Optimi Cruore.
Vati Bibliotheca Sphasra Coeli.
Vitas h Codice foenerans Medullam,
Internes penetrat Poli Recessus.
O, Conamina fructuosiora !
O, Solamina delicatiora !
Per Qu£e creditur Angelus Poeta,
Patronusque pio Deus Poetas !
On Divine Poets
A HALLOw'd Poet's Muse is th' Holy
Dove. Parnassus th' Empyrean Height above. Hislofty-soaring Pegasus Christ's Love. Heav'n's Show'r of Grace is his Casta-
lian spring. A Seraphin lends pen from his own
wing. His ink is of the best Lamb's purple
dye. To Him Heav'n's sphere is a vast
library.
Rais'd by th' advantage of th' Eternal
Book, His piercing eye ev'n into Heav'n
does look. O, what endeavours can more fruitful
be! What comforts can we more delightful
see ! By which the poet we an Angel
deem; Yea, God to's sacred Muse does
Patron seem.
Ergo brevi stringam Coelestia Cantu
Aiming to profit, as to please, we bring No usual hawk to try her wing. Come, come Theoph'la, fresh as May: Hark how the falc'ner lures ! This is Love's Holy-Day.
Her stretch is for Devotion's quarry, which Mounts up her Zeal to eagle-pitch :
Cheerthouherpresenttim'rous flight, Whilst she thus cuts with wing the driving rack of height.
From thence, 'bove sparkling stars, she'll spritely move, Her plumes of Faith being prun'd
by Love. As Grace shall imp her pinion, more, Or IcFS, she will, or flag, or 'bove v.-hat 's mortal, soar \
^ Of these later pieces Davenant's has not only the most famous author but the most striking interest from contrast of style. Pestil f-cll) was a Cambridge man who contributed to Lacrymae Musarum. If Arthur Wilson is the A. W. who died in the j'car of our book he was a man of some mark. T. PhiI[i]pot was a 'miscellaneous writer ' ; ' Gaudentius ' the famous ' editor ' of Eikon Dasilike ; Cardonel probably the father of Marlborough's secretary. Of T. Benlowes and P. F. I know nothing.
( 334)
THEOPHILA
THE PRELIBATION TO THE SACRIFICE
Canto I
THE ARGUMENT
Spes alit occiduas qui Sublunaribus hseret ;
Rivales Jesus non in Amore sinit. Quid mihi non sapiat Terra, mihi dum sapit ^ther?
Sed sapiet, sapias ni mihi, Christe, nihil.
Awake, arise, Love's steersman, and first taste
Delight; sound that; ere anchor's cast On Joy ; steer hence a pray'rful course to Heav'n at last.
STANZA I
Might souls converse with souls, by
Angel-way, Enfranchis'd from their pris'ning
clay, What strains by intuition, would
they then convey !
11 But,Spirits,sublim'dtoofast,evap'rate may. Without some interpos'd allay ; And notions, subtiliz'd too thin, ex- hale away.
Ill The Gold (Sol's child) when in Earth's womb it lay As precious was, though not sogay. As, when refin'd, it doth itself abroad display.
IV
Mount, Fancy, then through orbs to Glory's sphere lo
(Wild is the course that ends not there) :
You, who are Virtue's friends, lend to her tongue an ear.
V
Let not the wanton love-fights, which may rise
( 335 )
From vocal fifes, flame-darting eyes (Beauty's munition), hearts with wounds unseen surprise :
VI
Whose basilisk-like glances taint the
air
Of virgin pureness, and ensnare Entangled thoughts i' th' trammels of their ambush-hair.
VII
Love's captive view, who 's days in
warm frosts spends ; u)
On 's idol dotes, to wit pretends ;
Writes, blots, and rends ; nor heeds where he begins or ends.
VIII
His stock of verse in comic frag- ments lies : Higher than Ten'riff 's Peak he flies :
Sol 's but a spark ; thou outray'st all diamonds of the skies.
IX
'Victorious flames glow from thy
brighter eye ; Cloud those twin-lightning orbs
(they'll fry An ice-vein'd monk), cloud them,
or, planet-struck, I die.
Edward Bejilowes
[Canto I
' Indians, pierce rocks for gems ; negroes, the brine For pearls ; Tartars, to hunt com- bine
For sables ; consecrate all offrings at her shrine. 30
XI
' Crouch low, O vermeil-tinctur'd
cheek ! for, thence The organs to my optic sense Are dazzled at the blaze of so
bright angelence.'
XII
Does Troy-bane Helen (friend)
with angels share ? All lawless passions idols are : Frequent are fuco'd cheeks ; the
virtuosa 's rare :
XIII
A truth authentic. Let not skin- deep white And red, perplex the nobler light
O' th' intellect ; nor mask the soul's clear piercing sight.
XIV
Burn odes, Lust's paperplots ; fly plays, its flame ; 40
Shun guileful courtisms ; forge for shame
No chains ; lip-trafific and
dialogues disclaim.
XV
eye-
Hark how the frothy, empty heads
within Roar and carouse i' th' jovial sin. Amidst the wild Levaltos on their
merry pin !
XVI
Drain dry the ransack'd cellars, and
resign Your reason up to riot, join Your fleet, and sail by sugar rocks
through floods of wine :
XVII
Send care to Dead Sea of phleg- matic age ; 49 Ride without bit your restive rage ;
And act your revel-rout thus on the tippling stage.
XVIII
' Swell us a lustybrimmer, — more, —
till most ; So vast, that none may spy the
coast : We'll down with all, though therein
sail'd Lepanto's host :
XIX
' Top and top-gallant hoise ; we
will outroar The bellowing storms, though
shipwrackt more Healths are, than tempting'st sirens
did enchant of yore.
XX
' Each gallon breeds a ruby ; — drawer, score 'um ; Cheeks dyed in claret seem o' th' quorum,
When our nose-carbuncles, like link- boys, blaze before 'um.' 60
XXI
Such are their ranting catches, to unsoul, And outlaw man ; they stagger, roll, Their feet indent, their sense being drunk with Circe's bowl.
XXII
Entombed souls ! Why rot ye thus
alive, Meltingyoursalttolees? and strive To strangle Nature, and hatch Death ?
Healths, health deprive.
XXIII
The sinless herd loathes your sense- stifling streams, When long spits point your tale : ye breams
In wine and sleep, your princes are but fumes, and dreams.
41 courtisms] -^ 'ceremonies of courtship.' 68 breams] = ' fish ' chosen for rhyme merely different.
(336)
see the Latin, p. 411, 1. 68, which is
Canto I] TheophHu : T'/ie Prelibation
XXIV
I'd rather be preserv'd in brine, than
rot 70
In nectar. Now to dice they're got :
Their tables snare in both ; then what can be their shot ?
XXV
Yet blades will throw at all, sans
fear, or wit ; Oaths black the night when dice
don't hit ; When winners lose at play, can
losers win by it ?
XXVI
Egypt's spermatic nurse, when her
spread floor Is flow'd 'bove sev'nteen cubits o'er. Breeds dearth : and spendthrifts
waste, when they inflame the
score.
XXVII
Tell me, ye piebald butterflies, who
poise Extrinsic with intrinsic joys ; 80 What gain ye from such short-liv'd,
fruitless, empty toys ?
XXVIII
Ye fools, who barter gold for trash,
report. Can fire in pictures warm ? Can
sport That stings, the mock-sense fill ?
How low 's your Heav'n ! how
short !
XXIX
Go, chaffer Bliss for Pleasure ; which
is had More by the beast, than man ;
the bad Swim in their mirth (Christ wept,
ne'er laugh'd) : the best are sad.
XXX
Brutes covet nought but what's terrene ; Heav'n's quire Do in eternal joys conspire ; Man, 'twixt them both, does inter- mediate things desire. 90
XXXI
Had we no bodies, we were angels ;
and Had we no souls, we were un-
mann'd To beasts : brutes are all flesh, all
spirit the heav'nly band.
XXXII
At first God made them one, thus;
by subjecting The sense to reason; and directing The appetite by th' spirit : but sin,
by infecting
XXXIII
Man's free-born will, so shatters
them, that they At present nor cohabit may Without regret, nor without grief
depart away.
XXXIV
Go, cheating world, that dancest o'er thy thorns ; 100
Lov'st what undoes ; hat'st what adorns :
Go, idolize thy vice, and virtue load with scorns.
XXXV
Thy luscious cup, more deadly than
asp's gall, Empois'neth souls for hell: thou all Time's mortals dost enchant with
thy delusive call.
XXXVI
Who steals from Time, Time steals
from him the prey : Pastimes pass Time, pass Heav'n
away : Few, like the blessed thief, do steal
Salvation's Day.
XXXVII
Fools rifle Time's rich lott'ry : who
misspend 109
Life's peerless gem, alive descend ;
And antedate with stings their never-ending end.
XXXVIII
Whose vast desires engross the boundless land
7a Probably ' table's ' should be read ; and possibly ' share.
(337) Z
Edward Be^tlowes
[Canto I
By fraud, or force ; like spiders stand, Squeezing small flies ; such are their netSj and such their hand.
XXXIX
When Nimrod's vulture-talons par'd
shall be, Their house's name soon changed
you'll see ; For their Bethesda shall be turn'd
to Bethany.
XL
Better destroy'd by law, than rul'd by will; What salves can cure, if balsams kill?
That good is worst that does de- generate to ill. 1 20
XLI
Had not God left the Best within
the power Of persecutors, who devour ; We had nor martyrs' had, nor yet
a Saviour.
XLII
Saints melt as wax, fool's-clay grows
hard at cries Of that scarce-breathing corse,
who lies With dry teeth, meagre cheeks, thin
maw, and hollow eyes.
XLIII
God made life ; give 't to man ; by
opening veins, Death 's sluic'd out, and pleuretic
pains : Make God thy pattern, cure thyself,
alms are best gains.
XLIV
Heav'n's glory to achieve, what
scantling span 130
Hath the frail pilgrimage of man !
Which sets, when risen ; ends, when it but now began.
XLV
Who fight with outward lusts, win inward peace ;
Judgements against self-judges cease : Who face their cloaks with zeal do but their woes increase.
XLVI
The mighty, mighty torments shall endure, If impious : hell admits no cure. The best security is ne'er to be secure.
XLVII
Oaks, that dare grapple with Heav'n's
thunder, sink All shiver'd ; coals that scorch do
shrink 140
To ashes ; vap'ring snuffs expire in
noisome stink.
XLVIII
Time, strip the writhell'd witch ; pluck the black bags From off Sin's grizzly scalp ; the hag's
Plague-sores show then more loath- some than her leprous rags.
XLIX
'Twas she slew guiltless Naboth ;
'twas she curl'd The painted Jezebel; she hurl'd Realms from their centre ; she un-
hing'd the new-fram'd world.
L
Blest then who shall her dash 'gainst
rocks (her groans. Our mirth), and wash the bloody
stones With her own cursed gore ; repave
them with her bones. 150
LI
By Salique law she should not reign :
storms swell By her, which halcyon days dispel : Nought 's left that 's good where she
in souls possest does dwell.
LII
'Twas her excess bred plagues ! in- fecting stars, Infesting dearth, intestine wars
Surfeit with graves the earth, 'mongst living making jars.
128 ' Pleuretic ' sic. in orig. but should be of course < pleun'tic' ( 338 )
Canto I] TheophUa : The Prelihation
LIII
My soul, enkbyrinth'd in grief,
spend years In sackcloth, chamleted with
tears, Retir'd to rocks' dark entrals, court
unwitness'd fears.
LIV
There pass with Heraclite a gentler
age, 1 60
Free from the sad account of rage.
That acts the toilsome world on its tumultuous stage.
LV
There, sweet Religion strings, and tunes, and screws The soul's the orb, and doth infuse Grave Doric epods in th' enthusiastic Muse.
LVI
There, Love turns trumpets into harps, which call Off sieges from the gun-shot wall ; Alluring them to Heav'n, her seat imperial.
Lvn
Thence came our joy, and thence
hymns eas'd our grief; 169
Of which th' angelical was chief ;
' Glory to God ; earth peace ; good
will for man's relief.'
LVIII
Quills, pluck'd from Venus' doves,
impress but shame : Then, give your rhymes to Vulcan's
flame ; He'll elevate your badger feet : he 's
free, though lame.
LIX
I
Old
Things fall, and nothings rise !
Virtue fram'd Honour for Wisdom : Wisdom
fam'd Old Virtue: such times were ! wealth
then Art's page was nam'd.
LX
Lambeth was Oxford's whetstone : yet above Preferment's pinnacle they move,
(339)
Who string the universe, and bracelet it for love. 180
LXI
Virtue's magnific orb inflames their
zeal ; By high-rais'd anthems plagues
they heal ; And threefork'd thunders in
Heav'n's outstretch'd arm repeal.
LXII
Shall larks with shrill-chirpt matins
rouse from bed Of curtain'd night Sol's orient head ? And shall quick souls lie numb'd,
as wrapt in sheets of lead?
LXIII
Awake from slumb'ring lethargy ;
the gay And circling charioteer of day. In 's progress through the azure
fields sees, checks our stay.
LXIV
Arise ; and rising, emulate the rare
Industrious spinsters, who with fair
Embroid'ries checker-work the
chambers of the air. 192
LXY
Ascend ; Sol does on hills his gold
display. And, scatt'ring sweets, does spice
the day, And shoots delight through Nature
with each arrow'd ray.
LXYI
The opal-colour'd dawns raise fancy
high; Hymns ravish those who pulpits
fly; Convert dull lead to active gold
by love-chemy.
LXVII
As Nature's prime confectioner, the
bee, 199
By her flow'r-nibbling chemistry,
Turns vert to or : so, verse gross prose does rarefy.
LXVIII
Pow'rs cannot poets, as they pow'rs up-buoy ;
Z 2
Edward Bejtlowes
[Canto I
Whose soul-enliv'ning charms decoy Each wrinkled care to the pacific sea of joy.
LXIX
As, where from jewels sparkling
lustre darts, Those rays enstar the dusky parts : So, beams of poesy give light, life,
soul to arts.
LXX
Rich poesy ! thy more irradiant gems
Give splendour unto diadems, And with coruscant rays emblaz'st Honour's stems. 210
LXXI
Thee, Muse (Art's ambient air. In- vention's door, The stage of wits) both rich and poor
Do court. A prince may glory to become thy wooer.
LXXII
Poets lie entomb'd by kings. Arts
gums dispense ; By rumination bruis'd, are thence By verse so fir'd, that their perfume
enheav'n's the sense.
LXXIII
Its theory makes all wiser, yet few better; Practice is spirit, art the letter;
Use artless doth enlarge, art use- less does but fetter.
LXXIV
Sharp sentences are goads to make
deeds go;
220
Good works are males, words females show : Whose lives act precedents, pre- vent the laws, and do.
LXXV
So far we know, as we obey God; and He counts we leave not His com- mand,
When as our interludes but 'twixt our acts do stand.
LXXVI
Honour's brave soul is in that body
shrin'd, Which floats not with each giddy
wind (Fickleas courtly dress),but Wisdom's
sea does find :
LXXVII
Steering by Grace's pole-star, which is fast In th' apostolic Zodiac plac'd a.t^o Whose course at first four evangelic pilots trac'd :
LXXVIII
The Theanthropic Word ; that
mystic glass Of revelations ; that mass Of oracles ; that fuel of pray'r ;
that wall of brass ;
LXX IX
That print of Heav'n on earth ;
that Mercfs treasure And key ; that evidence and
seizure ; Faith's card, Hope's anchor ; Love's
full sail ; abyss of pleasure.
LXXX
Such saints' high tides ne'er ebb
so low, to shelf Them on the quicksand of their
self- Swallowing corruption : Sin 's the
wrack, they fly that elf, 240
LXXXI
Gloomier than west of death ; than
north of night ; Than nest of triduan blacks,
with fright Which Egypt scar'd when He brought
darkness who made light.
LXXXII
Compar'd to whose storm, thund'r-
ing peals are calm : Compar'd to whose sting, asps
yield balm : Compar'd to whose loath'd charm,
death is a mercy-psalm.
222 Orig. ' Presidents' as often. 236 seizure] In the legal sense.
242 triduan blacks] Characteristic for 'three days' darkness,' or 'mourning,' of.
II. 211.
(340)
Canto I] Tkeop/iHa : The Prelihatio7i
LXXXIII
Her snares escap'd, soar, Muse, to
Him, whose bright Spirit-illuminating sight Turns damps to glorious days ; turns
fogs to radiant light.
LXXXIV
Religion 's Wisdom's study ; that display, 250
Lord, countermand what goes astray ;
And smite the ass (rude Flesh) when it does start or bray.
LXXXV
Soul, thou art less than Mercy's
least ; three ne'er Depart from sin : Shame, Guilt,
and Fear : Fear, Shame, Guilt, Sin are four;
yet all in one appear.
LXXXVI
Crest-fall'n by sin, how wretchedly I stray ! Methinks 'tis pride in me to pray : Heav'n aid me struggling under this sad load of clay.
LXXXVII
No man may merit, yet did One,
we hold ; Who most do vaunt their zeal,
are cold : 260
Thus tin for silver goes with these,
and brass for gold.
LXXXVIII
Renew my heart, direct my tongue,
unseal My hand, inspire my faith, reveal My hope, increase my love, and my
backslidings heal !
LXXXIX
Let language (man's choice glory) serve the mind : Thy Spirit on Bezaleel shin'd : Help, Blood, by faith applied 1 Thy spittle cur'd the blind, xc Turn sense to spirit ; Nature 's chang'd alone
279 magisterial] In the alchemical sense 386 bow 's] The metre requires is in full
(3ft)
By grace ; that is the chemic-stone :
And Thy all-pow'rful Word is pure
projection \ 270
xci
Truth's touchstone, surest rule that
ere was fram'd (Tradition, man's dark map, 's
disclaim'd). The paper burns me not, yet I am
all inflam'd :
xcii For, as I read, such inward splendour glows ; Such life-renevving vigour flows, That all, what's known of Thy most righteous will, it shows :
XCIII
Whose spells make Enoch's walk with Thee; withhold Corruption, and translate ere old :
All Vaticans are dross ; this magi- sterial gold.
xciv Thus, poor numb'd Tartars, when they're brought into 280
Warm Persia's gem-pav'd court, are so Reviv'd, that then they live ; till then half dead with snow.
xcv Good thoughts from Thee infus'd I do derive; Good words effus'd Thou dost me give; Good works diffus'd by Thee, in Thee do live and thrive.
xcvi Nerve-stretching Muse, thy bow 's new strung ; shoot Hymns to the Best, from worst of men ; Make arts thy tributaries, twist heart, tongue, and pen.
'pure' 'precipitated from an admixture.' but the habit of contraction prevailed.
Edward Beniowes
[Canto I
XCVII
But how can Eve's degenerate issue, bent To sin, in its weak measures vent Thy praise : Unmeasurable ! and
Omnipotent
291
XCVIII
Shrubs cannot cedars, nor wrens
eagles praise ; Nor purblind owls on Sol's orb
gaze : What is a drop to seas, a beam to
boundless rays?
xcix
Yet Hope and Love may raise my
drooping flight ; And faith in Thee embeam my
night : Great Love, supply Faith's nerves
with winged hope — I write.
My spirit, Lord, my soul, my body, all My thoughts, words, works, hereafter shall 299
Praise Thee, and sin bemoan. Jesu, how lov'dst Thou me ! Me blessed, Thy Love make ! Me raised. Thy Love take ! Jesu, my precious One ! May this, Love's Offering, be ! My heart, tongue, eye, hand, bowed knee , As all came from, let all return to Thee !
Nunc sacra primus habetFinem, mea Cura, Libellus ; Jam precor impellat sanctior Aura ratem ! I felix, rapidas diffindas Caerula Syrtes ; Te Divina regit Dextera; Sospes abi.
NON NOBIS DOMINE.
THEOPHILA'S LOVE-SACRIFICE The Summary of the Poem
Theophila, or Divine Love, ascends to her Beloved by three degrees : by Humility, by Zeal, by Contemplation. In the first she is sincere, in the second fervent, in the third ecstatical. In her humiliation she sadly condoles her sin, in her devotion she improves her grace, in her meditation she antedates her glory, and triumphantly congratulates the fruition of her Spouse. And by three Ways, which divines call the Purgative, Illuminative, and Unitive, she is happily led into the disquisition of sin by man ; of suffering by Christ as Sponsor; of salvation by Him as Redeemer. In the Purgative Way she falls upon repentance, mortification, self-denial ; helped in part by the
knowledge of herself, which breeds contrition, renunciation, and pur|30se of amendment : in the Illuminative she pursues moral virtues, theological graces, and gospel promises, revealed by Christ, as the great Apostle, which begets in her gratitude, imitation, and appropriation. In the Unitive she is wholly taken up with intuition of super- celestial excellences, with beatifical apprehensions and adherences, as to Christ in body, to the Holy Ghost in spirit, to God the FATHER in a bright resemblance of the Divine Nature. All which are felt by the knowledge of Christ as Mediator ; whence flow admiration, elevation, consummated in glorification. And were mysteriously
Stanza c] This, which even as printed has the shape of an altar, is in orig. framed with an actual altar outlined and shaded. See Introduction for Butler's flings at our poet's indulgence in this not uncommon nor uncomely Ireak.
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Theophilas Love-Sac?^ifice
intimated in the symbolical oblations of the star-led Sophies ', who by their myrrh signified faith, chastity, morti- fication, the purgative actions; by their incense implied hope, prayer, obedience, the illuminative devotions ; by their gold importing charity, satiety, radiancy, the unitive eminences : and it is the only ambition of Theophila to offer these presents to her Beloved ; by whom her sin is purged, her under- standing enlightened, her will and affections inflamed to the communion of all His glories. Thus she, by recol- lecting past creation, present corrup- tion, and future beatifical vision, endeavours to rouse us up from hellish security, worldly solicitude, and carnal concupiscence, that, being raised, we
may conform to the will, submit to the power, and sympathize with the Spirit of Christ, by a total resignation of self- comforts, abilities, ends ; and by the internal acts of love, devotion, con- templation, she makes Sense subser- vient to Reason, Reason to Faith, and Faith to the written Word. By Faith she believes what He has revealed, and yields Him up all her understanding: by Hope she waits for His promises, and refers to Him all her will. By Charity she loves His excellences, and resigns to Him all her affections. And by all these she triumphs over sin, death, hell, in the sensual world, and by His virtue, grace, favour, enjoys an eminent degree of perfection in the intellectual.
The Author's Prayer
O Thou most High, distinct in Per- sons, undivided in Essence ! Eternal Principle of all substances, essential Being of all subsistences. Cause of all causalities. Life of our souls, and Soul of our lives ! Whose Deity is as far beyond the comprehension of our reason as Thy omnipotency transcends our impotency : We, wretched dust, acknowledge that Adam's fall, as it deprived us of all good, so hath it depraved us with all evil ; for, from our production to our dissolution, our life, if strictly discussed, will be found wholly tainted, always tempted with sin. We discover our condition to be more corrupt than we can fully discover : the sense of our sin stupefies us, the sight of it reveals our blindness, and the remembrance thereof doth put us in mind of our forgetfulness of Thee. The number of our transgressions surpasseth our skill in arithmetic ; their weight is insupportable, depres- sing us even to the abyss ; their guilt more extense than anything but thy mercy. O Lord, we have loved dark- ness more than light, because our deeds were evil ! therefore. Thou hast showed us terrible things ; we have
sucked out the dregs of deadly wine ! Our national crimes have extorted from Thy justice national judgements ! Our hellish sins inflame Thy wrath, and Thy wrath inflames hell-fire against us ! W^e want so much of happiness as of obedience (our beatitude con- sisting in a thorough submission of our determinations unto Thy disposings, and our practice to Thy providence), which causeth us, with humbly-press- ing importunity, to implore Thy good- ness (for His sake, who of mere love took upon Him a nature of infirmities to cure the infirmities of our nature) that Thou wouldst give us a sense of our senselessness, and a fervent desire of more fervency ; and true remorse and sorrow for want of remorse and sorrow for these our sins. Oh, steer the mystical ship of Thy Church safe amidst the rocks and quicksands of schism and heresy, superstition and sacrilege, into the fair havens of Peace and Truth ! Give to Thy disconsolate Spouse, melting in tears of blood, the spirit of sanctity and prudence ! May the light which conducts her to Thy celestial Canaan be never mocked by new false lights of apostatizing
^ i. e. the Wise Men or Three Kings : to whom Benlowes extends the form commonly reserved for the Persian monarch.
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Edward Be7ilowes
hypocrisy, nor extinguished by bar- barism ! Thou, our FATHER, art the God of Peace ; Thy Son, our Saviour, the Prince of Peace ; Thy Spirit, the Spirit of Peace, Thy ser- vants, the children of Peace, whose duty is the study of Peace, and the end of their faith the Peace of GOD which passeth all understanding ! Let all submit to Thy sceptre, adore Thy judge- ments, revere Thy laws, and love Thee above all, for Thine own sake, and others (even their enemies) for Thy sake, having Thee for our pattern, Thy precepts for our rule, and Thy Spirit for our guide.
And now, in particular, I throw my- self (who have unmeasurably swerved from Thy statutes) upon Thy mercies ; beseeching Thee to give me a deep sense of my own un worthiness, and yet withal sincere thankfulness for Thy assistances : grant that my sorrow for sin may be unfeigned, my desires of forgiveness fervent, my purpose of amendment steadfast ; that so my hopes of Heaven may be advanced, and, what Thou hast sown in Thy mercy Thou mayst reap from my duty ! Let religion and right reason rule as sovereign in me, and let the irascible and concupiscible fliculties be their subjects ! Give me an estate balanced between want and waste S pity and envy ; give me grace to spend my wealth and strength in Thy service ; let all my melancholy be repentance, my joys spiritual exultations, my rest hope, my peace a good conscience, and my acquiescence in Thee ! In Thee, as the principle of truth, in Thy Word as the measure of knowledge, in Thy law as the rule of life, in Thy promise as the satisfciction of hope, and in Thy union as the highest fruition of glory ! Oh, Thou Spring of Bounty, who hast given Thy SON to redeem me, Thy Holy Spirit to sanctify me, and Thy- self to satisfy me : give me a gener- ous contempt of sensual delusions, that I may see the vanity of the world, the deceitfulness of riches, the shame of pleasures, the folly of sports, the in- constancy of honours, the danger of greatness, and the strict account to be given for all ! Oh, then give me an un-
^ There is humorous pathos in this, consid (344)
daunted fortitude, an elevated course of contemplation, a resignation of spirit, and a sincere desire of Thy glory! Add, O Lord, to the cheerfulness of my obedience, the assurance of faith, and to the confidence of my hope, the joys of love ! Oh, Thou who art the fountain of my faith, the object of my joy, and the rock of my confidence, guide my passion by reason, my reason by re- ligion, my religion by faith, my faith by Thy Word ; be pleased to improve Thy Word by Thy SPIRIT ; that so, being established by faith, confirmed in hope, and rooted in charity, 1 may be only ambitious of Thee, prizing Thee above the delights of men, love of women, and treasures of the world ! Nothing being so precious as Thy favour, so dreadful as Thy displeasure, so hateful as sin, so desirable as Thy grace ! Let my heart be always fixed upon Thee, possessed by Thee, estab- lished in Thee, true unto Thee, up- right toward Thee, and entire for Thee ! that being thus inebriated with the sweet and pure streams of Thy sanctu- ary, I may serve Thee to the utmost of each faculty, with all the extension of my will, and intention of my affec- tions, till my love shall ascend from earth to Heaven, from smallbeginnings to the consummation of a well-regu- lated and never-ceasing charity ! O God, who art no less infinite in wisdom than in goodness, let me, where I can- not rightly know Thee, there reverently admire Thee, that in transcendencies my very ignorance may honour Thee. Let Thy Holy Spirit inflame my zeal, inform my judgement, conform my will, reform my affections, and transform me wholly into the image and imitation of Thy only SON ! Grant that 1 may improve my talent to Thy glory, who art the imparter of the gift, the blesser of the action, and the assister of the design ! So that having sown to the Spirit, I may by Thy mercies and Thy Son's merits (who is the Son of Thy love, the anchor of my hope, and the finisher of my faith) reap life ever- lasting! And now, in His only Name vouchsafe to accept from dust and ashes the oblation of this weak, yet willing service ; and secure the pos-
ering what we are told of Benlowes' fortunes.
Theophild s Love-Sacrifice
session to Thyself, that sin may neither pollute the sacrifice, divide the gift, nor question the title. Fill my mouth with praises for these happy oppor- tunities of contemplation, the manag- ing of public actions less agreeing with my disposition ; and though my body be retired, yet let my soul be enlarged (like an uncaptived bird) to soar in the speculation of divine mysteries ! Oh, be praised, for that, in this general combustion of Christendom, Thou hast vouchsafed me a litttle Zoar, as refuge, in which my soul doth yet live to magnify Thee ; but above all for my redemption from the execution of Thy wrath by the execration of the SON of Thy love, having made innocence to become guilty, to make the guilty innocent, and the Sun of Righteous- ness to suffer a total eclipse to expiate the deeds of darkness. Be Thou exalted for the myriads of Thy mercies in my travels through Europe, as far
transcending my computation as com- pensation ; but chiefly for the hope Thou hast given me, that when I have served Thee in humbly strict obedience to the glory of Thy Name, Thou art pleased that I shall enter into the glory of my Lord to all eternity ; where I shall behold Thee in Thy majesty, Christ Thy Son in His glory, the Spirit in His sanctity, the Hierarchy of Heaven in their excellency, and the saints in their rest ; in which rest there is perfect tranquillity, and in this tran- quillity joy, and in this joy variety, and in this variety security, and in this security immortality, with Thee, who reignest in the excellences of transcen- dency, and in the infinite durations of a blessed eternity. To whom, with the image of Thy goodness, and the breath of Thy love, O most glorious Trinity and ineffable Unity, be all sanctity and adoration sacrificed now, and for evermore. Amefi, Aine7t.
Into the most Holy Treasury Of the ever-glorious praises Of the Mediator between God and man, Christ Jesus; The empyraean flame of the Divinity, Indefinable, interminable, ineffable ; The immiaculate earth of the Humanity, Inseparable, inconfusible, inconver- tible ; Mysterious in an hypostatical Union,
Who is.
The true Light enlightening the World
The Eternal WORD,
By Energy incarnated,
Embrightening our knowledge, Enlivening our Faith, Quickening our Hope, Enflaming our Love : Prostrated dust and ashes, With an adoring awfulness and trem- bling veneration. To his Infinite Majesty Doth humbly cast this mite (Acknowledging from GOD all oppor- tunities of good) to be improved by His grace, to His glory \
^ The matter of these two cols, is in orig. continuous and arranged pedestal-fashion. But there is no frame as in the former case, and it is therefore not certain that Benlowes intended the shape.
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Edward Benlowes
[Canto II
Canto II. The Humiliation
THE ARGUMENT
Unde superbit Homo? cujus Conceptio, Culpa;
Nasci, Poena, Labor, Vita ; necesse mori. Totus homo pravus ; Caro, Mens, Natura, Voluntas ; Ccelicus ast Hominis Crimina tollit Amor.
The Deiform'd soul, deformed by sin, repents ;
In pray'rs and tears, her grief she vents. And, till faith cheer her by Christ's love, life, death, laments.
STANZA I
Almighty Power, who didst all souls
create ; Who didst redeem their fall'n
estate ; Who still dost sanctify, and them
redintegrate.
II
Source, river, ocean of all bliss,
instil Spring-tides into my low-ebb'd
quill : Each graceful work flows from (what
works all grace) Thy Will.
Ill Lord ! Thou, before time, matter, form, or place. Wast all ; ere nature's mortal race : Thyself, host, guest, and palace, nature's total space.
IV
When yet (though not discern'd) in that abyss lo
Creator, Word, and Spirit of bliss, In Unity the Trine, one God, ador- ed is.
V
Ere Thou the crystal-mantled
Heav'n didst rear, Or did the earth, Sol's bride,
appear, First race of intellectuals mad'st,
Thee to revere.
VI
Praise best doth Inexpressibles express :
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Soul, th' Architect of wonders bless ; Whose all-creating Word embirth'd a nothingness.
VII
Who, brooding on the deep, produc- tion Dispos'd, then call'd out Light, which on 20
The formless world's rude face was all dispers'dly thrown.
VIII
When callow Nature, pluck'd from
out her nest Of causes, was awak'd from rest, Her shapeless lump with fledg'd
effects He trimly drest.
IX
Then new-born day He gilt with
glittering sun (Contracted light); with changing
Moon He night adorn'd, and hung up
lamps, like spangled bullion.
X
The earth, with water mixed, He
separates : Earth plants brought forth, and
beasts all mates ; The waters fowl, and fish to yield
man delicates. 30
XI
Then did of th' elements' dust man's
body frame A perfect microcosm, the same He quickened with a sparkle of
pneumatic flame.
Canto II] TlieophUd s Love-Sacrifice
XII
More heav'nly specified by life
from th' Word; That, Nature doth, this, Grace
afford ; And Glory from the Spirit design'd,
as threefold cord.
XIII
Man, ere a child ; by infusion wise ; though He Was of, yet not for earth, though free
Chanc'llor install'd of Eden's Uni- versity.
XIV
His virgin-sister-wife i' th' grove he woo'd 40
(Heav'n's nursery); new fruit his food,
Skin was his robe : clouds wash'd, winds swept his floor.
XV
Envy, that God should so love man,
first mov'd all good. Satan, to ruin Heav'n's belov'd: The serpent devill'd Eve, she 's dam
to Adam prov'd.
XVI
Both taste, by tasting, tasteless
both became ; Who all would know, knew nought
but shame : They blush for that which they,
when righteous, could not name.
XVII
Still in our maw that apple's core
doth stick. Which they did swallow, and the
thick 50
Rind of forbidden fruit has left
our nature sick.
XVIII
Now serves our guiltiness as winding
sheet, To wrap up lepers ; cover meet ; While thus stern vengeance does
our wormships sadly greet.
XIX
' Disloyal slaves, look out, see, Mis- chief revels ; Look in, see your own den of evils;
Look up, see Heav'n's dread Judge; look down, see Hell's fierce devils.
XX
' Created in God's image to look high ;
Corrupted, like to brutes, you lie:
Perdition 's from yourselves : no cure
for those will die. 60
XXI
' Your beauty, rottenness skinn'd o'er,
does show Like to a dunghill, blanch'd with
snow, Your glorious nature 's by embasing
sin brought low.
XXII
' Hence you the heavy doom of
death do gain, Enforc'd unto laborious pain ; And th' Angel's flaming sword doth
you, expuls'd, restrain.'
XXIII
Thus she reproach'd; yet more (alas)
remain'd ; Man's issue in his loins is stain'd : Sin set his throne in him, and since
o'er all has reign'd.
XXIV
Black sin ! more hideous than green dragon's claws, 70
Dun gryphon's talons, swart bear's paws.
Than chequer'd panther's teeth, or tawny lion's jaws.
XXV
Forfeit to the Creator 's thus man's
race. And by the Word withdrawn is
grace. From him the Spirit of Glory turn'd
His pleasing face.
45 dam] Of course as a play on dauunirn and perhaps with reminiscence of the actual French word. Benlowes often shows Fr. influences.
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Edward Be7tlowes
[Canto II
XXVI
Yet that this second race, in fallen
plight, Might not with the first be ruin'd
quite, The Word doth interpose to stop th'
incensed Might.
XXVII
Then undertakes for man to satisfy,
And the sad loss of Grace supply
That us He might advance to Glory's
hierarchy. 8i
XXVIII
Then Peace is preach'd i'th' woman's
Seed ; but then As men increase, so, sins of men, And actual on original heap'd, God 's
vex'd again.
XXIX
Till drench'd they were in Deluge,
had no shore; And burnt in Sodom-flames, of
yore ; Plagued in Egypt, plung'd into the
gulf of Core ;
XXX
And gnawn by worms in Herod :
sin 's asp's womb, Plotter, thief, plaintiff, witness,
doom, Sledge, executioner, hell's inmate,
horror's tomb. 90
XXXI
Misgotten brat ! thy trains are
infinite To ruin each entangled wight ; Mischiefs ne'er rest in men, th' have
everlasting spite.
XXXII
Spite wageth war, then war turns
law to lust ; Lust crumbles faith into distrust ; Distrust by causeless jealousy betrays
the just;
XXXIII
The just are plunder'd by thy rage ; thy rage
Bubbleth from envy ; envy's page To thy misdeeds ; misdeeds their own misfate engage.
XXXIV
Thus link'd to Hell 's thy chain ! Curs'd be that need 100
Makes sinners in their sins pro- ceed :
Shame, to guilt's forlorn hope, leads left-hand files. Take heed.
XXXV
God's fort (the conscience) in the
worst does stand ; Though sin the town keeps by
strong hand, Yet lies it open to the check at
Heav'n's command.
XXXVI
Hence Hell surrounds them : in
their dreams to fall Headlong they seem, then start,
groan, crawl From furies, with excessive frights
which them appal.
XXXVII
Ne'er was more mischief, ne'er was
less remorse ; Never Revenge on his black horse Did swifter ride ; never to God so
slow recourse ! m •
XXXVIII
The age-bow'd earth groans under
sinners' weight ; While guiltless blood cries to
Heav'n's height, Justice soon takes th' alarm, whose
steeled arm will smite.
XXXIX
Inevitable woes a while may stay, Vengeance is God's, who will
repay The desperately wilful nor will
long delay.
XL
'Tis darkest near daybreak. He will o'erturn Th' implacable, who mercy spurn
Benlowes obviously has
87 Cf. A. V. Ep. S. Jiide ver. 11 'the gainsaying of Core.' the context in mind.
102 left-hand files] Perhaps one of the military passages which drew Butler's fire.
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Canto II] iCheophUd s Love-Sacrtfice
Superlative abuses in th' abyss shall burn. I20
XLI
Death's hell Death's self out-deaths !
Vindictive place ! Deep under depths ! Eccentric
space ! Horror itself, than thee, wears a
less horrid face !
XLII
Where pride, lust, rage (sin treble- pointed) dwell ; Shackled in red-hot chains they yell
In bottomless extremes of never- slaking Hell !
XLIII
Riddle ! Compell'd, at once, to live and die ! Frying they freeze, and freezing fry! On helpless, hopeless, easeless, endless racks they lie !
XLIV
And rave for what they hate !
Cursing in vain, 130
Yet each curse is a pray'r for pain,
For, cursing still their woe, they woo
God's curse again !
XLV
Devils and shrieks their ears, their
eyes affright ! There's blazing fire, yet darkest
night ! Still paying, ne'er discharg'd. Sin's
debt is infinite !
XLVI
Angels by one sin fell ; so, man :
how then May sinners stand! Let's quit
sin's den : This moment 's ours ; life hastes
away ; delays gangrene.
XLVII
Conviction ushers Grace ; fall to
prevent Thy fall, Time's forelock take;
relent. 140
Shall is to come ; and Was is past;
then, N'ow repent.
XLVIII
Before the sun's long shadows span
up night; Ere on thy shaking head snows
light ; Ere round thy palsied heart ice be
congealM quite ;
XLIX
Ere in thy pocket thou thine eyes
dost wear; Ere thy bones serve for calender ; Ere in thy hand 's thy leg, or silver
in thy hair ;
L
Preventing physic use. Think, now ye hear The dead-awakening trump ; lo ; there
The queasy-stomach'd graves dis- gorge worms-fat'ning cheer 150
LI
Sin's sergeants wait t' attach you ; then make haste. Lest you into despair be cast : The Judge unsway'd : take days at best, count each your last.
LII
Time posts on loose-rein'd steeds.
The sun ere 't face To west, may see thee end thy race : Death is a noun, yet not declin'd
in any case.
LIII
The cradle 's nigh the tomb. That
soul has woe, Whose drowsy march to Heav'n
is slow, As drawling snails, whose slime
glues them to things below.
LIV
Anathema to lukewarm souls. Lo,
here 160
Theophila's unhing'd with fear,
Clamm'd with chill sweat, when as her rankling sins appear.
LV
Perplex'd in crime's meand'ring maze, God's law,
XLViii-xLix] The poetry and the grotesque of the ' metaphysical ' style are well shown in this pair of stanzas.
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Edward Benlowes
[Canto II
And guilt, that does strict judge- ment draw, And her too carnal, yet too stony heart she saw.
LVI
' Yet rocks may cleave/ she cries.
Then weeps for tears, And grieves for grief; fears want
of fears ; She hell, Heav'n's prison, views ;
distress, for robe, she wears.
LVII
Deprav'd by vice, depriv'd of grace ;
with pray'r. She runs Faith's course ; breaks
through Despair, 170
O'ertakes Hope. Broken legs by
setting stronger are.
LVIII
Shame, native Conscience, views that Holy One, Who came from God to man un- done.
Whose birth produc'd a star, whose death eclips'd the sun.
LIX
She sees Earth-Heav'n, Flesh-spirit,
Man-God in stamp Of Him who shakes, but does not
cramp The bruised reed ; snuffs puts not
out the sputt'ring lamp.
LX
She sees for creatures the Creator
came To die ; the Shepherd prov'd the
lamb For sacrifice, when Jews releas'd
a spotted ram. 180
LXI
She sees defamed Glory, wronged
Right, Debased Majesty, crush'd Might, Virtue condemn'd, Peace robb'd,
Love slain ! and all by Spite.
LXII
She streaming sees, like spouts, each broached vein With gore, not to be match'd again !
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Her grief thence draws up mists to fall in weeping rain.
LXIII
Vast cares, long dumb, thus vent.
' Flow tears, Soul's wine, Juice of an heart opprest ; incline, Lord, to this heart-broke altar
cemented with brine !
LXIV
' Remorseful clouds, dissolve in
show'rs ; 'tis blood 190
Turns rocky hearts into a flood :
Eyes, keep your sluices ope ; Heav'n best by tears is woo'd.
LXV
' Thou, who one shoreless sea of all
didst make. Except one floating isle, to take Vengeance on guilt ; my salt flood
rais'd, drown sin i' th' lake.
LXVI
' Oh, how these words, " Arise to
judgement," quell ! On wheels in torments broke I'd
dwell, So as by grace I might be sav'd
from endless Hell.
LXVII
' To Angel-intercessor, I'm forbid To pray; yet pray to One that
did 200
Pray to Another for Himself when 's
blood-drops slid.
LXVIII
* Father ! Perfection's self in Christ
does shine; Thy justice then in Him confine; Through 's merits make Thy mercies,
both are endless, mine !
LXIX
' See not, but through 's abstersive
blood, my sin ; By which I being cleans'd withirt, Add perseverance. 'Tis as hard to
hold as win.'
LXX
Her eyes are sentinels to pray'r, to moans Her ears, her nose courts charnel- bones ;
Canto II] TheophHas Love-Sacrifice
Her hands breast-hammers are, her constant food is groans. 210
LXXI
Her heart is hung with blacks, with
dust she cloys Her golden tresses ; weds annoys, Breeds sighs, bears grief, which,
ibis-like, sin-snakes destroys.
LXXII
Thus mounts she drizzling Olivet ;
the plains Of Jericho she leaves. (While rains The farmer wet, they fully swell his
earing grains.)
LXXI 1 1
She, her own farmer, stock'd from
Heav'n, is bent To thrive; care 'bout the pay-day's
spent. Strange ! She alone is farmer, farm,
and stock, and rent.
LXXIV
The porcupine so's quiver, bow, and darts 220
To herself alone ; has all war's arts ;
Her own artillery needs no aid from foreign parts.
LXXV
Sad votaress ! thy earth, of late o'er-
grown With weeds, is plough'd, till'd,
harrow'd, sown. The seed of grace sprouts up when
Nature is kept down,
LXXVI
Thy glebe is mellow'd with faith-
quick'ning juice; The furrows thence hope-blades
produce ; Thy valley cloth'd with Love will
harvest joys diffuse.
LXXVII
Live, Phoenix, from self-death. I' th' morn who dies To sin, does but immortalize : 230 Who study death, ere dead, ere th' Resurrection rise.
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LXXVIII
Rachel, thy children goal and crown
have won. Ere they had skill or will to
run. Blest, who their whole day's work
in their life's morn have done.
LXXIX
Like misty morn, she rose in dew ;
so found She ne'er was, till this sickness,
sound ; Till sin, in sorrow's flowing issue
(tears) lay drown'd.
LXXX
Soul's life blood tears, prevailing
pleaders, tame Such rebels, as by Eve did shame Man's glory ; only these the old
fall'n world new frame. 240
LXXXI
Lust causeth sin, sin shame, shame
bids repent. Repentance weeps, tears sorrow
vent, Sorrow shows faith. Faith hope,
Hope love. Love soul's content.
LXXXII
Thus, from bruis'd spiceries of her
breast, doth rise Incense, sweet-smelling sacrifice : Whilst she lifts up to Heav'n her
heart, her hand, her eyes.
LXXXIII
' I'm sick with trembling, sunk with
mourning, blasted With sinning, and with sighing
wasted ; New life begins to breathe ; O joy,
too long untasted !
LXXXIV
' Twice didst new life (by breath, by death) bestow 250
On man prevaricating, who.
By yielding to a woman, made man yield to woe.
LXXXV
' Then didst his soul restore (as first inspire) With second grace, renewing fire ;
Edward Be7ilowes
[Canto II
Whence he hath part again in Thy celestial quire.
LXXXVI
' Once more for this Heav'n-denizen
didst get A never-fading coronet, Which was with two bright jewels,
Grace and Glory, set.
LXXXVII
' 'Twas at my blood-stain'd birth Thy Love said. Live : Links of Thy previous chain re- vive 260
Ev'n crumbled dust : so, thou my soul from death reprieve !
LXXXVIII
'Christ, th' unction art. Salvation
Jesus ; in Thy death redemption, blood for
sin Gives satisfaction. Thy Ascension
hope does win ;
LXXXIX
'Thy session comfort. Though I did offend, Lord, fears disband, give grace t' amend, That, hope, which reaps not shame, may rise, and peace descend, xc ' My pardon sign. The spear pierc'd Thee 's the pen. Thy blood the ink. Thy Gospel then The standish is, Oh, let my soul be paper clean ! 270
xci ' Kind, angry Lord, since Thou dost wound, yet cure ; I'll bear the yoke, the cross endure ; Lament, and love ; and, when set free, keep conscience pure,'
XCII
Thus mourns she, and, in mourning
thus, she joys ; Ev'n that adds comfort which
annoys ; Sighs turn to songs, and tears to
wine, fear Fear destroys.
XCIII
As holy flame did from her heart arise, Dropt holy water from her eyes, While pray'r her incense was, and Love her sacrifice.
xciv
Arm ! arm ! she breaks in with
strong zeal ; the place 280
Sin quits, now garrison'd by Grace;
Illustrious triumphs do the steps of
victors trace.
xcv When the loud volleys of her pray'rs begin To make a breach, they soon take in The parapets, redoubts, and counter- scarps of sin.
xcvi At once she works and fights : with lamp she waits. Midst virgins, at the Bridegroom's gates, With Him to feast her with His bridal delicates.
xcvii To Heav'n now goes she on her knees ; which cry Loud, as her tongue ; much speaks her eye : 290
Heav'n, storm'd by violence, yields. Eyes, tongue, and knees scale high.
xcviii ' My last crave pardon for my first extremes ; Be prais'd, who crown'st my morn with beams ; Converted age sees visions, erring youth dreamt dreams.
XCIX
' Religion 's its own lustre ; who this shun, Night-founder'd grope at midday sun.
(35O
256 denizen] Original 'denison.
Canto II] TheophUd s 'Lov 6- Sacrifice
Rebellion is its own self-tort'ring dungeon.'
Man's restless mind, God's image,
can't be blest Till of this One, this All, possest. Thou our Soul's Centre art, our
everlasting Rest ! 300
Pars superata Freti, Lucem prae- bentibus Astris ; Longior at nostrse Pars superanda Viffi. Da, Deus, ut Cursus suscepti nostra propinquet Meta, laboranti grata futura Rati.
MAGNIFICAT ANIMA MEA DOMINUM.
Canto III. The Restoration
THE ARGUMENT
Laetior una Dies, Jesu, tua Sacra Canenti ;
Quam sine Te, melicis Secula mille Lyris. Ut paveam Scelus omne, petara super Omnia Ccelum ;
Da mihi Frjena Timor, Da mihi Calcar Amor !
The author's rapture ; Grace is prais'd ; a flood
Of tears is pour'd for Albion's blood, Shed in a mist ; for sraot[ej Micaiahs, Peace is woo'd.
STANZA I
Muse, twang the pow'rful harp, and brush each string O' th' warbling lute, and canzons sing May ravish earth, and thence to Heav'n in triumph spring. II Noble Du Bartas, in a high-flown trance, Observ'd to start from 's bed and dance ; Said : ' Thus by me shall caper all the realm of France.' Ill As vicious meteors, fram'd of earthly slime, By motion fir'd, like stars, do climb The woolly-curdled clouds, and there blaze out their time,
IV
Streaming with burnish'd flames ; yet those but ray 10
13 when] This is not in orig., but there is a space before 'enlivened' (not to mention the sense , and the metre requires something. The clash of ' w/;e;; V»-' probably puzzled the compositor. I have altered the full stop at ' wise ' to a comma : but this is not necessary now if ' when ' be inserted.
To spend themselves, and light our way ; And panting winds, to cool ours, not their own lungs, play.
V
So [when] enliven'd spirits ascend
the skies. Wasting to make the simple wise, Who bears the torch, himself shades,
lightens others' eyes.
VI
As Lust for Hell, Zeal sweats to build
for Heav'n, When fervent aspirations, driv'n By all the soul's quick pow'rs, to that
high search are giv'n.
VII
High is the sphere on which Faith's poles are hinged : Pure Knowledge, thou art not
restringed,
20
Thy flames enfire the bushy heart, yet leave 't unsinged.
( Ihl )
A a
Edward Bejilowes
[Canto III
VIII
Suburbs of Paradise I Thou saintly
land Of visions, woo'd by Wisdom's
band ; '
By dull mules in gold-trappings how
dost slighted stand !
IX
Whose world 's a frantic sea ; more
cross winds fly Than sailor's compass knows ;
saints ply Their sails through airy waves, and
anchor still on high.
X
'Tis Holiness landst here ; where
none (distasted) Rave with guilt's dread, nor with
rage wasted ; Nor beauty-dazzled eyes with female
wantons blasted. 30
XI
No childish toys ; no boiling youth's
wild thirst ; No ripe ambition ; no accurst Old griping avarice ; no doting
sloth there 's nurst :
XII
No glutt'ny's maw-worm ; nor the itch of lust ; No tympany of pride ; nor rust Of envy ; no wrath's spleen ; nor obduration's crust :
XIII
No canker of self-love ; nor cramp of cares ; No schism-vertigo ; nor night- mares
Of inward stings affright ; here lurk no penal snares.
XIV
Hence earth a dim spot shows ; where mortals toil 40
For shot-bruis'd mud-walls (child- ish broil) ;
For pot-gun cracks 'gainst ant-hill works ; oh, what a coil !
24 mules] A reminiscence possibly of Phi one of a thousand things that might be noted
XV Where Glutt'ny is full gorg'd ; where Lust still spawns ; Where Wrath takes blood and Avarice pawns ; Where Envy frets. Pride struts, and dull Remissness yawns.
XVI
Where Mars th' ascendant 's : how
realms shatter'd lie With scatter'd courts, beneath
mine eye ; Which show like atoms chas'd by
wind's inconstancy.
XVII
Here, th' Universe in Nature's frame
doth stand, Upheld by Truth and Wisdom's
hand : 50
Zanzummims show from hence as
dwarfs on Pigmy-land.
XVIII
How vile 's the world ! Fancy, keep
up thy wings (Ruffled in bustle of low things, Toss'd in the common throng), then
acquiesce 'bove kings.
XIX
Thus, thou being rapt, and struck
with enthean fire. In sky's star-chamber strike thy
lyre : Proud Rome, not all thy Caesars
could thus high aspire.
XX
Man's spiritual state, enlarg'd, still
widening flows, As th' Helix doth : a circle shows Man's nat'ral life, which Death soon
from its zenith throws. 60
XXI
Heav'n's perspective is over-reas'n-
ing Faith, Which soul-entrancing visions
hath ; Truth's beacon, fir'd by Love, Joy's
empire open lay'th.
lip's 'ass laden with gold.' I note this as if the plan of this edition were different.
(354)
Canto III] TheophUd s Love-Sacrifice
XXII
This all-informing Light i' th' preg- nant mind, The hal)e Theophila enshrin'd :
Grace dawns when Nature sets : dawn for fair day design 'd.
XXIII
Breathe in thy dainty bud, sweet
rose ; 'tis Time Makes thee to ripened virtues
climb, When as the Sun of Grace shall
spread thee to thy prime.
XXIV
When her life's clock struck twelve (Hope's noon) so bright 70 She beam'd, that queens admir'd her sight,
Viewing, through Beauty's lantern, her intrinsic light.
XXV
As, when fair tapers burn in crystal
frame, The case seems fairer by the flame : So, does Heav'n's brighter love
brighten this lovely dame ;
XXVI
Her soul the pearl, her shell out- whites the snow. Or streams that from stretch'd udders flow;
Her lips rock-rubies, and her veins wrought sapphires show.
XXVII
Attractive graces dance about her
lips ; Spice from those scarlet portals
skips ; 80
Thence Gilead's mystic balm
(Grief's sov'reign balsam) slips.
XXVIII
Such precious fume the incens'd altar vents : So, gums in air breathe compli- ments :
So, rose's damask'd robe, prank'd with green ribbons, scents.
XXIX
Her eyes amaze the viewers, and
inspire To hearts awarm, yet chaste desire (As Sol heats all), yet feel they in
themselves no fire.
XXX
Those lights, the radiant windows
of her mind. Who would portray, as soon
may find A way to paint the viewless, poise
the weightless wind. 90
XXXI
But, might we her sweet breast.
Love's Eden, see; On those snow-mountlets apples
be. May cure those mischiefs wrought
by the forbidden tree.
XXXII
Her hands are soft, as swanny
down, and much More white ; whose temperate
warmth is such, As when ripe gold and quick'ning
sunbeams inly touch.
XXXIII
Ye sirens of the groves, who, perch'd
on high. Tune gutt'ral sweets, air-minstrels,
why From your bough-cradles, rock'd
with wind, to Her d'ye fly?
XXXIV
See, lilies, gown'd in tissue, simper
by her ; 100
With marigolds in flaming tire ;
Green satin'd bays, with primrose fringed, seem all on fire.
XXXV
Th' art silver-voic'd, teeth-pearl'd, thy head 's gold-thatch'd. Nature's reviver. Flora 's patch'd,
Though trick'd in May's new raiment, when with thee she 's match'd.
gi] This and the following stanzas give us (I say this not to say it again) one of the passages for which those who love poetry cannot spare Benlowes. It is one of the finest.
( 355 )
A a 2
Fjdward Be7ilowes
[Canto III
XXXVI
Thou, chaste as fair, Eve ere she
blush'd ; from thee The lib'ral arts /// capite. The virtues by knight-service, Graces
hold in fee.
XXXVII
A gracious soul, figur'd in beauty, is Best portraiture of heavenly bliss. Drawn to the life : wit-feign'd Pan- dora vails to this. m
XXXVIII
So, Cynthia seems Star-chamber's
President, With crescent splendour from Sol
lent, Rallying her starry troop to guard
her glittering tent.
XXXIX
(Pearl'd dews add stars) Yet earth's
shade shuts up soon Her shop of beams ; whose cone
doth run 'Bove th' horned moon, beneath the
golden-tressed sun.
XL
Wh' on sky, clouds, seas, earth, rocks doth rays disperse. Stars, rainbows, pearls, fruits, diamonds pierce ;
The world's eye, source of light, soul of the universe. 120
XLI
Who glows like carbuncles, when
winged hours Dandle the infant morn, which
scours Dame Luna, with hertwinklingspies,
from azure tow'rs.
XLII
Thee, Theophil, Day's sparkling eye
we call; Thy faith's the lid, thy love the
ball, Beautying thy graceful mien with
form angelical.
XLIII
That lady-prioress of the cloister'd
sky, Coach'd with her spangled vestals
nigh, Vails to this constellation from
divinity.
XI.IV
Virtue's her spring of honour, her Allies 17,0
Are saints. Guard angels, Heav'n her prize ;
Whose modesty looks down, while thus her graces rise.
XLV
Eugenia wit, Paidia art affords,
Eusebia truth for her uphords. (Poets have legislative pow'r of making words.)
XLV I
Her heart 's a court, her richly- temper'd breast A chapel for Love's regent Guest : Here feasts she sacred poets, she herself a feast.
XLVII
Ye bay-crown'd Lords, who dig from
Wisdom's pits The ore of arts, and v.-ith your
wits 140
Refine 't, who prop the doting world
in stagg'ring fits ;
XLVIII
And in Fame's court raise obelisks divine ; Such symphonies do ye combine.
As may inspirit flesh with your soul- ravishing wine.
XLIX
While Winter Autumn, Summer
clasps the Spring ; While tenter'd Time shall pceans
sing. Your eagle-plumes (that others
waste) shall imp Lame's wing.
112 The political historian is sometimes severe on the Star-chamber: the literary could collect a set of plays on the word which more than save it.
133 Note the correct quantification of Paidia as compared with her sisters.
134 Benlowes' note in the next line dispenses one from correcting ' uphoards.'
(356)
Canto III] T'heopJiild s Love-Sacrifice
The rampant juice of Teneriffe re- cruits Wildly the routed spirits : so, lutes,
Harps, viols, organs ; ah ! and trum- pets, drums, and flutes ! 150
LI
Though Art should humour grum- bling basses still, Tort'ring the deep-mouth'd cat- lins, till
Hoarse-thund'ring diapasons should the whole room fill ;
LII
Yet those but string this lady's
harp; she'll try Each chord's tun'd pulse, till she
descry Where most harmonious Music's
mystic soul does lie.
LIII
Now grace with language chimes : 'Thrice blest, who taste Their Heav'n on earth, in Life's book grac'd ;
Who leaving sense with sense, their spirit with spirits have plac'd.
LIV
' With those divine patricians, who
being not
160
Eclips'dwith sense, or body's spot. Are in the spring of living flame seraphic hot.
LV
' One taste gives joys ! joys at which
words but rove ; Schools, purblind, grope at things
above, Cimmerian-like, on whose sun's
brow clouds darkly move.
LVI
' Heav'n's paths are traceless, by excess of light ; O'er fulgent beams daz'd eyes be- night.
Say Ephata, and clay's collyrium for my sight !
152 catlins] So in orig., and better for ' kittens.' For Benlowes' interest in music
(357)
LVII
' Transported in this ecstasy, be- friend Me, like the Stagirite, to end
My thoughts in that Euripus, none can comprehend!' 171
LVIII
This mystic chain, oh, lengthen'd still ! imparts Links, fett'ring 'bove all time- born arts ;
Such sweet divisions from tun'd strings may ravish hearts.
LIX
Best tenure holds by th' ear : in
Saul, disguis'd, When Satan oft tarantuliz'd. The psalming harp was 'bove the
swaying sceptre priz'd.
LX
This Hymn, Zeal's burning fever,
does refine My gross hydropic soul ; Divine Anthems unbowel bliss, and angels
down incline. 180
LXI
Angels shot forth the happiest
Christmas news ; Ev'n Christ to warble hymns
did use ; When Heav'n's high'st Dove does
soar. He wings of verse doth
choose.
LXII
No verse, no text. Since verse charms all, sing on ; Let sermons wait till Psalms be done ;
Soul-raisers, ye prevent the Resur- rection.
LXIII
But, ah ! in war (Wrath's midwife)
which does tire, Yet never fills the jaws of ire (Keen as the evening wolf), can
she yet use her lyre?
'catgut' than 'catlings,' which suggests see the subjoined poem on the subject.
Edward Benlowes
[Canto III
LXIV
Yes. She 's unmov'd in earthquakes,
tun'd in jars 19°
(Fear argues guilt) ; she stands
in wars, And storms of thund'ring brass,
bright as coruscant stars.
LXV
Virtue 's a balsam to itself. Invoke She Mercy did to oil steel's yoke: Thus, in an iron age, this golden Virgin spoke.
LXVI
' Dread God ! black clouds sur- charged with storms, begin. When purple robes hide scarlet sin,
Ingrain'd from that life-blood, which moated their souls in.
LXVII
' Our sea-girt world (once Fort'nate
Isle, oh, change Deplorable !) t' itself seems strange; Unthrifty Death has spread where
thriving Peace did range. 201
LXVIII
'War hath our lukewarm claret
broach'd with spears : Lord, save Thy ark from floods
of fears. Or Thy sad spouse may sink as deep
in blood, as tears !
LXIX
' She chaws bread steep'd in woes,
gulp'd down with cries ; She drinks the rivers of her eyes ; Plung'd in distress for sin, to Thee
she fainting flies.
LXX
'Tune th' Irish harp from sharps
to flats ! Compose
Whatever vicious harshness grows
Upon the Scottish thistle, or the
English rose ! 210
LXXI
' No ramping lion its own kind does fear,
224 Presters] Benlowes wanted a disyllabic form of ' Presbyter,' but one may be sure tliat he was not sorry to suggest ' Prester ]ohn.' 228 Smect] Of course = ' Smectymnuus.'
(358)
No tusked boar, no rav'ning bear : Man, man's ApoUyon, doth Christ's mystic Body tear.
LXXII
' Ye sons of thunder, if you'll needs fight on. Lead your fierce troops 'gainst Turkish moon,
Out of the line of Faith's com- munication.
LXXIII
' The large-commanding Thracian
force defy : Like gun-stocks, though your
corps may fly To earth, your souls, like bullets,
will ascend on high.
LXXIV
' If God be then i' th' camp, much
more will He 220
In's Militant Church (His Temple)
' be.
To chasten schism, and pervicacious
heresy.
LXXV
' Lord ! rent 's Thy coat. Love's type !
This sads the good ! Though Presters, rudely fierce,
fain would Be heard ; Thou hat'st uncivil pray'r,
and civil blood.
LXXVI
'Ah, could dissembling pulpiteers
cry 't good To wade through seas of native
blood, Break greatest ties, play fast and
loose, beneath Smect's hood !
LXXVII
' By such were Catechisms, Com- munions, Creeds Disus'd ! As March spawns frogs ; so, weeds 230
Sprung hence. Worst Atheist from corrupted Churchman breeds.
Canto III] Theophild s Love-Sacrifice
LXXVIII
' Use the Lord's Pray'r, be th'
Publican ; recant The Pharisee ; or else, avant \\'ith your six-hundred-sixty-six-word
Covenant.
LXXIX
' Lord, they, through faithless dreams, the Feast disown Of Thy Son's Incarnation !
(Then whether will such Proteus- tants at last be blown ?)
LXXX
'That Feast of Feasts, Archangel's
joy, Heav'n here Espous'd to earth, Saints' bliss,
most dear Prerogative o' th' Church, the grand
day of the year. 240
LXXXI
' INIan, first made good, himself un- made, and then The Word, made flesh, must dwell with men,
That, man, thus worse than nought, may better'd be again.
LXXXII
' Dare to own truth. Drones seiz'd
the bees' full bow'r ; All's paint that butterflies deflow'r ; As ants improve, so, grasshoppers
impair their hour.
LXXXIII
' When pirate-wasps sail to the honey'd grot. They'll find a trap-glass, death i' th' pot :
Levites, slight not your breast- work for vain outworks got.
LXXXIV
'We ken Kirk interest; Draco's laws recall ; 250
Repair the old Church ; Saints the wall,
True Pastors conduits, Grace the font. Love cements all.
LXXXV
' Pass freely would we of oblivion An Act, and pardon all bygone. Would you smite hand on thigh, and say. What have we done !
LXXXVI
' Truth's pensioners ! your flocks bleat ; food they need ; Christ's flesh, their meat ; blood, drink indeed :
View Glory's crown ; in season, out of season, feed.
LXXXVII
'Ye friends to th' Bridegroom,
stewards to the Bride, With oracles of truth us guide; 260 Truth blesseth Church and State ;
faithful, till crown'd, abide.
LXXXVIII
'So, when the Judge with His reward
appears. You'll reap in joy what 's sown in
tears : Moist seed-times crown the fields
with golden-bearded ears.
LXXXIX
' Judge- Advocate to th' wrong'd ! sure. Thou to guilt. Which would unmake Thy crea- tures, wilt Be just, when inquisition's made for blood that 's spilt, xc ' At our ear's port land Peace and Truth ! Oh, then. Welcome, as Sol to th' Russ in 's den ! As shore to shipwreck'd, as to towns
dismantled^ men
270
xci
234 The number of the Beast.
250 ken] Sardonically as well as alliteratively, no doubt,
( 359 )
' Oh, might a second angel-choir
ne'er cease To worms, worn out with War's
distress, To sing, in all men's hearing, their
blest song of Peace !
237 Proteustants] See Introduction.
Edward Be^ilowes
[Canto III
XCII
' Peace ! Home of pilgrims, first song
at Christ's birth ; Peace, His last legacy on earth ; Peace, gen'ral preface to all good ;
Peace, saints' true mirth.
XCIII
' Love, thou support to martyrs ! as
jet straw, So us to our Belov'd dost draw ; Thou art gold's true elixir, thou
summ'st up the law.
xciv ' Who can Divine Love speak in words of sense ? 280
Since, man, as ransom'd, angels thence Transcends ! Such is Christ's pas- sion's high pre-eminence ! ' xcv Here did she seal her lips, unsluice her eyes To flowing rhet'ric, and descries The world 's a cask, its wine false mirth, its lees fool's prize, xcvi And now, by limpid spring of life-joy, where Crystal is limbeck'd all the year. To God she would her Heav'n- ascending raptures rear.
XCVII
Taught hence, misguided Zeal, whom heats dispose To animosities, may close; 290
And bloody Fury's converts be, by pond'ring those.
XCVIII
Harmonious Beauty, feast our ear !
They're kings At least, who hear when Love
thus sings : Love, to high Grace's key screws up
low Nature's strings.
XCIX
Love, thou canst ocean-flowing
storms appease ; And such o'ergrown Behemoths
please. As tax the scaly nation, and excise
the seas.
c If, Theophil, thy Love-Song can't assuage The fate incumbent on this age. No time to write, but weep ; for we are ripe for rage ! 300
Ite sacrosanctae Tabulata per Alta Caringe ; Non opus est Fluviis, Lintea pan- do Mari. Ite Rates Ventis, quo vos rapit Aura, secundis : Brittica Cymba pias findat Amoris Aquas.
ANIMARUM SPONSUS lESUS.
(3O0)
Canto IV] TheophUd s Love-Sacrificc
Canto IV. The Inamoratlon
THE ARGUMENT
O, Deus, aut nullo caleat mihi Pectus ab Igne !
Aut solo caleat Pectus ab Igne Tui ! Languet ut Ilia Deo, mihi Mens simul aemula languet !
CoelitiiS ut rapitur, me Violenta rapit !
She onset makes, first with love-darts aloof;
Then, with Zeal's fireworks, storms Heav'n's roof ; Whose Faith's shield, and Salvation's helmet are hell-proof.
THEOPHILA'S SOLILOQUY ^
STANZAS I, II
When Heav'n's Love paramount, Himself reveals,
And to the suppliant soul, her pardon seals.
At fear'd-Hope's doubtful gate, which trembling fell,
(Who heav'nward sails, coasts by the Cape of Hell,)
That her He deigns to take, she joys in woes,
To have in labour pass'd the partu- rition throes.
Ill, IV
All travail-pangs, all new-birth heart- deep groans.
All after-births of penitential moans,
Are swallow'd up in living streams of bliss ;
When as the Heav'n-born heir, the new man is, lo
By th'quick'ning Spirit of theHigh'st re-born :
Time past hath pass'd her night, present presents her morn.
V, VI
See joy in light, see light in joy; oh,
see. Poor worthless maid, fruit brought
thee from Life's tree. By th' Spouse and Spirit, saints' sole
supporters ! Rise
Then, Hell's apostate, and be heav'n
ly wise : Thou art (let's interpledge our souls)
my One, My All, though not by unity, by
union !
VII, VIII
Ineffably mysterious knot begun ; Saints mount, as dew allur'd by
beck'ning sun : 20
Love's faithful friends, what parallels
your guard, ' Where Truth is sentinel, and Grace
the ward ? The way is flow'r-strown, where the
guide is Love : His Spirit with you below, your
spirit with Him above.
IX, X
Reciprocal excess of joy ! Then, soar
My soul to Him, who man became; nay more,
Took sin itself, to cleanse thy sullied clay.
But took it, only to take it away.
O Self Donation ! peerless Gift, un- known !
Now since that He is thine, be never thou thine own ! 30
XI, XII
O prodigy of great and good ! Faith,
sound This Love's abyss, that does so
strangely bound
' The arrangement in orig. is curious. The stanzas are printed as here, and as they clearly must be, in six-line groups. But only the odd numbers (i, 3, &c.) are put at the heads, and the even (2, 4, &c.) accompany the fourth line of each stanza at the side.
( 361 )
Edward Benlowes
[Canto IV
Almightiness Itself! From whose
veins, see, Unsluic'd,Love's purple ocean, when
His free Red-streaming life did vanquish
Death and Hell ! That thou might'st live, He died !
That thou might rise, He fell !
XIII, XIV
God so lov'd man, that naturalists
may deem God to set man before Himself did
seem ! When man, with seeing blind, 'gainst
God arose, And slew his only Friend, God
sav'd his foes ! 40
Sol mourn'd in blacks ! Heav'n's
Viceroy, Nature, swounded ! Excess Love's reason was, Immensity
Love bounded !
XV, XVI
Ye twins of light, as sunflow'rs be
inclin'd To th' Sun of Righteousness; let
Taste, refin'd, Like nothing as Love's Heav'nly
Manna ; and Let all but Christ feel rough, as
Esau's hand ; Let nought like 's garment smell;
let ears rejoice. But in expressless dictates of Love's
whisp'ring voice !
xvii, XVIII
He 's thy bright sun ; 'twixt whom, and thy soul's bliss,
Thy earthy body interposed is ; 50
Whereby such dread eclipses caused are,
As fam'd astronomers can ne'er declare :
Yet oft He shines; then, vanish ser- vile fears ;
Then, heav'nward filial hopes dry up thy trickling tears.
XIX, XX
Spiritual light spirituals clears : in Heav'n
(362)
Thou'lt view that full, what now by glimpse, like Steph'n,
Thou canst but spy ; there, shalt thou face to face,
His light, His joy. His love, His pow'r. His grace,
And His all-filling glory clearly see
In optic emanations from Eter- nity ! 60
XXI, XXII
I' th' ring of boundless lustre, from
whose ray This petty world gleaneth its peep of
day : Thou shalt be crown'd with wreaths
of endless light : Here, oft's an interview in heat, and
might, By inter-lucidations from above, Twining embraces with 's ensphering
arm of love !
XXIII, XXIV
Most blessed souls, to whom He
does appear, Folded within your arms, chaste
Hemisphere ! Oh, condescend ! How 's lips shed
love ! life ! merit ! He makes His angels court of guard!
By 's Spirit 70
He crowns you with His grace ! So,
with His blood. When He redeem'd you, and con-
sign'd His Flesh for food !
XXV, XXVI
Meat came from th' eater, from the
strong did dew Sweetness ; when as, incomparably
true, Omnipotency's Self did largely shed His mystic oil of joy upon thy head : Then, trample sin in Babylon's gold- en cup ; Treasures away she trifles, trifles treasures up.
XXVII, XXVIII
Oil of this lamp, obsequious soul,
lights thee To thine approaching Heav'n ! In
sanctity 80
Canto IV] TheophUa s Love-Sacrlfice
Be actuated then ; being up assum'd By this bright sun, with this rich oil
perfum'd, Th' art prepossess'd with heav'nly
comforts, which, AVith their soul-cheering sweets, both
ravish and enrich.
XXIX, XXX
Poor, panting heart, Love's seat, yearn for Joy's pith !
To have (thy highest bliss !) com- munion with
The Father and the Son, one Spirit with Christ !
And one in Them, as They are One ! Thou fly'st
Through grace to glory ! Vision shall sublime
Thy faith. Fruition hope. Eternity thy time ! 90
THEOPHILA'S LOVE-SONG
XXXI, XXXII
Self ! oh, how mean an harmony it
breeds ! Jesus ! All names this Name of
names exceeds ! This Name's God's mercy at full
sea, 'tis Love's High tow'r, Joy's loadstone; this, my
spirit moves. Hark : ' Rise, my love, my fair one,
come away ; Ling'ring breeds loss ; I am thy
Leader, Light, and Way.' XXXIII, xxxiv What speed Speed's self can make,
soul, fly withal ; Greatness and goodness most mag-
netical ! Shoot, like a flash of fire, to th' ruby
wine, His precious blood, transcendently
Divine ! ico
(How poor those costly pearls were,
drunk by some) My Lord, drink Blood to me 1 Let
It to th' world's health come !
XXXV, xxxvi
All hope 's unanchor'd but in That. Thou art,
'Bove Indies' womb, rich to my love- sick heart !
Flesh-fair endowments are but skin- deep brags,
Varnish'd corruption ; wealth is but Care's bags ;
The bag imposthumed chokes. Gold, Beauty, Fame
Are sublunary mists to Saints' sera- phic flame.
XXXVII, XXXVIII
Jesus ! This fans my fire, which has
at best But grains of incense, pounds of
interest. no
Go, int'rest; take the principal, Thine
own : Divine Love loves Thy loveliness
alone ! What flames to Thine proportionable
be! Lord, hadst not first lov'd man, man
could not have lov'd Thee !
XXXIX, XL
Why lov'st us, but because Thou
wouldst? Oh, why For lepers would the Undefiled die? That pen was dipt i' th' standish of
thy Blood, Which wrote th' indenture of our
termless good ! O Love, 'bove wish! Never such Love
enroU'd ! Who think their utmost flames
enough for Thee, are cold. 120
XLI, XLII
(363)
Whose Highness did not to be low disdain.
Yet, when at lowest, highest did remain !
Who bow'dst Heav'n's altitude, re- fresh with flow'rs.
With Jesse's sov'reign flow'r, my fainting povv'rs,
107 imposthumed] Orig. ' impostom'd.'
Kdwa7^d Be7tlowes
[Canto IV
Which sink (as shaft-struck hart em- bossed) twixt grief,
And joy : grief for my sin, joy for Thy free relief.
XLIII,XLIV
Wrack'd is with bitter-sweet extremes
my mind, Shell'd, sheath'd, cag'd, coffin'd in
her treacherous friend ; Her always tempting mass of flesh
she bears, Her hopes, did they not sprout from
Thee, were fears : 130
Hope, Thou perfume of lovers, for
Thy sake Love's generous, throws at all : life's
but a petty stake ;
XLV, XLVI
Scarce worth the prize. Love makes
two spirits but one ; Me, counterpart to Thy indenture,
own ; I, active then as light, tread air and
flame, W'ithout or wing, or chariot ; and
disclaim All the faint sweets of earth. Thy
Spirit views How in Love's torrid zone Thy swel-
t'ring martyr stews.
XLVII, XLVIII
Row me, ye dove-wing'd oars, whom
Hope does buoy, To wish'd-for hav'n, flowing with
tides of joy ! 140
Yet wish I not, my Joy, Thy joys
above, Merely for joy; nor pleasures of Thy
Love, Only for love of pleasure. No, let
free Spiritual languors teem ! fruitful, yet
virgins be !
XLIX, L
Give, give me children, or I die !
Love, rest Thy head upon the pillows of my
breast ! When me Thou shalt impregn'd with
virtues make
(364)
A fruitful Eden, all the fruitage take ! Thy passion, Jonathan, below did
move ; Rapt sj)iiits, in high excess, flame
with intensest love ! 150
LI, LII
My life is hid with Thee in God !
Descry Thyself, O Thou, my plighted
Spouse, that I May ever glorious be ! That my joy'd
soul With Thee may make up marriage !
and my whole Self Thee for Bridegroom have ! My
hope still sends Up ' Come,' that I may enter with
Thy feasted friends !
LIII, LIV
Oh, that long-long'd for Come ! oh,
Come ! mine eyes, Love's sentinels, watch, like officious
spies ! Strike sparks of joy t' inflame Love's
tinder ! make The exile view her home, the
dreamer wake ! 160
Tears raise the fire of Love ! Ease
sighs of air, Fire's passion, wat'ry tears, and earthy
self-despair !
LV. LVI
My sighs, condens'd to drops, com- pute hours spent !
Cancel the lease of my clay-tenement.
Which pays dear rent of groans ! oh, grant a writ
Of ease ! I languish out, not live ! Permit
A pass to Sion's Mount ! But, I re- sign
My green-sick will, though sick of Love, to that of Thine !
LVII, LVIII
Waitings, which ripen hopes, are not
delays ; Presence how great, how truc's Love,
absence says :
170
While lungs my breath shall organ, I'll press still
Canto IV] TheophUd s Love-Sac?^ifice
Th' exinanition of myo'ergrown will. 'Behold, I quickly come.' O'erjoy'd
I'm here ! Oh, Come ! Till then, each day 's an
age, each hour a year.
LIX, LX
Jesu! (That Name's Joy's essence!) hasten on !
Throngamorous sighs for dissolution!
Fastidious earth, avaunt ; with love- plumes soar,
My soul, to meet thy Spouse. Canst wish for more ?
Only come ! give a Ring ! Re-echo then,
'Oh, Come. Come !
Even so, Lord Jesu, Amen. Amen.' i8o
LXI
Who 's this inamor'd vot'ress ? Like
the morn From mountain unto mountain
born ? Who first, with night-drops devv'd,
seem'd turtle-dove forlorn ?
LXII
But now, ere warped body, near
decay, Stands, bow-like, bent, to shoot
away Her soul, ere prone looks kiss her
grave, ere her last day,
LXIII
She (Love-fiU'd) wants no mate, has
rather one Body too much. V th' Spirit's
throne Christ's peace is fullest quire ! Such
loneness, least alone !
LXIV
When soft-flying Sleep, Death's sister,
wings does spread 190
Over that curtain'd grave, her bed,
Then, with prophetic dreams the
Highest crowns her head.
LXV
Behold, a comely Person, clad in
white, The all-enlight'ning sun less
bright Than that illustrious Face of His,
which blest her sight.
LXVI
To her, in Majesty, His way He
broke. And, softly thus to her He spoke, 'Come, come away.' 'My Jesus'
says she. So, she woke. .
LXVII
Her pray'rs, more passionate than
witty, rise, As Sol's postilion, bright ; her
eyes, 200
Wrestling with God for grace, bedew
Love's Paradise.
LXVIII
Betimes, when keen-breath'd winds,
with frosty cream, Periwig bald trees, glaze tattling
stream : For May-games past, white-sheet
peccavi is Winter's theme.
LXIX
Those daybreaks give good morrows,
which she takes With thanks, so, doubly good
them makes. Who in God's promise rests, in God's
remembrance wakes.
LXX
Saints nothing more, saints nothing
less regard, Than Love's Self, than self-love ;
unscar'd. Though rack'd into an anagram, their
souls being spar'd. 210
LXXI
Through virtuous self-mistrust they acted move
190 Death's sister] The substitution of ' sister ' for the usual ' brother ' though obvious is not trivial, and still less unpoetical. Grammar prevented it in the classical languages : our happy freedom therefrom allows it. And the attributes of Sleep are certainly more feminine than masculine.
194 sun] 1 should like to read 'sun's.'
(365)
Edward Benlowes
[Canto IV
Like needle, touch'd by th' stone of Love. Blest magnet, which attracts, and souls directs Above !
LXXII
Were she but mortal, she were satis- fied, So God liv'd in her, till she died ; His Word, her deed ; His Will, her warrant ; both, her guide.
LXXIII
Thus, this Devota breathes out yearning cries. * Let not dust blind my sensual eyes,
AVhen as my spirit's energy trans- cends the skies !
LXXIV
' Virtues raise souls. All 's filial to Above; 220
Low'st step is mercenary love ;
Fraternal are the sides that Saint's ascent improve.
LXXV
* Manna to my enamour'd soul, art
Thou! The Spirit of Heav'n, distill'd,
does flow From Thy aspect; by that, from
brutes, we angels grow.
LXXVI
' Had I, oh, had I many lives, as
years ; As many loves, as love hath fears ; All, all were Thine, had I as many
hearts, as hairs !
LXXVII
' From Thee my joy-extensions spreading flow ; Dilating, as leaf-gold ! be n't slow, 230
O, Thou, my All, and more ! Love- lorn, Thee still I woo !
LXXVIII
'The widow press'd, till Thee to grant
she bound ; The virgin sought Thee, till she
found ; The publican did knock, till opening
knocking crown'd.
(366)
LXXIX
'Though nought but dross I in my- self can spy, Yet melted with Thy beaming Eye,
My refuse turns to gold, by mystic alchemy ;
LXXX
' Then, whet thy blunt scythe, Time,
and wing thy feet : Life, not in length, but use, is sweet : Come, Death (the body brought abed
o[f] th[e] soul), come, fleet ! 240
LXXXI
' Be pulse, my passing-bell ; be skin,
my hearse : Night's sable curtains that disperse The rays of day, be shroud : dews,
weep my funeral verse !
LXXXII
'Pity me, love-sick virgins!' Then,
she swoon'd ; O'ercome with zeal, she sunk to
th' ground : Darts of intolerable sweets her soul
did wound.
LXXXIII
She lay with flaming Love impierc'd
to th' heart: Wak'd, as she bled, she kist the
dart ; Then sigh'd. 'Take all I am, or
have ! All, All Thou art ! '
LXXXIV
Then, sunk again. Reviv'd, Loves bow she bent, 250
And married string to shaft, and sent
Ejaculations, which the skies, like lightning, rent.
LXXXV
Piercing them through (feather'd
with sighs) to show She little paid, yet much did owe: The feathers sung, and fir'd, as they
did upward go.
LXXXVI
No ice-fring'd cloud may quench Love's soaring flame : Love is more strong than death, or shame.
Canto IV] "Theopliild s Love-Sacf^ifice
Grown up all soul, the flesh sinks in a triple qualm.
LXXXVII
'I charge ye, Sion Virgins, let her still Enjoy her disencloister'd fill 260 In these high ecstasies of Union and Will.
LXXXVIII
'Do not with claps of hands, or noise
of feet, Awake her from what is more sweet. Till the bright rising day-star light her
to Heav'n's street.
LXXXIX
' Yield her, what her unfetter'd rapture gives. Since she 's more where she loves, than lives : Transanimations, scaling Heav'n, break carnal gyves, xc ' In Love's triumphant chariot plac'd she is ; Concentric are her joys with his; Encharioted in fire, her spirit Heav'n- ripe for bliss.' 270
xci They're only found, who thus are lost in trance ; Transported to the high'st advance, With him, who was in spirit rapt to expressless glance.
XCII
Return'd, she cried : ' Oh, slay me
thus again ! Ne'er lives she who thus ne'er is
slain ! How sweet the wounds of Love ! No
pleasure to Love's pain !
XCIII
' In furnac'd heat, Pyrausta-like, I
fry! To live is faith ! 'tis gain to die ! One life 's enough for two ! Thou
liv'st in me, not I !
xciv ' How, midst regalias of Love's ban- quet, I 2S0 Dissolve in Sweet's extremity ! O languors ! Thus to live is in pure flames to die !
xcv ' Three kings three gifts to th' King of kings did bring ; Myrrh, incense, gold, to Man, God, King : For myrrh, tears ; incense, pray'rs ; gold, take Love's offering ! xcvi ' Oh, take Love's hecatomb ! ' Then, through her eyes Did Loveenamouringpassions rise : High'st Glory crowns Theophila's love-sacrifice.
xcvii Not she. Mortality alone did die ; Death 's but translation to the sky : 290
All virtues fir'd in her pure breast their spicery.
XCVIII
As, when Arabia's wonder spices brings, Which fann'dto flames by her own wings, She, from the glowing holocaust in triumph springs : xcix So, Virtue's pattern (priestess, altar, fire. Incense, and victim) up did spire ; ' Victoria, Victoria,' sung all Heav'n's quire.
c She echoing (echo, which does all surpass ! God's sight is Glory's looking- glass !) 299 1 Magnificats, Hosannas, Halleluiahs!
277 Pyrausta] TrifaiaTrjs ' a moth that is singed in a flame,' and thus a sort of salamander.
287 Love] So in orig. ' Love-enamouring ' * making Love Himself love ' seems very like Benlowes.
300 Halleluiahs] Five syllables.
(367)
Edward Beiilowes
[Canto IV
Pars CursLis emensa mei, Pars restat aranda : Ex aequo Metam Vesper & Ortus habent.
Ergo per immensos properent cava Lintea Fluctus : Jactatam capiant Littora sancta Ratem !
AMANS ANIMA SATIATUR AMANTIS.
Canto V. The Representation
THE ARGUMENT
Mundus Opes, Animam Coelum, Terramque resumpsit Terra : Deus, Vitam cum tulit, Ipse dedit.
Solus Amor facit esse Deum ; Quern, Mente capaci, Si Quis conciperet, posset et esse Deus.
The Author's vision, her ascent, Heav'n's place
Descried, where reigns all glorious Grace, Where 's all-sufficient Good, the sum of Bliss she has.
STANZA I
I'm Vile, a thing impure, Corruption's son, Earth-crawling worm, by sin un- done,
Whose suppliant dust doth own its shame, and t' Heav'n doth run.
IT
Grace, intervene 'twixt sin and shame, and tie A hopeful bliss to misery ! Lord, pardon dust and ashes : both, yea worse, am I ! Ill Though dust, Thy work: though clay, Thy Hand did turn This vessel ; and, though ashes, th' Urn Thou art, them to restore when sky and earth shall burn.
IV
Whilst that my Heav'n-allied soul does stay lo
Wholly on Thee, not Europe's sway Can elevate my wish, like one grace- darted ray.
v Meet, meet my prison'd Soul's address! oh, might Sheview,throughmould'ring earth, Thy Sight !
(368)
Grace perfects Nature's want : say here, ' Let there be light ! '
VI
Then, though in flesh my spirit
prison'd be. She may by Faith ascend to Thee, And up be rais'd, till she shall mount
to liberty.
VII
Clear-sighted Faith, point out the way;
I will Neglect curl'd Phrase's frizzled
skill : 20
Humble Devotion, lift thou up my
flagging quill;
VIII
Which faints at first approach ; my
faith 's too light To move this mountain, reach
this height : Can squeaking reeds sound forth the
organ's full delight?
IX
I'm mute, for only light can light
declare ; A diamond must a diamond square ; Yet, where I dare not speak, there yet
adore I dare.
X
Ear has not heard, nor eye has seen, nor can
Canto V] TheophHas Love- Sacrifice
Man's heart conceive (vast heart of man) The riches treasur'd up in Glory's ocean ! zo
XI
Tomes full of mystic characters
enfense Those seas of bliss ! To write to
sense Heav'n's chronicle, would ask a
Heav'n'd intelligence.
XII
How, then, from flood of tears may
an ark'd dove try Its vent'rous pinions, to descry That land, unknown to Nature? Vast
Eternity !
XIII
Fear gulfs unfathomable ; nor desire, Ere of God's court thou art, t' as- pire To be of 's council ; pry not, but with awe admire.
XIV
Dwarf-words do limp, do derogate, do scan 40
Nor height, nor depth. Since Time began,
What constitutes a gnat was ne'er found out by man.
XV
Dares mortal slime, with ruder tongue,
express What ev'n Celestials do confess Isinexpressible? Thou clod of earth,
first guess
XVI
In like degrees from equinoctial
track. Why men are tawny, white, and
black ? Why Bactria's camel two? Arab's one
bunch on 's back ?
XVII
Canst lead Leviathan with a silken
string? Canst coverwith a hornet's wing 50 Behemoth ? Canst thou seas into a
nutshell bring?
XVIII
Canstmotionfix? countsands? recall
past day ? Show height, breadth, length o'th'
spreading ray ? Discardinate the spheres? and rapid
whirlwinds stay?
XIX
Tell, tell how pond'rous Earth's huge
propless ball Hangs poised in the fluent hall Of fleeting air? how clouds sustained
are from fall ?
XX
How burnt the Bush, when verdure
cloth'd its fire ? How from the rock, rod-struck in
ire, Did cataracts gush out? How did the
sea retire ? 60
XXI
Canst thou take post-horse with the
coursing sun. And with him through the zodiac
run? How many stages be there ere the
race be done?
XXII
Then, tell how once he shot his beams
down-right From the same zenith, while for
night. Mortals stood gazing at a doubled
noonday's light ?
XXIII
Tell,howthat planet did in after-days Turn Cancer, shooting Parthian
rays. Ten whole degrees revers'd, which
did the world amaze.
XXIV
Poor thingling man ! Propitious
Heav'n, assign 70
Some angel for this high design !
Heav'n's history requires at least a
Seraphin.
XXV
Oh, might some glorious Spirit then retire, And warble to a sacred lyre
(369)
Bb
Edward Benlowes
[Canto V
The Song of Moses and the Lamb in Heav'n's full quire !
XXVI
'Twas at Night's noon, when sleep th' oppress'd had drown'd ; But sleepless were oppressors found ;
'Twas when Sky's spangled head in sable veil was bound :
XXVII
For thievish Night had stole, and
clos'd up quite, In her dark lantern, starry light : No planet seen to sail in that dead
ebb of Night: 8i
XXVIII
When, lo, all-spreading rays the room
surround ! Like such reflections, as rebound, Shootingtheir beams to th' sun, from
rocks of diamond.
XXIX
This, to a wonder, summoned my
sight, Which dazzled was at so pure light! A Form angelic there appear'd
divinely bright !
XXX
I wish'd myself more eyes to view this
gleam ; I was awake, I did not dream ; Too exquisite delight makes true
things feigned seem. 90
XXXI
Model of Heav'n it was ; I floated long
'Twixt joy and wonder; passion
strong.
Wanting due vent, made sight my
speech, and eyes my tongue !
XXXH
Oft, my rapt soul, ascending to the eye,
Peep'd through upon Angelity, Whose blaze did burnish'd plate of sparkling Sol outvie !
XXXIII
If gracious silence shin'd forth any- where
With sweet aspect, 'twas in this sphere ; The soul of sweetness, and the spirit of joys mix'd here xxxiv From out Love's wing he must a pencil frame, 100
Who, on Time's cloth, would paint this flame : None can portray this glorious draft but who 's the same.
XXXV
Veilthen,Timanthes-like,thisguess'd at face, (The curtain of that inward grace), Whose forehead with diaphanous gold impaled was,
XXXVI
For, starry knobs, like diamonds, did
attire That front with glory, and conspire To lavish out their beams, to radiate
that fire.
XXXVII
Whose amber-curling tresses were
unbound. And, like a glittering veil, spread
round, no
And so about the snowy shoulders
sweetly wound.
XXXVIII
Whose robe shot forth a tissue- waving shine. Which seem'd loose-flowing, far more fine
Than any interwoven silk with silver twine.
XXXIX
With gracious smile, approaching
nearer, sat This glorious thing : oh, humble
state ! Yet, on the Vision inexpressive rays
did wait.
XL
'Twas glorified Theophila sat there. I, mute, as if I tongueless were,
103 Timanthes] Orig. 'Timantes.' The story of the picture of the sacrifice of Iphigcnia is well known.
( 370 )
Canto V] Theoplitlds LoveSacrifice
Till her voice-music drew my soul into mine ear : 120
XLI
Twas 'bove lute's sweetest touch,
or richest air ! ' I bring thee things (says she)
are rare : All subcelestial streams drops to
this ocean are.
XLII
'Hear, first, my progress. Loos'd
from Nature's chain, And quit from clay, I did attain. Swift as a glancing meteor to
th' aerial plain :
XLIII
'Where, passing through, I did
perfume the air With sacred spice, and incens'd
pray'r ; While grateful clouds their liquid
pearl, as gift, prepare.
XLIV
'I spare t' unlock those treasuries of
snow ; 1 30
Or tell what paints the rainy bow ;
Or what cause thunders, lightnings, rains ; or whence winds flow.
XLV
* Those regions pass'd, where beard- ed comets light The world to fatal woes; a bright
Large orb of harmless fire enflam'd my heav'nward flight.
XLVI
'To azure-arched sky ascends my soul (Thence view I North and South- ern Pole),
Where globes in serpentine yet order'd motions roll.
XLVII
'Thence by the changing Moon's
alternate Face, Up, through unweari'd Phosphor's
place, 140
I mount to Sol's diurnal and his
annual race :
XLVIII
' By whose propitious influencethings are
(371) Bb
Quicken'd below, this monarch star, Making his progress through the signs, unclouds the air ;
XLIX
' And, eight-score times outbulks the
earth ; whose race In four and twenty hours' space 'Bove fifty millions of Germanic
leagues does pace.
L
' This giant with as many tongues as
rays, Speaks out, so oft as he displays His beams, which gild the world ;
that man his Lord should praise.
LI
' Through spheres I pass'd to stars, that nail Heav'n's court, 151 (My stay was with sky-wonders short,)
Which, by first Mover's force, are whirl'd about their fort.
LII
' Through the blue-spangled frame,
my psalming tongue Made th' orbs suspend their usual
song. To hear celestial hymns the glist'ring
quires did throng.
LIII
' Chime out, ye crystal spheres, and
tune your poles ; Skies, sound your bass ; ere ye to
coals Dissolve, and tumble on the bonfire
world in shoals.
LIV
'The Pritnum Mobile does seem immense, 16c
And doth transfused influence
Through all inferior orbs, as swift as thought, dispense.
LV
'Suppose, a millstone should from
thence be hurl'd Unto the centre of this world, 'T would make up sixscore years, ere
it could down be whirl'd.
Edward Benlowes
[Canto V
LVI
Now, enter'd I Heav'n's suburbs, pav'd with gems ; No orient jewels cast such beams ; (Oh, might this verse be wreath'd but with such diadems !)
LVII
' Sol's radiant fulgence in meridian
skies 169
Seem'd shade unto those clarities ;
Where Beauty's self might beautify
her fairest eyes.
LVIII
' 'Tis 'bove high'st verge, where
reason dares be bold ; That Heav'n of God is of such
mould, That eyes, till glorified, cannot the
same behold.
LIX
' 'Tis purely spirit'al,and so must be,
Above compare in all degree, With aught that draws its line from th' six days' pedigree.
LX
' 'Tis immaterial, 'bove the highest
sphere,
Doth brighter than the rest appear ;
Than orbs of fire, moon, sun, or
crystalline more clear. 180
LXI
"Tis space immense, from whence
apostates driv'n, Their rooms might so to men be
giv'n With those confirmed sons, th'
indigenae of Heav'n.
LXII
'Absurdly some philosophers did dream, That Heav'n's an uncreated beam Which forth eternally from God Himself did stream.
LXIII
' 'Tis but a creature, though its
essence be To change unsubject, standing
free On never-shaken pillars of Infinity.
( 37a )
LXIV
' Ocean of Joys ! Who can thee fully state? it)o
For clearer knowledge man must wait ;
First shoot Death's Gulf, thy soul may then arrive thereat :
LXV
' For no one enters there, till he hath trod Death's path, then, from that period Elected souls ascend to Heav'n, to bliss, to God !'
LXVI
(Zeal through me fires its way to speak, that I Would thither, like wing'd light- ning, fly.
Were my fiesh-curtain drawn that clouds my spirit's eye !
LXVII
What heights would souls affect,
could they undress Themselves of rags, that them
depress ! 200
How beautiful 's the form of naked
Holiness !
LXVIII
New light, life, love, joy, bliss there
boundless flow ! There shall my soul thy glory know, When she her robe of clay shall to
earth's wardrobe throw !
LXIX
Fond that I am to speak. Pass on to bUss, That with an individual kiss Greets thee for ever ! Pardon this parenthesis.)
LXX
' Faith 's the Soul's eye ; as nothing
were between. They that believe, see things
unseen : Close then thy carnal, thy spiritual
eyes unscreen. 210
LXXI
* For, my transplanted spirit shall emblaze
Canto V] TkeophHas Love-Sacrifice
Words, may make wonder stand at gaze : Unboundless bliss doth ev'n the sep'rate spirit amaze.
LXXII
' Oh, fleet of intellectuals, glory- fraught, (Inestimable arras, wrought With heart-o'ercoming colours,) how ye pass all thought ! '
LXXIII
Thou All-comprising, uncompris'd
Who art Ever, yet never made, impart Thou (Love's abyss, without or ebb
or shore) a heart
LXXIV
Of Wisdom to attempt, proceed, and
end 220
What never was, is, can be penn'd !
May spots in maps (dumb teachers)
empires comprehend ?
LXXV
' The sky-enchased diamonds lesser show Than July's hairy worms that glow,
Sampled with those rebounds un- bounded glories throw.
LXXVI
'That Vessel of Election, rapt to th' soil Of highest bliss, did here recoil : I'th' same attempt 'tis honour to confess a foil.
LXXVIl
' Sense knows not 'bove court- triumphs, thrones, or kings, Gems, music, beauties, banquet- ings, 230
Without such tropes it can't unfold spiritual things.
LXXVIII
'Oh, how that most unutterable
blaze Of Heav'n's all-luminating rays Does souls (disrob'd of flesh) both
brighten, and amaze !
LXXIX
' That boundless solstice, with trans- parent beams, Through Heav'n's triumphant arches streams,
And, gliding through each spirit with intrinsic gleams,
LXXX
' Pierceth to th' little world, and doth dispel The gloomy clouds of sin, that swell
The soul, decoying it to ever-burn- ing Hell ! 240
LXXXI
* By glory, how are spirits made
divine ! How super-radiantly they shine From th' ever-flowing spring of the
refulgent Trine !
LXXXII
' Beyond report of high'st discourse
they dart Their radiations, 'bove all art ! This cath'lic bliss o'erflows the most
capacious heart !
LXXXIII
'Conceive a court, where all joys
domineer. Where seas of sweets o'erflow, and
where Glory's exhaustless mines, sport's
endless springs, appear :
LXXXIV
'Where infinite excess of sweets ne'er cloys ! 250
Where, still fruition's feast em- ploys
Desire ! where who enjoy the least can't count their joys !
LXXXV
'One may t' a glimpse, none to a
half can rise. Had he more tongues, than heavn
has eyes ! Such, nothing see, as would in words
this sight comprise !
213 Unboundless] So in my copy, but corrected to ' unbounded,' which is of course obvious.
( 373 )
Edwa7^d Ben low es
[Canto V
LXXXVI
' Can measures such Unmeasurables
hold? Can time Infinity unfold ? Superlative Delights maybe admired,
not told.
LXXXVII
'When Glory's Heav'n is all one
sunny blaze, That flowing radiance doth amaze, While on that inconceivable result
we gaze ! 261
LXXXVIII
' What king would not court martyr- dom, to hold In capite a city of gold. Where, look how many gates, so many pearls are told !
LXXXIX
'The structure's square; a firm
foundation, [stone,
Twelvefold, for each a precious
The Lamb's Apostles' names en- graven thereupon.
xc ' There sparkles forth the verdant emerald, The blue-ey'd sapphire therein wall'd, The topaz too, with that stone which from gold is call'd : 270
xci ' There, jasper, chalcedon, chryso- prase shine. There sardonyx, and sardius join, There beryl, hyacinth, and amethyst combine.
XCII
'No sympathizing turkise there, to
tell By paleness th' owner is not well. For, griefs exil'd to earth, and
anguish groans in hell !
XCIII
' The streets with gold perspicuous are array'd. With blazing carbuncles inlaid ;
271] Read ' chrysoprase, chalcedon'?
( 374 )
Yet, all seem night, to glories from the Lamb display'd.
xciv ' For, thousand suns make an eclipse to those ! 280
The diamond there for pavement grows. As on its glitt'ring stock, and all its sparkles throws, xcv 'And there, on every angel-trodden way Loose pearls, instead of pebbles, play. Like dusky atoms in the sun's em- bright'ning ray.
xcvi ' Had I a quill sent from a Seraph's wing. And skill to tune 't ! I could not sing The moiety ofthat wealth, which that all-glorious King xcvii 'Of Heav'n enstates those in, who follow good. And prize 't above their vital blood! Heav'n may be gain'd on earth, but never understood ! 291
XCVIII
' As, when the sun shakes off the veil
of night. And scatters on the dawn his light. He soon takes pris'ner to himself th'
engaged sight :
XCIX
' So, when I view those indeficient beams, Oh, they in overfulgent gleams. Like diamonds, thaw'd to air, em- bubble forth in streams ! c ' Ev'n spirits, who have disrob'd their rags of clay, Laid up in wardrobe till that day, O'ercome, they dazzled are by each
miperious ray
I
300
286] Note this.
Canto V] TheophUd s JLove-Sacrifice
I
Sextarepercussi, Pars antepenultima, Ponti, Imparibus restat perficienda Mo- dis ;
Quam (si prsestiterit Mentem Deus Optimus) addam Flammiferos Phoebus cum jugat ortus Equos.
EX OBSCURO SPECTABILE CCELUM.
Canto VI. The Association
THE ARGUMENT
Panduntur Coeli, juvat hinc invisere Divum
Atria, mortali non adeunda Pede : Hie, Animae pennis advecta Theophila, cernit
Agmina Ccelicolum ducere sancta Chores.
Heav'n's order, beauty, glory is descried :
Here, read the state o' th' Glorified, Which Theophil i' th' heraldry of Heav'n had eyed.
STANZA I
'Those happy mansions, glorious
Saint, discover. Where the bright Host of Spirits
hover ! Bring down all Heav'n before the
eyes o' th' Heav'nly Lover.'
II Frail man, with zeal and wonder here behold Clay cast into a heav'nly mould : Faith did, now Vision does Beatitude unfold.
Ill The tenants in this splendid frame are they Whose grosser and unpolish'dclay, Calcin'd in graves, now robes of glory do array.
IV
Here martyrs sit enthron'd, who late did bleed lo
Sap from their fertile wounds, to feed
With oil the Church's lamps, and with red dew her seed.
These ovant souls, Knights of Saint
Vincent are, For high achievements gain'd,
each scar, To make a golden constellation,
seems a star.
VI
Not by inflicting, but receiving blows, By suffring, they o'ercame their
foes : How long, Lord, ere Thou dost
avenge their blood on those ?
VII
These own their bliss, sprung from
the word and will O'th' Lamb, by whom they con-
quer'd still 20
Themselves, and that revolted band
that Hell does fill.
VIII
Therefore, each prostrate casts, with
th' elders, down At the Lamb's feet their palm and
crown, Beholding round all eminences, but
their own.
8 unpolish'd] Orig. 'unpolish,' an obvious oversight. 13 Knights of St. Vincent] i. e. ' conquerors.'
( 375 )
Edward Be7ilowes
[Canto VI
IX
Th' Apostles here, with him, in
whose sweet tongue The lute of high-tun'd Love was
strung, When through so many regions he
the Gospel sung.
X
The loving, lov'd Evangelist here lives
OnLove's pure influence, and gives
No bounds to 's flaming love, but how
to heighten 't strives. 30
XI
Love was his only theme. She, here
is crown'd, Who near Death's tomb. Life risen
found ; Whose eye-bowl was tear-brimm'd,
whose towel hair unbound.
XII
Parch'd Afric's glory, born in 's
mother's eyes (A happier offspring of her cries, Than of her womb), here to ecstatic
Love does rise.
XIII
The bounds are boundless of divine
Amour ; Love hopes, and yet hath all
things, for. In Heav'n's eternal heraldry, true
Love is Or.
XIV
Fruition Love enfires, thence Zeal 's
renew'd ; 40
Love hath the Spirit's plenitude.
Burning with flames in splendour of
Beatitude !
XV
Love caus'd the Son of God from 's
throne dismount. And make Himself of no account, Become a Man of Sorrows, who of
Joy 's the fount !
XVI
This Love, by quire of Heav'n scarce understood !
Could so much ill cause so much good, For man's redemption that God's Son should shed His blood ?
XVII
Thou, Love, when as my guilty soul
did dwell In nest of ruin, didst unshell 50 My spirit (fledg'd with Grace) from
that disorder'd cell.
XVIII
And, having crush'd the outward film
of earth, Gav'st her, new form'd with Glory,
birth That she might sty to th' Seat of
Beatific Mirth !
XIX
And praise Thee, with those virgin- souls, who in The cloisters of their flesh have been
Wash'd in their Saviour's bath of blood from spots of sin.
XX
Flow'rs on our heads, as on their
stems, do grow, Which into fadeless colours flow. Nor cold to blast, nor heat to scorch,
nor age they know. 60
XXI
Scenting 'bove thousand precious ointments, shed On consecrated Aaron's head ;
Above pearl'd dew on Hermon's ever- fragrant bed.
XXII
How far, immaculate flames, do you
excel All that in thought's high turret
dwell ! What then can optics see? What
then can volumes tell ?
XXIII
If Beauty's self we could incarnate see
34 The promotion of St. Augustine to special company with St. John and St. Mary ""''"'""" is iiotew — ''■■• ienlowe!
(3;6;
Magdalene is noteworthy.
54 styj Benlowes probably took this rare but good word ( = ' rise ') from Spenser,
Canto VI] TheophUd s Love-Sacrifice
Teeming with youth and joy, yet she Would not so beauteous as the Virgin- Mother be.
XXIV
Who, Hke a fuU-orb'd moon, our stars outshin'd 70
In glorious fulgurance of mind !
For whose surpassing splendour I this Ode design'd.
XXV
' Hail, blessed Virgin-Spouse^ who
didst bequeath Breath unto Him, who made thee
breathe ! And gav'st a life to Him, who gave
thee life from death !
XXVI
'Who bor'st Him in thy womb, whose
hands did stack The studded orbs with stars, and
tack The glowing constellations to the
Zodiac !
XXVII
' And, what improves the mystery
begun, 79
New mysteries from thee were spun.
He did, at once, become thy Father, Spouse, and Son !
XXVIII
' Conceiving Him, as by the womb,
so th' ear ! By th' Angels' tongue Heav'n cast
seed there ! Thou heard'st, believ'dst, and thence
didst breed, and thence didst
bear !
XXIX
' Thou only may'st (so it be humbly)
boast To have brought forth the Eternal
Host By mystic obumbration of the Holy
Ghost !
XXX
' By thee did God and man embrace each other ! Thus, Heav'n to Earth became a brother !
(377)
Thus, thou, a Virgin, to thy Maker wast a Mother ! 90
XXXI
' Thy fleece was wet, when all the
ground lay dry ! Dry, when all moist about did lie ! As Aaron's rootless rod, so didst
thou fructify !
XXXII
' Thou art, from whence Faith's burgeon sprang, the ground ! Before, in, after birth was found
Pureness untouch'd, with Virgin- Mother's Honour crowned !
XXXIII
' Thou, shrine of Glory, ark of Bliss,
thou high Fair Temple of Divinity, In thee, the masterpiece of Nature
I descry ! '
XXXIV
'My ravish'd Soul,' said she, 'extols His Name, 100
Who rules the Heav'n's expansed frame.
Whose mercy rais'd me up to mag- nify the same.'
XXXV
Who can anatomize the glorious list Of heirs to God, coheirs with
Christ, Who royalize it there by Grace's high
acquist ?
XXXVI
Whose several glories admirable are !
And yet as infinite, as fair ! Where all 's enjoyed at full ; where everything is rare !
XXXVII
The joy of each one is the joy of all ! Beatitude 's reciprocal ! no
They drink Christ's cup of flowing wine, who pledg'd His gall !
XXXVIII
Silence most rhet'ric hath,and glories
best Do portray forth that royal feast, At which each blessed saint is an
eternal guest !
Edward Be?ilowes
[Canto VI
XXXIX
Nor can a thought of earthly friend's
annoys Extenuate one grain of joys, While Mercy saves the wise, while
Justice fools destroys !
XL
Strangely their intellects enlighten'd
be !
Nature's compendium did not see
One half; yea, ere he tasted the
Forbidden Tree ! 120
XLI
If, that sea-parting Prince, from cleft
rocks' space Viewing God's back-parts, thought
it grace, What honour is it then to see Him
face to face !
XLII
Who doth inspirit th' indeficient ray. Not dimm'd with a minute allay ; Where, though no sun e'er rose, yet 'tis eternal day !
XLIII
Where all are fiU'd, yet all from food
abstain ! Where all are subjects, yet all reign ! All rich, yet have no bags that stifled
wealth contain !
XLIV
Where each saint does a glorious
kingdom own ;
I ',0
AVhere each king hath a starry crown ; Each crown a kingdom, free from the rude people's frown.
XLV
Where each hath all, yet, more than
all, they owe ; All subjects, yet no kings they
know, Save King of kings, and Lord of lords,
who quell'd their Foe.
XLVI
Where highest joy is their perpetual
fare; Their exercise Hosannas are ; Spirits the choristers, the subject
Praise and Prayer.
( 378 )
XLVII
The laureate King his Psalming voice
doth raise. And sings to 's solemn harp high
lays, 140
Being himself the organ to his
Maker's praise.
XLVIII
Enflam'd with holy zeal, and high
desire. Encircled with the enthean quire, Warbles this epinician canzon to his
lyre.
XLIX
' Thou, Crown of Bliss, whose foot- stool 's Earth, whose throne Outshines ten thousand suns in one.
Who art the radical life of all true joy alone !
L
' Royal Protector ! when in Thee,
Light's sun, Mortals would deem the last hour
run. We find no wane of day, but a
solstitial noon ! 150
LI
' When we Time's volumes of past
thousands scan. Thy origin with time to span. We find no track in infant age when
it began !
LII
'Ancient of Days ! to whom all times
are now ; Before whom, Seraphims do bow. Though highest creatures, yet to their
Creator, low !
LIII
'Who art by light-surrounded powers
obey'd (Heav'n's host Thy minist'ring
spirits made), Cloth'd with Ubiquity, to whom all
light is shade !
LIV
* Whose thunder-clasping Hand does grasp the shoal 160
Of total Nature, and unroll
Canto VI] TheophUa s Love-Sacrtfice
The spangled canopy of Heav'n from pole to pole !
LV
' Who, on the clouds and winds, Thy
chariot, rid'st ; And, bridling wildest storms, them
guid'st ; Who, moveless, all dost move; who,
changing all, abid'st !
LVI
'The ocean Thou begirt'st with misty
shrouds ; That monster wrap'st in swathing
clouds. And, withThy mighty Word controll'st
tempestuous floods !
LVI I
'Earth-circling oceans Thy displeas- ure flee ; Mountains dismounted are by Thee; 170
Those airy giants smoke if Thou incensed be !
LVIII
' Innumerable troops of Joys do
stand BeforeThyboundlessPresence,and Uncessantly attend Thy ever-blissful
Hand!
LIX
' Thou, Lord, good without quality,
dost send Bliss to all Thine ; great, without
end ; Whose magnitude no quantity can
comprehend !
LX
'What's worthless man? what his
earth-crawling race ? That Thou shouldst such a shadow
grace, And in unspeakable triumphant glory
place ! 180
LXI
* Who may thy Mercy's height, depth,
breadth extend ? In height it does to Heav'nascend, Confirms the Angels, and in depth
doth low descend,
LXII
' Lessening the pains o' th' damned
ev'n in Hell ; In breadth, from East to West does
swell And over all the world, and all Thy
works excel !
LXIII
' Immense Existence ! Heav'n's amaz'd at Thy Incomprehensibility !
Intelligences dread Thine all-com- manding Eye !
LXIV
'Ye winged heroes, whom all bliss embow'rs, 190
To Him in anthems strain your pow'rs.
Whose sea of goodness has no shore, whose age, no hours ! '
LXV
Then, o'er the trembling cords his swift hand strays. And clos'd all with full diapaze ; As, in a sounding quire the well- struck concert plays.
LXVI
Victorious jubilees, when echo'd clear From the Church Militant, are
dear To Heav'n's triumphing quire ; such
no gross ear can hear.
LXVII
Music's first martyr, Strada's night- ingale, 199 Might ever wish (poor bird) to fall
On that excelling harp, and joy i' th' funeral !
LXVIII
Had it but heard those airs, where
Music meets With raptures of voice-warbled
sweets. Flowing with ravishing excess in
Sion's streets.
LXIX
All, what symphonious breaths in- spire, all, what
(379)
194 diapaze] The ^ is a little interesting.
Edward Be7iIowes
[Canto VI
Quick fingers touch, compar'd, sound flat : Could 1 but coin a word beyond all sweets ! 'Twere that.
LXX
What orders in New-Salem's Hier- archy, In what degrees they' enstated be.
Are wings that mount my thoughts to high discovery. 210
LXXI
Blest sight to see Heav'n's order'd
Host to move In legions glist'ring all above, Whose armour is true Zeal, whose
banner is pure Love !
LXXII
Bright-harnessed Intelligences! Who
Enucleate can your Essence so, As men may both your mighty pow'r and nature know !
LXXIII
Invisible, impassive, happy, fair. High, incorporeal, active, rare. Pure, scientific and illustrious spirits you are.
LXXIV
Guess at their strength, by One ; was
not almost 220
Two hundred thousand of an host
Byan Angel slain, when Assur's chief 'gainst Heav'n did boast?
LXXV
In brightness they the morning star
outvie ; In nimbleness the Winds outfly; And far surpass the sunbeams in
subtility.
LXXVI
Archangels, those superior Spirits, are God's legates, when He will declare His mind to 's chosen; Gabriel did thus prepare
LXXVII
God's embassy, when His Belov'd did tie Our flesh to His IJivinity ; 230
Grace was the kiss, the Union was the ring from high ;
LXXVIII
Angels the posy sung : this, made our clay O'er empyrean courtiers sway, Whenas the Spouse His mystic nuptials did display.
LXXIX
No sooner shall that great Archangel
sound His wakeful trump of doom to th'
ground. And echo shall, as banded ball, make
quick rebound ;
LXXX
But, pamper'd graves, with all their
jaws, shall yawn ; And seas, floods' nurse, strange
shoals shall spawn Of men, to wait o' th' dreadful Judge
at 's judgement's dawn. 240
LXXXI
To incorruption then corruption's
night Shall turned be ; for that strange
sight Inebriates souls with deepest woes,
or high'st delight !
LXXXII
Then shall my ear, my nose, my hand,
tongue, eye. Always hear, smell, feel, taste, espy, Hosannas, incense, off'rings, feasts,
felicity !
LXXXIII
To act God's will, o'er sublunary things, The Dominations sway, as kings ; He curbs aerian potentates, by th' Pow'rs He wings ;
LXXXIV
The Principates, of princes take the care, 250
T' enlarge their realms, or to impair;
Virtues in acting of His will have their full share ;
2og they'] So in orig. : the apostrophe evidently indicating a slur. 237 banded] =' bandied.'
(580)
Canto VI] T'heophild s Love-Sacrifice
LXXXV
Thrones HiiNi contemplate, nor from's
presence move ; To Cherubs He reveals above Hid things ; He Seraphins inflames
with ardent love.
LXXXVI
Precelling Seraphs show God's ardour
still ; Wise Cherubs His abyss of skill Ingoverning of all; beatious Thrones
instil
LXXXVII
To us His steadiness in 's blessed throne, Ever unalterably One ; 260
Pow'rs, virtues, principates to His commands are prone ;
LXXXVIII
Dominions own His regal sway ; and so Archangels, Angels swiftly show Agility that from the Deity does flow.
LXXXIX
Their number's numberless, not half so few As orient pearls of early dew ; Like aromatic lamps they in Heav'n's Temple show : xc And yet of them though vast the number be. The thing that most does glorify Their Maker's this, they differ specifically. 270
xci Of the first machine they the parcels are ; Yet, if we them with God compare, Then with their wings they screen themselves, though else most fair.
XCII
Lawless Desire does never pierce their breast ; Th' Almighty's face is still their feast ;
Theirbliss in service lies, in messages their rest :
XCIII
They speak with thought, achieve without a fee ; Silence they hear. Ideas see ; Still magnifying Him, who cannot greater be!
xciv Thus, they, with one fleet glance in- tuitive, 280 Into each other's knowledge dive ; And, by consent, thoughts, else in- scrutable, unrive. xcv Each one in Psalms Eternity employs ; Where use nor tires, nor fullness cloys ; Enjoying God, their end, without an end of joys !
xcvi Each ravishing voice, each instru- ment, each face Compos'd such music, that I was In doubt, each so in tune, which did precede in grace :
XCVII
The spritely instruments did sweetly smile ; The faces play'd their parts; mean- while 290
The voices, with both graces, did them both beguile.
XCVIII
The Ninefold Quire such heav'nly accents there In sweets Extension still do rear, As overpow'rthewindings of a mortal ear.
xcix Who Music hate, in barb'rous discord roll; In Heav'n there is not such a soul ; For, there's all-harmony. Saints sing, the damnfed howl.
258 beatious] This, though an ugly word, no doubt intentionally connects with 'beatific' and 'beatitude.'
xciii-xciv] Cf. Dante, De Viilg. Eloq. I. ii.
(3S1)
Edward Ben low es
[Canto VI
Celestial sweets did this discourse
excite ; Firm joy, fast ove, fix'd life, fair
sight ! But may a creature, its Creator's
glory write? 300
Nunc alti Plumbum scrutatur Viscera Ponti, Viscera Navarchae non repetenda Manu ! Hincprocul optatam divino Lumine Terram Cernimus, optatum perficiamus Iter!
TE DEUM LAUDAMUS.
Canto VII. The Contemplation
THE ARGUMENT
Pango nee humanis Opus enarrabile Verbis,
Quae melius possem Mira silendo loqui ! Da, Deus, Ilia canam, quae Vox non personal ulla,
Metiar ut minimis Maxima Mira modisi
She launcheth into shoreless Seas of Light,
Inexplicable, infinite! Whose beams both strike her blind, and renovate her sight !
STANZA I
Were all men Maros, were those
Maros all Evangelists, met in Earth's Hall For grand-inquest of that which we
Eternal call :
II Draw Time from 's cradle (Innocence) could they. And piled heaps of ages lay Amassed in one scale ; those would they find to weigh,
III Balanc'd with Thee, no more (when all is done) Than, if they vainly had begun To poise minutest atoms with the mighty sun.
IV
Could they Earth's ball with numbers quilted see ; 10
Yet, those throng'd figures sum not Thee,
They were but ciphers to immense Eternity !
(382)
Should every sand for thousand ages
run. When emptied shores of sands
were done. That glass no more Thee measures,
than if now begun !
VI
Had tongues Heav'n's mint, to coin
each Angel-grace In dialect; they'd fail o'th' space, Where all to come is one with all
that ever was !
VII
Faith, stretch thy line, yet that 's too
short, to sound Sea without bottom, without
bound ; 20
As circular, as infinite, O shoreless
round !
VIII
Immense Eternity! What mystic art
Of Thee may copy any part. Since Thou an indeterminable Circle art !
Canto VII] Tlieophild s Love-Sacrifice
IX
Whose very centre so diffus'd is
found, That not Heav'n's circuit can it
bound, Then what, what may the whole
circumference surround ?
X
Heav'n's heroes, can ye find for th'
Endless end ? Can pow'r's Immensity extend ? Ubiquity enclose ? The Boundless
comprehend ? 30
XI
Jehovah's zone to this uncentred Ball,
Ecliptic, and meridional. Who was before, is with, and shall be after all !
XII
But now behold its height, above all
height ! Plac'd beyond place! Above light's
light ! Rapt were the three Apostles by a
glimpse o' th' sight !
XIII
Oh, thou all-splendent, all transcend- ing Throne ! Compact of high'st Dominion !
That 'bove the super-eminence of lustre shone !
XIV
From each of thine ineffably bright
sides 40
Diffusion of such splendour glides.
As rolls 'bove thousand seas of joys in flaming tides
XV
With such refulgence, that, if Che- rubs might, With face unveil'd gaze on that sight.
Straight their spiritual natures would be nothing'd quite.
XVI
Nature, put on thy most coruscant vest;
Thy gaieties show, brought to this test, As a crude jelly dropt from dusky clouds at best.
XVII
Couldstthou impov'rish every Indian
mine, And, from each golden cell, un-
shrine 50
Those beams, that with their blaze
outface day's em'lous shine :
XVIII
Couldst find out secret engines to
unlock The treasuring casket of each
rock. And reap the glowing harvest of that
sparkling shock :
XIX
Couldst thread the stars (fix'd and erratic) here, That stud the luminated sphere.
That all those orbs of light one con- stellation were :
XX
Couldst join mines, gems, sky-tapers,
all in one ; Whose near-immense reflection Might both outrival, and outvie the
glorious sun : 60
XXI
Could all thy stones be gems, seas
liquid gold, Air crystal, dust to pearl enroU'd, Each star a sun, that sun more bright
a thousandfold :
XXII
Yet would those gems seem flints,
those seas a plash, Those stars a spark, that sun a
flash ; Pearl'd islands, diamond rocks, gold
mines, all sullied trash :
XXIII
Yea, were all eyes of earth, sky, Heav'n combin'd. And to one optic point confin'd,
59 near] Orig. *neer.'
(383)
Edward Benlowes
[Canto VII
This super-radiant object would ev'n strike that bhnd !
XXIV
Blind, as the sable veil of gloomy night 7°
(The Gospel's self but hints this Sight) :
All seem obscurer shades to this non- pareil Light !
XXV
Amazing ! Most inexplicably rare ! Oh, if, but those who worthy are, None may this light declare — none may this light declare !
XXVI
Best eloquence is languid, high'st
thoughts vail. To think, to speak, wit, language
fail; 'Tis an abyss, through which no
Spirit's eye can sail !
XXVII
Here Glory dwells, with lustres so surrounded, That brightest rays are quite con- founded, So
When they approach this radiant eminence unbounded !
XXVIII
Forth from this fulgurance such
splendours fly, As shall draw up frail dust on
high; Which, else, would in its lumpish urn
still bedrid lie.
XXIX
Before the Almighty's throne my
soul I throw, Whence all, that 's good and great,
does flow. Lord, I that grace implore, which
may this glory show !
XXX
Great God ! Thou all-beginning, un- begun ! Whose hand the web of Nature spun !
At once the plenitude of all, and yet but One ! 90
(384)
XXXI
Parent of beings. Entity's sole stud ! Spirit's eternal spring and flood ! Sprung of Thyself, or rather no way sprung ! Chief Good !
XXXII
Abstract of joys, whose Wisdom an abyss ! Whose Pow'r Omnipotency is ! Whose soul-enlivening sight's the universal bliss !
XXXIII
Thou dost descend on wings of air
display'd, 'Bove majesty itself array'd, Curtain'd with clouds, the Host of
Heav'n attendants made ! 99
XXXIV
Essence of glory, Summity of praise ! Abash'd at Thy all-piercing rays, Heav'n's quire does chaunt unces- sant Alleluiahs !
XXXV
Diamonds than glass, than diamonds
stars more bright ; Than stars the sun, than sun
Heav'n's light ; But infinitely purer than Heav'n's
self 's Thy Sight !
XXXVI
Great is the earth, more large the air's extent : Planets exceed ; the firmament Of stars outvies ; unlimited 's the Heav'nly Tent :
XXXVII
But, as my tenter'd mind its spirits still Strains forth, from less to more (Lord, fill no
My outspent raptures by Thy all-re- pairing skill !)
XXXVIII
When I above air, stars, Heav'n, on
would press Rack'd thoughts to spheres beyond
excess ; Myriads of spheres seem motes to Thy
Immense Oneness !
Canto VII] TheophUd s Love-Sacrifice
XXXIX
Eternity is but Thine hour-glass ! Immensity but fills Thy space ! "W^hole Nature's six days' work took up but six words' place !
XL
One word did th' all-surrounding sky- roof frame, With all its starry sparkling flame !
Not all created wisdom can spell out Thy Name ! 120
XLI
Supreme Commander of the rolling
stars ! Thy law sets to their progress bars, Does epicycle their obliquely gliding
cars !
XLII
No lines, poles, tropics, zones can Thee enthrall, First Mover of the spheric ball,
Above, beneath, without, within, be- yond them all !
XLIII
What could, but thy all-potent Hand,
sustain Those magazines of hail, snow, rain, Lest they should fall at once, and
deluge all again ?
XLIV
By them Thou plenty dost to earth distil; i?,o
And man's dependent heart dost fill:
Winds are van-couriers, and posti- lions to Thy Will !
XLV
'Tis that the ominous cause of earth- quakes binds In subterranean grots ; that finds
Strange ruptures to enfranchise th' ever-struggling winds !
XLVI
Thy sandy cord does proudest surges bound ; And seas, unfathom'd bottoms sound ;
Thy semi-circling bow i' th' clouds thy covenant crown'd !
XLVII
Earth's hinges hang upon thy fiat; set
Midst air-surrounding waters, yet Stand fix'd on that, like which, what is so firm, so great ? 141
XLVIII
Yet earth's fast columns at Thy frown
do quake ; And oceans dreadful horrors
make ; Flints melt, the rocks do roll, the
airy mountains shake !
XLIX
Yea, Heav'n's self trembled, and the centre shook, WithThyamazingPresence strook, When Power of pow'rs on Sina's Mount His station took !
L
Each Ens (as link'd to Providence,
Thy chain) Is govern'd by Thy fingers' rein ! Thou seeing us, we grace; we, Thee,
do glory gain ! 150
LI
Who hast no eyes to see, nor ears to
hear ; Yet see'st, and hear'st, all eye, all
ear ! Who nowhere art contain'd, yet art
Thou everywhere !
LII
The optic glass we of Thy prescience
may Call th' Ark, where all ideas lay. By which each entity Thou dost at
first portray !
LIII
Future events are pre-existent here,
As if they lately acted were ; Than any new-dissect anatomy more clear !
LIV
Each where, at once. Thou totally art still 160
132 couriers] Orig. ' curriers.'
i6o Each where] So in orig., but the word, which is Spenserian, should be revived as one, i. e. ' eachwhere,' for ' everywhere ' is not synonymous.
( 385 ) CO
Edward Benlowes
[Canto VII
The same unchang'd ; yet, at Thy will, Thou changest all ; who, though Thou art unmov'd, dost fill
LV
Things that are most remote ; in
whose forecast Contingencies do crowd so fast, As if past things were now, and
things to come were past !
LVI
Though acts on earth cross to Thy
will are done, Besides Thy will yet acteth none ; Preceding and succeeding will, in
Thee are one !
LVII
Of whose vast Manor all the Earth's domains ! Though Earth, nor air, nor Heav'n contains, 1 70
Yet each obscurer grot Thy Omni- presence gains !
LVIII
Though nought accrues to Thy
unbounded state From spirits, which Thou didst
create, Yet they Thy goodness and Thy love
shall still dilate !
LIX
Thou, who mad'st all, mad'st neither
sin, nor death ; Man's folly first gave them their
breath ; That did abase whole Nature with
itself beneath.
LX
But sin to cure. Thou in a crib gav'st
man Emanuel ! Divine-humane ! Who diff'ring natures join'd ; whose
reign no ages scan ! 180
LXI
And Thou, O Mediator ! Thou,
whose praise. Like morning dews, to first of
days Was sung by heav'nly choristers in
serai)h lays !
(386)
LXII
God, by the Holy Ghost, begat Thee,
Lord! Flesh took by the Eternal Word ! Whose self-eternal Emanation none
record !
LXIII
As Thy eternal Emanation 's past ;
So to Eternity shalt last ! I ft the beginning zuas the Word, shows still Thou wast ;
LXIV
There God in Essence, one in
Persons Three ! 190
Here Natures two in One agree !
Thou, sitting in the midst of Trinal- Unity
LXV
At Heav'n's high council-table, dart'st
such rays, As strike ev'n cherubs with amaze ! Of which the school, disputing all,
it nothing says.
LXVI
Search we the ages past so long ago. None, none this Mystery could show, Till in that maiden-birth, 'twas acted here below !
LXVII
A Dove hatch'd in that nest Thyself
did build ! A Lamb that Thine own flock does
shield ! 200
A winter Flow'r that fram'd, from
whence it sprung, the field !
LXVIII
The Jewish shepherds all affrighted are, When heralds Thee proclaim'd i' th' air !
Yea, Magi came t' adore, led by a new- born star !
LXIX
Yet, though thus wond'rously begot,
thus born. Sponsor for us, fall'n race, forlorn, T' ingratiate us with God, becam'st
to man a scorn !
Canto VII] TheophUd s Love-Sacrifice
LXX
The Grace Self wast, th' Honour t'
evangelize ! The sacred Function, as a prize. Thou took'st, yet that not on, till
call'd in Aaron's guise ! 210
LXXI
Which God t' apostolize did bring
to pass. By th' Holy Ghost's descent, at
face Of Jordan's then blest streams, of
which John witness was !
LXXII
Thence, led by th' Holy Ghost to
th' wilderness. There tempted by the Fiend's
address. Him overcam'st by Scriptum est ;
hence our release ! Then forth Thou went'st. —
LXXIII
Thy sermons, oracles ; acts, wonders
were ! Those Faith begot, these others
Fear ! By both, thus wrought in us, to Thee
ourselves we rear ! 220
LXXIV
Thou gav'st the lame swift legs, the
bhnd clear eyes ! Thou heal'dst all human maladies ! Thou mad'st the dumb to speak !
Thou mad'st the dead to rise !
LXXV
And. art to dead men Life, to sick
men Health ! Sight to the blind, to th' needy
Wealth ! A Pleasure without pain ! a Treasure
without stealth !
LXXVI
Lord, in, not of this world. Thy Kingdom is ;
Thy chos'n Apostles preach'd Thy bliss. That none of all Thy creatures might salvation miss.
LXXVII
Abraham, long dead before, yet saw
Thy day, 230
In Isaac born, and vows did pay !
Type first, then antitype, and quick- 'nest every way !
LXXVIII
Thy Gospel Wisdom's Academy
show'd ; Thy Mercy, Justice calm'd ; Life,
view'd Is Temperance ; Thy Death the flag
of Fortitude !
LXXIX
Thou, altar, sanctuary, sacrifice.
Priest, bread of life dost all suffice ! Ne'er-cloying feast, where appetite by food doth rise !
LXXX
And, Son of Man, dost sin of man
forgive ! 239
To be Thy victims hearts do strive,
Who liv'dst that life might die, and di'dst that death might live !
LXXXI
Yet di'dst Thou not, but that (Spirit
quicken'd) free Thou might'st saints paradised see, Rejoic'd assurance give to them
rejoic'd in Thee !
LXXXI I
And that, from thence, to Satan's
gloomy shades, Made prison for the damned
Hades, Thou might'st Thy conquest show,
Thy glory that ne'er fades !
LXXXIII
Thence loos'd Death's chains from body, up to rear it.
217] This extra hemistich is printed in orig. level with the number lxxiii of the next stanza as a kind of aside, a parenthetic ejaculation.
232 quick'nest] This, which is without apostrophe in orig., is rather hard to adjust even to Benlowes' singular stenography. 1 should like to read 'thou' for 'and.'
246 Hades] Rhyme noted in Introd.
(387) CC2
Edward Benlowes
[Canto VII
That, when rais'd state Thou dost inherit, Thou might'st become to us an ever- quick'ning Spirit ! 250
LXXXIV
The Father to reveal gives to His
Son Thee, Holy Ghost (thus Three
in One) Of all peculiar Sanctifier, yet not
alone !
LXXXV
The Father's love, and Son's ; Adoption's seal. The Spring of sanctity, the Weal O' th' Church : Thyself in light of fiery tongues reveal !
LXXXVI
O Light unscann'd ! Of wisdom every glance Beams only from Thy countenance ; Whose store, when emptied most itself doth most advance !
LXXXVII
Whose fruits are Gentleness, Peace, Love, and Joy, 260
All crown'd with bliss, freed from annoy ;
Which neither Time, World, Death, Hell, Devil can destroy !
LXXXVIII
Thou art a feast, fram'd of that fruit- ful fare, Which hungers waste not, but repair !
A rich perfume, no winds can winnow into air !
LXXXIX
A light unseen, yet in each place dost shine ! A sound no art can e'er define ! A pure embrace, that Time's assault can ne'er untwine ! xc Floods of unebbing joys from Thee do roll ! Which, to each sin-disdaining soul Thou dost exhibit in an unexhausted bowl! 271
(388)
XCI
This Wine of Ecstasy, by th' Spirit
giv'n, Doth raise the ravish'd souls to
Heav'n ! Affording them those comforts are
of Earth's bereav'n !
XCII
Thy union is as strict, as large thy
merit ! No Heav'n but Thee, which
Saints inherit Through grace, divinest sap, deriv'd
by th' Holy Spirit !
XCIII
When souls enflamed by that highest
light, Fix on Thy glorifying sight, All glories else, compar'd to that, are
dusky night ! 280
XCIV
When high'st infusions pass our highest sense, Amazement is high eloquence, 'Bove all hyperboles which fall to exigence.
xcv Blest Trinity, Th' art all ; above all, Good ! Beatitude's Beatitude ! Which swallows us, yet swim we in this Living Flood ! xcvi Th' art King of kings, of lords Lord! None like Thee ! Who, for Thy style hast Majesty ! And for Thy royal robes hast Immortality.
xcvii
Mercy for throne ! for sceptre Justice
hast ! 290
Immensity 's for kingdom plac'd !
And for Thy crown such glory as
doth ever last !
XCVIII
For peace, what passeth understand- ing's eye ! Pow'r, irresistibility ! For holiness, all what's most sacred, pure, and high !
Canto VII] TheophUd s Love-Sacrifice
XCIX
For truth, Thy Word ! Wisdom for
counsellor ! Omnipotence does guard Thy
tow'r ! Thou minist'ring angels hast to act
Thy sovereign pow'r !
Omniscience Thine intelligencer is !
For treasure Thou hast endless
bliss ! r.oo
For date eternity ! Oh, swallow me, Abyss !
Ite, pii Cantus, Cantus quibus arduus ^ther Est Portus ; Tortus, quern videt alma Fides. Visuram Littus Navem, sacra Serta coronent, Serta per innumeros non peritura Dies!
GLORIA IN EXCELSIS DEO.
Canto VIII. The Admiration
THE ARGUMENT
Cceli trina Monas, Trias una, faveto precanti !
Personas una Tres Deitate colo ! Sunt tria, sunt et idem, Fons, Flumen, Gurges aquarum :
Sic tria sunt unum, Sol, Jubar, atque Calor.
Th' Elixir centuplies itself. But, oh,
Myriads of myriads must she so, T' express God's Essence which no intellect can show !
STANZA I
Projection to my soul! Thy sight's a wreath Ofglory; thou dost virtue breathe; Thy words, like sacred incense, fuel and flame bequeath. II Thou Maid of Honour in Heav'n's Court ! to break Thy gold-twist lines shows judge- ment weak ; Yet deign to hear my suit; of God's hid Nature speak ! Ill Can counters sum up infinite ? Fond man, Couldst grasp whole oceans in thy span. And Phoebus couldst outface in his meridian ;
IV
Tear rocks of adamant, and scale the wall lo
(389)
O' th' glorious empyrcean hall ; And worms to super-eminence of Seraphs call !
V
Yet this, ev'n then, thou couldst nor learn, nor teach : The World, unravell'd, cannot stretch
To sound th' Abyss. Itself alone it- self can reach.
VI
Of all intelligences not all Light Muster'd into one optic sight, Can speak what each where is, yet no where seen to th' height !
VII
Who out of nothing all things did
compact ; Whose will 's His work, whose word
His act : 20
Of whom, who says the most, must
from His worth detract ?
Edward Be7tlowes
[Canto VIII
VIII
How from the Essence the Creator
flows ! Or how the Word, what creature
knows ! How th' Spirit, all in 't, all from 't, does
Heav'n's assembly pose !
IX
Here they, who leave the Church's ship, are tost Till irrecoverably lost !
Whose rudder is God's Word, steers- man, th' Holy Ghost.
X
Archessence ! Thou, self-full ! self- infinite ! Residing in approachless light ! In the Incomprehensibilities of Height ! 30
XI
Thy peerless uncreated Nature is
The super-excellence of Bliss ! Where Holiness and Pow'r ; where Truth and Goodness kiss !
XII
Who only in Thyself subsists, with- out Or form, or matter ! yet, no doubt,
Inform'st the matter of the universe throughout!
XIII
No need compels Thee, no disasters
sad Disturb thy state, no mirth makes
glad; Oblivion takes not from Thee, nor
can mem'ry add!
XIV
With prudent rev'rence, thus. What-
e'er 's in God, 40
HisEssence is; there's His abode;
Whose will His rule, whose Heav'n His court, whose hell His rod.
XV
He exists an active Ens, upholding both Itself, and everything that doth
Exist ; without distinction or of parts, or growth !
XVI
Not made by nothing (nothing no- thing makes) ; Nor birth from anything He takes ;
For, what gives birth, precedes : springs usher in their lakes.
XVII
Were He material, then He local were;
All matter being in place ; so, there
Th' Incircumscriptible would circum-
scrib'd appear. 51
XVIII
He's so diffusive, that He's all in all !
All in the universal ball ! All out of it ! The only Was, the Is, the Shall.
XIX
To help thy reason, think of air ;
there see Ubiquity unseen, and free From touch ; inviolable, though it
pierced be.
XX
Mere air corrupts not, though con-
vey'd unto All lungs ; for, thither it does go To cool them ; quick'neth all, as the
world's soul doth show : 60
XXI
Moisture and heat, its qualities, are
cause Of all production : yet, because This element 's a creature, God
Creator, pause.
XXII
Self-life the attribute of's Being is! His Will, of governing ! and His Command of execution ! and His love of bliss !
XXIII
All's tiedin this love-knot : Jehovah's
love. Time's birth the Trinity does prove: Creator made, Word spake, and
Spirit of God did move : 69
27 th'] So in orig. : if correctly, Benlowes must have made 'steersman' trisyllabic. 63 Creator,] No comma in orig., but required. 'Pause' corresponds to 'think' in 55.
( 3yo )
Canto VIII] TheophUd s Lov 6- Sacrifice
XXIV
'Let us in our own image man create.'
Which Solomon does expHcate ; Remember the Creators in thy youth- ful state.
XXV
The Father spake, the Son i' th'
stream did move At His baptizing ; from above The Holy Ghost descended in the
form o' th' Dove.
XXVI
Of Him, to Him, and through Him
all things be : Of, through, and to declare the
Three ; And in the Him, the Unityof God we
see.
XXVII
Thus Holy, Holy, Holy 's nam'd, to
show A Ternion we in Union know : 80 The notions issuing from the Trine,
int' One do flow.
XXVIII
Whilst that I think on Three, I am confin'd To One ! while I have One in mind, I am let forth to Three ! Yet Three in One combin'd !
XXIX
Oh, inconceivable Identity !
In One how may a Plural be ! Coequal both in attributes, and majesty !
XXX
TheFATHERistrueGoDi'th'Ternion:
The Word unborn, yet after Son:
The Spirit God coessential ; Three,
cause Three from One ! 90
XXXI
The Father and Word are One !
One, shows their power : Are, distinct Persons. One does
show'r On Tritheists vengeance : Are^ does
Arians devour.
XXXII
One, yet not one ! The Father and
the Son In Persons two, from Father one Byth' Spirit; Son is one byresigna-
tion !
XXXIII
The Word is what He was; yet, once
was not What now He is ! for. He hath got A Nature more than once He had,
to cleanse our spot !
XXXIV
For, ne'er had man from earth to Heav'n attain'd, ico
Had God from Heav'n to earth not deign'd
His Son ! now unto God man's way by Man is gain'd !
XXXV
Equal, and Son, the form of servant takes ! The world, unmade by sin, new makes !
Equal, Son, servant ! All are mys- teries, not mistakes !
XXXVI
Thus, by free grace is man's defection heal'd : Behold the mystery reveal'd. Word, equal ; shadowing. Son ; Unction is servant seal'd !
XXXVII
Because God's Equal, serpent's
tempts are quell'd : Yet He, as Son, to death must
yield no
For us ; by resurrection to regain the
field.
XXXVIII
The Spirit is true God; from ever He
Did reign with Both! The Trinity
Coequal, Coeternal, Coessential be !
XXXIX
The Father 's full, though th' Son hath all engross'd ! Nor yet is aught of this all lost,
90 cause] So in orig., and possible, Benlowes often having comma between noun and verb. But it may, as often also, be 'cause = ' because.' 93 Tritheists] Orig. ' TritheZ/s.'
( 391 )
Edward Benlowes
[Canto VIII
Though th' Father give Himself to th' Son by th' Holy Ghost !
XL
For, though He freely thus give all
His store ; Yet hath He Infinite, as before ! Conceive for glimpse some endless
spring, or mine of ore ! 120
XLI
What soul will have this Triad for
his book, With faith must on the back-parts
look. For, with His glorious Face, blind
are ev'n Seraphs strook !
XLII
By speculation from Sol's substance, we The Father ; from its splendour see The Son; from's heat the Holy Ghost. Here, One is Three. XLin The intellect, the memory, the will Resemblance make o' th' Trine ; these fill One soul, yet are distinct in outward workings still !
XLIV
Thus, to restore from fall, we may descry i 30
The Trinity in Unity ! Inscrutable Abyss rebates our weaker
eye !
XLV
Be ever-ever-ever blest, O Trine !
Ever Unitedness divine ! AVho dost as well in ants, as in Arch- angels shine !
XLV I
The Principats, Thrones, Domina- tions, all Archangels, Pow'rs celestial
Are ministers attending on thy sovereign call !
XLVII
The government 'bove star-embroi- der'd hall.
Thus truly is monarchical, 140 Where all are kings, and yet one King does rule them all !
XLVIII
Less than the thousand part I have
express'd ; Man's weakness cannot bear the
rest. For Thy expressless Nature, Lord, be
ever blest !
XLIX
Soul of all sweets ! my love, life, joy
and bliss ! To enjoy Thee 's Heav'n ! Hell
Thee to miss ! What 's Earth's ? Ev'n Heav'n hath
its beatitude from this !
L
Remove the needle from > the pole- star, and 'Tis still with trembling motion fann'd.
Till it returns. No fixture but in God does stand. 150
LI
To saints all other objects prizeless be ;
In (jOD, the All of All, we see : Feast to the taste, all beauty to the sight is He !
LII
Music to th' ear ; and those whom
He unites. Partake with Him in
delights ! Springtides of pleasures overwhelm
their ravish'd sprites !
LIII
But, contraries, when opposite, best
show. (As foils set diamonds off, we know) , See Hell, where caitives pine, yet still
their tortures grow !
LIV
high'st
As metals fiery waves in furnace swell, 160
That founders run, to cast each bell;
139] Allusions to the Star-chamber (see note, p. 356) are not uncommon at this time : the special play of thouglit here is pretty obvious.
(39^ )
Canto VIII] llieophUd s Love-Sacrtfice
This, not endur'd ; more rage ten thousand times is Hell !
LV
Where souls still rave, adust with horrid pain ! They tug, they tear, but all in vain, For, them from raging smart, Hope never shall unchain !
LVI
Oh, that for trash these Esaus sold
their bliss ! For sin, that worse than nothing is ! This desperates their rage! How they
blaspheme at this !
LVI I
This viper clings, corrodes, 'gainst
which no ward ! God's beatific sight debarr'd, 170 Renders their case 'bove all the pains
of sense more hard !
LVIII
Oh, never-sated worm ! unpitiedwoes!
Unintermitted ! what Sin owes. Hell pays ! The damn'd are anvils to relentless blows !
LIX
Fiends forfeit not their energy. There Cain Fries, but for one lamb by him slain ! Oh, what flames then shall butchers of Christ's flock sustain ?
LX
Earth's fatal mischief, prosp'rous thief,
that thunder Which tore the nations all asunder. Whom just Fate slew i' th' world's
revenge, that conqu'ring wonder,
LXI
That ghost of Philip's hot-brain'd son
may tell i8r
Heart-breaking stories of his Hell !
Too late he finds one soul did his whole world excel !
LXII
There, curs'd oppressors dreadful rackings feel ! Whose hearts were rocks, and bowels steel !
Oh, scorching fire ! (cries Dives) for one drop I kneel !
LXIII
Oblig'd is man, God's steward, to
supply Brethren, in Christ coheirs, who
lie Gaspinginstifr'ningfrosts,nocov'ring
but the sky :
LXIV
Whose wither'd skins, sear as the sapless wood, 190
Cleave to their bones, for want of food,
Seem Nature's monsters thrown ashore by Mis'ry's flood.
LXV
Though all their physic's but a diet
spare ; Have no more earth, than what
they are. Nor more o'th' world, than graves, yet
in Heav'n's love they share.
LXVI
Inestimable Love, from none be-
reav'n ! Heav'nsunk to earth, earth mounts
to Heav'n ! Just Judge ! to Dives Hell, to Laz'rus
Heav'n is giv'n !
LXVII
Love,
Love has Nor bit, nor reins ! Rich, 'bove
earth's mass ! 200
Fix'd in ideas of Love's soul-enliv'n-
ing grace !
LXVIII
O Love ! O Height, above all height,
to Thine ! Thy favour did to foes incline ! Unmeasurable Measure ! endless End
of line !
LXIX
Love darts all thoughts to its Belov'd ; doth place All bliss in waiting on His grace ; It languisheth with Hope to view Him face to face !
disengage us of ourselves !
194 Have] Apparently short for ' though they have.'
( 393 )
Edward Benlowes
[Canto VIII
LXX
And ushers in that Beatific Love, Which so divinely flames above, And doth to vision, union, and frui- tion move ! 210
LXXI
Ice is a thing distinct from th' ocean
wide; But, melted by the sun, does glide Into 't, becomes one with 't, and so
shall e'er abide.
LXX 1 1
Desire 's a tree, whose fruit is love,
the show'rs That ripen it are tears, the flow'rs Are languors, leaves afflictions,
blossoms pray'r-spent hours.
LXXIII
O mental Pray'r, thy joys are high !
Resort By thee 's to God ! Thou art the
port Of inward peace from storms ! The
path to Sion's Court !
LXXIV
By pray'r God 's serv'd betimes ;
remember who 220
The blessing got by wrestling so ;
Who early pray, they healthy, holy,
happy grow.
LXXV
Then pray, before Light's rosy blush
displays I' th' Orient Sol's encheering rays. When he from 's opal East to West
obliquely strays :
LXXVI
Before the cock, Light's herald, day- break sings To's feath'ry dames; ere roost-lark springs,
Morn's usher ; when the dawn its mongrel hour forth brings.
LXXVII
Pray'r, thou art life's best act, soul's
silent speech,
The gate of Grace ; saints God
beseech 230
238 confection] Used, it would seem, in
(394 )
By prayer, but join'd with alms and fasts they Him besiege !
LXXVIII
Fasting, the soul's delicious banquet,
can Add strength to pray'r, feast th'
inner man. And throw up to Eternity the body's
span !
LXXIX
Fasts, sackcloth, ashes, grovelling on
the ground Saints studied have with pain ;
and found With joy, that what degrades the
sense, in Heav'n is crown'd !
LXXX
Prize Faith, the shield of martyrs,
Joy's confection, Soul's light, the Prophet's sure
direction, Hope's guide, Salvation's path, the
pledge of all perfection ! 240
LXXXI
In Faith's mysterious Eden make
abode ; With Jacob's staff, and Aaron's rod Frequent its grove, where none are
but the lov'd of God !
LXXXII
The radiations of Faith's lamp excite Such a Colosse of sparkling light. That saints through worldly waves may steer life's course aright.
LXXXIII
Being in, not of this world, they
comforts rear Above the pitch of servile fear : Terrestrial blossoms first must die,
ere fruit they bear.
I,XXXIV
Noclogging fetters of impris'ningclay, No wry-mouth squint-ey'd scoff
can stay 251
Their swift progression, soaring in
their heav'nly way !
LXXXV
Thoughts on the endless weight of glory shall the sense of 'completion,' familiar in conficere.
Canto VIII] 'TheophHas Love-Sacrtfice
Render ev'n crowns, as dung, and all Afflictions light, as chaff chas'd on Earth's empty ball.
LXXXVI
The torch that shines in night, as eye of noon. Is but as darkness to the sun : Run after shades, they fly; fiy after shades, they run.
LXXXVII
All worldly gays are reeds, without
support, Fitly with rainbow gleams they
sort, 260
Want solidness ; when gain'd, they
are as false, as short.
LXXXVIII
While fools, like silly larks, with
feathers play. And stoop to th' glass, are twitch'd
away. Amidst their pleasing madness, to
Hell's dismal bay !
LXXXIX
Oh, could embodied souls sin's bane view well, Rather in flames they'd choose to dwell ! Not so much ill, as sin, have all the pains of Hell ! xc A smiling conscience (wrong'd) does sweetly rest. Though starv'd abroad, within doth feast ; Has Heav'n itself for cates, has God Himself for Guest ! 270
xci May call Him Father ; His Vice- gerent be ! An atom of Divinity ! Redeem'd by 's Son, by the Spirit inspird, blest by All Three !
XCII
His judge becomes His advocate ! hath care To plead for Him ! The Angels are
(395)
His guardians ! from his God him heights nor depths may scare.
XCIII
Oh, blest, who in His courts their days do spend ! And on that Sovereign Good de- pend !
His Word their rule ; His Spirit their light ; Himself their end !
XCIV
While pride of Hfe, and lust o' th' eye do quite 280
Dazzle the world, saints out of sight Retire, to view their bliss : on which some cantos write : xcv For, souls, sincerely good, in humble ceU Encloister'd, near Devotion's bell, By Contemplation's groves and springs near Heav'n do dwell, xcvi Bright-gifted soaring minds (though fortune-trod) Are careless of dull Earth's dark clod; Enrich'd with higher donatives ; their prize is God ! xcvii ' Farewell.' As vanish'd lightning then she flies. Oh, how in me did burnings rise ! The only discord was ' Farewell.' Hearts outreach eyes. 291
xcviii The air respires those quintessential sweets From whence she breath'd, and whoso meets With such, the tuneful orbs he in that zenith greets, xcix Dwell on this joy, my thoughts, react her part ; Such raptures on thy shuddering heart Make thee all ecstasy by spirit-seizing art!
Edward Benlowes
[Canto VIII
Chewing upon those Heav'n-en-
chanting strains, My soul Earth's giddy mirth
disdains ; Fleet Joy runs races in my blood
through thousand veins ! 300
Contingit gratam victrix Industria Metam ; Et mea nunc Portu fessa potire Ratis. Est Opus exactum, Cujus non poenitet Acti : Me juvat at Caepti Summa videre mei.
OMNIA IN UNO, ET IN OMNIBUS
UNUS.
MiRA mihi inter Authorem & Opus occurrit Symphonia : Ille Caelebs, Hoc Virgineum ; Ille Philomusicus ; Hoc, ipsum Melos ; Ille Dilectus, Hoc ipsa Dilectio : Quis enim ad Vim Amoris explicandum vel copiosius dixit, vel impensius Opere perfecit, qukm Autor hic in sua Theophila? quae tanta Florum Varietate conspersa est, ut quid prius legam, aut laudem, vix mihi post
repetitam Lectionem constare possit. Quid etiam Jucundius Animi Oculis, quam sitientem tam coelesti Nectare Animam adimplere ? Sine me Deliciis igitur istis inebriari ; &: me Epulis, hisce, Mel & Amorem spirantibus, jugiter accumbere. Modus amandi Deum non habet modum ; nullus plane in hoc Genera Excessus datur. Scripserunt De Arte Amandi Varii, sed imperfect^ admodum, &: impure ; ac si, non tam Amandi quh.m Peccandi Artem edocere professi essent : Quia hujusmodi illecebrse, dum sensim sine sensu Venenum hauriunt, Morbo sine Medela afficiunt. H ic autem sunt D ictu honesta, Lectu jucunda, Scitu utiiia, Ob- servatu digna, &: Factu praestantissima. Eximium ergo hoc felicis Ingenii Speci- men, propter Multiplices Aculeos m Le- gentium Animos suaviter penetrantes, &;penitioremceternsVeritatisCognitio- nem instillatam, Auresque harmonic^ demulcentem, in Lucem emitti, non possum non laetari.
M.G. S.T.D.
Jam satis expertus Briticum Mare,
contraho Vela ;
Naviget Ausonio Musa Latina Sale.
Fallor, an externo venit Aura secundior
Orbe ?
Portus in Latios versa Triremis eat.
Ad pis Poesios Cultum Invitatio
Vos, Eruditionis Candidati, quibus Crux Domini Glorias, Religio Cordi, Integritas Honori, Doctrina Orna- mento, Poesis sacra Oblectamento, qui Cupiditates Rationi, Rationem Reli- gioni, ut Christiani, subjugastis, cum Musis convivamini devotioribus, ut perpetua Posterorum vigeatis Memoria. IS^on ad Mundi deliria, vos, Animae pie anhelantes, sed, fulguris more, ad Sublimia nascimini. Credite Vosmet- ipsos Dei Filios, respondete (ieneri, vivite Coelo, Patrem Similitudiue referte ; Quid enim evidentius coelestis Originis Indicium, qukm humano Cor- pore Mentem Angelicam circumfcrrc ? Vosmetipsos ergo erigite, Dictatores, Magna loquimini. Magna vivite ; Caeteros, ad inferioradepressos, Ouad- rupedes non esse natos, pceiriteat. O, quiini divina Res est Mens variis
(396)
ornataDisciplinis! AcquisitioSapientite Carbunculos, & pretiosissimas Orientis Gazas antecellit : Nihil, Vobis o Animae, Dei insignitas Imagine, de- sponsatas Fide, dotata; Spiritu, redem- ptae Sanguine, deputatee cum Angelis, capaces Beatitudinis, iequfe sit Curje, qudm ut omnes altiores Animi vestri Vires in summum Illius Honorem, qui primum Ilium Vobis inspiravit /Estum exeratis. Tanti enim est Ouisque quanti Mens, quae, prteter Deum, nihil excelsius in Terris Seipsa complecti potest. Ad Se igitur revocetur, Secum versetur, in Se abeat, Sibi tola intendat, deque sua Sublimitate, & Autore semper adorando, cogitct. Hoc autem pra^stare non possit, nisi Vitia Corporis ableget, nisi Avaritia; & Ambitioni renuntict, nisi sui Juris sit, nisi Se denique a Sensibus separata, penitiiis
Canto VIII] Theophilu s Love-Sacrtfice
perfruatur; tunc enim ad Deum, Objectum suum, libera assurgat ; Hsec autem ipsius in Seipsam Conversio ac Defixio, tantae est Voluptatis, ut ex- cogitari nulla in hac Vita possit, quas vel adaliquam ejus particulam accedat. Ut igitur ad summum hoc Bonum, summis Ingeniis Propositum, per- veniatis, Votis & Vocibus cohortamur: I mo Deus in Vobis & velle, &
Vos, sacra Progenies CCELI, celsique
capaces, Pectoris, HEROES, salvete ; Poemata
Mundo Sanctatriumphatodiffundite; Versibus
Orbis Ultimus applaudat: Spargant Prseconia
Musce ; Frivola Vesani Crepitacula spernite
Secli, Excelsos Excelsa decent : Mens una
Beatos
perficere operetur; Ipse Autor, Ipse Remunerator, Ipse Causa efifectiva & finalis ; Cuisoli,Nobilissimi,incumbite, & Unum Hoc agite, ut vos, Deo & Davidicce Pietati consecratos, Sedes in Gloria Templo Eetem^e excipiant. Sed, quia Heroes al'.oquimur, heroico nostram banc Parsenesin Carmine substringemus.
Reddit : prse Sanctis sordescant Cuncta
Triumphis. Davidicas Decori Vos aspirate Camoeme. Felix Vena sacros potius prorumpat
in Hymnos, Oukm micet eois Caput aspectabile
Gemmis. Sic, celebretur Opus, donee Formica
Profundum Ebibat, &; vastum Testudo perambulet
Orbem.
I. G. Sculp.
Canto IX The Recapitulation
AND Portrait of a Heav'nly Breathing Soul.
Whoso delights to burn in holy fire Of Virgin fair Theophila, Joy, Salamander, in that flame ; Thou so, Pyrausta born, may'st like the Phoenix burn, That to Eternity thou rise, Not losing life, but sowing well the same : A holier Ovid's smoothed verse With eyes of heart, with heart all eyes, behold : Such sacred flames by adaman- tine hand Ought to be plac'd in lasting urns; lo
But, 'cause these writings needed aid of pens,
3 Pyrausta] See note sup. p. 367.
5 ^viternitati] It is very like Benlowes to show his knowledge of the uncontracted form.
Hecatombe IX
Recapitulatio
Anim^ pie anhelantis De- scriptio.
Beato Theophila Virginis Incendio Quisquis flagrare gestis. In quo felicior Salamandra tri- umphes, Et instar Pyraustse nascaris, instar Phoenicis moriaris ; Ut ^viternitati resurgas, Non tam vitam deferens, quam conferens : Sanctioris Ovidii Carmina Cordis Oculis, & Oculorum Corde perlustres : Debuissent Incendia dia Ada-
mantino Stylo In Tabula Immortalitatis incidi ; 10
Sed, quoniam pennae ductibus scribenda fuere,
(397 )
Edward Benlowes
[Canto IX
Pennas porrigat Scribenti Pietas pennatior Ave, Et centum Oculos Legend ocu- latior Argo.
PORTICUS
Amor erga Magistrum, & Sodalem
Languidius se movet, & quodamodo
vegetat ;
Erga Parentem & Conjugem
Expansius se exerit,&:quasi sentit ;
Erga Patriam, & Patriae Patrem
Elatius se erigit, & Rationem
induit:
At erga Deum Totus Ecstasin patitur, Sese tran- scendit, Nee Modi, nee Limitis capax ; Sed, separatarum instar Animarum,
Cupit, Eestuat, ebullit, anhelat ! Finitus Infinitatem ambit, ac suspirat ! 1 2
ARGUMENTUM
Musa sacrata struens Aras, ut Numen honoret, Calcat, & odit haras, Musa peligna, tuas : Est Haec, ut Clytie, studiosa Pedissequa Solis ; Sol Deus est, Solis Lumen Amantis amat.
DiSTICHON I
Musa, silere potes, vaga dum Citha- ristria Sylvae Crispillat tremulo gutture mille Sonos?
II Ars acuit Concepta, Poesis acuminat Artem ; Spicula jactet Epos; jacta coronet Eros :
Virtue, than birds more swift, unto
the scribe lend wing, And let the reader's care more eyes
than Argus bring.
The Portico
Love to the master, and the mate Stirs itself feebly in Life's lowest sphere ; That to our parent, and the bed More large extends, and breathes a life of sense ; That to our country, and its sire Self raises loftier in Reason's air : But, that to God, Ravish'd with ecstasy, itself tran- scends. Nor bounds, nor limits would it own ; But, narrow'd that (like lovers, kept apart) lo
Warms, heats, yea boils, boils up and over ! Longs for th' Eternal, sighs for Him, beyond that lover !
THE ARGUMENT
Blest Muse the Altar builds, where Love 's ador'd ; And throweth down, loose wit, thy nest abhorr'd : She, Clytie-like, to th' Sun of Glory turns ; God is her Sun, with light of Zeal she burns.
Distich i Muse, canst be silent, when each
charmed grove Harbours a thousand warbling notes
of Love ?
II Art whets the mind, and hymns set
edge on art : Dart up an epod ; Zeal, crown thou
the dart.
Arg. 2] It is rather odd that Benlowes in his Englishing softens haras, 'styes,' to 'nest' ; and omits the direct reference {Pr/igna) to Ovid altogether.
4] Here one has to choose between ' Epos ' for ' Epode ' in the Latin, and ' Epod ' for ' Epic ' in the English.
( 398 )
Canto IX] TheopIiHd s Love-Sacrifice
III
Spes Arcus, sit Amor tibi Dextra, Fidesque Sagitta ; A Spe missa Fides, Numen Amore petit.
IV
Est sacrum quodconor Opus : Deus, annua Cceptis ! Seminat Ista Fides, Spes alit,auget Amor.
V
AIundusAger, Semen Verbum, Deus Ipse Colonus, Latro Satan, Lolium Gens mala ; Sancta, Seges. lo
VI
Da mihi Ccelipetse Fastigia, Numen, Alaudas ; Mens, ut Avis, penna remige sulcet Iter!
VII
Nosse Deum, bene posse Bonum, sunt Vota Piorum : Da mihi nosse Bonum, da mihi posse, Deus !
VIII
Notio non Coeli, sed habet Dilectio Palmam : Tu mihi nosse dabas Coelica, velle dabis.
IX
Quod volo, quod possum, quod sum, Tibi debeo, Christe : Quod sum, quod possum, quod volo, Christe, cape.
X
Nil video sine Te, sapio nil, nil queo ; Solus Sol meus es, meus es Sal, mea sola Salus. 20
XI
Lux, Via, Vita pio, Deus ; hac Face, Tramite, Corde, Qui videt, it, vivit, non cadit, errat, obit.
XII
Da cumulem tua centenis Altaria Donis ! Victima sint Versus, Ara Cor, Ignis Amor.
( 399 )
III Hope be thy bow, thy hand Love,
Faith the shaft ; Let Hope shoot Faith to God with
Love's strong draft.
IV
Sacred 's my theme ; may my first- fruits Him please !
Faith plants, Hope nourishes. Love ripens these.
V
This world's the field, God sows, His
Word the seed, Satan the thief, the good, corn, th'
ill, the weed. lo
VI
Lord, mount me to the pitch of
larks on high \ That I, as birds' wing'd oars, may
cut the skv !
VII
Saints would know God, so, as they
good may do : Let me both know this good, and
act it too !
VIII
Heav'n's love, not knowledge doth
the palm acquire : Who heav'nly knowledge gave, will
give desire.
IX
That aught I will, can, am, is, Christ,
from thee : Christ, what I am, can, will, accept
from me !
X
No light, taste, strength without
Thee ; Thou alone Art health unto my soul, my salt,
my sun. 20
XI
Thou, Light, Way, Life ; who sees,
walks, Hveth by That flame, path, strength, does not
fall, fail, nor die.
XII
Upon Thy altars let my verses
prove The victim, heart the altar, the fire
love !
Edward Bejilowes
[Canto IX
XIII
Thura Preces, Lachrymae Myrrhae, Pietasque sit Aurum : Mentis Opus, Clysmus Cordis, Amoris Opes.
XIV
Hoc Hecatombtei Tibi Carminis offero Libum : Ut tu millenos, Nate Davide, Boves.
XV
Vult pia Musa Deum ! Quoties volat altius, Alas Flagitat assidue, Sancta Co- LUMBA, Tuas ! 30
XVI
Ferre per yEthereasvolitante Vigore Phalanges, Fulgida Chrysolithum Lux ubi stellat Iter.
XVII
Carmine ducat Amor, quos terret Concio ; Mentes Elevet in Coelum, quo nequit ire Fides !
XVIII
Grata repercussi referantModulamina Nervi ; Unica nee nostras sit Synalaepha Lyrse.
XIX
Umbra mihi Deus. 1, patulae,
Maro, tegmine fagi ; Tu, Siloame,veni ; CastalisUnda, vale.
XX
Vana profanorum calcando crepundia Vatuni, Spirituale plus parturit Author Opus. 40
XXI
Vita quid est? Fumus. Quid Forma? Favilla. Quid Aurum ? Idolum. Quid Honos ? Bulla. Quid Orbis? Onus :
XXII
Vita repente fugit, cito Forma polita raced it, Aurum fallit, Honor deficit, Orbis hebet.
( 400)
XIII
Pray'r frankincense, tears myrrh, be
gold, soul's health : The mind's best work, heart's laver,
and love's wealth.
XIV
I this verse-hecatomb to Thee do
bring ; As Solomon his numerous offering.
XV
The pious Muse courts Heav'n ;
when highest things She soars for, still she craves, Blest
Dove, Thy wings ! 30
XVI
With active plumes fly up to th'
angel-quire. Where chrysolites to gild thy way
conspire.
XVII
Love may them lead by verse, whom
sermons fright ; Bring them, where Faith comes not,
into Heav'n's light.
XVIII
Oh, may our numbers in sweet
music flow ; Nor the least harshness of ehsions
know 1
XIX
Shade me, O Lord ! I seek not Virgil's tree ;
Hence, springs profane ; glide, Si- loam, by me !
XX
Trampling vain labours, with loose
wits defil'd. The hallow'd brain brings forth a
spritely child. 40
XXI
What 's life ? a vapour ; beauty ?
ashes ; gain ? An idol; honour? bubble; the
world ? vain :
XXII
Life flits away, and beauty wanes at
full. Gold cheats, and honour fades, the
world is dull.
Canto IX] T/ieophUds Love-Sacrifice
XXIII
Vita Voluptatis brevis est, Vit^eque Voluptas ; Non capit ilia Deo quid sit Amante capi.
XXIV
Ilia maritali quse T^eda parata Leandro, Ilia Sepulturse Tseda parata fuit.
XXV
Mille Vise Morti, proh, mille! sed unica Vitse : Crimina qui non hie eluet, ille luet. 50
XXVI
Bellica faedifragos pessundabit Ira Tyrannos : Non Vobis, Sceleri vincitis; Ultor adest.
XXVII
Peccantum Limen, Peccati linquite Semen ; Contagem ducit Proximi tate Pecus.
XXVIII
Hinc, Josephe, fugis, fugis hinc sine Veste, Johannes ; Proh Dolor ! Ipse manes, Petre, manendo negas !
XXIX
Conscia Mens Noctesque, Diesque, Domique, Forisque Pungitur : In Sese Verbera Tortor agit !
XXX
Jussa decem, bis sex Credenda, Sacratio Caenae, Heu, nimis in Templis, Lege loquente, silent ! 60
XXXI
Grex perit hinc ! Veniet, qua non speratur in hora. Judex : Terribilis Sontibus Ultor adest !
XXXII
Nee Preee, nee Pretio, nee Fraude, nee Arte, nee Ira Vincitur ! In Ptenas Flamma perennis erit !
XXIII
Life's pleasure's short, and pleasure's
life is vain ; It knows not highest bliss, God's
love, to gain.
XXIV
That torch which flam'd so bright in
Hero's room, Did light her lov'd Leander to his
tomb.
XXV
To death a thousand ways, to life
but one : For sin who groans not, he for sin
shall groan. 50
XXVI
Arm'd wrath perfidious tyrants throws
from high ; They conquer Right, Sin them ; th'
Avenger 's nigh.
XXVII
Sinner's first steps, sin's seed, and
fruit avoid ; Many by near infection are destroy'd.
XXVIII
Kill vice i' th' egg : John, Joseph,
robeless fly ; Peter, thou stay'st, and stay'st but to
deny !
XXIX
By night and day, at home, and
when abroad, Guilt stings the soul, and thereon
lays its load !
XXX
Of Decalogue, Creed, Supper of the
Lord, Though laws speak loud, our Church
hath scarce a word ! 60
XXXI
Hence flocks are pin'd. The Judge
in time will come Unthought of: near to guilt's the
Avenger's doom !
XXXII
Nor pray'r, nor price, nor fraud, nor
rage, nor art Can help ; ah, fear then flames'
eternal smart !
(401 )
Dd
Edward Benlowes
[Canto IX
XXXIII
Imbre rigante Genas, quoties Tibi Christe, querebar, Nocte vigil, nuUo Teste, Medela, veni !
XXXIV
Aspicis, & Pateris ? Scelus omne repelle, Colonus Nee gerat Arma sua qua serit Arva Manu !
XXXV
Vis, Amor, est exorsa Deo ; data Gratia gratis ; Hanc Vim Theiophil^ Nomine Musa vocat. 70
XXXVI
Ureris ignifluis confossa Theophila Telis ! Sacra beatificans si cremet Ossa Calor,
XXXVII
Quo magis ardescis, magis, hoc, sis Folb's ad Ignes ; Omnibus exundet, qui calet intus, Amor.
XXXVIII
Ure Tepescentes, Viresque Calen- tibus adde ; Igne crema, recrea Lumine, Mente bea.
XXXIX
Et Mare tentanti Pharos esto, Benigna, Poetas, Dum pandit Vento Lintea plena sacro !
XL
Velapius Genius, Tu Sidus, Acumina Remi, Vates Nauta, Salum Vena, Poema Ratis. 80
XLI
Consecro Frrena tuge moderanda Poetica Dextrre ; Sunt Donantis Honor, sed Ca- pientis Amor.
XLII
Stringesoluta,recudeproterva,revelle prophana,
XXXIII
Wet-cheek'd, how oft I've moan'd
to Thee, my Dear, All night awake, alone, O cure,
appear !
XXXIV
See'st Thou, and suff'rest? Stop sin's course, and birth ;
Let not that hand bear arms, that sows the earth.
XXXV
Love's pow'r 's infus'd from God, a
free-giv'n grace ; Theophila from Love takes name
and race. 70
XXXVI
Thou burn'st, pierc'd Theophil,
with fiery dart ; If blessed heat enflames thy vigorous
heart.
XXXVII
The more thou burn'st, the more be
bellows still ; As thy flames grow, let those flames
others fill !
XXXVIII
Heat the luke-warm, to those, more
hot, give fire ; Bless God ; refresh with grace,
enflame desire.
XXXIX
The poet's Pharos be that sets forth
sail. While he steers sheet-fiU'd with a
holy gale.
XL
Pure wit's the sails, quick judgement
oars, thou th' star, Pilot the scribe, sea vein, the ship
hymns are. So
XLI
I give wit's tackling to thy guiding
hands : Honour in giving, love in taking
stands.
XLII
Bind up what 's loose, what 's rash new-mould, refell
70 Theiophilae] Benlowes takes the liberty of this form, to get the long syllable, after the analogy of OtioXoyos, &c. In next line Theophila is more daring.
( 402 )
Canto IX] TheophUd s Love-Sacrtfice
Supple manca, poliscabra,superba preme.
XLIII
Irrita sulphurei rides Crepitacula Mundi; Regnaque pro Nidis, quae fabri- cantur, habes.
XLIV
Despicis Orbis Opes, opulentior Orbe, minorque Orbis, majori pulchrior Orbe, micas.
XLV
Congestas effundis Opes, releventur ut ^gri : Sic ab Amante tuo semper amere Deo. 90
XLVI
Scisque Deum, notumque doces, doctumque vereris ; Praxis habet Cultum ; Quae canis, ilia facis.
XLVII
Osa Malis, pretiosa Piis, Lyra viva Poetis, Casta Fide, Genio Candida, chara Deo.
XLVIII
Sylva Smaragdicomas quae ventilat, invidet Auro Crinis, & ad Cirros Gratia trina rubet.
XLIX
Gaudia tot spargunt splendentia Sidera Vultus, Quot fovet Attis Apes, quot gerit ^thra Faces.
L
Invidet igniparis Adamantinus Ardor Ocellis, Vibrat abinde sacras Pupula casta Faces. 100
LI
Emula puniceis Tinctura Corallina Labris ; Livet ad Ambrosias pensilis Uva Genas.
LII
What 's ill, lame help, smooth rough, depress what swell.
XLIII
Thou slight'st earth's rattling squibs,
with sulphur fill'd : Kingdoms such nests are as the birds
do build.
XLIV
Above all worldly wealth thy riches
rise ; Thy microcosm the macrocosm
outvies.
XLV
Thou lay'st out hoarded gold the
poor to aid ; So, with God's love, thy love to
God 's repaid. (;o
XLVI
Thy sacred skill imparted reverence
breeds ; Thy worship's practice, and thy
words are deeds.
XLVII
Fiends hate, saints prize, whence lyric strings sound clear,
Of spotless faith, pure mind, to th' Highest dear.
XLVIII
The emerald grove envies thy golden
hair. Whose curls make Graces blush
themselves more fair,
XLIX
As many joys thy starry beauties
shed. As bees in Attis, gems in skies are
spread.
L
The diamond sparkleth rage at thine
eyebeams, Whose chaste orbs brandish thence
their sacred gleams. 100
LI
The coral die is blank'd at lips so
red. And livid grapes at rosy cheeks
hang head :
LII
Mirarer Labrique Rosas, & Lilia I I'd gaze o' th' lilied cheek, and the Mate, ' lips' rose,
( 403 ) D d 2
Edward Beitlowes
[Canto IX
Mala sed exuperat Lilia, Labra Rosas.
LIII
Suavia mellifluo dimanant Verba Palato, Verbula Nectareis limpidiora Ca- dis.
LIV
Quas non Delicias, radiantibus ebria Guttis, Psaltria dia, creas ! Ore Mel, Aure Melos,
LV
Spiras Tota Crocos, Violas, Opobal- sama, Myrrhas, Bdellia, Thura, Cedros, Cinnama, Narda, Rosas. no
LVI
Ruris Aroma Rosas. Quot Cantica sacra profundis. Tot paris Ore Favos, tot jacis Ore Faces.
LVI I
Dum jaciuntnr ab Ore Favi, superge- que Favillse, Pascor, ut incendar ; Flamma dat ipsa Dapes !
LVIII
Languet Olor dum spectat Ebur Cervicis : Ad Agnum Haec Via susceptum Lactea mon- strat Iter.
LIX
Ningit in Alpinis mansura Pruina Papillis ; Anser es His Cornix, Nix nigra, sordet Olor.
LX
Vellera cana Nivis, Manibus collata, lutescunt ; Figis ubi Gressum pressa resultat Humus. X20
LXI
Lilia Lacte lavet, Violas depurpuret Uva, ^re Crocos tingat, Murice, Flora, Rosas ;
LXII
Nee potis est meritam Tibi texere Flora Corollam ;
( 404 )
But oh, thy cheek, thy lip surpasseth those !
LIII
Grace pours sweet-flowing words from
charming lips. Sparkling 'bove nectar which i'th'
crystal skips.
LIV
Rare Psaltress, with Heav'n-drops
inebriate, What sweets to mouth, and ear dost
thou create?
LV
Sweet violets, saffron, balm, myrrh
from thee flows, Bdell, incense, cedar, cinnamon,
nard, the rose — no
LVI
The rose, swain's spice : such heav'n- dew'd verse dost frame,
As sweet as honeycomb, as bright as flame.
LVII
While combs, and flames divine from
thee are cast, Fm fed, as fir'd; ev'n flames do nurse
my taste !
LVIII
The swan pines at thy neck ; this
Milky Way Doth steps, begun to th' Holy Lamb,
display.
LIX
There falls on thine Alp-breasts a
lasting snow. To which snow's black, swans foul,
the goose a crow.
LX
The hoary frost turns dirt, vied with
thy hand, And, where thy foot does tread, it
prides the land. 120
LXI
On lilies milk, on violets purple
throw, On saffron gold, scarlet o' th' rose
bestow ;
LXII
Wreaths, worthy thee, fair Flora ne'er can weave ;
Canto IX] TheophUd s Love-Sacrtfice
Te, nee hyperbolicus, dum cano, Cantor ero.
LXIII
Floribus omnigenis, Gemmisque nitentibus ardens, Tu Paradisiac! Praeda videris Agri.
LXIV
Quaslibet in Vita Virtus sic gequa relucet ; Ut dubitetur an hsec, ilia, vel ista praeit.
LXV
Desuper extat Amor ; Tibi Mens contermina Coelo, Regnat Honor, radiat Forma, triumphal Amor. 130
LXVI
Illud es Elixir, Chymica quod pro- tinus Arte, Mutet in auratas me, rude Pondus, Opes.
LXVII
Igne Cinis fit agente Vitrum ; niicat Igne Metallum ; Corpus & hoc fieri Spiritus Igne potest.
LXVIII
Magneti salit e Ferro celer Ignis Amoris ; Imo Silex faculas, quis putet ? intus alit.
LXIX
Durius at Saxo nil est, nil mollius Igne : Dura sed ignitus Saxa resolvit Amor.
LXX
Hsec meditans, quis non Facibus solvatur Amoris ? Tu Charis es, Studiis Tu Cynosura meis. 140
LXX I
Gemmula Mentis, Ocella Sinlas, pia Flammula Cordis : Incepi Duce Te, Te Duce coepta sequar.
LXX 1 1
Sponsa creata Deo, Virtutum fulgida Coetu,
(405)
Nor can our highest strains thee higher heave.
LXIII
With all-bred flow'rs, and glitt'ring
buds thou beam'st ; As if t' have cropt all Paradise thou
seem'st.
LXIV
Each virtue 's in thy life so pois'd, so
fine ; What's first? This? That? or
'T'other? since all shine.
LXV
Love to thy soul deriv'd is from
above, Where Honour reigns, sparks beauty,
triumphs Love. 130
LXVI
In chemic art thou my elixir
be ; Convert to gold the worthless dross
in me,
LXVII
Fire makes of ashes glass, makes metals shine ;
This fire my body may to spirit cal- cine.
LXVIII
Enamour'd iron does to the magnet
fly; Yea, sparks in hardest flints concealed
he.
LXIX
Nothing more hard than stone, more
soft than fire ; Yet stones are melted by inflam'd
desire.
LXX
Is't so? Who'd not dissolve in flames
of Love ? Be thou the grace, thou my thought's
loadstar prove. 140
LXXI
Mind's gem, eye's apple, heart's in- tenser flame ;
Thou show'dst the way, I'll prosecute the same
LXXII
For God created, bright in Virtue's train,
Edward Benlowes
[Canto IX
Jus colis, Affectus supprimis, Acta regis.
LXXIII
Est Tibi Vita Deus, Pietas Lex, Gloria Christus, Expetis Hunc, Tibi Qui semper Amore praeit.
LXXIV
Quid Te, Christe, Crucem perferre coegit ? Amoris
Weigh'st right, quell'st passions, and o'er deeds dost reign.
LXXIII
God is thy hfe, Law virtue, Glory
Christ ; Him, who leads thee by love, thou
lov'st Him high'st.
LXXIV
Christ, to endure the cross, what did Thee move ?
Ardor ! Amaroris Pignus Amoris The pledge of bitterness was pledge
erat !
LXXV
Factus Amans, fit & Esca Deus ! Te nutrit Iesus : O Bonitas! Quales Hocin Amante Dapes ! 150
LXXVI
of Love !
LXXV
Is God both meat and lover? Christ
thy food ? What banquet is this Lover ! As
sweet, as good ! 150
LXXVI
Est mihi Christus (ais) Laus, Splen- \ Christ 's spice (thou say'st) light,
dor, Aroma, Triumphus, Musica, Vina, Dapes, Fama, Corona, Deus.
LXXVII
Omnia Tu Jesus ! prse Te, nihil Omnia ! Coelum Exploraturae, quam mihi sordet Humus !
LXXVIII
Orbis es Exilium, Mors Janua, Patria Coelum ; Dux sit Amor, Baculus Spes, Comes alma Fides.
LXXIX
Diffluat in Gemmas Oriens, in Car- mina Coelum ; Nee Meritis Oriens, nee Polus sequa ferat.
LXXX
Fac timeam, fac amem ; Quae Te timet, acrius ardet ; Nempe tui Culttis Fons Timor, Amnis Amor. 160
LXXXI
Vox tua Norma mihi ; Tibi Palmes adhsereo Viti ; Totus es Ipse mihi, sim tua iota Deus!
triumph, praise to me ; Music, wine, feast, fame, crown, God; all to thee.
LXXVII
Lord, Thou art all in all ! Thou
lost, all 's nought ; How base seems muddy earth, where
Heav'n is sought !
LXXVIII
Earth 's exile. Death the gate, my
home 's above ; My staff's Hope, Faith companion,
leader Love.
LXXIX
Turn Indie into jewels, Heav'n to
verse. Nor Indie can Thy worth, nor Heav'n
rehearse.
LXXX
Let me Thee fear, and love ; fear
Love's heat blows ; Fear is Devotion's fount, whence
love o'erflows. 160
LXXXI
Thy word's my rule, I cleave to Thee,
my Vine; Lord, Thou are all tome, I'm wholly
Thine.
157 Indie] As we have kept the plural why not the singular? (406)
CANTO IX] Theophild s Love-Sacrifice
LXXXII
Comprecor, exaudi;patior, succurre; molester^ Auxiliare J premor, protege; flagro, fave !
LXXXIII
Te voco, laudo, rogo, colo, diligo, quaero, Redemptor, Affectu, Prece, Re, Spe, Pietate, Fide!
LXXXIV
Si Te contueor, liquefio, perusta Favillis ; Ni Te contueor, sum glaciata Gelu!
LXXXV
O, Facibus superadde Faces, ut Tota liquescam ! Sim vel Mortis Odor, sim vel Amantis Amor. 170
LXXXVI
Grata Procella, jugum mihi gratum, gratus & Ignis, Me quibus immergit, deprimit, urit Amor !
LXXXVII
Non mea sum, sed Amore Dei languesco ! Sorores, Me stipate Rosis, languet Amore Sinus!
LXXXVIII
Nil Animantis habet, quae Pectore vivit Amantis : Hoc in Amore mihi sit mora nulla mori !
LXXXIX
Unio sit Nobis, Animamque liqua- mur in unam ! Unaque Vita Duos stringat Amor- que Duos !
xc Tu super Omne places ! Tua sum, Tu noster, & Ambos Mutuus Ardor agit, possidet unus Amor. 180
xci Uror, lo; Redamatur Amor! Voto- que fruiscor ! Dum quod Amans redamor, dum quod Amante fruor.
(407)
LXXXII
Oh, hear my pray'r, my suffrings
bear, my task Take off, redress my wrongs, grant
what I ask !
LXXXIII
With pray'r, desire, faith, zeal, hope,
deed I call. Laud, seek, love, pray, worship Thee
all in all.
LXXXIV
If I behold Thee, I'm all flaming
spice ; If not behold Thee, I'm congeal'd
to ice !
LXXXV
Add flames to flames, that I may
melt away ! Be I belov'd of Thee, or else Death's
prey ! 170
LXXXVI
Sweet seas, light yoke, a friendly
flame I find. Which me with love doth drown, and
burn, and bind.
LXXXVII
I'm not mine own, but faint for God
above ! Rose-deck me. Virgins, for I'm sick
of Love !
LXXXVIII
Nought of a liver, hath a lover's
heart ! Or live belov'd, or life-bereft
depart !
LXXXIX
Let us be one ! In one, two melted
flow ! Let one life, as one love, inform us
two !
xc My only joy, I'm Thine ; Thou mine;
and both The like flame burns ; th' one loves,
as t'other doth. 180
XCI
Fire ! Fire ! Love is beloved ! My
Maker 's mine ! Loving, I'm lov'd ! while with my
Spouse I twine !
Edward Benlowes
[Canto IX
XCII
O, quid Amare ! Quid est Redamari ! Gaudia nacta Tanta, stupendo tacet ! Tanta, tacendo stupet !
XCIII
Vivo Deo, morior Mundo, moriendo resurgo ; Inde, catenate Dite, triumphat Amor.
xciv Sic amet omnis Amans, sic immo- riatur Amanti : Ut Lyra Luscinise Vitaque Mors- que fuit.
xcv Si mea Lumen habent, si Nomen Carmina ; Lumen Ex Oculo Sponsi, Nomen ab Ore venit. 190
xcvi Argus eat, qui Talpa venit, radiatus Amore ; Vates Sperati fidus Amoris ero.
XCVII
Cingant Theiophilge potius mea Tempora Lauri, Quam gemmans Capiti sit Dia- dema meo.
XCVIII
Nam, quid erunt, animas Damno, Diademata Mundi ? Celsa ruunt, fugiunt blandula, prava necant. xcix Ut prsesens novit, sic postera noverit ^tas, Sive premamus Humum, Sive premamur Humo.
c
Finis Fine caret, nee Terminus uUus Amantem Terminat ; Hic Modus est non habuisse Modum. 200
XCII
0 Love, belov'd ! Her, who such
joys partakes. Silence makes wonder, wonder silence makes !
XCIII
To Heav'n I live, to Earth I die ;
dying rise ! So, Hell being chain'd, Love takes
the victor's prize.
XCIV
Lovers so love, as for the lov'd to die!
As Strada's lute was life and des- tiny.
xcv
If these my lays have either light, or name.
Name from thy word, light from thy grace doth flame 19 j
xcvi
Who came a mole, goes Argus hence by Love ;
1 shall Faith's priest to hopeful Charis
prove.
xcvii Theophila's bays to me more honour
brings Than gems that blaze on the proud
heads of kings, xcviii For what boot worldly crowns with
soul's loss bought. Heights fall, spruce courtship fades,
vice brings to nought.
XCIX
We may hereafter, as we now have
found The voice of Fame above, so, under ground.
c The last shall last; Term can't Vaca- tion lend To th' Lover; here 'tis end to have no
End
188 Strada's lute] Benlowes merely alludes to what Ford and Crashaw had elaborately handled. And the piecing together of the allusion by the Latin and English is note- worthy.
(408)
Canto IX] TheophUds LoveSucriJice
Imus in Albion is, Freta per Latialia, Littus ; Siste BritannaleSjHac Vice, Musa, Pedes. Anglica num praestent Latiis, Briti- cisve Latina Scire velim : Placeant quae magis, Ilia dabo.
To see, not know, is not to
see : Then, let our English reader be Warn'd, not on Latian Alps to
roam ;
The next vale's path will lead him home.
PR^LIBATIO AD THEOPHILiE AMORIS HOSTIAM
QU^ UNICA CANTIO A DOMINO ALEX. ROSS.^0 IN CARMEN LATINUM CONVERSA EST\
Cantio I
ARGUMENTUM
Evigiles, surgas, divini Rector Amoris ; Delicium priiis explores, quam Gaudia tentes : Ad Coelos Cursum tandem pia Vota gubernent.
TRISTICHON I
MuTUA si Mentes agerent Commer-
cia Secum, Angelicum in Morem, terrena Mole
solutce. Intuitu quales possent effundere
Cantus !
II Spiritus ut subito si sublimetur,
abibit In Fumum, nimium chymicus nisi
temperet ^Flstum ; Haud aliter perit omne nimis subtile
Noema.
Ill Aurum, Sole satum, Terrae inter
Viscera clausum, Non pretio cessit, quamvis non
splenduit eeque, Qualiter excoctum flagranti fulgurat
Igne.
' The ' English reader,' after the broad hint given to him notio ' read Alexander Ross over' in the last stanza above, may be emboldened to ask why this Latin duplication is even given here ? But the original of Thcophila is too rare for the reproduction to be mutilated.
( 409 )
IV
Mens age, nunc Famse Sphseram conscende per Orbes ; 10
Errat enim quisquis non Cursum dirigit illuc :
Virtutis Comites, Aures adhibete Docenti.
V
Ergo, nb Veneris lascivae Praelia,
Cornu Vocali accensa, aut Oculis flamman-
tibus Igne, (Formfe Armis) cedant inopinis
Pectora Plagis.
VI
Quarum pestiferis Oculis, jaculan-
tibus Ignem, Virginitatis Honos purus maculatur,
& ipsa Mens capitur Laqueis fictarum in-
cauta Comarum.
Edward Benlowes
[Canto I
VII
Aspice Captivum Veneris, qui trans-
igit ^vum In fervente gelu, colit Umbram ;
atque Ingeniosum 20
Se credens, scribit, delet, laceratque,
furitque.
VIII
Ejus Opes Fragmenta quidem sunt
Comica, quorum Prsesidio superat Tenariffse Verticis
auram. ' Sol Tibi scintilla est, Tu Lumine
Sidera vincis.
IX
' Victrix Flamraa tuis Oculis micat
acribus, Orbes Obnubas geminos lucentes, nam-
que rigentem Accendent Monachum, vel fiam
Morte Bidental.
X
' Ob Gemmas Indi penetrant Saxa,
^thiopesque Oceanum ob Conchas, pretiosis
Pellibus instat Tartara Gens ; Omnes ejus
munera Templo.
XI
' Flagrantes dimitte
fulgure nostras Perstringis Oculorum
ferre valentes Tales Angelico radiantes
Vultus.'
XII
Estne Helene, Trojana Lues, atque Angelus idem ?
Passio non domita est insan^e Men- tis Idolum :
Multse se fucant, Paucse Virtutibus ornant.
XIII
Verius hoc nihil est; Cutis alba, rubore Rosarum
Permista, eximium Lumen ne Men- tis obumbret,
dant 30
Genas, quae Acies, non Lumine
Nevb Animag Visum penetrantem obnubulet unquam.
XIV
Ure Odas, Veneris Stratagemata chartea ; Ludos 40
Effuge, sunt FlammjE ; fabrices ne Vinc'la, Dolosque
Neve loquare Oculis ; Oris Commer- cia vita.
XV
Spumea nonne audis Cerebella, &
inania, ut intiis Et rugeant, nee non Joviali in
Crimine Potu Luxurient, saltentque furentes, atque
cachinnent ?
XVI
Prgedatas Cellas siccate, & mox
Rationem Luxuriae Vinclis submittite; per
Freta Vini, & Mellis arundinei Scopulos date vela
furentes.
XVII
Ad Senii Mare mortiferum transmit- tite Curas :
Quadrupedem effraenem defessi agi- tate Furoris 50
Bacchantes, Rabiem in Vini mon- strate Theatro.
XVIII
' Turgescant Vino Carchesia, donee
in altum Provehimur Bacchi, Terr^eque Urbes-
que recedant : Omnia sorbemus, sit ibi Naupactia
Classis.
XIX
'Aplustrum simul & Carchesia
pandite, Fluctus Horrisonos Fremitu superemus ;
Plura Salutis Naufragia hie, qukm cum cecinerunt
Monstra marina.
XX
* Amphora quseque ; parit (signato, Prome,) Pyropum ;
23 Tenariffae] Orig. has the a.
50 efTiaenem ; 55 Aplustrum] Note Ross's preference for unusual forms as against effraenws, and in the other aplustre. Also in 1. 68 aci, 'garfish,' for 'breams.'
(410)
Canto I]
Prcelihationis Tra72sIatio
Et tinctae Baccho Buccae, mihi
saepfe videntur TedifercC, quoties Gemmis micat un-
dique Nasus. 60
XXI
Cantibus alternis Homines sese esse
negantes, Exleges fiunt. Titubant, seseque
volutant, Atque Pedes sinuant, potant Cir-
csea Venena.
XXII
O, tumulatae Animae, vivae putresci-
tis ! usque Ad Faeces Vester liquefit Sal : Quis-
que coercet Naturam, & Mortem accelerat,
Spernitque Salutem.
XXIII
Insontes Pecudes vestros odere
Liquores Cum Nugas Vomitu & Punctis
distinguitis : Aci, In Vino & Somno ; Proceres nisi
Fumus & Umbra.
XXIV
Mallem condiri Muria, qu^m Nectare dulci 70
Putrere. Invitatmiseros nunc Alea, Mensae
Illaqueant, nunquam felix datur Exitus illis.
XXV
Sed sine Mente uno jactu Patrimo-
nia perdunt : Obscurant Noctem cum decipit Alea
Diris. Vincitur en Victor ; num Victus vin-
cere posset ?
XXVI
Denis & septem Cubitis si Nilus
inundat Fertilis Egypti Campos, miseranda
sequetur Esuries, Tabes sequitur sic sasva
Nepotes.
XXVII
Dicite vos pictse, vos, dicite, Papi- liones,
(411)
Gaudia quae Veris pensatis falsa, quid estis 80
Lucratae, ex infrugiferis Nugisque caducis ?
XXVIII
Stulti qui propter Nugas divenditis
Aurum, Dicite, num caleat quae Flamma est
picta? Voluptas Num stimulans juvat? 6, angustum
Coelum, inferiusque !
XXIX
Ite, & Deliciis (fruitur queis Bestia
sola) Gaudia mutetis vera ; at Gens impia
turget Deliciis ; Christus flevit ; Gens
optima luget.
XXX
Nil nisi terrenum cupiunt Animalia
Bruta ; Coelestes Animae coelestia Gaudia
quaerunt ; Ast Homines mediae Naturae Dona
requirunt. 90
XXXI
Gens humana foret si moles Corpo- ris expers,
Angelicae Naturae esset ; si Mente careret,
Brutiginae : Caro Brutorum est, Mens Angelicorum.
XXXII
Principio Deus Hos univit, subji-
ciendo Sensum Judicio Rationis, ti^m
moderando Affectum Arbitrio Mentis, verum in-
ficiendo
XXXIII
Libertatem Animas, Crimen concus-
sit, ut Ipsae Jam nequeunt habitare simul, nisi
Lucta sequatur ; Nee sine Tristitia divelli posse vide-
mus.
XXXIV
Jam valeat Mundus fallax, spinosa Voluptas 100
Edward Benlowes
[Canto I
Cui Cordi est, quod perdit amat,
quod Nobile spernit. I, Cole nunc Vitium, ride Virtutis
Amantes.
XXXV
Mellito Cyatho, at Felle Aspidis
baud meliore, Inficis incautas Animas ad Tartara,
semper Mortales Magico & fallaci decipis
Ore.
XXXVI
Dum Tempus fallis, Tempus te fal-
lit, & aufert Praedam, dum Tempus perdis,
Coelestia perdis, Sed, cum Fure bono, pauci furantur
Olympum.
XXXVII
Projiciunt Stulti pretiosum Temporis Aurum :
Qui Vitse Gemmam generosam pro- digit, ille no
Ad Barathrum graditur, Stimulisque agitatur Averni.
XXXVIII
Cui Terram amplecti vastam furiosa
Cupido est, Vique Uoloque simul ; Muscis hie
Retia tendit, Ut foribus laxos suspendit Aranea
Casses.
XXXIX
Cum Mors praescindet Nimrodi
Vulturis ungues, Nomina cernemus subito mutata
Domorum : Bethesda his fiet tandem Bethania
tristis.
XL
Arbitrio subdi pejus, quam Lege
perire ; Pharmaca quae curare valent, si
Balsama perdunt ? Namque Bono quod degenerat, nil
pejus habetur. 120
XT. I
Sique Tyrannorum arbitrio non traderet ullos
(4-0
Omnipotens Sanctos, crudeli Morte
premendos. Nullum Martyrium foret, aut Salva-
tor lesus.
XLII
Stulti durescunt, sed Sancti, ut
Cera, liquescunt : Corporis ad gemitum morientis,
jamque jacentis Nudo Dente, Genis macris, Oculis-
que cavatis.
XLIII
Vitae Author Vitam praebet, largire
Misellis ; Dissectis Venis praeclusa est Janua
Lethi : Sit Deus Exemplar ; te cura ; pasce
Famentes.
XLIV
Ut Coelum obtineas, heu, quantula Portio Vitae 130
Hie peregrinantis superest ! namque excipit Ortum
Occasus subito, Finisque ab Ori- gine pendet.
XLV
Cum Vitiis cui Bella foris. Pax per-
manet intus : Cessat Judicium, quiim sese judicat
ullus : Extra vestiri Zelo est augere Dolores.
XLVI
Magnates, Vos magna manent Tor-
menta, Tyranni Si sitis. Infernus Medicinam baud
exhibet ullam : Securus n^ sis, securus si cupis esse.
XLVII
Robora franguntur quae Coeli Mur-
mura temiiunt ; Ardentem in Cineres Prunam consi-
dere cernes ; 140
Nee non m fumos clarum vanescere
Lychnum.
XLVIII
Exue rugosam Sagam, jam Tempus,
& aufer Peccati Achanis velamina nigra,
Magarum
Canto I]
Prcelibationis "Translatio
Divinae inspirat vel Dorica Carmina Musse.
LVI
Proque Tubisresonabit Amor Testu- dine, solvens Jezabelis pinxit Faciem, Centroque ! Obsidione Urbes, quassatas Marte,
Leprosis pannis superabunt Ulcera foeda.
XLIX
Insontem hoc Naboth Ferro super- avit, idemque
removit Tot Regna, atque novum dimovit Cardine Mundum.
L
Felices hujus qui spargent Saxa
Cerebro, Quiqueea loturi maledicto Sanguine,
sternetque Osse Vias : Cujus Gemitus sunt
Gaudia nostra. 150
LI
Non debet Salica regnare Haec Lege,
Procellas Excitat, Halcyonumque Dies dis-
pellit, in Aula Mentis nil habitat Bonitatis, si regit
Ilia.
LII
Luxuries ejus quot Morbos edidit?
Astra Inficit, Esuriemque auget, Vivisque
molesta est Dum crapulantur humum Tumulis
civilia Bella.
LIII
Mens mea, Maestitiae Labyrinthis
septa, quot Annis In sacco, Lachrymis baccato, trans-
ige Vitam ! Clam nigris in Speluncis ambito
Tim ores !
LIV
Cumque Heraclito pacatum transige Tempus, 160
A Turbis procul, & procul a Dis- cordibus Armis,
Quae Mundum insanum turbato in Pegmate versant.
LV
lUic Relligio dulcis vel Pectine
pulsat, Vel Digitis Cytharam, vel Cantu
personat Antra,
(413)
vocansque In Ccelum, Imperii Sedem, mortalia Corda.
LVI I
Nostra hinc Laetitia, hinc Hymni
Solatia nostra, Praecipue Angelici. Summo sit
Gloria Patri, 170
Pax Terris, Hominum succedat
prompta Voluntas !
LVIII
Pennas quas Veneris Volucres dant,
Dedecus addunt ; Ergo, Vulcano Versus committite ;
toilet Ille pedes Melis ; liber, sed claudicat
Ille.
LIX
Tollitur en Nihil, ast Aliquid cadit !
6, ubi Merces Antiquae Virtutis Honos ! Sapientia
quondam Virtutem evexit ; coluisti, Piute,
Minervam.
LX
Cos fuit Oxonii Lambeth ! tamen
Ille Volatu Exuperat longe Pinnacula Divitia-
rum, Qui Virtutem ambit, puro Virtutis
Amore. 180
LXI
Virtutis Radiis accenditur Illius
Ardor, Et Pestes omnes Modulis fugat ille
canoris, Fulminaque extinguit per Coeli Ex-
pansa trisulca.
LXII
An matutinae Volucres cantando
citabunt Solem ex nocturnis Tenebris, tecto-
que Cubili ?
Edward Be7tlowes
[Canto I
Atque Animse vivge in Tenebris & Morte jacebunt?
LXIII
Evigilate ergo de Somno, & Nocte
sopora ; Increpat ecce Moras nostras Auriga
Diei, Sol dum cseruleos moderatur in
yEthere Currus.
LXIV
Jamque experrecti, Textrices mille Laborum 190
Conspicite aerias, quae fingunt Arte stupenda
Mseandros, texuntque suis per inania Telis.
LXV
Surgite, Sol Aurum per summa
Cacumina spargit, Condit Aromatibus Lucem, dum
spargit Odores, Cuncta sagittiferis Radiis Dulcedine
replet.
LXVI
Erigit in Coelum Mentes Lux aurea
Phoebi : Pulpita qui fugiunt, Hymnis capiun-
tur. In Aurum Vertit Amor Plumbum, Chymico
prgestantior omni.
LXVI I
Utque Opifex Naturse Apis est, Tra- gemata fingens
Mellea, dum sugens chymicb trans- format in Aurum 200
Flores ; ditatur sic plumbea Carmine Prosa.
LXVIII
NuUus Rex Vatem, sed Regem Car- mine Vates
Evehit, Ille Animas languentes excitat, Ille
Ad Mare Pacificum Curas trans- mittit edaces.
LXIX
Ut Gemmae radiant, atque aemula
Lumina Stellis, Per Loca transmittunt tenebrosa :
ita docta Poesis
(4'4)
Et Lucem, ac Animam, Vitamque dat Artibus ipsam.
LXX
O dives, ridens, radiansque Poetica
Gemmis, Nobilitas Splendore tuo Diademata
Regum ! Tu Gentilitium Clypeum depingis
Honoris. 210
LXX I
Te, (quae circundas Artes velut Aere)
Teque Rerum inventarum Portam, Scenam
Ingeniorum, Tam dives, quam pauper amat,
Regesque procando.
LXXII
Vates & Reges Tumulo conduntur
eodem ; Ruminat Ars quodcunqueaccenditur
Igne Poetae, Sensibus ut nostris divinum exhalet
Odorem.
LXXIII
Prudentes reddit Speculatio, non
meliores : Littera solum Ars est, sed Praxis
Spiritus ; Usus Arte valet, sic Ars usu ; qui seperat,
aufert.
LXXIV
Languida Facta quidem Dictis stimulantur acutis, 220
Verba ut Femellis, Maribus sic Facta probantur :
Sit Vita Exemplar, fac. Leges prae- veniantur.
LXXV
Maxima Cognitio nostra est servire
Tonanti, Tunc nos morigeros Mandatis aesti-
mat. Actus Excipiunt quando quaedam Inter-
ludia nostros.
LXXVI
Illorum Mentes sola ad Sublimia
tendunt. Quorum nonquovisagitanturPectora
Vento,
Canto I]
Prcelibationis Translatio
Utque Aula instabiles, sedin ^Equore nant Sapientis.
LXXVII
Non alia his Cynosura nitet quam
Gratia, quamque Portat Apostolicus collustrans Sig-
nifer Oibem : 230
Hac Evangelic! Cursum rexere
Magistri.
LXXVIII
Hicque Theanthropos Sermo, turn
mystica Vitra Oris fatidici, nee non Oracula tanta, Fomentumque Precum, turn Murus
Aheneus hie est ;
LXXIX
Coeli Seulptura hie, Pietatis Clavis,
& ipsa Gaza, Instrumentum, Spesque An-
chora, Charta fidelis, Atque Voluptatis Gurges, sie Navis
Amoris.
LXXX
Nunquam sie refluit Sanetorum
Fluctus, ut ipsos Urgeat in Syrtes Errorum cuncta
vorantes, Peccati Clades fugiunt, ut naufraga
saxa. 240
LXXXI
Ut Casus Mortis, Noctis Septentrio,
Non tam Obscuri, aut Tenebrae triduans,
quas super omnem Egyptum induxit, qui Lucem &
Sydera fecit.
LXXX 1 1
Tempestati hujus collata Tonitrua
languent ; Si Stimulos spectes Aspis fert Bal-
sama, Mors est Vel Pietas, hujus cum Carmina
faeda videbis.
LXXXIII
Hujus ciim laqueos mea Musa eva-
seris, illuc Tende Alis, ubi Lux Mentes quae
luminat, ardet ; Et Nebulas abigit, tenebrasque Nitore
resolvit.
(415 )
LXXXIV
Sit tibi Relligio curae, quam discute, meque 250
Errantem cohibe, Deus alme, & percute Carnis
Ignavae (si quando salit vel rudet) asellum,
LXXXV
Mens minor es minimo Coeli indul-
gentis Amore : Peccatum baud linquunt Terror,
Pudor, atque Reatus ; Quatuor hi Comites Coetum glome-
rantur in unum.
LXXXVI
Peccato defectus ego, nunc perditus
erro ; Namque orare mihi vesana Superbia
visa est. Luctantem, Deus alme, leva sub
Pondere Terrae.
LXXXVII
Nemo merere potest, meruit tamen
Unus, & horum Qui jactant Sese, Zelum frigescere
cernis, 260
His stannum, Argentum est, aes
Aurum ssep^ videtur.
LXXXVIII
Cor renova, Linguam mihi dirige,
porrige Dextram, Inspiresque Fidem, Spemvelo detege
tectam : Erige collapsum, crescat Vis semper
Amoris.
LXXXIX
Lingua, Decus nostrum, Menti ser-
vire memento. Spiritus ille tuus Bezaliel illustravit. Mors Fide me salvat, Cascis das
Lumina sputo.
xc Spiritus ex sensu fiat, nam Gratia
sola Naturam vertit, chymichus Lapis
ecce repertus, Et Verbum omnipotens sola est
Projectio pura. 270
Edwaf^d Benlowes
[Canto I
xci Verbum, Cos veri, nee Regula certior
ulla : Rejicimus Mappam tenebrosam
Traditionum. Non urit me Charta, tamen Mens
ignibus ardet.
XCII
Dum lego, Mens intus magno Splen-
dore coruscat, Et novus ecce Vigor penetrat Prse-
cordia, namque Omnia describit Placitorum Arcana
tuorum.
XCIII
Hujus Carminibus tecum versantur
Enochi ; Avertit Mortem, transfer! nos ante
Senectam : Dat Vaticanus Scoriam, purum hie
nitet Aurum.
xciv Sic ciim pigra gelu Gens Tartara,
splendida Gemmis 280
Teeta subit Sophige, subito Fervore
refeeta, Quae nive semianimis fuerat, se
vivere sentit.
xcv Infundis mihiTu Meditaminasancta,
meoque Effundis pia Verba Ore, & laudando
per Orbem Diffundis mea Facta, tuoquseMunere
vivunt.
XCVI
Musa, mihi Chordas tendens, cane
Facta Bonorum Hymnis,sedpravos taceas ; Artesque
Tributum
Dent tibi, tu Cordi Linguam, Pen-
namque ligabis. xcvii Degener at Soboles Evse, poUutaque
Culpis, An Te Mensura tenui comprendere
posset, 290
Omnipotens quum sis, nee mensu-
rabilis unquam ?
XCVI 1 1
Arbustum Cedros, Aquilam non
regulus effert Laudibus, aut eernit Phoebeas noctua
Flammas, Gutta quid Oeeano ? Radiis Jubar
infinitis?
xcix Languentem sed Spes & Amor per
inane volatum Ferre valent, in Te noetem Fiducia
lustrat ; Grandis Amor, suppleto Fidem, Spei
seribimus Alis.
c
Spiritus, almeDEUS, Mens, Corpus, tS:
omnia Facta,
Et Verba, & Mentis Meditamina,
posteadiscent
Et Laudes celebrare tuas, &
Crimina flere. 3°°
O, quantum JESU me diligis !
Ergo Beatum Me tua jam reddat Dilectio,
suscipiatque Erectum rursus Dilectio Maxime Jesu! Hasc ara est, atque haec mea victima dulcis amoris. Cor, Oculus, Lingua, atque Manus, Poplesque reflexus A te sunt Cuncta hsc, ad te sint Cuncta vicissim ^
Post Homerum Iliada,post VossEeum Grammaticen, post Rossa^um, celeber- rimum ilium Virgilii Evangelizantis Autorem, Carmen Hcroicum con- scribcre audax plan^ videatur Facinus. Tenuitatisquippe meae, & imparls long^
in Poesi venae conscius, ciim non possum quod vcUem, volo tamen quod possum effundere.
Est aliquid prodire tenus si non datur ultra.
* This is again, in the original, arranged and framed altar-wise. (416)
Canto III] TheophUcB Amoris Hostia
THEOPHILiE AMORIS HOSTIA Cantio III. Latino Carmine donata. Restauratio
ARGUMENTUM
Authoris Raptus, laudatiir Gratia ; fusse
Sunt Lachrymse charo Britonum pro Sanguine fuso
Obscure, petitur Pax ictis prisca Michaiis.
TRISTICHON I
SoLLiciTES mea Musa Lyram, digi-
toque pererra Argute Chelyos Chordas, & Cantica
psallas Quae rapiant Terras, & scandant
Astra Triumphis. II Ecstatico raptus Motu Bartseius
Heros, Lecto subsiliens, alacres ducensque
Choraeas, Dixit ; In hunc Morem saltabunt
Gallica Regna. Ill Seu Meteora Soli viscoso Semine
facta, Quae, motu succensa suo, super
ardua tendunt Nubila, Stellarum nee non de More
coruscis
IV
Effulgent Flammis ; Duntaxat at ilia relucent lo
Ut Sese absumant, & nos per Compita ducant ;
Nee pro se Venti,sed Nobis, Flamina spirant :
V
Enthea sic superas mea Mens
ascendit ad Arces, Sese dispendens, Stolidos ut reddat
Acutos : Qui T^edam prsefert Aliis, Se Lumine
privat.
VI
Qualiter Inferno sudat vesana Libido :
Sic Ccelo aspirat diviniZelus Amoris; Scrutari Hoc Mentis contendit tota Facultas.
VII
Cardinibus subnixa Fides conver-
titur altis ; Purior baud ullis praeclusa Scientia
Metis ; 20
Flamma, Cor accendens, non Ignis
Signa relinquit.
VIII
Horti florentis blandtim Po[i]m£eria,
sancta Visorum Tellus, Sapientum grata
Cohorti, Auratis Asini Phaleris Ludibria
prostas.
IX
Huic Mare fit rabidum ]\Iundus,
Discordia major Est ubi Ventorum, quam Pyxis
nautica norit ; Incumbit Sanctus Velis, tenet An-
chora Coelum.
X
Appulit hie Pietas, ubi non confracta
Dolore Conscia Mens fremitat, Rabie aut
consumpta maligna ; Lumina lascivae Veneris nee Fulgure
tacta.
30
XI
Non Nugfe Hie Pueri ; Juvenis non
fervidus ^stus ; Ambitus ^tatis maturce nullus ;
Avari GrandiEvi baud Vitium ; non Otia
pigra coluntur
(417)
22 PonncEria] Sic in orig. E e
Edward Be7ilowes
[Canto III
xii Non Gula, lascivi aut Pruritus turpis
Amoris, Turgidus baud Fastus, non invi-
diosa Kubigo, Ira nee ardescens, aut Obduratio
Cordis.
XIII
Non Amor invadit proprius, vel
Pectora Curas Scindentes, Schisma aut Doctrinee
mobile flatu, Non c^eci pungunt Stimuli, nee Poena
Latebris.
XIV
Hinc macula apparet Tellus obscura, ubi certant 40
Pro vanis Homines, puerilis more tumulttls ;
Formicae, veluti peterent, munimina, scloppis.
XV
Est ubi Luxuries satiata, Libidoque
spumat, Sanguis ubi Irato, petiturque ubi
Pignus Avaro, Turget ubi Ambitio, Livor fremit,
Otia torpent.
XVI
Imperio Martis remanent quam
Regna revulsa, Dispersis Aulis ! sub nostro Lumine
quae sunt Pulvis ut exiguus Ventorum Flatibus
actus.
XVII
Hie Stat formosipolydaedalaMachina
Mundi, Sustentata Manu Veri, summique
Jehov^. 50
Apparent instar Nanorum exindt;
Gigantes.
XVIII
Qukm vilis Mundus ! pia Musa,
innitere Pennis I^rmis, (terreno fueras detenta
Tumultu, Jactata& Turba)demum transccnde
Monarchas.
(418)
XIX
Raptus in hune morem divino eon-
citus Igne, ^theris in Camera stellata percute
Chordas : Aspirare tui nequeunt hue, Roma,
Regentes.
XX
Sese dilatans Animus fit latior usqu^ Sicut Helix ; Hominis status at
Nativus, ut Orbis, Quem subitb a Zenith deturbant
Fata superno. 60
XXI
Perspiciens Ratione Fides oculatior
Aulam Sideream, Mentes rapiunt sua Visa
Serenas ; Veri aceensa Pharos per Amorem
Gaudia pandit.
XXII
Hsec Lux quaj Radiis eonuestit
singula Claris, Theiophilam, inelusit Praegnanti
Mente deeoram ; Exeipit occiduum Naturae, Gratia,
Solem.
XXIII
Fundat Aroma Calyx, Rosa quam
dulcissima, A'^irtus Illustris matura siet tua Tempore
justo, Explieet ae Radius divinus Floris
Honorem.
XXIV
Anni Proeursu duodeni sic sua Forma 70
Enituit, Formam Dominee stupuere potentes ;
Spectantes Anim^e Lucem per Corporis Umbram.
XXV
ArdetCrystallo veluti Lucernapolito, Cujus transparens decorutur Fabrica
Flammis ; Haee ita divino splendescit Virgo
Nitore.
XXVI
Mens Gemmam supcrat, superat sua Concha pruinam,
Canto III] TheophilcB Afuoris Hostia
Flumina vel Lactis manantia ab
Ubere pleno : Venae Saphiros prcecellunt, Labra
Rubinos.
XXVII
Circiim Labra volant Charites sua
mille venustce, Suavia Puniceis labuntur Aromata
Portis, So
Inde fluunt cunctos medicantia
Balsama Morbos.
XXVIII
Emittunt tales Altaria Sancta
Vapores ; Tales Blanditias halant Fragrantia
Gummi ; Sic Rosa coccinea spirat prseflorida
Veste.
XXIX
Attonitos reddunt Spectantiim
Lumina Vultus, Afficiunt quamvis Praecordia fervida
castis, Attaraen Ardoris sunt ipsa immunia,
Flammis.
XXX
Lampadas hasce volet quisquis de-
pingere, quisquis Exprimeret clara radiantes Luce
Fenestras, Pingeret Aspectum fugientem, pon-
deret Austrum. 90
XXXI
Suave videremus Pectus, micat Eden
Amoris, Illis Monticulis nascuntur Mala
decoris, Qu£e Mala de vetita sanarent Arbore
nata.
XXXII
MoUities, Candorque Mantis tran-
scendit Oloris Plumas ; est talis cujus moderatior
Ardor, Qualis cum coeunt Radius Phcebeus
& Aurum.
XXXIII
Jucundae Nemoris Syrenes, Musica turba,
(4'9 )
Gutturibus quarum dimanat dul-
cior Aer, Illam quid petitis cunabula vestra
perosae ?
XXXIV
Ecce Latus claudunt Argentea Lilia castum, 100
Calthae fulgentes Auri flammantis amictu,
Ignes evibrat ciim Lauro Primula Veris.
XXXV
MargaronexcelluntDentes; Tegmen,
Caput, Auri, Vox prseit Argento, de Te Natura
Vigorem Sumit, Panniculis est prae Te squal-
lida Flora.
XXXVI
O, Formosa, Pudica tamen, seu
Chava, priusquam Candida purpureo suffuderat Ora
Rubore A Te Virtutes, Artes, Charitesque
profectae.
XXXVII
Ad vivum depicta manet non
Pulchrior Icon Quam pia Mens pulchro quce
splendet Corpore clausa : ito Hujus Coelesticedit Pandora Decori.
XXXVIII
Aulae Sideribus pictae sic Cynthia
Praeses Apparet, Phoebi Splendoribus aucta
refractis, Fulgida Stellarum dum stipant
Castra Phalanges.
XXXIX
(Astra Pruina refert) subito Telluris
at Umbra Objecta Lucem retrahit, cui Conus
opacus Falcatam supra Lunam, sub Lumine
Soiis.
XL
Qui Ccelum, Nubes, Terras, Mare,
Saxaque lustrat. Qui penetrat Gemmas, Fructus,
Stellas, Adamantas ;
£62
Edward Beitlo
wes
[Canto III
Mundi Oculus, clarse Promus Con- dusque Diei. 120
XLI
Cujus gliscentes imitatur Flamma
Pyropos, Purpureas Aurora Fores dum
pandit Eoo, Noctis lucentem Dominam, Famu-
lasque repellens.
XLII
Theiophilani radians Lumen Te
appello Diei, Palpebra quippe Fides tua fit, seu
Pupula Fervor, Vultus Angelico speciosos More
venustans.
XLIII
^theris ilia potens, casta & Regina,
reclusi, Plurima vestalis quam cingit Virgo
propinqua, Disparet, dia hac si Constellatio
splendet.
XLIV
Nobilitas vera est Virtus, Cognatio Sancti, 130
Tutela Angelicus Chorus est, Ccelumque Brabium ;
Cujus demissus, dum surgit Gratia, Vultus.
XLV
Eugenia Ingenium, Paidia ministrat
Acumen ; Thesauros Veri charos Eusebia
praebet. (Cudendi Voces Vati concessa
Potestas.)
XLVI
Aula Cor est formosa sibi, divinius
Ejus Pectus, Sacrati Penetralia Candida
Amoris ;
Hie Sibi Delicio est, Sanctos reficitque Poetas.
XLVII
Illustres Domini, quos Laurea Serta
coronant, Artes qui eruitis, qui cultas reddi-
tis Artes, 140
(420)
Estis & infirmi qui Sustentacula Mundi ;
XLVIII
Qui struitis Famge Monumenta
perinclyta Templo, Mellea de Vobis Modulamina talia
manent, Qualia divino mulcerent Pectora
Succo.
XLIX
Dum succedit Hyems Autumno, Ver
premit ^stas, Dum recitat Modulis Tempus
Poeana vetustis, Vestris Vos Famse Plumis repara-
bitis Alas.
L
Illud quod prsebent sublimia Tsenera
Vinum, Insane Vires poterit reparare
fugatas ; SicCithar£e,atque Tuba, sic Organa,
Tympana, Sistra. 150
LI
Conciliat quamvis reboantia Mur-
mura Basso Ars, torquens Nervos graviores
usque, sonoro Fulmine dum complent Aulam
Diapasona totam ;
LII
Ista parum valeant ; Dominae Testu-
dine tensa Hujus, Chordarum Pulsum tenta-
verit Omneni, Dum Mens Harmonise pertracta est
Pollice docto.
LIII
Gratia inest Verbis; O, terque
quaterque beati, Queis Coelum Terris, seterno
Codice scripti ! Qui, Sensu amoti, cupiunt Com-
niercia Mentis !
LIV
Inter Eos qui divino de Semine creti, 160
Non obscurati Sensu nee Corporis Umbra,
I
Canto III] TheophUcB Ajjtovis Hostia
Seraphice exardent vivacis Origine Flammre.
LV
Gaudia dat Gustus, non exequanda Loquelis !
Ritu Cimmerioque Scholis pal- panda superna,
In quorum Solis Frontem sunt Nubila densa.
LVI
Callis inaccessus nimio fit Lumine
Cceli ; Splendidior Radius teneros per-
stringit Ocellos : Ephata fare, Lutum Visu me reddet
acuto.
LVII
Hoc Raptu emotus divino, fac mihi
talis Contingat Finis, Stagaritse qualis,
in illo 170
Euripo, quern non ulluscomprendere
posset !
LVIII
Mysticaprffibeat haec (ositprotensa!)
Catena Nexus, qui stringat vel quavis
fortius Arte ! Talia lenitos rapiant Modulamina
Sensus.
LIX
Musica pervadit Mentes, cum per-
citus Oestro Insano Saulus, Genio fremuitque
maligno, Gemmea prae Plectris sordebant
Sceptra Tyranni.
LX
Hujus inardescens Hymni me Flam ma repurgat
Fcecibus a Terrse : Cantus Pene- tralia Coeli
Divini reserant, deducunt Agmina pura : 180
LXI
Agmina pura Dei celebrant Natalia
Iteta ; Hymnos vel Christus modulatur ;
Sancta Columba
Coeli, summa petens, Numerorum deligit Alas.
LXI I
Ni Versus, non sit Textus, quia
qujelibet Hymni Incantant ; actis famuletur Concio
Psalmis, Ant^ Diem summum, per Vos
demortua surgunt !
LXIII
Ast ubi grassatur Furiis Bellona
tremendis, Stragibus, heu, lassato, sed baud
satiata recedens, Prsedatrice Lupa truculentior, Or-
gana pulset ?
LXIV
Est equidfem non Mota Solo, pacata Tumultu : iqo
Degeneres trepidant; manet ilia invicta Catervis,
Displosi metuit nee rauca Tonitrua Scloppi.
LXV
Insunt Virtuti sua Balsama ; sollici-
tavit Intensb Numen Gladii moUire
Rigorem : ^tatis Ferro sic Aurea Virgo profatur.
LXVI
Ingruit, O, Numen Venerandum !
dira Procella, Coccina purpurere cum velant
Crimina Vestes, Effuso tinctae pretioso Sanguine
Vita!
LXVII
Orbis Aquis cinctus, fortunatissimus
dim, O, deplorandum ! quantum muta-
tus ab illo ! 200
Pax ubi floruerat pia. Mors ibi pro-
diga regnat !
LXVIII
Rubrum deprompsit Vinum Mavor- tius Ardor !
Conserves Arcam, Deus, in Tor- rente Timorum,
(421)
170 Stagrtritse] Sicxn orig.
Edward Be^tlowes
[Canto III
Aut tua subsidat Lachrymis, turn Sanguine, Sponsa !
LXIX
Est Panem Lachrymata suum,
Gemitusque resorbet : Lumina pro Potu sua sunt in
Flumina versa ! Ipsa, immersa Malis, ad Te Se lan-
guida confert.
LXX
Ad Modules Compone graves, Pater
Orbis, acutos Hybernae Chelios ! quaevis Dis-
cordia Concors Esto, Scoti fuerit super, aut Insigni-
bus Angli ! 210
LXXI
Non inter Socios saevo Formido
Leoni ; Vel praedabundis inter se con-
venit Ursis ; Mutua Pernicies, lacerat, Vir, Corpus
lesu !
LXX 1 1
Si modo fert Animus, pugnetis Ful-
niina Martis, Turcico &: invisam Labaro dedu-
cite Lunam, Sacra relinquentes Fidei Confinia
rectae.
LXXIII
Agminibus Thracum densis conten-
dite ; quamvis Sclopporum seu Truncus iners,
Caro vestra deorsum Tendat, summa petent Animae de
more Globorum.
LXXIV
Numinis in mediis si sit Prsesentia Castris, 220
In Templo residet multo magis lUe sacrato,
Haeresin ut pellat, perversaque Schi- smata purget.
LXXV
Haec Tunicam rupere Tuam, Dolor
undt; Bonorum ! Zelotae quamvis rauca Te Voce
fatigant. Veto indignaris civili Sanguine mixto. ( 422 )
LXXVI
Fallaces potuere Bonum suadere
fuisse Praecones, per Diluvium vadare
Cruoris ? Praestigiis uti, Summosque resolvere
Nexus ?
LXXVII
Inde Catechismi neglecti, & sacra
Synaxis ! Herbae hinc sylvestres, seu Ran^e
Vere Palustres ! 230
Athea SchismaticiCorruptio pessima
Cleri.
LXXVIII
Praetextus fugiant speciosos, sunto
fideles ; Cultu divino repetantque Precamen
lesu ; Foederis aut valeant Hysteria dira
trisexti.
LXXIX
Sic seduxerunt illos Insomnia vana, Vilescant illis adeo ut Natalia Christi ! (Nemo tenet NodismutantemProtea Vultum.)
LXXX
Festum Festorum, supremae dulce
Cohorti ; Inclinat Coelum hie Terris, hinc
Gaudia Sanctis ; Judice Relligione Dies primarius
Anni. 240
LXXXI
Factus Homo bonus est primum,
tum degener ; Ipse Sermo Caro Factus, nostra baud
Commercia vitans, Pejor ut is nihilo, meliori Sorte
fruatur.
LXXXII
Audetis Verum profiteri ? Pabula
pascunt Fuci aliena ; merum Pigmentum
Papiliones; Tettix deperdit, redemit sibi Tem-
pora Myrmex.
LXXXIII
Mellea dum repetunt Vespas Spelaea rapaces,
Canto III] TlieophUce Amoris Hostta
Illis Insidiis structis merguntur in
011a, Corporis baud tanti sint ac Muni-
mina Mentis.
LXXXIV
' Kirk-Int'rest kenimus ' ; Leges re- vocate Draconis. 2j;o
Instaurate vetus Templum ; Sunt Moenia Sancti,
Seu Tubus est Pastor, Fons Gratia, Gluten Amorque.
LXXXV
Vobis prgeteritos ignoscat Musa
Furores, Singula propitio condant Oblivia
Velo, De Rebus moveat si Vos Metancea
peractis.
LXXXVI
Veri Cultores,balantespascite Christi Agnos ; quippe Merum Sanguis,
Caro dapsilis Esca : Illos pascentes semper, spectate
Coronam.
LXXXVII
Dispensatores Sponso, Sponsaeque
fideles, Nos sacra divini ducant Oracula
Veri, 260
Relligione Status floret, data Gloria
Fidis.
LXXXVIII
Cum Judex veniet, Merces erit ampla
Labori, Pro Lachrymis Vobis manabunt
Gaudia Rivis, Aurat^ surgunt Spicae sementibus
udis.
LXXXIX
Laesis, Omnipotens Vindex ! certo
Eequa rependes Illis, qui sese foedo maculare Reatu, Sanguinis innocui cum sit Detectio
fusi !
XC
Aurea Pax aures, Verumque appellat
amicum ! Lumina non Phcebi latebris tarn
grata Borusso,
Urbibus eversis Homines, vel Littora
Fractis. 270
xci O, si coelestis vel tandem Turma
secunda, Nobis, Bellorum diris Cruciatibus
haustis. Grata salutiferge resonaret Cantica
Pacis !
xcii Pax Domus est fessis. Pax ad Natalia
Christi Cantio prima fuit, Terris suprema
Voluntas, Pax Bonitatis amans. Pax Sanctis
vera Voluptas.
XCIII
Martyribus fulcimen Amor, ceu stra-
men Achates Attrahit; ad nostrum sic nos perducis
Amantem, Elixir Auri varum, Compendia Legis!
xciv Ullane Divinum narret Facundia
Amorem? 280
Quippe redemptus Homo Naturas
nobiliores Angelicas superat ; Tanti sit Passio
Christi !
xcv Hie demtim tacuit ; Lachrimarum
Flumina manant Ex oculis, illi Mundus Cadus esse
videtur, Gaudia falsa Merum, Stultorum portio
Faeces.
xcvi Et nunc Laetitise vivje de Fonte
micanti, Pura ubi perpetuo Chrystalla fluentia
Cursu, Mens erit sethereas conscendere
Raptibus Oras.
XCVII
Hinc Documenta sibi Zelus male-
sanus habebit, Ardores Cujus tradunt in Pr^elia
saevi, 290
250 kenimus] Cf. Introd. on Butler's wrath at Benlowes' macaronics. (423 )
Edward Benlowes
[Canto III
Hinc fera depositis mitescant Secula Bellis.
XCVIII
Auribus exhibeas Epulum, selecta
Venustas ! Dum sic cantat Amor, Reges dulce-
dine capti : Gratia Naturae Nervos intendit
Amore.
xcix Horrisonas Amor ipse potes sedare
Procellas, Cantibus & placare tuis immania
Cete, Qu£e Dominatricidiverrunt Marmora
Cauda.
Si tua, Virgo, nequit compescere
Erotica Musa Incumbens ^vo Fatum miserabile
nostro. Pro Scriptis Lachrymse ; Nam Gens
est danda Furori ! 300
Provecti, tandem Latiales linqui- mus Oras, Te petimus Patrium, Terra Bri- tanna, Solum. Hie ubi Nemo citis designet Lit- tus Ocellis : Egressce faveant Fluctus, & Aura Rati.
Upon the Vanity of the World
Long have I sought the wish of all To find ; and what it is men call True Happiness ; but cannot see The world hath it, which it can be. Or with it hold a sympathy.
He that enjoys what here below Frail elements have to bestow. Shall find most sweet bare hopes at first ; Fruition by fruition's burst,
Sea-water so allays the thirst. 10
Whoever would be happy then, Must be so to himself ; for, when Judges are taken from without, To judge what we are, fenc'd about. They do not judge, but guess, and doubt.
His soul must hug no private sin ; For, that 's a thorn conceal'd i'th' skin ; But Innocence, where she is nurst Plants valiant Peace ; so, Cato durst Ev'n then be best, when Rome was worst. 20
God-built he must be in his mind ; That is, Divine ; whose faith no wind Can shake ; when firmly he relies Upon the Almighty, he outflies Low chance, and fate of destinies.
As fountains rest not till they lead, Meand'ring high, as their first head: So, man rests not till he hath trod Death's height : then, by that period. He rests too, rais'd in soul to God. 30 Owen Feltham.
POTESTAS Culminis est Tempestas Mentis, Splendorem habet Titulo, cruciatum Animo ; desuntque Inopize multa, Avaritis omnia. Ne petas igitur, devota Anima, esse qualis in Anglia Du.x Buckingamice, & in Aula Cassaria Princeps ab Eggenberg, & in Hispania Comes D'Olivares, & in Imperio Ottomanico Mustapha Bassa fuere; nee tibi magis arrideant cerus- satae Laudes, & caiamistrata Encomia,
qukm sincerae & sacrosanctje Amoris Anhelationes. Seculi delectatiunculas devita, & Ccelorum Jubilo rccreaberis: delicatula nimis es, si velis gaudere cum Mundo,&postearegnarecumCHRlSTO : Amarescat Mundus. ut duicescatDEUS. Ouamdiu est in te'/Egypti Farina, Manna coeleste non gustabis ; Gustat DEUMcuiLibidoSeculi Nauseam parit: Exinanitio nostra plcnitudinis Cecil capaces reddit. Si vis frui Sole, verte
Owen Feltham] Not the worst verses of the author of the Resolves. (424 )
The Vanity of the World
dorsum Umbras : nee amaris ^ Mundo, nisi k CHRISTOrepulsa, nee k Christo, nisi k Mundo spreta. Dejicit se de Cul- mine Majestatis qui a Deo ad Con- solatiuneulas Creaturulte eonfugit. O quam eontempta recula' est homo nisi supra humana se erexerit ! Beatum nil facit Hominem, nisi qui fecit Ho- minem ; minimum enim Dei omnis Orbis Magnitudine est magnificentius. Paueis, nee tibi ignominiosum sit pati
Storms on the mind from Honour's
hill descend; Titles external beams add not to bliss : The poor wants much, the covetous
all. My soul, No painted praise, nor flow'r'd enco- miums prize Equal to pious breathings of pure love: Eschew the petty pleasures of the time, And Heav'n's refreshments make thy
jubilee : Imagine not to swim in worldly pomp, And afterwards to reign with Christ
in bliss ; Earth must be gall, that God may
honey prove : lo
He the best relish hath of Heav'n, who
most Disdains the base licentiousness o' th'
atrfi • ■^o^ 1
We must be emptied of ourselves, before We can have entrance into th' heav'nly
court ; If we desire fruition of the sun. Then must our backs upon the shade
be turn'd ;
quod passus est Christus, nee glo- riosum faeere quod fecit Judas. Morere Mundo, ut vivas Deo. Oui- eunque cum Deo habet Amicitiam, Felicitatis tenet Fastigium. Haec unica Laus, hie Apex Sapientite est, ea viventem appetere, qua2 morienti forent appetenda : Mortis ergo Medi- tationi, & ^ternitatis Contemplationi Lucernulae tuse Oleum impendas. Vale.
Disclaim'd by Christ are those the
world doth love, And those whom Christ does love, the
world contemns : He of his greatness doth himself divest, Who goes from God, and creature- comforts seeks.. 20 Oh, what a mean despised thing is
man. Unless he raise himself above the earth, Since nought but his Creator makes
him high ! Let's think 't no shame t' endure what
Christ endur'd, Nor glory to do that which Judas did; Dead to the world, let 's be alive to
God, Who gain His favour are supremely
blest : This is the height of wisdom, to desire Those things in life, which thou wouldst
dying crave : Then on the thoughts of death thy
lamp's oil spend, 30
And muse upon that state which ne'er
shall end -.
Mundo immundo
NON possum, non Arte loqui ; Furor
addit Acumen : Crimina taxantur, Nomina salva
latent. Munde, quid hoc sibi vult ? tanto
longinquiiis erras, Quanto pliis graderis ; Te Cacoethes
habet. In quos Schismaticas torsisti sajvius
Hastas,
Quam quos Virtutis coelitus Umbo tegit. Protege me, Coelum ! Quis adest ? Oppressor avarus, Cui prior est Nummus Numine, Libra Libro. Numme, potens Deus es ! Sic undique supplicat Auro, Omnipotens veluti Numen inesset Ei ; 10
* rcciila] For this diminutive ('thinglet, ' 'trifle') B. might quote Plautus and Apuleius : aeaturitla and consolaiinnada must be ecclesiastical if he did not coin them.
'^ This blank verse translation (with couplet- tip) of the preceding Latin prose para- graph is curious : and it might, at the time, have been much worse.
(425 )
Edward Be7tIowes
AurumNequitiae Pater est, &FiliusOrci; Os promit Nectar ; Mens Aconita vomit. Hie vorat, utque rapax ruit in nova frusta Molossus ; Vasta Sitim pariunt /Equora, Terra Famem ; Tota nee explerent Pelteas ^quora Fauces, Terraque sat tantae non erit una Fami. Perfida quisquis amat, se perdit, & odit amando : Plus habet Ille Dei, qui minus Orbis habet. Dum captat, capitur; Daemon lic^t Omnia spondet,
Dat Mundus, magnum praeter inane, nihil. 20
Plena Fames, mellita Lues, Persuasio fallax, Gloria Flos, Pulvis Gaza, Tiara cinis. Tendiculas, Pigmenta, Dolos, Crepita- cula, Fumos ; Has rauco Merces Gutture laudet Anus. Insatiata Fames rapto superincubet Auro, Porcus & aggestas grunniat inter Opes. Littera R hebrasa, pelasga, latina no-
tabunt Quod, malus, eR-RO-RESh nil nisi, Mundus habet ^
THE VANITY OF THE WORLD
Canto X. The Abnep-ation
g^
THE ARGUMENT
What 's potent Opuiency ? What 's remiss Voluptuousness ? World, what 's all this, To that the Soul's created for. Eternal Bliss?
STANZA I
Various are poets' flames ; some, eclogues write, Others describe a horrid fight, Some lyric strains, and some the epic do delight : II But, here my sharpen'd Muse shall entertain The scourges of satiric vein, To lash the world, in which such store of vices reign. Ill No grandee patron court I, nor entice Love-glances from enchanting eyes. Nor blandishments from lisping wanton's vocal spice.
IV
No such trite themes our fired genius fit, 10
Of which so many pens have writ : Prudential soulsaffectsound Reason, not slight wit. v Blest talents which the Gospel's Pearl do buy : Frail hopes that on the world rely, Where none are sav'd by faith, but by' infidelity.
VI
The way to gain more ground, is to retreat ; Our flight will be our foe's defeat ; Minds conqu'ring great delights, triumph in joys more great :
VII
Pull me not. World; nor can, nor
will I stay ; Juggler, I know what thou canst
say : 20
Thy magic spells charm easy sense
but to betray.
^ Observe the mostBenlowesian eccentricity of the subscribed It to get the Hebrew resli. 15 by'] Cf. note on ' they' ' supra, p. 380.
(426)
Canto X] The Vanity of the lVo7^ld
VIII
Wits toil to please thee, sables yield
their skins ; The silkworm to thy wardrobe
spins ; Rocks send their gems, seas pearls,
to purvey for thy sins.
IX
Thou bright'nest cupboards with
throng'd massy plate ; Heap'st ermin'd mantles of estate; Shew'st rich caparison'd champing
coursers at thy gate.
X
Thou cull'st of Nature's spoil from
air, earth, seas, The wing'd, hoof'd, finny droves,
to please Gluttons, who make themselves
spittles of each disease. 30
XI
And shall, like Dives, a sad reck'ning
pay; Feasts hasten'd on his fun'ral
day; Death brought the voider, and the
Devil took away.
XII
Tell me no more, th' art sweet, as spicy air ; Or, as the blooming Virgin, fair ;
And canst with jovial mirth resusci- tate from care.
XIII
Boast not of ruby lips, and diamond
eyes, Rose cheeks, and lily fronts, made
prize. With dimpled chins, the trap-pits
where a fondling lies.
XIV
Death's serjeant soon thy courted Helens must 40
Attach, whose eyes, now orbs of lust.
The worms shall feed on, till they crumble into dust.
XV
Boast, World, who unto revels dost
decoy Thy fav'rites, that they're bath'd
in joy ; Disdaining saints, who precious time
in pray'r employ :
XVI
Who, where they come, with purer
rays of light, Dazzle thy bat-ey'd legions quite, Rage, Impudence, and Ignorance,
the imps of Night.
XVII
Fool, thy attractives, in no limits
pent, Indulge to surfeits, not content, 50 And but illude the mind, not give it
ornament.
XVIII
Gild o'er thy bitter pills with guileful
arts ; Sweet potions brew for frolic
hearts : When most thou smil'st, thou actest
most perfidious parts.
XIX
With thee dwells fawning Craft, and
glozing Hate, Th' allurements of imperious state, Which barks, like calms, invite unto
a shipwreck'd fate.
XX
Guile, rule the world, that doth in madness roll : Great things the better oft con- trol.
Where Pride is coach'd, Fraud shopp'd, and taverns drown the soul. 60
XXI
Folly in ruffling storms with Frenzy
meets. Ebbing, and flowing o'er the
streets O' th' care-fill'd pompous city, which
exiles true sweets.
(427)
30 spittles] Of course = 'spitals.'
Edward Beiilowes
[Canto X
XXII
Oh, fretting broils in populous
bustle pent, Where still more noise than sense
they vent, And, now as much to gold, as late
to battles bent !
XXIII
World, reason if thou canst. Thy
sports leave stings ; Thy scenes, like thee, prove empty
things ; Thou glorious seem'st in paint, from
whence all falsehood springs.
XXIV
So, rainbow colours on doves' necks
have shone 70
In hue so diverse, yet so one. That fools have thought them all,
the wiser knew them none.
XXV
I'll countercharm thy spells, that
souls, ere thee. May trust wild Irish seas; who flee Distress'd to thy relief, thou say'st ;
' What 's that to me ? '
XXVI
Fawn, and betray, and Treason's
self outdare, T' o'erthrow by raising is thy care, But I'll unguU thy minions, undis-
guise thy ware.
XXVII
Thy gold 's dross, glitt'ring troubles
are thy bliss, By pomp thou cheat'st, thy all 's
amiss : 80
Thou art Sin's stage, the Devil
prompts, Flesh actor is.
XXVIII
Spectator Seiise applauds each
witching gin, But, unto Reasoris eye within, Thou seem'st Hell's broker, and the
servile pimp of Sin.
XXIX
Thus peaches do rough stones in velvet tire \
102 blood — lust1 The sugprestion to transpose these is obvious: and is supported by a minute ^ and ' over the words in my copy.
(428)
Thus rotten sticks mock starryfire ; Thus quagmires with green emeralds crown their cheating mire.
XXX
So, Mermaids lovely seem in
beauty's guise. With voice, and smiles, draw ears,
and eyes, But whom they win, they sink ;
those never more shall rise. 90
XXXI
Thy shop 's but an exchange of
apish fashion. Thy wealth, sports, honours are
vexation. Thy favours glist'ring cares, sweet
surfeits, woo'd damnation.
XXXII
Base proverbs are thy counsels to
enthral. ' Each for himself, and God for
Air : ' Young saints ' (I dread to speak it)
' to old devils fall.'
XXXIII
Rain on thy darling's head a Danaen shower. Let him be drench'd in wealth, and power ; What then ? Th' hast storm'd, and seiz'd on all in one short hour, xxxiv Oh, thou Pride's restless sea! swoln fancies blow 100
Thee up, dost blue with envy grow. Brinish with blood, like the Red Sea, with lust dost flow, xxxv Remorseless Rage ! thou in thy fifth act's breath. When blood does freeze to ice of death. And life's jail'd up for Nature's debt, where art ? Beneath, xxxv I World, ev'n thy name a whirling storm implies,
Canto X] The Vuiiity of the World
Where men in generations rise, Like bubbles, dropsied bladders of the rainy skies.
XXXVII
Some straight sink down, whom waters' sheet does hide ; Some, floating up and down, abide; no
The longest are so circumvolv'd, as rest 's denied.
XXXVIII
So, have we rid out storms, when
Eol's rave Plough'd up the ocean, whose
each wave Might waken Death with noise, and
make its paunch a grave.
XXXIX
The sick ship groan'd, fierce winds her tacklings rent ; The proud sea scorn'd to be shore- pent ;
We seem'd to knock at Hell, and bounce the firmament.
XL
Clouds then ungilt the skies, when
lightning's light Flash'd thousand glimmering
days t' our sight, But thunder's cannons. soon turn'd
those flash'd days to night. 120
XLI
Thus art thou, World, life's storm,
at death distress ; Starving 's the bottom of excess : Thyself a piteous creature, how
can'st me redress ?
XLII
No : hadst less cruel been, th' hadst
been less kind ; Oil 's in thy gall to heal my mind : Thus Hell may help to Heav'n,
Satan a soul befriend :
XLIII
A good cause with good means
some use, yet fare But ill, when others, of thy care. Whose cause is bad, and means ill
us'd, successful are.
( 429 )
XLIV
No wonder Sin's career, uncheck'd,
runs on, 130
Since here life's joy it hath alone,
Which, though thou bragg'st is giv'n, no sooner 's giv'n, than gone.
XLV
Pomp, Pleasure, Pelf, idolatriz'd by
fools. Dispute we now in Wisdom's
schools : Ambition's quenchless fire i' th'
spring of judgement cools.
XLVI
Pride bladders tymp'nous hearts, till
prick'd by fear, Soon they subside by venting
there : Unsafe ascents to pow'r do watching
dangers rear.
XLVII
Fearful, and fear'd is Pomp ; Ambi- tion steep Does Envy get, and Hatred keep ; 140
High state wants station ; honour- thirsting minds can't sleep.
XLVIII
Summon Aspiro, with his looms of
state To weave Pride's web, in spite of
fate ; Who, once got up, throws down
the steps did elevate.
XLIX
He hates superiors, 'cause superiors,
and Inferiors, lest they 's equals stand; And on his fellows squints, that are
in joint command.
L
Th' ambitious treach'rous are, and
hoodwink'd quite ; Their giddy heads have dazzled
sight. For Jealousy clothes Truth in
double mists of spite. 150
LI
His eye must see, and wink ; his tongue must brave,
Edward Beniowes
[Canto X
And flatter too ; his ear must have Audience, yet careless be : thus acts he king and slave.
LII
So, brightest angel blackest devil
hides ; High'st rise to lowest downfall
slides ; A mathematic point thus East and
West divides.
LIII
Bright Wisdom sends dark Policy to school, Proves the contriver but a fool,
Who builds his maxims on a preci- pice, or pool.
LIV
Great ones, keep realms from want;
they'll you from hate : i6o
Life 's not so dear as wealth ; for,
that Holds single bodies, this the body
of the State.
LV
Who bad desires conceive, they
soon wax great With mischief, then bring forth
deceit, So, brood they desolation, till it
grows complete.
LVI
Let such as sail 'gainst Virtue's wind,
use skill To tack about ; for, what 's first
ill, Grows worse by use, and worst
by prosecution still.
LVII
Ev'n that to which Pride's tow'ring
project flies, When grasp'd, soon by fruition
dies : 170
Great fears, great hopes, great plots,
great men make tragedies !
LVIII
Achitophel and Absalom prov'd this,
169 tow'ringl Orig. ' touring.*
174 Machavels] The 1 is often missed at
( 430 )
Whose brains of their designs did miss ; Teaching deep Machavels ; ' Fraud worst to th' Plotter is.'
LIX
Fallacious they, and fallible have
been. Who made Religion cloak their sin : Man's greatest good, or greatest ill is
from within.
LX
Those policies that hunt for shadows
so, As let at last the substance go. Which ever lasts, make wretched end
in endless woe. 180
LXI
Hadst for thy household stuff the
spoil of realms, Couldst thou engross Cathaiah's
gems. And more then triplicate Rome's
triple diadems ;
LXI I
Couldst with thy feet toss empires
into air, And sit i' th universal chair Of State ; were pageants made for
thee, the whole world's Mayor ;
LXIII
Yet those but pageants were ; thou, slave to sense ; To him, not 's own, all things dis- pense
But storms ; thou happier wast i' th' preterperfect tense.
LXIV
Steward, give up th' account, the audit's near 190
To reckon how, and when, and where ;
Where much is lent, there 's much requir'd : Doomsday 's severe.
LXV
Thus, proud Ambition is by Con- science peal'd ; Vapours sent up, awhile con- ceal'd,
this time in various forms ' Matchavil,' &c.
caxnto X] The Vanity of the World
In thund'ring storms pour down at length, when all 's reveal'd.
LXVI
Though Pride's high head doth brush the stars, yet shall Its carcass, like a sulphur ball,
Plunge into Flames' abyss. Pride concav'd Satan's hall.
LXVII
The mighti'st are but worms ; pale
cowards they Abash'd shall stand at that Great
Day, 2 00
When Conscience, King of Terrors,
shall their crimes display.
LXVIII
Giants of earth, avisos may you
tell. That though with envied state you
swell. Yet, soon within Corruption'scharnel-
house you'll dwell.
LXIX
Sceptres are frail, as reeds : who had
no bound, Are clasp'd within six foot of
ground ; Whose epitaphs next age will be
oblivion found.
LXX
Such yesterday, as would have been
their slave. To-day may tread upon their
grave. That flats the nose : best lectures
dust-seal'd pulpits have. 210
LXXI
Who toss'd the ball of Earth, in dark
vaults rest : All what that gen'ral once possest Was but a shirt in 's tomb, who van-
quish'd all the East.
LXX 1 1
Invading Cyrus in a tub of gore, Might quaff his fill, who evermore
Had thirsted blood : him timeless Fate midst triumphs tore.
LXXIII
Weigh things ; Life 's frail. Pomp
vain ; remember Paul, (The way to rise will be to fall,) In 's high commission, low, in 's low
conversion, tall.
LXXIV
Soul, wou'dst aspire to th' High'st ? clip Tumor's wing ; 220
To th' test of Heav'n thy axioms bring :
Best politic David was. Who con- quers Sin 's the King.
LXXV
Let raised thoughts, Elijah-like,
aspire To be encharioted in fire : Faith, Love, Joy, Peace, the wheels
to saints' sublime desire.
LXXVI
Avaro cite, as void of grace, as stor'd With gold, the God his soul
ador'd ; Wealth twins with fear: why start'^ ?
Unlock thy unsunn'd hoard :
LXXVII
I'll treble 't by the philosophic stone; This makes thee stare. Why, thus
'tis done, 230
To passives actives join in due
proportion.
LXXVII I
Behold vast sums unown'd ! Thou hutch-cram m'd chink, Art made as nothing with a wink,
Thou, bred from Hell, with Hell- deeds souls to Hell dost sink
LXXIX
Gold is the fautress of all civil jars, Treason's reward, the nerve of wars, Nurse of profaneness, suckling rage that kingdoms mars.
202 avisos] In the abstract sense of the original Spanish, which we have more gener- ally Englished into ' advice-iort?'.'
22oTuniorJ So in orig. The context supports 'Timur' or Tamerlane. But 'tumour' ( = ' swelling pride') or 'rumour' would make sense.
(43O
Edward Benlowes
[Canto X
LXXX
Thou potent Devil, how dost thou
bewitch The dreggy soul, spot'st it with
itch ! This slave to thee, his slave, was
never poor, till rich. 240
LXXXI
Now chest th' all worshipp'd ore
with rev'rend awe ; Sol's gold, and Luna's silver draw (Should Hell have these, 'twould
plunder'd be) to sate thy maw.
LXXXII
While gripes of famine mutiny
within, And tan, like hides, the shrivell'd
skin O' th' poor, whose pining want can
not thy pity win :
LXXXI 1 1
Having their gravestones underneath
their feet. Breathe out their woes to all they
meet. While thou to them are flintier than
their bed, the street.
LXXXIV
Blinded with tears, with crying
hoarse, forlorn 250
They seem to be of all, but scorn:
Death than delay (Want's bloodless wound) is easier borne.
LXXXV
Thy dropsy breeds consumption in
thine heir ; Who thus t' himself: ' I'll ease
your care, Measure not grounds, but your own
earth : Die now to spare.
LXXXV I
'What's rak'd by wrong, and kept
by fear, when mine. Shall spread, as I'm — then
brood the shine, Penurious wretch, till thou by empty
fullness pine.
257 I'm — shine" This is one of several room for conjecture. We may suppose that ' shine ' has the slang sense of ' shiner ' = '
( 432 )
LXXXVII
' Thy care 's to lessen cost ; how slow thy pays ! How quick receipts ! Lov'st fast- ing-days, 263
But 'tis to save ; thus starv'st in store, thee plenty slays.
LXXXVIII
' When shall I rifle every trunk and
shelf Of this old mucky wretched elf. Who turns, as chemists do, all that
he scrapes, to pelf?'
LXXXIX
Oh, sordid frenzy ! Anxious maze of care ! Oh, gripple covetize to spare. And dream of gold ! The miser's heav'n, the Indian's snare, xc Oppression is the bloodshot in their eyes ; Bribes blanch Gehazi till he dies : Fool, read, this night Death may thy dunghill soul surprise. 270
xci Think not for whom thou dost thy soul deceive. And injur'd Nature so bereave ; But still thy knotty brain with wedge- like anguish cleave.
XCII
Struck blind with gold, brood on
thy rapines, till Thou hatch up stinging cares to
th' fill : The heaviest curse on this side
Hell's to thrive in ill.
XCIII
Go, venture for 't with sharks ; haste, miser old To th' hook, because the bait is gold: Pawn thy soul for't, as Judas did, when 's Lord he sold. xciv Possessors are, as Saul, possess'd, who cross 280
places where B.'s oddities leave almost any ' I'm ' is the familiar half-completed oath and money.'
Canto X] The Vajitty of the World
Heav'ns law ; gain, got by guile, proves loss ; Getting begets more itch ; Lust's specious ore is dross, xcv Who sow to sin shall reap to judge- ment ; train To Hell is idolized gain. Canst death, or vengeance bribe ? If not, dread ceaseless pain, xcvi Why so fast posted by thy struggling cares, And self-slaying fraud, with all their snares ? Stay, view thyself; Destruction her crack'd glass prepares.
XCVII
His pursy conscience opens now.
' I've run On rocks ' (he howls) ' too late to
shun, 290
Lost use, and principal ! Gold, I'm
by thee undone ! '
XCVIII
If, to exhort be not too late, attend The wholesome counsel of a friend,
Renounce thy idol, and prevent thy wretched end. xcix Sound for Faith's bottom with Hope's anch'ring cord ; Repent, restore, large alms afford, The dismal fraught of sinking sins cast overboard. c He who returns to 's avarice left, his sore Grows desp'rate, deadlier than before, His hopes of Heav'n much less, his fears of Hell much more. 300
Oceani Monstrum natat infraenabile. Lingua ; Naves ssepe pias haec Echeneis habet ; Cui paro Naumachiam, Freta con- turbata pererrans, Sit Reipoque meo, Lis, Remoras- que tuae.
Spes rebus affixa fugacibus,
UNO
Frangitur Afflatu.
THE VANITY OF THE WORLD
Canto XL The Disincantation
THE ARGUMENT
Cn'spulus hie, nulli Nugarum Laude secundus, Cui Mens Lucis inops, Stulta Ruina Domus ;
Qui Cereri, Bromioque litat, Luxuque liquescit; Huic ne putrescat, pro Sale \'ita dalur.
Volupto, crown'd with bliss of fools, is bent To wine, feasts, gauds, loose merriment ; Runs on in Lust's career, till Grace stops with ' Repent.'
Stanza i O headless, heady age! O giddy toys I As humble cots yield quiet joys ; So prouder palaces are drums of restless noise.
II
'Twas in the blooming verdure of the year, When through the twins Sol's course did steer,
( 433 )
Ff
Edward Benlowes
[Canto XI
That a spruce gallant did, on sum- mons, straight appear. Ill Glitt'ring in brav'ry, like the Knight o' th' Sun ; Whose nags in Hyde-park races run This ev'n. 'Tis sure Volupto, old Avaro's son.
IV
Hot shows the day, byth' dust upon his head, to
And all his clothes so loosely spread.
He 's so untruss'd, as if it were not
long to bed
V
His hands keep time to th' tune of 's
feet, his pace Is danced measures, and 'tis
grace Enough, o'er 's shoulder to afford
a quarter-face.
VI
Act, 'bove French monkeys, anti- masks he might Before the apes (spectators' right) Such dops, shrugs, puppet-plays show best by candle-light.
VII
How mimic hum'rous garbs in
various kind Do chequer whimsies in the
mind ! 20
As diff ring flow'rs on Peru's Wonder
gard'ners find.
VIII
Hast thou black patches too ? for
shame, forbear ; Smooth chins should not have
spots, but hair : But thou art modish, and canst
vapour, drink, and swear.
IX
How blazing tapers waste Life's
blink away In socket of their mould'ring clay ! How powder'd curls do sin-polluted
dust bewray !
X
As Prudence fram'd Art to be
Nature's ape ; So Pride forms Nature to Art's
shape : Corrupted wine is worst that's
press'd from richest grape. 30
XI
Wilt Reason's sense dissolve in
senseless wine ? And sing, while Youth's frail gem
does shine, ' Come, Laughter, stretch our spleen ;
come sack in crystal shrine !
XII
'First, wine shall set, next shall
a wanton dame Our blood on fire, then quench
our flame.' But, brute. Repentance shall, or
Hell thy wildfire tame.
XIII
Now, with the gallon ere thou try'st
a fall, Think o' th' handwriting on the
wall : If Bacchus th' inturn gets, down
Conscience goes and All.
XIV
Shouldst thou but once the swinish drunkard view, 40
Presented in a mirror true.
Quite sous'd in tavern juice; in him, thyself thou'dst rue.
XV
A nobler birth, with an ignoble
breast. Rich corpse without a mind's
a beast : He's raz'd from Honour's stem, wlio.
Riot, is thy guest ;
XVI
Thy guests swoln dropsies, and dull
surfeits are: The gluttons' teeth their graves
prepare; They're sick in health, and living
dead, whose maw 's their care.
(434)
18 dops] Low bows or courtesies.
Canto XI] The Va7tity of the World
XVII
Go, corm'rants, go, with your luxu- rious flock, Rap'd from three elements ; we mock 50
Your musky jelly, pheasant, candid apricock.
XVIII
To Arabs, that they send their Phoe- nix write ; In's spice nest be cook'd it might:
Far fetch'd, dear bought, best suits the Apician appetite.
XIX
Go, with thy stags embalm'd, en-
tomb'd in paste ; On tenants' sweat feeds rampant
waste : We prize 'bove wild intemp'rance a
Carthusian fast.
XX
Excess enhanceth rates : thou, on
this score, Grind'st 'twixt thy teeth the
starving poor. Who beg dry crumbs, which they
with tears would moisten o'er. 60
XXI
Laz'rus, thy skin's Death's sheet, 'twixt that and bone There 's no parenthesis ! be- moan,
Dives, Christ's members now, or thou shalt ever groan.
XXII
Prance, pamper'd stallions, to the
grave y' are driv'n : Nought satisfies the soul but
Heav'n, Th' art empty, World, from morn,
through noon to doting ev'n.
XXIII
In twice-dyed Tyrian purple thou dost nest.
Restless, with heaving fumes op- prest. Which cause tumultuous dreams, foes to indulgent rest.
XXIV
From hence the Spark (what pity 'tis !) is ill, 70
Grown crop- sick. Post for phy- sic's skill ;
Phlebotomize he must, and take the vomit pill.
XXV
Doctor, the cause of this distemper
state us. ' His cachexy results from flatus Hypocondrunkicus ex crapula crea-
tus.'
XXVI
School him, whose Heav'n is sense,
whose reason dim ; AVho wastes his time, as Time
wastes him : Give o'er his soul. Divine ; Tailor,
make 's body trim.
XXVII
Now, sheath'd in rustling silks, new
suits display ; Thy Clothes outworth thee : wise
men say, 80
Hedge-creeping glow-worms never
mount to starry ray.
XXVIII
Yet, who 's born under Jupiter shall
move I' th' sphere of Honour, Riches,
Love ; Say wizards. Under Jove w' are all
born, none above.
XXIX
Still to be pounc'd, perfum'd, still
quaintly drest, Still to be guarded to a feast By fawning looks, and squinting
hearts, like an arrest.
51 candid] sic in orig.
53 spice] The metre wants * spicj'.'
75 Hypocondrunkicus] See Introd. Some timid person has altered this tremendous coinage where it appears in the Summary of Wisdom \i'. inf.), to hypocondyiacus in the B. M. copy.
(435) Ff2
Edward Be7iIowes
[Canto XI
XXX
Still to have toting waits unseal
thine eyes, In bed, at board, when sit, when
rise : Such, Card'nal-like, their Paris prize
'bove Paradise. 90
XXXI
Know, worldlings, that Prosperity 's
a gin. If wantoniz'd, breeds storms
within : To torture turns the metamorphosis
of sin. ■
XXXII
Pomp its own burthen is, whose
slippery state Oft headlong, by too rash debate, Tumbles for value of a straw, pulls
on its fate.
XXXIII
His heart-blood seethes ; that blood
sends up in heat Fierce spirits ; those, i' th' eye,
their seat, Fires kindle ; fiery eyes, like comets,
ruin threat.
XXXIV
Fierce Balaam, hold thy hand, and smite no ass 100
But him i' th' saddle ; he, alas !
Wounds through her sides himself : wrath through the soul doth pass.
XXXV
Duels for blood, like Moloch's idol,
gape. Thou, turn'd a swine out of an ape, First put'st on peacock's pride, at
last the tiger's shape.
XXXVI
They 're gross, not great, who serve
wild laws of blood ; Such, only great, who dare be
good : Grace buoys up Honour, which,
without it, sticks in mud.
XXXVII
Make thorough search : as hard to find thy cure,
As circle's puzzling quadrature, 1 10 Or, next way by North Sea to sail to China sure.
XXXVIII
Lo, idle sloth in lap of Sodom plac'd. ' Here lies he ' — did occasions waste. Invaluable now, irreparable past.
XXXIX
Go, wanton with the wind : misus'd
hours have A life, no other than the grave : Most, for life's circumstance, the
cause of living waive.
XL
The privy council of the glorious
Trine Did in creating man combine ; Angels look'd on. and wonder'd at
the soul divine ! 120
XLI
Which storehouse of three living
Natures is, Doth the vast world epitomize, Of whom, ev'n all we see 's but a
periphrasis !
XLII
Now, to what end can we conceive man's frame, Save to the glory of God's name, And His eternal bliss, included in the same.
XLIII
Fools, living die ; saints, dying live :
seeds thrive When earth'd ; who die to sin
survive; So, to come richer up, pearl-fishers
deeper dive.
XLIV
Now 's courtesan appears, who blows Love's fire, 130
Her prattling eyes speak vain desire ;
To catch this art-fair fly the follow- ing trouts aspire.
XLV
The gamesome fly that round the candle plays,
88 toting] 'Observing,' 'watching carefully.' Cf. Langland, P. P. (B text), xvi. 22. (436)
Canto XI] The V uitity of the World
Is scorch'd to death i' th' courted blaze : Thus is the amourist destroy'd by lustful gaze.
XLVI
This dame of pleasure, does, to seem
more bright, Lattice her day with bars of night; Spots this fair sorceress cloud, more
to enforce delight.
XLVII
ThisHelen, who does Beauty counter- feit, And on her face black Patches set
(Like tickets on the door) shows that she may be let. 141
XLVIII
She 'd coach affection on her cheek :
but why Wou'd Cupid's horses climb so
high Over her alpine nose, t' o'erthrow
it in her eye?
XLIX
Truth's apes, beware ; such wheels
your earth do wear ; Horses with rugged hoofs will tear; Who living's coach'd with pride, shall
dying fall with fear.
L
(But, noble ladies, virgins chaste, as
fair; Sweet modest sex, that virtuous are, Ye first, my honour; my respect, ye
second, share. 150
LI
Angelic forms, far be it to perplex,
Or cast aspersion on your sex : Loose art in those, your native beam- ing lustre decks.
LII
So, have I seen the limner's hand
design A ruder piece, near one Divine, With this coarse face, to make that
other beauty shine.)
LIII
Her eyes spread nets, her lips baits,
and her arms Enthrallingchains: Sense hugsthe
charms Of Idleness and Pride, while Reason 's
free from harms.
LIV
Tempestuous whirlwinds revel in the air 160
Of her feign'd sighs : her smile 's a snare.
Which she as slyly sets, as subtly does prepare.
LV
Scarce is the toy at noon to th' girdle
drest ; Nine pedlars need each morn be
prest To launch her forth : a ship as soon
is rigg'd to th' West.
LVI
At length she's built up with ac- coutred grace ; The spark 's inflam'd with her set face,
Her glancing eye, her lisping lip, her mincing pace.
LVII
On those, his optic faculties do play. Like frisking motes in sunny day. Like gaudy nothings in the Trigon glass that ray. 171
Lvni On her, profusely now he spends his ore; Scarce the Triumvir lavish'd more When he did costly treat his stately Memphian whore.
LIX
Thou, inconsid'rate flash, spend'st
precious days In dances, banquets, courtisms,
plays. To gain the shade of joy, which,
soon as gain'd, decays.
141 and 195] See note below for the illustration of this.
171 Trigon] I confess myself puzzled as to which of the various senses of this word — 'game of ball,' 'harp,' 'triangle,' &c. applies here.
176 courtisms J ' Ceremonies of courtship ' as above, p. 337.
( 437 )
Edward Benlowes
[Canto XI
LX
^Vhich, barely tasted makes thee
long the more ; Enjoy'd, 'tis loath'd, was lov'd
before : Thus, nor Mirth's flood, nor ebb can
please, nor sea, nor shore. iSo
LXI
His pulse beats Cupid's march, and's
itching vein Must vent loose lines, whence
souls are slain ; Which, by augmenting lust, will but
augment his pain.
LXI I
Ah, might too forward Sin be check'd
by Fear ! But, what may cure that eye, that
ear. Which, being blind and deaf, brags
best to see and hear !
LXI 1 1
Thy Juno 's but a cloud : she is not
she Thy fond esteem makes her to be ; Her basilisk's double eyesight kills
with viewing thee.
LXIV
She murthers poisons, thence com- plexion's found 190 To murther hearts. Oh, joys unsound
From light-bred daughters, though they weigh ten thousandpound !
LXV
Tell me not, simp'ring Lais, that
thy ray Can blood, turn'd ice, unfreeze,
like May; Whose spotted face to Virtue does
soul-spots betray.
LXVI
Ceruse, not lilies there ; thy blush- ing rose Its tincture to vermilion owes : Curs'd be those civil wars Love's royalty oppose.
LXVI I
Say not, a noble love to thee he
bears ; While 's hand writes odes, his eye
drops tears ; 200
That tim'rously he 's bold, burns,
freezes, dares, and fears.
LXVIII
Nor tell me, Nymphadoro, that Love's throes For her, rob thy repast, repose : Thou pul'st not to repent, but to bebrine thy woes :
LXIX
Woes, worse than waitings at the
five men's trade ; Worse than, when sick, through
sloughs to wade In stormy night, hard jolted on a
dull tir'd jade.
LXX
Shake off these remoras would thee
undo : The virtuous loveliest are. Grace
woo ; What jeweller for glass will orient
pearl forgo? 210
LXXI
The soul, that beauteousness of Grace exquires. And to decline By-path's desires. Must inward bend the rays of his selected fires.
LXXII
Unmuffie, ye dim clouds, and dis- inherit From black usurping mists his spirit ;
From rocks, that split vain hopes, to heav'nly comforts rear it.
LXXII I
B' entrench'd ere midnight larums ; undergo The penance of repentant snow. Which, melting down, will quench, and cleanse, as it doth flow.
190] = (again I suppose) 'she makes herself look killing with cosmetics compounded of poisons, which are drugs made more murderous ' or ' destroyed as poisons.' 205] What was this trade ?
(438)
Canto XI] The Vanity of the World
LXXIV
Repentance health is, giv'n in bitter pill ; 220
Best rectifier of the will ;
The joy of angels, love of God, the hate of ill.
LXXV
Action 's the life of counsel ; bathe
thy soul, I' th' Lamb's red Laver ; in dust
roll, Before Despair; Hell's serjeant
comes, drink Sorrow's bowl.
LXXVI
Ere th' icy mantle of a wrinkled skin
Candies the bristles of thy chin. Repent; ere chap-fall'n door shall let Death's terrors in.
LXXVII
Never too late does true Repentance
sue; 229
Yet, late repentance seldom 's true :
Who would not, when they might, may, when they would, it rue.
LXXVIII
For minutes of impertinent delight,
Lose not, oh, lose not Infinite ! Scorn to be vassal to base Sin, and hellish Spite.
LXXIX
Why dost outsin the Devil ? He ne'er soil'd With lust, or glutt'ny was ; ne'er foil'd
With drink, ne'er in the net of sloth- fulness entoil'd.
LXXX
I may persuade, yet not prevail !
Sin-charms Bewitch him, till Wrath cries to
arms : Sin's first face smiles, her second
frowns, her third alarms. 240
LXXXI
Sinners are fondly blind when they
transgress ; All woes are, than such blindness,
less : That wretch most wretched is, who
slights his wretchedness.
(439)
LXXXII
Presumption slays her thousands !
too late then For to advise of danger, when Vengeance, that dogs their steps,
shall worry them in 's den.
LXXXIII
Gallants, should Trophies Caesarize
your power, ^ Should beauty Helenize your
flower. Should Mammon Danaize ye with
his golden shower ;
LXXXIV
Yet, when Revenge shall inward thunders send, 250
And Sodom-storms on souls descend.
Salvation scorn'd, what rests but every tort'ring fiend !
LXXXV
That God refus'd, who you from depth of nought To being, nay,well-beingbrought !
Ingrate, for talents lent, return your- selves sin-fraught.
LXXXVI
Bad great ones are great bad ones :
foul defect It is, when pow'r doth Shame
protect ; Such, will do what they will, but,
what they ought, neglect.
LXXXVI I
Virtue by practice to her pitch does soar; But they, who such a course give
oer,
260
Shall sadly wish for Time, when Time shall be no more.
LXXXVIII
Ye, brittle sheds of clay, resolve ye
must Into originary dust. When swift-heel'd Death o'ertakes
you. Where 's then all your
trust ?
LXXXIX
Men in their generations live by turns ;
Edward Ben/owes
[Canto XI
Their light soon to its socket burns ; Then to converse with spirits they go, and none returns.
xc
Tomb-pendant scutcheons, pompous
rags of state,
Those gorgeous bubbles but relate
The thing that was, ne'er liv'd : 'tis
Goodness gildeth Fate. 270
xci Grace outlasts marble vaults ; that crowns expense ; Brass is shortliv'd to innocence : Time's greedy self shall one day find its preter-tense.
XCII
When heav'ns that had their deluge- dropsy, shall Their burning fever have; whenall Is one combustion ; when Sol seems a black burnt ball :
XCIII
When Nature 's laid asleep in her
own urn ; When, what was drown'd at first,
shall burn ; Then, sinners into quenchless flames,
Sin's mulct, shall turn !
xciv Ne'er shall a cooling julep such appease, 2S0
Whom brimstone torrents without ease Enrage, i'th' dungeon of dark flames, and burning seas !
xcv
In centre of the terrible abyss,
Remotest from supernal bliss. That horrid, hideous, gloomy, end- less dungeon is !
xcvi Fools, who hath charm'd you ? Sue betimes divorce
From your vain world ; where power did force A rape, there let not choice make marriage, which is worse.
xcvii Man is a world, and more ; for this huge mass Shrunk, as a scroll, away shall pass ; 290
Whilst his pure substance is as ever- lasting glass.
XCVIII
The world is like the basilisk's fell
eyes ; Whose first sight kills ; first seen,
it dies : Man, by a brave disdain, its pois'n-
ing venom flies.
xcix Gay World, who thee adores, thou great wilt make ; Pearl may he quaff, and pleasures take Of sense, but must descend into the sulph'ry lake !
c Is Hell the upshot thou to thine canst lend ? Crawl, grovelling trifles, to your end ; Vanish beneath my scorn. Go, World, recant, amend. 300
Provehimur Portu, Terramque relin- quimus illam Quce natum Gremio prima rigente tulit. O felix Oculus Portum visurus Amantis, Sit licet in Lacrymas naufragus ipse suas !
DEDIGNOR INDIGNA ^
* Here, in orig., is the illustration referred to above — a very fine plate engraved by Hollar, representing in half-length a lady with a fan in her hands, her face and neck spotted with sign-patches as in the Latin verses inf. and the English sup. st. xlvii. In these Latin verses Vcnenlla and Lanissa, if not classical, are also not ugly.
( 440)
Canto XI] The Vanity of the World
In lenocitantes hujus Tempestatis Venerillas, Juvenum Scrobes, Animarum Voragines
In nova fert Animus mutatas dicere Formas Spectra, salax quarumMente Libido furit. Ludicra depicti jam prodit Imago Theatri, En hic Scena vafris insidiosa Dolis. Ergo mihi nunquam nisi Personata videnda es ? Si vis Personam sumere, sume tuam. Cui loquor ? Ipse tui deludor Imagine ; Vera Quid facies, cum vel fallere picta potes ? Picta Genas, discincta Sinus, nudata Papilias ; Albor Cerussa fit, Alinioque Rubor, i o Vendere si non vis Carnem, conclude Macellum ; Nee Lupa mentita decipe Carne Procos. Nunc emere baud fas est, quia Quad- ragesima, Carnes ; Venales Mammas ergo, Lanissa,tege. Afifigis Maculas dum Signa loquacia Malis, Mercandum Pretio Corpus adesse . notas. Quae primam extenuat Culpam, rea SiEpe secundce est ; S^piiis h prima Labe secunda venit. Plurima composites conservat capsa Colores ; Sic Faciem tibi, cum ca^tera vendis, emis. 20
Suavia viscosis renuo libare Labellis, Ne teneat Fucus fixa Labeila tuus. Quam levis Incessus ! quam Lumina paeta vagantur ! Verbula qukm molli Gutture fracta fiuunt ! Quid me blanda tuis fallacibus obruis Hirquis ?
Serpentem Gremio, Virus in Ore geris. Non amat, hamat Amor tuus, 6 Trive- nefica, nostro Non opus est Cultu, Te nimis ipsa colis. Sidera contendas Oculi sint. Pur- pura Malas, Electrum Crines, Dens Ebur, Ora f^avi. 30
Consulto Speculo geris Omnia; fallet Imago: ^ Te nam (an jurares) sera Ruina manet. Sed quorsum in miseras labuntur Carmina Nugas ? Prassens, est absens, pars minor ilia sui. Quid velit base Pictura loquens ? quern postulat Usum ? Ut suspendatur nonnfe Tabella nitet ? Quid tunc h tanto restabit Amantibus Igne ? Fumus iners, tristis Faex, inamoenus Odor. Ne jactes igitur Formam, fucata ; Megeeram 39
Formosam fieri sicquoque posse reor. Dicite, Uoctores, huic qua; Complexio? Quinta. Quis placet huic Sensus, dicite ? Sextus erit. Sub quo signo orta? Opposite sub Virginis Astro. Edita subcauda,Gredo,Draconiserat. Quaenam illi fuerit Mens ? Subdola. Lingua? dolosa. Quce Metamorphosis ? Prodigiosa sibi. Naso, suam Metamorphosin qui scri- bere possit, Quotidie Formas cijm novet ista Venus?
^ Insceleratlssimam Seculi Licentiam, cujus in melius commutandi exilis admodum supersit Spes
TOTUS adeo in Maligno (mali ligno) positus est Mundus, ut vehementer hujusmodi Satyris egeat. Ubiqu^ nunc
locorum damnosa Malorum Vitia, noxiarum instar herbarum, citissime pullulescunt. Perjuria, Superbia, Te-
^ Versus cancrinus quoad Literas {author's note^.
• Above this in orig. is a map of the two hemispheres inscribed Typus Orbis Terrarum,
(440
Edward Benlowes
[Canto XI
mulentia, &c. Terram sub Mole Pec- catorum non ruere admirabile, cum Coeli, qui ingentia ilia Corpora Solis, Lunae, Stellarum, prteter suain Vasti- tatem non solum ferunt, sed circum- ferunt, absque Ruinae Periculo ; unicum tamen Peccatum ferre nequiverunt, sed statim per solidas illas Machinas, pec- catum, cumsuoAuthoreLucifero,delap- sum, etiam Terram penetrans, ad Fun- dum Abyssi infernalis descendit.
Actor Homo,Coelum Spectator, grande
Theatrum [Dies.
Mundus, Vitafrequens Fabula, Scena
Und^ ego, sublimi positus, Deliria
Mundi 20
Defleo, dum Vitij Pondera tristfe
gemit.
Esse quid hoc dicam, perversa quod
Omnia cerno !
Densis qu^m Tenebris mergitur Orbis iners ! Talia tartareo crevere Piacula Seclo, Vix Terris Scelerum mox Modus ullus erit. Luxus ovans, impurus Amor, maculosa Libido, Persica Moilities, Spes levis, Ira gravis. Carnificina Boni, sed Iniqui sedula Nutrix, Orbis es, Illecebras nil nisi turpis habes. Fraus juvat, hinc justa est, fallique & fallere gaudes ; 30
Mors Jocus, I nfemus Fabula, Sanna Polus. Heu, Pietas ubi prisca! Profana 6 Tempora ! Mundi Faex, Vesper, prope Nox ; 6, mora ! Christe, Veni!
^ TErapitaerioventosaSuperbiaCurru; Siste rotas, Currus ferventes siste ;
Loquamur. Nunc opus est leviore Lyra. Tu,
Cyprie Bubo, Ore procax, Novitatis amans, Veneris-
que Satelles, Callidus incautas Philtris mollire
Puellas, Splendida rimaris petulanti Lumine
Spectra, Et Mala quasque Bonis preefers, Deliria
Veris, 40
Frivola vaniloquo Mendacia gutture
j a etas, Mentis inops, Ratione carens, Virtutis
inanis, Volveris effuso suadenteLibidine Luxu, LautacoronatisambisConviviaMensis, Sunt tibi Deliciae, Risus, Jocularia
Cordi, Futilibus fatuus Garritibus Aera pulsas, Quique ciet Nugas, Donaria summa
reportat, Illicitumque putas nihil ; Omne, quod
officit, optas ;
Expetis ut fulvum Mundus vertatur in
Aurum ; Aurita de Gente Midae reor esse Ne-
potem : 50
Stulte, tuas Vestes, Avis ut Junonia
plumas, Aspicis ; in Cute curanda malfe con-
teris ^vum. O, Genus insipidum ! sani tibi mica
Cerebri .'' Auscultet tumido Gens implacabilis
Ore. Luxuries prasdulce Malum, blanditur,
& angit : Innumeras parit ipsa Cruces, nutritque,
Voluptas : Vita vices morientis habet, morerisque
superstes. Sed, quid ago 1 Surdis cantatur
Fabula. Fati Vespera mox veniet ! quidinexorabilis
hasres ? Cuncta tenere putes ; tu percipis omnia ;
Solum 60
Hoc nescis, Pantwn quod es insanissi-
mus Andrwn.
In strenuos hujus Seculi Compotores, & Gulones Perditissimos ^
QUALis hic Boatus? quae Vociferatio? Auscultemus. Aut bibite, aut hunc
Cantharum, quantus quantus est, in Capita impingam vestra. Sic enim
61 Wc need not suppose that Benlowes put in the Greek for anything? but metre's sake.
1 Above these passages respectively the orig. has two little vignettes in text, one
( 442 )
Canto XI] The Vanity of the World
assuefacti (k suefacti) sunt ; Qui tamen Ipsi nondum hesternam edormiverunt Crapulam. Heu, qukm petitis perituri peritura ! Labantes ad Prascipilium impellitis, & ad Infernum proruentibus, calcar subditis ! Interim tamen vos ac- cusat Conscientia, Testis est Memoria, Ratio Judex, Voluptas Career, Timor Tortor, Oblectamentum Tormentum ! Und^, hi vorando, bibendo, ludendo, dormiendo, moriendo, juste oblivi- scantur sui, qui vivendo (nisi jurando) semper obliti sunt Dei.
TuRGIDUS iste quis est ? ambas per- potus ad Aures, Qui tradit rabidas Frasna soluta Gulas; Qui plures avido Calices ingurgitat haustu ; 20
Cui Venus inVinis, Ignis in Ignefurit; Cui Venter Deus est, (S; lauta Culina Sacellum ; Orgia cui madidi grata profana Dei ; Cui sunt Liba Dapes, & Compotatio Festum ; Et Pietas plena Lance litare Gute ; Plurima qui spondet, perfusus Tem- pera Baccho ; Omnia quae Sociis, eras, sine fronte negat ; Cujus Lingua vomit spumantia Vota Salutis, Obrutus est nimio dum sine Mente Mero. ' Vivamus liquidi, potemus, edamus, ovemus ; 30
Nulla SepultorumnasciturUvaCavis: Mordaces Curas solvamus Vociferando,
Sic permittamus tetiijs ire Dies : Falle Diem, strueSerta,Scyphumrape, tingere Nardo ; Si tibi Cura mei, sit tibi Cura Meri : Prome Falerna, remitte Pavenda, pro- pellito Nubes : LeviathJE Os utinkm nunc mihi grande foret !
Gemmatis si Musta bibam flammantia Poclis, Inde frequens Naso Gemma repent^ micet.' 39
Plurima sic olidis epotat Vina Tabernis, Ut referat brutas sordida Vita Sues : Immersus Vitii Barathro, Scelerisque Profundo, Ebrius Errorum Nectare, Porcus ovat. Immemor ipse sui,nimium memor ipse Suorum, Carneus iste Cadus, Viva Culina cluat. Nocturno reboat dum caeca Platasa Tumultu, Quodvis ex animo suav& peregit Opus. Una Salus tibi sit nullam potare Salu- tem : Te Puer in triviis erudiisse potest. Qui mihi Discipulus, Bibo sis, cupis atque doceri ; 5°
Hucades, Abdomen spernere disce tuum. Pondus iners, Carnis Cumulus, Vini- que Culullus, Progenies Grylli, Dux Epicurus har£e ; Coenum, non Coelum sapis, Ingluviem- que saginas, Non Mentem ; solum pro sale Vita datur. Ditia sorbebit subito Patrimonia Guttur ; Quod tua peccarunt Guttura, Vitra luunt. Qu£E Mare, Terra, Polus, Pisce, Alite, Vite ministrant, Desidis alta Gulte Cuncta Bara- thra vorant. Effera Tempestas Cellae, Barathrum- que Macelli ! 60
ExanimestumuletmortuaTurbatuos! Hoc verbo conclude, nee os tibi sub- lino : Nequam es : Exitio, nisi te corrigis, Ipse tibi.
Eheu, qukm Magnificus iste jam aegrotat misere ! ecce, Linteola Manu contrahit, distorto Ore & distento Labia dispandit, anhelis Pulmonibus difficile spirat, longum Vale Mundo dicit, tenebrescentes Oculos circum-
volvit, & suburbia Mortis intrat. Lec- tores, clarum hie Speculum Fragilitatis cernite. Gregor. Magnus Lib. 4. Cap. 38. Dialogorum, de Chrysorio Ro- mano tradit Historiam, de quo, an Divitiis, seu Vitiis magis abundaverit,
representing a Caroline dandy in full dress standing ostentatiously, and the other the same person sitting drinking — and drunken.
(443)
Edward Beiilowes
[Canto XI
incertum fuit. Cum, quasi expirans, anxiaretur, apparuere illi teterrimi, Dsmones. ipsum certatim prensantes, trahereque ad Inferna annixi ; lile, Horrore tremuit, seque suoer Lectum hue atque illuc vertere miseris ccepit Modis. Nee dubitaret Quisquam Spiritus sibi apparuisse, qui probfe illius Gestus, & Lamenta consideraret. Postremo, ipse, ciim jam Amicorum
Auxilio desperasset, ad Hostes con- versus, Inducias, oro, Inducias, inquit, Inducias, vel tantiim usque ad mane ! cui, Dtemones ; Stulte, hac nocte eripietur tibi Anima. Dum hoc pos- cendo ingeminat, Animam exhalavit ! Va2 vobis miseris, qui in ipsis Volup- tatum Blandimentis, s^evis Pauperum Oppressionibus, & iniquis Pr^eliandi Ardoribus subito auferimini ! 95
Instare, heu, summum. Mens, tibi
crede Diem, Actus Fabelte jam tibi quintus adest, Namque stat ad Mortis Limina Vita
tremens ; Quid modo, dum MurisimminetHostis,
agas ? 99
Te rapiet subito Mors inopina Gradu ! An non supremi Judicis Ora times ? ]\Iente soporata Cuncta quieta fluunt, Exagitat Sccvis evigilante Minis ! Stat vinctum rigido sons Adamante
jecur, Undique constrictum Crimine, Lege,
Nece ! Stare tamen nuUo mens queat jegra
Loco ! Afflictum Pectus quis tolerare potest ! Me Tremor, Impietas, Flagra, Ge- henna rotant ! Totus in Aspectu sum rea Massa Dei ! Heu, quam terribilis Sontibus Ultor
adest ! no
Qui Flagellorum millia mille parat ! Quis dabit hisce Modum, queis Modus
omnis abest ! Supplicium /Eternum ! Dirus ut ille
Sonus ! Nullis Inferni Flammadomatur aquis ! yEstus at infuse Gurgite crescit Aqus ! Nunc, Mundi quid Honos, Gaza, Jocus-
que, valent ! Vos, speciem fumi, quicquid habetis,
habet ; Perfidiosa sequi Ludicra Mundus
amat ; Tristia sub placido melle Venena
latent ; Quo magis arrident, sunt metuenda
magis ; 120
Turgida ventoso Pectora Folle replent. Inter Acidalias, ceu Sybarita, Rosas Crevi, Prfedaferisdiscrutianda Rogis ! Prasdonum Paphia mitior Ira face ; Cultorem perdis ; qui tibi vivit, obit ; Arbore seu Chavje, prima \^enenanecis, Arbore sic Christi Vita secunda fluit. Hac, hac sit nostra Meta terenda
rota ! Jam nunc Justorum Fata subire veh'm ! Pro Te, Christe, pati, est vincere,
Vita mori : 130
Te peto dum superest Halitus ; Oro,
fave. Hanc, Deus, ex magno mittis Amore
Crucem : Sum miser, ah, misero fer miseratus
Opem ! Nunc opus est Precibus, nunc Ope,
Christe, tua ! Unus Opem, Vulnus qui dedit, Ille
ferat ! Pcenitet admissi Criminis ; oro Deus, Sanguinis inspergat, Gutta vel una
tui ! Sperem, vix ullam Spes ubi cemat
Opem ! Singula baptizem Corporis Acta mei ! Sint Lachrymas Mentis Gaudia sola
me£e ! 140
OucC suaves aliquid, Nectaris instar,
habent ; Tristia qui spargit, Gaudia abinde
metet ; LiutiticG Segetem flebilis Unda parit : Langueo, sola sones Lachryma ! Lingua
sile.
H^c, lector, siccis Qui tueare
GENIS !
( 444 )
Canto XI] The Sweetness of Retire77ient
Mundi Contemptus
Delici^, Luxus, laqueata Palatia, Gemm£e, Incautos, veluti blanda Venena, ne- cant ; In Trabea Livor, Gemma Timor, Ira sub Auro ; Bullatum his Pectus plurima Pestis agit. Est Honor umbra Rei. Quid Honoris Spes ? minus umbra ; Umbram finge umbrae, spes id Honoris erit ; Dum placet, illudit ; dum splendet, fallit ; amosnam Sic referens bullam, frangitur ilia micans : Aurea pacatamturbant Laquearia Men- tern, Et Vigiles Noctes Purpura saepe trahit ; lo
Oblongas videt ire vigil sua Taedia Noctes, Praeque ipsis longas Noctibus ire Dies : Saepe Equitem excussit, fracta Cervice Sedentis, Ad Titulos properans Ambitionis Equus : I His, sceptrigeri quos lactat Gloria Mundi Auratis Tectis, fit peregrina Salus. Divitias Avidus per aperta Pericula Ponti, Retia quae Mentis, concumulare studet. Haec, mihi ne noceant cauto, cretata facessat 19
Ambitio, & fulvi sordida Cura Luti. Felix quistreperi Ludibria rideatOrbis, Aspernans yEvi luxuriantis Opes.
THE SWEETNESS OF RETIREMENT
OR THE HAPPINESS OF A PRIVATE LIFE
Canto XII. The Segregation
ARGUMENT
Tu, mihi Thema, Quies Animae, sanctus- que Recessus ; Rores dum saturant me, Deus alme, tui. Vera Quies, Paucos nosti, notissima Faucis ; Dum fugio Plures, te peto, vera Quies Carmina Secessum ? Poti us Devotio quaerit : Sic quadrant Modulis Pectora sancta suis. Turbat Apollineas clamosa Molestia Musas ; Christ icolseModulossedmagisillagravat. Sit procul Urbs, prope Vota mihi ; mihi reddar, & intiis Plena Fide perstet Mens mea, plena Deo ! 10
Hoc Nemus estTemplum, patuli Laquearia Rami ; Fit sacrae Truncus quisque Columna Domus: Pervia Sylva patens est Porta, Cacumina Pinnse ; Baptismi Pignus Rivulus omnis habet :
( 445 )
Dat Mensam Collis sacram mihi Cespite tectus ; Pectoris Ara Fides, Zelus Amorque focus. Si quis Baptistes in Eremo praedicet, Ecce Pulpita, in arborea Sede locata, patent. Hie licet elata dare Verba precantia Voce ; Et sine Teste, Deo nee nisi Teste, loqui. 20
Ipsa monent tremulas quatientia Flamina frondes, Per nos fundendas Corde tremente Preces. Antevolansque cavo Suspiria nostra Susurro, Dum gemit Aura levis, Tu geme, Cultor, ait. Voce Deum celebro ; Concordes sponte Choristse, Sunt Praecentores, dum modulantur, Aves. Amen subijcio ; dat Amen, quasi Clericus, Echo. Sylva placet, Luxus Desidiose, Vale.
Edward Beniowes
[Canto XII
THE ARGUMENT
True Bliss ! Thou know'st but few, to few art known ;
While w^e shun many, thee alone We court, and all enjoy in thee, when all are gone.
STANZA I
Waste not another word on fools ; forsake What grates the ear, pure notions take ; Know, that the smoothest hones the sharpest razors make. II 111 suits it with* a russet life, to write Court-tissue : swains, by thres- hold's sight. Observe, as well as lords by clocks of gold, Time's flight. Ill Whose crystal shrines, like oysters, gape each hour, Discov'ringTime by figures' pow'r: That is the nobler watch, foreshows the threat'ning show'r.
IV
While cumb'rous gain does various cares obtrude, lo
The richer mind courts solitude.
And does guile (subtle to beguile itself) exclude.
V
More than high greatness humble
goodness draws ; Elm rafters, mantled o'er with
straws, Outbless Escurial tow'rs that seem
Heav'n's cupolas.
VI
Each city-shop's a trap ; each toy, a
yoke; What wise man willingly would
choke Himself in thicker clouds of griping
care, than smoke ?
VII
Who would not fly that broil, whence Bliss is flown ;
Where, in Time's dregs, Religion 's grown 20
From best, to all (flow tears of blood !), from all, to none.
VIII
Lord, guide Thy Church, which
interests impair ; Who, without knowledge, factious
are, They little mind the flock, so they
the fleece may share.
IX
Why climb'd they else the pulpit, as
Lot's brother. With fire in one hand, knife i' th'
other? 'Twas vip'rous Nero slew his own
indulgent mother.
X
As Peace Heav'n's blessing; so is
War His rod, Man-hunting beast, a scourge from
God, Which doth unhinge the world ;
fierce grapes in Wrath's press
trod. 30
XI
Let me, in Griefs prerogative, be
bold To question such, as dare to
hold That they the Shepherd lov'd, when
they forsook the fold.
XII
Such scramblers at the shearing
feasts, I shun ; Forgetting, and forgotten, run To fraudless swains. I have a Friend
compliant won ;
XIII
By his example may mylifebepenn'd, May he read, like himself, his friend :
21 This is a puzzling line. One would expect 'From best to all . . . to best to none,' or ' From best to worst . . . from all to none.' Cf. Summaty version inf.
(446)
Canto XI 1] The Sweetness of Retirement
Souls in conjunction should, like stars, kind influence send.
XIV
Us Sympathy, the mind's true priest, does join ; 4°
'Tis Grace makes social love divine ;
Tun'd octaves unisons are, duos in one combine.
XV
When two enweav'd are in one high
desire, They feel, like angels, mutual fire ; Flames intellective live, material
flames expire.
XVI
Vain World, thy friends are thieves
of Time ; twice they Are robb'd ; for, Time's self steals
away. Leaving a dull December for a
sportive May.
XVII
Fools' chat is built on sand; but blest who hives Discourse, that on Heav'n's sweet- ness lives, 50
Such, as to raise the fire to high-born Virtue strives.
XVIII
For birds of Paradise the proper
fare Is purest vapour of the air; Souls nourish'd from the influ'nce
of God's Spirit are.
XIX
Dew fattens earth, the earth yields
plants, and then The plants feed beasts, the beasts
feed men ; Man on His Word should feed, who
gave him origin.
XX
From public roads, to private joy 's
our flight ; To view God's love, we leave
man's sight ; Rich in the purchase of a Friend,
who gilds delight. 60
(447 )
XXI
Thus go we, like the heroes of old
Greece, In quest of more than golden
fleece. Retreating to sweet shades, our shat-
ter'd thoughts we piece.
XXII
So, when the Sun, commander of
the day. Muffles with clouds his glorious
ray, He clearer afterwards doth his bright
face display.
XXIII
Kings, too much seen, grow mean.
Renown does dawn From cots, unsightly hang'd, and
drawn With spider-woven arras, and their
cobw^eb-lawn.
XXIV
Victorious Charles the Fifth, who had acquir'd 70
Fame, wealth, and what could be desir'd
By greatest emperors, left all, to live retir'd.
XXV
That sea-dividing Prince, whose
sceptred rod Wrought freedom to the Church
of God, Made in the Mount of Horeb forty
days' abode.
XXVI
In wilderness the Baptist shin'd more clear, In Life's night starry souls appear: They who themselves eclipse, are to Heav'n's court more dear.
XXVII
But, now what need we cite examples more, 79
This by our Saviour heretofore
Was practis'd, who, whole nights retir'd, did God implore.
XXVIII
Examples are best precepts. Sweet Secess,
Edward Be7ilowes
[Canto XII
The nurse to inbred Happiness, How dost thou intellects with fuller knowledge bless !
XXIX
Waft us, all-guiding Pow'r, from wild resort, By Cape of Hope, to Virtue's Port,
Where Conscience, that strong cham- pion, safely guards the fort.
XXX
Here, Liberty, ev'n from suspicion
free, Does terminate our fears ; by
Thee We conquer lusts : each sense wears
Reason's livery. 90
XXXI
With Thee, like cloister'd snails, is
better state. Than to be lions in a grate : The world hers, coop'd like Bajazet,
does captivate.
XXXII
But, here (the type of ever-smiling joys. Without disturbing fears, or noise), We bright-ey'd Faith, with quick-eyed Art, in Truth's scale poise.
XXXIII
Religious Mary's leisure we above Encumber'd Martha's cares ap- prove ;
Uncloister'd, we this course beyond Court's splendour love.
XXXIV
Seated in safe repose (when circling
Earth 100
Suffers by rage of war, and dearth),
Secure from plagues and angry seas, we manage mirth.
XXXV
The low-built fortune harbours Peace, when as Ambitious high-roof d Babels pass Through storms ; content with thankfulness each blessing has. xxxvi So fragrant vi'lets, blushing straw- berries,
(448)
Close-shrouded lurk from lofty eyes, The emblem of sweet bliss, which low and hidden lies, xxxvii No masked fraud, no tempest of black woes. No flaunting pride, no rage of foes, lie
Bends hitherward, but soon is laid, or overblows.
xxxviii We rule our conquer'd selves ; what need we more ? To gadding Sense we shut the door; Rich in our mind alone. Who wants himself, is poor.
XXXIX
Slander is stingless, Envy toothless
here; The russet is well lin'd we wear ; Let cits make chains the ensigns of
their pomp appear.
XL
Faith link'd with Truth, and Love
with Quiet too. O'er pleasant lawns securely go ; The Golden Age, like Jordan's
stream, does here reflow. 120
XLI
For fields of combat, fields of corn
are here, For trooping ranks, tree-ranks
appear ; War steels the heart, but here we
melt heart, eye, and ear.
XLII
Oh, might a sacred Muse Earth's
frenzy calm ! On that we'd pour such suppling
balm, As might vain trophies turn to an
unfading palm.
XLIII
Then should each He, who wears the face of man. Discern their emptiness, and span The vulgar's trivial idols, and their follies scan.
Canto XII] The Sweetness of Retirement
XLIV
Though in rough shells our bodies kernell'd are, 130
Our roof is neat, and sweet our fare,
Banish'd are noisome vapours to the pent-up air.
XLV
No subtle poison in our cup we fear. Goblets of gold such horrors bear; No palace-Furies haunt, O rich Content ! thy cheer.
XLVI
How great are those who use, like
gold, their clay ; And who like clay, gold, great are
they ; To grandeur, slighted titles are the
ready way.
XLVII
Courts' amplest shine nor adds, nor
takes from minds That pierce the world, true merit
binds 140
Bright souls unto it, whilst a fog th'
ignoble blinds.
XLVIII
Humble, not slav'd ; without dis- comfort sad ; Tim'rous, without despair; and glad.
Without wild freaks, we are. The world 's or fool, or mad.
XLIX
From Taurus when Sol's influence descends. And Earth with verdant robe be- friends.
And richer showers, than fell on Danae's lap, dispends ;
L
When early Phosphor lights from
eastern bed The grey-eyed morn, with blushes
red ; When opal colours prank the orient
tulip's head : 150
non-ag'd
LI
Then walk we forth, where twinkling
spangles shew, Entinselling like stars the dew. Where buds, like pearls, and where
we leaves, like em'ralds, view :
LII
Birds by grovets in feather'd gar- ments sing New ditties to the spring ;
Oh, how those traceless minstrels cheer up everything !
LIII
To hear quaint nightingales, the
lutes o' th' wood, And turtle-doves, by their mates
woo'd, And smelling violet sweets, how do
these cheer the blood !
LIV
While teeming Earth fiower'd satin wears, embost 160
With trees, with bushes shagg'd, with most
Clear riv'lets edg'd, by rocking winds each gently tost ;
LV
The branching standards of the
chirping grove. With rustling boughs, and streams
that move In murm'ring rage, seem Nature's
consort, tun'd by Love.
LVI
We to their hoarse laments lend
list'ning ears ; And sympathize with them in tears, Sadly rememb'ring British Sion's
acted fears !
LVII
Then, our sad hearts are prick'd,
whence spring forth cries ; From those, drain'd through the
bruis'd soul, rise 170
Faith-fumes, by Heav'n's fire drawn,
which drop through melting
eyes !
154 grovets] Rare. 162 rocking windsl Had Benlowes read Milton?
165 Rage] Skin orig. but in my copy altered to ' base ' = 'bass" which is probably right.
( 449 )
Gg
Edward Be7tIowes
[Canto XII
LVIII
'Cause hungry swords devour'd man's flesh, Hke food, And thirsty spears were drunk with blood :
Lord, how Thy Spouse turns mum- mied earth ! her gore a flood !
LIX
Edge-hill with bones look'd white,
with blood look'd red, Maz'd at the number of the dead : A theme for tears in unborn eyes to
be still shed !
LX
How many bound with iron, who
did 'scape The steel ! and Death commits
a rape On them in jails, who her defied in
warlike shape ! 180
LXI
Cross-biasness to grace our ruin
spinn'd ! Harrow'd with woes, be Heav'n
our friend ! Sodom 'gainst Nature, we 'gainst
light of Truth have sinn'd !
LXII
This draws eye-tribute from Com- punction's den ; Grace, guard Thy prostrate sup- pliant then,
Who am the chief of sinners, and the worst of men !
LXIII
My guilt before Thy Mercy-seat I
lay, For His sake save me, who gave
way To die for sinners ! Ah, Sin kills
Him every day !
LXIV
Sin ne'er departs, till humbled in deep fears, 190
Embalm'd in pray'rs, and drown'd in tears.
The fragrant Araby breathes no per- fume like theirs.
LXV
More fruitful those, unwitnessed,
appear ; Gems are too cheap for every
tear : Deep Sorrow from itself doth its high
comfort rear.
LXVI
Salt tears, the pious convert's sweetest sport, To hopeful joys the ent'ring port, Ye waft blest mariners to Sion's glorious court.
LXVII
But whither stray'st thou, Grief?
Pearl'd dew arrays As yet the virgin-meads, whose
gays 200
Unbarb'd, perk up to prank the
curled stream that plays.
LXVIII
By rushy-fringed banks with purling
rill, Meand'ring underneath the hill : Thus, stream-like, glides our life to
Death's broad ocean still.
LXIX
The pleasant grove triumphs with blooming May, While Melancholy scuds away ; The painted quire on motley banks sweet notes display.
LXX
Earth's flow'r-wov'n damask doth us
gently woo. On her embroider'd mantle to Repose, where various gems, like
constellations, shew. 210
LXXI
Ourselves here steal we from our- selves, by qualms Of pleasure, rais'd from new- coin'd Psalms,
When skies are blue, earth green, and meadows flow with balms.
LXXII
We there, on grassy tufted tapes- tries,
(46C )
199 whither] Orig. ' whether.'
Canto XII] The Sweetjiess of Retireme?it
In guiltless shades, by fuU-hair'd trees, Leaning unpillow'd heads, view Nature's ants, and bees.
LXXIII
Justly admiring more those agile ants.
Than castle-bearing elephants ; Where industry, epitomiz'd, no vigour wants.
« LXXIV
More than at tusks of boars we wonder at 220
This moth's strange teeth ! Legs of this gnat
Pass large-limb'd gryphons; then, on bees we musing sat ;
LXXV
How colonies. Realm's hope, they
breed ; proclaim Their king ; how nectar-courts
they frame ; How they in waxen cells record
their prince's fame :
LXXVI
How kings amidst their bands in
armour shine ; And great souls in small breasts
confine ; How under strictest laws they keep
up discipline ;
LXXVII
How all agree, while their king lives,
in one ; But dead, the public Faith 's o'er-
thrown, 230
Their State becomes a spoil, which
was so plenteous grown.
LXXVIII
Abstruser depths ! here Aristotle's
eye (That Ipse of philosophy, Nature's professor) purblind was, to
search so high.
LXXIX
Thinking, which some deem idle- ness, to me It seems life's Heav'n on earth to
By observation God is seen in all we see.
LXXX
Our books are Heav'n above us, air
and sea Around, earth under ; Faith 's our
stay. And Grace our guide, the Word our
light, and Christ our way. 240
LXXXI
Friend, view that rock, and think from rock's green Wound How thirst-expelling streams did bound :
View streams, and think how Jordan did become dry ground.
LXXXII
View Seas, and think how waves,
like walls of glass. Stood fix'd, while Hebrew troops
did pass ; But clos'd the Pharian host in one
confused mass.
LXXXIII
These flow'rs, we see to-day, like
Beauty, brave. At ev'n will be shut up, and have Next week their death, then buried
soon in stalks, their grave.
LXXXIV
Beauty's a flow'r, Fame puff, high State a gaze, 25,0
Pleasure a dance, and Gold a blaze,
Greatness a load : these soon are lost in Time's short maze !
LXXXV
As solemn statesmen slight mere
childish toil, Framing card-structures : angels
smile, And pity so, when life straight flits,
man's tearing broil.
LXXXVI
Search Empire's dawn, unwind Time's ball again. Unreel through ages its snarl'd skein ;
be;
222 sat] An unlucky word, in more than tense, ( 4.HI ) G g 2
Edward Benlowes
[Canto XII
Run back, like Sol on Ahaz' dial ; see ' All 's vain.'
LXXXVII
This did I from Theophila descry (Not her fair-feather'd speech
could fly 260
To ground, but my ear's pitfall
caught it instantly ;
LXXXVIII
Though her informing voice be
parted hence, Tidesof impressive notions thence Flow, soft as showers on balm, and
sweet as frankincense).
LXXXIX
The conqueror who wades in blood for pow'r, Cannot ensure th' ensuing hour ; Death soon may his ovation's sweetest nectar sour, xc All 's vain. Th' Assyrian lion, Per- sian bear, Greek leopard, Roman eagle, where ? Where is fam'd Troy, that did so proudly domineer ? 270
xci Troy 's gone, yet Simois stays. Oh, Fortune's play ! That which was fix'd is fled away. And only what was ever-flitting still does stay !
XCII
Vast pyramids uprear'd f inter the
dead. Themselves, like men, are sepul-
chied ; Ambitious obelisks, ostents of pride,
dust wed.
XCIII
Heav'n sees the crumbling fabric of Earth's ball, That dust is man's original; To Him all nature is as vvither'd leaves that fall : xciv Terrestrials transient are. Kings fight for clods ; 2S0
(45O
Heav'n's Heir is mightier Prince, by odds, Ev'n all is his, and he is Christ's, and Christ is God's. xcv Thoughts, dwell on this. Let 's be our own death's-head. The glorious Martyr lives, though dead, Sweet rose, in His own fadeless leaves enveloped: xcvi Heav'n was His watch, whose starry circles wind All ages up ; the hand that sign'd Those figures, guides them ; World, thy clocks are false and blind, xcvii Time in Eternity's immense book is But as a short parenthesis ; 2c,o Man's life, a point ; God's day is never-setting bliss.
XCVIII
Could man sum up all times, so, as if there A moment not remaining were ; Yet all those close-throng'd figures seem but ciphers here, xcix Could calculators multiply Time's glass To myriads more of years ; alas, Those sands, to this duration, as a minute pass. c Such mental buds we from each object take. And, for Christ's Spouse, of them we make Spiritual wreaths, nor do we her own words forsake. 300
ci ' Arise, O North, and thou, O South- wind, blow ; Let scent of flow'rs, and spices flow, That the Beloved may into His Garden go.'
CII
Whose beauty flow'rs, whose height made lofty trees,
Canto XII] The Sweetness of Retireme?U
Whose permanence made Time, and these Pay tribute by returns to Him, as springs to seas, cm This steals our soul from her thick loom, t' aspire To canzons, tin'd with enthean fire; Taking high wing to soar up to the angel-quire.
CIV
By suchlike speculations would we
sty 310
To th' Sun of Righteousness !
though I
A star am less than least of all the
galaxy.
cv The burden to each hymn is this. ' Thy ways. Lord, are inscrutable ! All days, All tongues, are few, are weak, to sound Thy endless Praise ! ' cvi Oh, that a Voice more audible, and high'r Than that shrill trump, when all "s on fire, Might all men's hearts and tongues with Thy renown inspire !
CVII
Nature, bless God, His benefits be
sung, While that an ear can hear a
tongue ; 32c
Commerce with Him is th' only
trade, all else but dung.
CVIII
'But dung' — the wild inhabitant repeats From her inhospitable seats : But, now 'tis noon ; prepare we for our costless meats, cix ' Lord of all grassy and all glassy plains !
308 tin'd] 'lighted.'
Whose mighty hand doth wield Fate's reins, Who dost embase the hills, emboss the woody veins. ex ' By Thee, the pirate, who by Nile being bred Has land for table, pool for bed, Camels, Arabia's wand'ring ships, by Thee are fed ; 330
CXI
' Thou with Thy inexpressibly im- mense Finger of active Providence, The World's great Harbinger, dost all to each dispense.' cxii Strict temperance so cooks our mess, that we With no brain-clouds eclipsed be : The driest clearness makes the brightest ingeny.
CXIII
The mount's our table, grass our carpet, well Our cellar, trees our banquet, cell Our palace, birds our music, and our plate a shell.
cxiv Nature pays all the score. Next fountain has 340
Bath, drink, and glass ; but our soul's glass Presents Religion's face. Our meal 's as short as grace, cxv See, where the udder'd cattle find us food; As those sheep cloth ; these hedgerows wood. See, now a present brought us from the neighbourhood : cxv I Ev'n th' herb that cramp and tooth- ache drives away,
310 sty] as before ' rise.'
327] Embase =' lower ' : ' emboss ' = ' raise ' obviously enough. But why 'woody veins ' ? Was he thinking of coal-mines ?
(453)
Edward Be7ilowes
[Canto XII
And bribes ear-minstrels not to play; And from arch'd roofs to spongy bellows dews does stay ;
CXVII
That makes quick spirits and agile
fancy rove, And genuine warmth i' th' brain
does move, 350
'Bove furs or fires ; whose pipe 's
both ventiduct, and stove ;
CXVIII
That mounts invention with its active smoke ; Draught of Promethean fir'd-air took, Renerves slack joints, and ransacks each phlegmatic nook, cxix That lust cloys which expectance swells J but, here
Are dainties, that whet taste and ear ; Where all are cheer'd with joy, and overjoy'd with cheer, cxx But, having travers'd more of ground to day. Let us, for our refreshment, stay, And with next rising sun, complete next closing lay. 360
Irati ssevas Maris evitare Procellas Quae potuit, felix est nimis ilia Ratis ; Littoris optati Prospectu Navita gaudet ; Gratulor emensam nee minds ipse Viam.
ANIMI PABULUM CONTEMPLATIO.
THE PLEASURE OF RETIREMENT Canto XIII. The Relnvitation
THE ARGUMENT
Felix qui Suus est, Animi propriique Monarcha ; Laus est Imperii ponere Jura Sibi. Felices Animae, pulso Plutone Tyranno, Quels datur Elysiis imperitare Plagis! Maximus internum quisquis superaverit Hostem, Major Alexandro, Csesare major erit. Fabritium ^acidae, Senecam praepono Neroni, Hie hiat Immenso, postulat Ille pariim. Ecquid habent Reges, nisi Membris Teg- men & Escam ? Quae vel Nobiscum vile Mapale tenet. 10
Ipse mihi Regnum, summa dominabor in Aula Mentis, & hoc quod sum vel minor esse velim. Rex est qucm Ratio regit, & quem ducit Honestum ; De Regno videas regia Sceptra queri. Aspice quid Cineres sit Caesaris inter, & Iri, Est unus Color his omnibus, unus Odor. Ergo. Affectus superans, & qui superatur ab illis, Non nisi Victor ovat, non nisi Victus obit.
347 bribes &c.] It would probably be impossible to find a more characteristic conceit than this for the supposed virtue of stilling tinnitus auriiifn. The whole passage has, I think, in the general ignorance of our poet, escaped collectors of the Praise of Tobacco for the most part. If Lamb did not know it, it is a pitj'.
(454)
Canto XIII] The Pkasuve of Retirement
THE ARGUMENT
Who Chance, Change, Hopes, and Fears can under bring
Who can obey, yet rule each thing, And slight Misfortune with a brave disdain, he's king.
STANZA I
When lavish Phoebus pours out melted gold ; And Zephyr's breath does spice unfold ; And we the blue-eyed sky in tissue- vest behold. II Then, view the mower, who with big- swoln veins, Wieldeth the crooked scythe, and strains To barb the flow'ry tresses of the verdant plains.
Ill Then view we valleys, by whose fringed seams A brook of liquid silver streams, Whose water crystal seems, sand gold, and pebbles gems;
IV
Where bright-scal'd gliding fish on trembling line lo
We strike, when they our hook entwine :
Thence do we make a visit to a grave divine.
V
With harmless shepherds we some- times do stay, Whose plainness does outvie the gay,
While nibbling ewes do bleat, and frisking lambs do stray.
VI
With them, we strive to recollect,
and find Dispers'd flocks of our rambling
mind ; Internal vigils are to that due work
design'd.
VII
No puffing hopes, no shrinking fears
them fright ; No begging wants on them do
light ; 20
They wed Content, while Sloth feels
want, and Brav'ry spite.
VIII
While swains the burth'ning fleeces
shear away, Oat-pipes to past'ral sonnets play, And all the merry hamlet bells
chime holy day.
IX
In neighb'ring meads, with ermine mantles proud, Our eyes and ears discern a crowd Of wide-horn'd oxen, trampling grass with lowings loud.
X
Next close feeds many a strutting-
udder'd cow ; Hard by, tir'd cattle draw the
plough. Whose galled necks with toil and
languishment do bow. 30
XI
Near which, in restless stalks, wav'd grain promotes The skipping grasshopper's hoarse notes ;
While round the aery choristers dis- tend their throats.
XII
Dry seas, with golden surges, ebb and flow; The ripening ears smile as we go, With boasts to crack the barn, so numberless they show.
XIII
When Sol to Virgo progress takes, and fields
6 barb] This verb in the sense of 'barb^/-,' 'to chp,' has Elizabethan precedent. ( 4.= 5 )
Edward Be7tlowes
[Canto XIII
With his prolonged lustre gilds ;
When Sirius chinks the ground, the
swain his hope then builds.
XIV
Soon as the sultry month has mellow'd
corn, 40
Gnats shake their spears, and
wind their horn ;
The hinds do sweat through both
their skins^ and shopsters scorn.
XV
Their orchards with ripe fruit im-
pregned be. Fruit that from taste of death is
free, And such as gives delight with choice
variety.
XVI
Yet who in 's thriving mind improves his state, And Virtue steward makes, his fate
Transcends ; he 's rich at an inesti- mable rate.
XVII
He shuns prolixer law-suits ; nor
does wait At thoughtful grandee's prouder
gate; 50
Nor 'larming trumpets him, nor
drowning storms amate.
XVIII
From costly bills of greedy Emp'rics
free. From plea of Ambidexter's fee, From Vicar Any-Thing, the worst of
all the three.
XIX
He in himself, himself to rule, re- tires ; And can, or blow, or quench his fires :
All blessings up are bound in bounding up desires.
XX
His little world commands the great : he there Rich Mem'ry has for treasurer ;
The tongue is secretary to his heart, and ear. 60
XXI
While May-Days London gallants
take a pride, Coach'd through Hyde Park, to
eye, be eyed, Which day's vain cost might for the
poor a year provide ;
XXII
He may to groves of myrrh in
triumph pace, Where roots of Nature, flow'rs of
Grace, And fruits of Glory bud. A glimpse
of Heav'n the place.
XXIII
This the Spring-Garden to spiritual eyes, Which fragrant scent of gums out- vies ;
Three kings had thence their triple mystic sacrifice.
XXIV
Oh, happier walks, where Christ, and none beside, 70
Is journey's End, and Way, and Guide !
Where from the humble plains are greatest heights descry'd.
XXV
Heav'nward his gaze. Here does a
bower display His bride-room, and Scripturia Herself is bride; each morn presents
his marriage-day.
XXVI
What ecstasy 's in this delicious
grove ! Th'unwitness'd witness of his love ! What pow'r so strongly can as
flam'd affections move !
XXVII
The larks, wing'd travellers, that
trail the sky, Unsoil'd with lusts, aloft do fly, 80 Warbling Scripturia, Scripturia
on high.
42 shopsters"! a good word. Indeed most things in these two cantos are 'good,' either in the Polonian sense, or abetter.
(456)
Canto XIII] The Pkasure of Retirement
XXXV
The Sun does glean his splendour
from her eyes ; Thence burn we' in sweets, as
Phanix lies Glowing on Sol's ray-darted pile of
spiceries.
XXXVI
From precious limbeck sacred loves distil Such sublimations, as do fill Minds with amazed raptures of their chemic skill. xxxvn That such soul-elevations still might stay, We'd bear and do, both vow and
XXVIII
(T' have been affected by a virgin
heir, Rich, young, and chaste, wise,
good, and fair, Was once his first delight, but
Heav'n restrain'd that care !
XXIX
Thou, Providence, didst both their
wills restrain ; Thou mad'st their losses turn to
gain; For thou gav'st Heav'n to her, on
him dost blessings rain !)
XXX
But stop, pleas'd thoughts ; A high'r
love 's here design'd ; Fit in each breast to be enshrin'd ; Bright angels do admit no sex, nor
does the mind. 90
XXXI
To all her lovers thousand joys
accrue ; And comforts, thicker than May's
dew, Show'r down on their rapt souls, as
infinite as new !
XXXII
Her oracles directing rules declare. Unerring oracles. Truth's square ; Her soul-informing light does Earth for Heav'n prepare.
XXXIII
All beatizing sweets, as in their hive. At her fair presence do arrive, Which are to drooping spirits best restorative.
xxxiv To whose sight eagles, parallel'd, are blind ; 100
Had Argus thousand eyes, he'd find Darkness, compar'd with her illumi- nating mind.
xxviii-xxix] These two apparently autobiographic stanzas are interesting, as adding a possible new detail to Benlowes' scantily known history. 103] Not quite a ' minor ' line, this ! 112 high] Written in above the line in my copy.
(457)
pay, 1 i o
And serve the Lord of Lords by her
directive way !
xxxviii Soon as our ear drinks in His [high]
command. Be 't acted by our heart, and
hand ; Under His banner we shall Satan's
darts withstand.
XXXIX
May He accept the music of our
voice, While on His goodness we
rejoice, And while each melting Psalm
makes on His Grace its choice.
XL
On feast-days from that bow'r to church we haste, Where Heav'n dissolves into re- past,
When we regalios of the mystic Banquet taste. 120
XLI
Oh, delicacies, infinitely pure !
To souls best nutriment and cure ! Where Knowledge, Faith, and Love beatitude ensure.
Edward Benlowes
[Canto XIII
XLII
Poor Solomon's provision, poor to
this, Manna, Heav'n-dewing banquet,
is : Who reigns in Heav'n becomes on
earth our food and bhss.
XLIII
Oh, Sacramental cates, divinely
drest ! God the Feast-maker, Christ the
Feast, The Holy Ghost Inviter, and the
Soul the guest !
XLIV
All joys await the blessed convives, knit 130
All excellences are in it.
This overcomes our spirits, over- pow'rs our wit !
XLV
For us, poor worms, that Glory's
Sovereign died ! Oh, let our fleshly barks still ride At anchor in calm streams of His
empierced Side !
XLVI
ThisisHeav'n'sAntepast! By Union He 's One to All, and All to One In Love's intrinsic Mystery to souls alone !
XLVII
Ecstatic raptures loose our hearts on high With Joy's ineffability 1 140
Exub'rant sweets o'erwhelm, as tor- rents, tongue and eye.
XLVIII
Such life-infusing comforts, from
above, Our souls with inward motions
move, That totally for God we quit all
creature-love !
XLIX
Should He condemn us, yet would Love compel
Him down with us, and we would dwell Rather than without Him in Heav'n, with Him in Hell.
L
Soul of my soul ! when I a joy
receive Disjoin'd from Thee, let my
tongue cleave To 's palate ! Me of all, not of this
Feast bereave ! 150
LI
Not in the winter solstice of my
years, When shivering snow surrounds
deaf ears. And dreary languishment Death's
gashly vizard wears ;
LII
When they shall tremble that the
house defend ; The columns which support it
bend ; The grinders fail, the watch through
casements objects blend ;
LI 1 1
Then shine, dear Lord ! when quivering Winter's dress Is icicled with hoary tress ;
When all streams frozen are, but tears, through Love's excess ;
LIV
When periwigg'd with snow's each bald-pate wood, 160
Bound in ice-chains each strug- gling flood ;
When North Seas bridled are, pris'n- ing their scaly brood.
LV
Then let those freezing hours be thaw'd by pray'r ! As wells in winter warmer are By circumsession of refrigerating air.
LVI
That, nipp'd with cold, or parch'dwith heat, resign
136 Antepast] Nothing to do with time, but opposed to 'y^past' — a foretaste. The word is Taylorian. 160J See Introd.
(458)
Canto XIII] The Pkasure of Retirement
We may our will in each to Thine, Be 't less or more, be 't low or high, be 't storm or shine.
LVII
After Night's soot smears Heav'n,
Day gilds its face ; Wet April past, sweet May takes
place; 170
And calm air smiles, when ruffling
winds have run their race.
LVII I
Who hope for mines, scorn dross ;
such only get Who lose a game to win the set : Worldlings, he 's rich who 's good ;
above 's his cabinet.
LIX
To well-tun'd tempers things that
disagree Have oft some likeness ; thus, we
see Wind kindles fire ; discord makes
concord harmony.
LX
Affliction tunes the breast to rise, or
fall, Making the whole man musical ; We may affliction Christians' second
baptism call. 180
LXI
Who Christ for Spouse, His cross
for jointure has ; His hand supports, where 's rod
doth pass : The Lord of Angels, He the King
of Suff'rings was.
LXII
Love's life took Death, that Death Love's life might gain ! The Sovereign died that slaves might reign !
The world can't books that should be writ of Him contain.
LXIII
Those have the greatest cross, who cross ne'er bore ; They're rich in w^ant, who God adore ;
199 goal] So in orig., of course
(459 )
Who does supply all emptiness with His full store.
LXIV
Saint Paul, the Gentiles' doctor, rich 'bove kings, 190
And high 'bove Oratory's wings, Rapt up to Heav'n, had nothing, yet possess'd all things.
LXV
The rav'n of birds proves caterer,
and feasts Elijah ; so the lion of beasts Was Samson's purveyor ; quails to
murm'ring Jews were guests.
LXVI
Midst thorns environ'd. Love sweet
roses finds ; Steep ways lie plain t' inamor'd
minds ; Love gilds all chains (surpris'd not
thrall'd), with comfort binds.
LXVII
Then, threaten, World, a goal shall
bolt me in ; He 's free as air, who serves not
Sin ; 200
Who 's gather'd in himself, his Self is
his own inn.
LXVIII
Then let fierce Goths their strongest
chains prepare ; Grim Scythians me their slave
declare ; My soul being free, those tyrants in
the face I'll stare.
LXIX
Man may confine the body, but the
mind (Like Nature's miracles, the wind And dreams) does, though secur'd,
a free enjoyment find.
LXX
Rays drawn in to a point more vig'rous beam ; Joys more to saints, engoal'd, did stream ; Linnets their cage to be a grove, bars boughs esteem. 210
= ' gaol.' So in 209 ' engoaled.'
Edward Beiilowes
[Canto XIII
LXXI
Burnish'd to glory from Afifliction's
flame, From prison to a sceptre came The lov'd and fear'd Eliza — titles
vail t' her name.
LXXI I
She pass'd the furnace to be more
refin'd ; From flames drew purity of mind, Not heat of passion ; hence, being
tried, she brighter shin'd.
LXXIII
Here wound, here lance me, Lord,
thy Austin cries. Dissect me here for Paradise ! The Cross the altar be, so Love be
sacrifice !
LXXIV
Imprint Thy Love so deep into my heart, 220
That neither hunger, thirst, nor smart,
Gain, loss, nor thraldom, life nor death us ever part !
LXXV
Should foes rip up my breast with
piercing blade. My soul would but have passage
made. Through which to Heav'n she might
in purple riv'lets wade.
LXXVI
Forbid the banns 'twixt soul and
body join'd. The corpse but falls to be refin'd. And re-espous'd unto the glorified
high mind.
LXXVII
Who makes th' Almighty his delight, he goes
To martyrdom, as to repose ; 230 The Red Sea leads to Palestine, where all joy flows.
LXXVIII
Steel'd 'gainst Affliction's anvil, let 's become Proud of the World's severest doom ;
No majesty on earth is like to mar- tyrdom.
LXXIX
' Enter into thy Master's joy ' 's so
great. This thought is with such flames
replete, That from th' High Court of Mercy
souls all deaths defeat !
LXXX
Who saith, ' Fear not,' Him must we
fear alone ; Blest, whom no fear makes Faith
be gone ; How many must they fear, who fear
not only One ! 240
LXXXI
We are but once to our grave's port
brought in, To which from birth w' have
sailing been, It matters not what way, so we 'scape
rocks of sin.
LXXXII
But, hark, 'tis late ; the whistlers
knock from plough ; The droiling swineherd's drum
beats now ; Maids have their curtsies made to
th' spongy-teated cow.
LXXXII I
Larks roosted are, the folded flocks are pent
213I Here is in text of orig. an engraving of Queen Elizabeth praying in her oratory with the following letterpress at the sides of the cut : ' Having reformed Religion : established Peace : reduced Coin to the just value : delivered Scotland from the French : revenged domestical Rebellion : saved France from headlong Ruine by Civil Warre : supported Belgia : overthrown the Spanish invincible Navie : expelled the Spaniards out of Ireland : received the Irish into Mercie : enriched England by her most prudent Government 45 Years : Elizabeth a vertuous and triumphant Queen : in the 70th year of her Age, in most happy and peaceable manner departed this Life : leaving here her mortal parts until by the last Trump she shall rise immortal.'
245 oroiiing] =' drudging.' not very uncommon both as noun and verb in seventeenth century. Note the conceit in next line.
(460)
Canto XIII] The Pkasure of Retireme7tt
In hurdled grates, the tir'd ox sent In loose trace home, now Hesper lights his torch in 's tent.
LXXXIV
See glimmering light, the Pharos of our cot ; 250
By innocence protected, not
By guards, we thither tend, where Ev'nsong 's not forgot.
LXXXV
O, Pray'r ! thou anchor through the
worldly sea ! Thou sov'reign rhet'ric, 'bove the
plea Of flesh ! that feed'st the fainting
soul, thou art Heav'n's key.
LXXXV I
Blest season, when Day's eye is
clos'd, to win Our heart to clear th' account, —
when Sin Has pass'd the audit, ravishments of
soul begin.
LXXXVII
Who never wake to meditate, or
weep, Shall sure be sentenc'd for their
sleep ; 260
Night to forepass^d day should still
strict sentry keep.
LXXXVIII
Oh, let them perish midst their
flaring clay. Who value treasures with a day Devoutly spent ! Faith 's the true
gem, the world a gay.
LXXXIX
So wasteful, us'rer, as thyself, there 's none, Who losest three true gems for one That 's counterfeit ; thy rest, fame, soul for ever gone ! xc When dark'ning mists our hemi- sphere invade. Of all the air when one blot 's made, Mortals immantled in their silent gloomy shade, 270
(461)
xci
Then for an hour (elixir of delight !) We, Heav'n beleag'ring, pray and
write, When every eye is lock'd, but those
that watch the night.
XCII
Saints fight on bended knees ; their
weapons are Defensive patience, tears, and
pray'r ; Their valour most, when without
witness. Hell does scare.
XCIII
May whiter wishes, wing'd with Zeal, appear Lovely unto Thy purest ear, Where nothing is accepted but what 's chaste, and clear ! xciv Life's hectic fits find cordials in Pray'r's hive, 2 So
Transcendently restorative. Which might our iron age to its first gold retrieve, xcv See, list'ning Time runs back to fetch the Age Of Gold, when Pray'r does Heav'n engage ; Devotion is Religion's lifeblood ; 'tis God's page, xcvi Who brings rich bliss by bills of sure exchange ; The blessings that the poor arrange For alms receiv'd that day, beatifies our grange.
xcvii Dance, Nabals, with large sails on smiling tides, Till the black storm against you rides, 200
Whose pitchy rains interminable Vengeance guides !
XCVIII
But, Lord, let Charity our table spread ; Let Unity adorn our bed ;
Edward Benlowes
[Canto XIII
And may soft Love be pillow under- neath our head ! xcix Enrich'd, let 's darn up Want ; what Fortune can Or give, or take away from man, We prize not much : Heav'n pays the good Samaritan. c Thus, Life, still blessing, and still blest, we spend ; Thus entertain we Death, as friend. To disapparel us for Glory's endless end. 300
CI
Who, thus forgot, in graces grows,
as years. Loves cherish'dpray'r, unvvitness'd
tears, Rescu'd from monstrous men, no
other monster fears.
CII
They who their dwelling in Abdera had. Did think Democritus was mad ; He knew 'twas so of them. The application 's sad. cm Knew but the World what comforts, tiding on. Flow to such recollection, It would run mad with envy, be with rage undone.
CIV
Oh, Sequestration ! Rich, to world- lings' shame ; 310 A life 's our object, not a name : Herostratus did sail, like witch, i' th' air of fame.
cv Get long-brealh'd chronicles, ye need such alms, Sue from diurnal briefs for palms, Injurious grandeur for its frantic pride wants balms, cvi In aery flatt'ries Rumour, not Fame lies ; Inconstancy, Time's mistress, cries (462)
It up, which soon by arguing Time, Truth's parent, dies, cvii Fame's plant takes root from virtue, grows thereby ; Pure souls, though fortune-trod, stand high, ■^^z
When mundane shallow-search in breath itself shall die.
CVIII
Oh, frail applause of flesh ! swoln bubbles pass. Turf-fire more smoke than splen- dour has ; What bulwark firm on sand? what shell for pearl may pass ? cix But saints with an attentive hope from high. On Heav'n's parole do live and die; Passing from Life's short night to Day's Eternity. ex Who blessedly so breathe, and leave their breath. Of dying life make living death ; Each day, spent like the last, does act a Heav'n beneath. 330
CXI
Death 's one long sleep, and human life no more Than one short watch an hour before : World ! after thy mad tempest 'tis the landing shore, cxii Mid point betwixt the lives of Loss, and Gain ; The path to boundless Jo)', or Pain ; Saint's birthday, Nature's dread : Grace doth this bandog chain.
CXIII
When Moses from high Pisgah's top
descried Fair Canaan, type o' th' Heav'nly
Bride, He breath'd out his joy-ravish'd soul,
so sweetly died.
Canto XIII] The Phusure of Retireme?tt
CXIV
To Immortality the grave's a womb ; We pass into a glorious room 341 Thorough the gloomy entry of a narrow tomb.
cxv Lord, asTnoumad'st (most pow'rful One in Three) The world of nothing ; so, let me j\Iake nothing of the world, but make my all in Thee !
cxvi Pardon the by-steps that my soul has trod, Most great, good, glorious, gracious God! Seal Thou the bill of my divorce to Earth's dull clod !
CXVI I
Thy boundless source of Grace the
scarlet spot Scour'd white as wool, that first
did blot 350
Th' original in man, that was so
fairly wrote.
CXVIII
Check not my hope, but spur my fear to Thee,
Virtue to court, and vice to flee ! Love, lend thou me thy spur ; fear, thou my bridle be. cxix From hence, to run in heav'nly paths, ril strive ; My slender pen to th' world I give ; My only study shall be how to live, to Hve.
cxx None blest, but those, who, when last trump shall send It summons, find the Judge their friend. The end doth crown the work ; great God crown thou my End. 360
O, ter felicem, fortunatumque quieto Cui natat in Portu nescia Cymba Metus ! ODEUS! optatosistantmeaCarbasa Coelo ! Omnis ab gethereis Spes sit habenda Plagis.
EST SUMMUS, JESU, TUA GRATIA QU^STUS.
Vivitur exiguo — Facile assentior sa- pientissimo Aguri, Deum obsecranti ut nee Divitias sibi, nee Egestatem, sed tantum ad desjendam Vitam donaret Neeessaria. Vita privata, qukm de- lectas ! Corporis spectem Valetudinem ?
Nusquam salubrior Aer. Frugalitatem? Nusquam minoris vivitur. Qucestum ? Nusquam Lucrum innocentius. Vitas Integritatem? Nusquam alibi minus Corruptelae.
Navis es in Portu, tumidae secura Proeellce ; Mens Desideriis hie vacat alta suis. Liberiore Polum contemplor Corde, quieseit Hie Mens tuta, sibi libera, plena Deo. Quae sibi multa petit, petit anxia multa, Voluntas ; Et cui plura dedit Sors, Mala plura dedit. Alta cadunt, inflata crepant, cumulata fatiscunt ;
(Prose) 2 Aguri] The Agur of Prov. xxx. critic would be apt to suggest auguri.
(463)
Crimine vixque suo plena Crumena caret. Celsior immundi Mens despicit Orgia Mundi, Indignabundo proterit ilia Pede. 10 Munde, vale ; quid me fallacibus allicis Hamis ? Sophrosynen sacra Sobrietate colo : Regia sit ramosa Domus, Rivusque Falernum ; Arcta, sed ampla, Deum si capit, ilia Domus.
I only note this because a certain class of
Edward Beitlowes
[Canto XIII
Florea gemmatS. subrident Pascua Veste, Faetaque nativasexplicat Arbor Opes. Caltha, Rosae, Tulips, Violas, Thyma, Lilia florent, Dum gravido Zephyrus rore maritat Humum. Frugibus exultant Valles,Grege Pascua, Rupes Fontibus, intonso Crine triumphat Agar ; 20
Terra Famem, levat Unda Sitim, fugat Umbra Calorem ; Dat Togam Ovis, Lignum Sylva, Focumque Silex. Quod satis est Vitae, satis est ; Prseste- tur Egenis Quod reliquum : Vitse sat Toga, Panis, Aqua. Non Mensis qujecunque Dapes cele- brantur in istis Prasgustantis egent ; Vite Venena latent. Hie Parasitus abest, fugit hinc Gna- thonica Pestis ; Cura nee hie Animos irrequieta coquit. Choliea, Spasmus, Hydrops, Vertigo, Podagra reeedunt ;
Grata Sapore beat Mensa, Sopore Thorus. 30
Pange Deo Laudes, positis Mens libera Curis ; Castera si desint, Numine dives eris. Sis modico contenta, gravis Nulli ; Ipsa Misellis Quasimpendis Opes, has an habebis? habes. Quod Christum deeuit, deeeat Te. Noverit uti Quisquis praesenti Sorte beatus erit. Sic Abrahae gaudebo Sinu ; dum, Dives, in Oreo Sternum diro deliciose peris. Vita beata, tuas qui possim pangere laudes ? Mille cui Vitas, si mihi mille, darem !
Da, velut spero, bene, Christe, spi-
rem ! Da, velut credo, bene, Christe, vivam ! Unus hae qui Spe fruitur, fruetur
Mortuus Astris.
Amico. Si lenis tremula Quies in Umbra Sit Cordi, hue propera, ferasque Tecum Totum quicquid habes Libentiarum.
THEOPHILiE AMORIS HOSTIA Cantio VII
A DOMINO JEREMIA. COLLIERO IN VERSUS LATIALES TRADUCTA
Contemplatio
ARGUMENTUM
Proripit in vastum Lucis se Virgo Profundum, Qiiam nullae excquent Voces, nee Limite claudant ; Obtundunt Radii Visum, renovantque Vigorem.
Tristicon I Si Marc Quisque foret, fierent si
quique Marones Praecones sacri, Conventus &
Orbis apertus. Quo scrutarentur Virtus ..^sterna
quid esset.
II Si vel ab innocuis possent deducere
Cunis PrimEevum Tempus, congestaque
Secula mille Inferrent Trutinse ; tamen hsec sub
Pondere juste
Title of Translation^ The caution is perhaps once more advisable that this is a Jeremy Collier senior, and not the Nonjuror.
(464)
Canto VII] TheophUcB Amoris Hostia
III Ponentes, norint tandem non
mominis esse Majoris, frustrk quam si cum Sole
potenti Exiles tentent atomos librareBilance.
IV
Si Terrre Molem numeris spectare refertam lo
Possent, non istis tua constet Summa Figuris,
^terno cyphrse comparent qualitbr Mso !
V
Si Sabulum flueret, per Saecula mille
marinum, Quando deficeret vacuatis Littus
Arenis, ^que Te primb mensum est Clep-
sammion illud.
VI
Coelitus impertita foret Facundia^
Linguis Aligeros referens, Spatium tamen
baud oequarent, Est ubi prorsus idem cum fluxis
Omne futurum.
VII
Tende Fides bolidem, brevis at
nimis ilia nequibit Experiis Fundi Maris explorare
Profundum, 20
Limite constricti nullo, nee Littore
cincti.
VIII
Sterna baud unquam commensura-
bilis ^F^tas, Nulla Tui partem poterit de-
scribere Penna ; Circulus es siquidem cui non est
Terminus ullus.
IX
Vel cujus Centrum tarn sediffuderit,
ipsum Ambitus ingentis nequeat circun-
dare Coeli, Exterius poterit quid circumcingere
Corpus?
X
Vos, quibus ^thereus Vigor est,
num Fine carentem Finem exquiratis ? num Immensum
extendere fas est ?' Claudere Ubiquemanens ? compren-
dere & Infinitum ? 30
XI
Hujus Zona Deus sine puncto,
maximus, Orbis Ante Mare, et Terras, et quod
tegit omnia Ccelum, Qui fuit, est, & erit cum cuncta
creata peribunt.
XII
Quin contemplemur supra Sublimia
qu£eque, Ultra quemque Locum, super
omnes Luminis Orbes ! Pectus Apostolicum rapuit Radiatio
trinum.
XIII
Circumquaque micans Solium Prse-
signe ! supremo Imperio constans, & Majestate
verenda ! Caetera transcendens, quern nullus
Fulgor adsequet !
XIV
Cingit utrumque Latus vel inenarra- bile Lumen ! 40
Quod circumfusum tanto Splen- dore coruscat,
^quora Lastitis superet flammantia mille.
XV
Quod sic Effulgens si conspectare
liceret, Detecta Facie Cherubinis, Lumine
tanto Perculsi, in Nihilum remearent illico
primum.
XVI
Indue Te Tunica, dives Natura,
corusca, Ornamenta tamen, tanto collata
decori, Sunt tua, concretus seu lapsus
Nubibus Humor.
7 mominis] Lucretian. Cf. Collier's fancy for spondaic endings, at least at first. ( 465 ) H h
Edward Benlowes
[Canto VII
XVII
Indorum posses Opibus spoliare
Fodinas, Illos, auratis, Radiosque recludere,
Cellis, 50
Qui collucentes cum Phcebi Lampade
certant :
XVIII
Arcana posses reserare peritius
Arte Intima cujusvis ditis penetralia
Rupis, Illinc Thesauros nee non auferre
nitentes :
XIX
Errantes, fixasque simul connectere
Stellas Posses, quse rutilis exornant
^^thera BuUis, Luminis ut coeant cuncti Orbes
Sydus in unum :
XX
Jungeresi posses Gemmas, Aurique
Fodinas, ^thereasque Faces, radiata Reflectio
quarum Fulgida rivalis superaret Lumina
Solis : 60
XXI
Si Lapides Gemmae, riguum Mare
funderet Aurum, Margara si Pulvis fieret, Chrystallus
& Aer, Sol quodvis Sydus, plures Sibi niille
Nitores ;
XXII
Gemmae illae Silices essent, Mare
parva lacuna, Stellas istae Scintilla forent, Fla-
gratio Phoebus : Aurum, Gemma micans, Adamantes,
sordida Scruta :
XXIII
SiTerrae, complexa forent, & Lumina
Cueli, Optica & unius peterent Confinia
Centri, Hoc prius 'Objectum vel caecum
redderet illud.
(466)
XXIV
Caecum, seu piceae Velamen Noctis opacum, 70
(Innuitur Sacro duntaxat Visio Textu)
Hujus respectu Lucis sunt quslibet Umbrae.
XXV
O, planb infandam, summoque Stu-
pore refertam ! Si Nemo nisi quidignus describere
possit, Hanc san^ Lucem possit describere
Nemo.
XXVI
Selecti Eloquii cujusvis languet
Acumen, Defecit Ingenium, Verborum hie
curta supellex ; Hanc Lumen Mentis nullius tranet
Abyssum.
XXVII
Hie residet tantis circundata Gloria
Flammis, Quales confundant Aciem vel
maxime acutam, 80
Hue tendat propiore nimis quae
improvida Gressu.
XXVIII
Splendor dimanat talis Fulgoribus
istis, Qualis pulveream sublimet in
ardua Molem, Urna quae composta secus remaneret
inerti.
XXIX
Numinis ante Thronum Summi
provolvo meipsum, Profluit unde Bonum quodvis ut ab
ubere Fonte : Hoc Decus ut pandam faveat tua
Gratia Coeptis.
XXX
Magne Deus, sine Principio, tamen
omnis Origo, Cujus Naturae tclam Manus inclyta
nevit ; Una qui Virtute tua Loca singula
comples. 90
Canto VII] TheophUce Amoris Hostia
XXXI
Alme Parens rerum ; qui fulcis
quodque creatum, Vitam Spiritibus qui prsebes, con-
tinuasque, Ortus es ipse Tibi, Bonitatis Origo
supremae.
XXXII
Lsetitiae Summa es, cujus Sapientia
Abyssus, Ad quodvis sese tendit tua vasta
Potestas, Ac cunctos Facies reddet jucunda
beatos.
XXXIII
Aeris expansis puncto dilaberis
Alis, Induis Augustse Te Majestatis
aniictu, Te Nubes velant, Te stipant Agmina
Cceli.
XXXIV
Omnis Honoris Apex, Summge es Fastigia Laudis, loo
Ad Radios late sparsos suffusa Pudore
Hymnos decantat, coelestis Turma, perennes.
XXXV
Gemmae quam superant vitrum !
quam Sidera Gemmas! Sidera quam Phcebus! quam Phoe-
bum Gloria Coeli ! Purior ast ipsis longe est tua Visio
Coelis
XXXVI
Magna quidem Tellus, se profert
latius Aer, Pianette excedunt, Stellarum Regia
major, Supremi fines nee habent Tentoria
Coeli.
XXXVII
Mens mea dum Zelo conatur plura
referre Fervidaprotenso,Pectus,DEUsalme,
repleto no
Igne novo, nullum languorem Car-
niina noscant.
( <^1 )
XXXVIII
Cum super Aerios tractus, & Sidera
Musae Urgeo Progressus, uni Tibi mille
videntur Sphserae, non secus ac atomi sub
Sole minuti.
XXXIX
Est ^tas seterna tibi seu clepsydra
tantum, Immensumnisi sit Spatium complere
valet nil, Cujus sex Verbis rerum Natura creata
est.
XL
Omnia complectens totius Fabrica
Coeli, Cum Stellis rutilis, Verbo surgebat
ab uno, Quomodb mortalis narret Sapientia
Nomen ? 120
XLI
^theris, Arbitrio, Crystalla micantia
volvis, Illis consignat Virtus tua coelica
Metas, Obliquos horum moderatur Dextera
Currus.
XLII
Nulte Te Zonae, Tropicive, Polive
retardent. Cum sis Sphaeralis Motor Primarius
Orbis, Intra, extra, supra, quin ultrk singula
perstans.
XLIII
Ingentes Pluviae atque Nivis susteii-
tat acervos Omnipotens tua sola Manus, qua
nempe remota Diluvium humanum perdat genus
omne secundum.
XLIV
Hisce ministratur stillatis Copia Terris, 130
Et confisa Tibi mortalia Corda replentur,
Flamina Ventorum peragunt tua Jussa per Orbem ;
H h 2
Edward Benlowes
[Canto VII
XLV
H^ec Tu, quando voles, csecis in-
clusa cavernis Constringis, validoque sinis pro-
rumpere motu, Unde Tremore gravi Tellus concussa
dehiscit.
XLVI
Undarum furias Vinclis compescis
Arenae, Oceani arcanum vasti scrutare Pro-
fundum, Te memorem pacti monstrat Thau-
mantias Iris.
XLVII
Cardinibus Verbi Tellus innixa
potentis, Aer quam cingit, nee non circum-
fluus Humor, 140
Ponderibus librata suis immobilis
astat.
XLVIII
Ejus sed Frontem Te corrugante
ColumncC Firmatc-e trepidant, Fremitu Mare
Littora plangit, Solvuntur Silicum Rupes, Montes-
que vacillant.
XLIX
Insuper intremuere Poli, Centrum-
que recussum Terrae, quie Vultus perculsa Stupore
verendi, Accedit Montem Sina dum summa
Potestas.
L
Imbutum Vita quodvis tua Cura
focillat, Divinis Cursum cujusvis flectis
Habenis, Gratia de Vultu, de Vultu Gloria
manat. 1 50
LI
Non Tibi sunt Aures, non sunt Tibi
Lumina, verimi Percipis Auditu quodvis, & cernis
acute ; Te Locus haud capiat, tamen Ipse
per Omnia prassens. ( 468 )
LII
Optica coelestis dicamus Specla
Pronoias, Arcam, qua positas Idseas videris
omnes. Ad quas conceptas formaveris Icona
quamvis.
LIII
Quippe prseexistunt sic hie Eventa
futura, Sicut abhinc multo non tempore
gesta fuissent ; Cernimus haud dissecta recens tarn
Corpora clare.
LIV
Totus ubique semel remanes, Tu semper es idem, 160
Attamen Arbitrio commutas omnia solo,
Tu complere remota soles Immo- bilis Ipse.
LV
Sic interponunt se contingentia
Turmis Sollerti Curae, quae mire cuncta
gubernat, Ac modb prxteritum, sit prceteritum-
que futurum,
LVI
Arbitrio quamvis male sintconformia
quffidam. Nil tamen omnino citra hoc procedat
in Actum ; Praevia, successura simul manet una
Voluntas.
LVII
Te penes ingentis sunt Climata
dissita Mundi, Quamvis nee Tellus, nee Temet
continet ^Ether, 170
Obscurum lustrat Praesentia quod-
libet antrum.
LVIII
Quamvis ab istis quas tu formaveris
olim Mentibus, accedat nil ad Pr^econia
clara, Attamen reternuni celebrabunt
munera Amoris.
Canto VII] TheophUce Amoris Hostia
LIX
Prseter Peccatum & Mortem tu
cuncta creasti, Hsec sua Stultitiae humanas primor-
dia debent, Illud Naturam conspersit Sordibus
omnem.
LX
Sed quo curares Peccati Vulnera,
Nobis Donas Immanuel, sibi qui non
sumere nostram Naturam renuit, qui non Praesepe
recusat. 180
LXI
O, dulcis noster Mediator ! Munera
cujus Laudis seu rores, ^terno, matutini Sunt celebrata Choro ccelesti Canti-
bus altis.
LXII
Concurrente, Deus, genuit Te
Flamine Sancto, Tu Verbo teterno contentus sumere
Carnem ; Qualiter emanas homini fas dicere
non est.
LXIII
Sicut ab .4^terno fuit Emanatio mira; H^ec sic jEternum mire durabit in
aevum : Principio Verbum, monstrat Te
cuncta prseisse.
LXIV
Unum est esse Tibi, parit^r Tu trinus & unus ; 190
Et duplex Natura Tibi conspirat in una,
Ipse trin-unius resides Deitatis Honore ;
LXV
Deque tuo Radii Solio tot mille
refulgent, Quales AligerOm nonpossintLumina
ferre ; De quibus evolvunt Nil docta Noe- i mata Cleri.
LXVI
-^tatum, pateat, Monumentalegendo priorum,
(469)
Hasc sacra quod nuUus potuit
Mysteria nobis Pandere, Virgineo prius ac sunt
edita Partu :
LXVII
Nido a Se structo fuit hie exclusa
Columba, Ille Gregem partus fuit hie qui
protegat Agnus, 200
Se producentem, Flos, qui forma-
verat Agrum :
LXVIII
Agmine Coelicoliim Te Concele-
brante corusco ; Pectora Pastorum subito trepidare
pavore ; Te, monstrante Magi venerantur
Sydere Cursum.
LXIX
Cum sis divina mirandus Origine
tali, Viliamortalis paten's ConvitiaGentis, Irato ut possis nos conciliare
Parenti.
LXX
Laetus Honoris erat proprii tua
Gratia Prgeco, Es tu dignatus sacratum Munus
obire, Ast Aaronis eras solito de more
vocatus, 210
LXXI
Ac ut divino constarent singula
Verbo, In te de superis descendit Spiritus
auris, Lenes propter aquas Jordanes, teste
Johanne.
LXX 1 1
Hinc in Desertumperductus Flamine
sacro, Daemonis appulsu tentatus, Codice
verum Hunc superas Scripto, fluit unde
Redemptio nostra. Protinus egressus.
LXXIII
Actus Sermones, Oracula mira fuerunt,
Edward Ben low es
[Canto VII
Haec genuere Fidem, nee non
genuere Timorem, Erectas Animas ad Te tollamus
utrisque. 220
LXXIV
Firmatum claudis gressum tribuisti,
Lumina Csecis, Morbo languentes diro quocunque
levabas, Defunctis Vitam, Mutis dederas-
que Loquelam.
LXXV
Defunctis Tu Vita, Salus mortalibus
gegris, Tu caecis Lumen, Tu rerum copia
egenis, Thesaurus furtum spernens, sincera
Voluptas.
LXXVI
Non ex hoc Mundo Regnum Tibi, Rector Olympi,
Nuncia ApostoUco procedunt Pec- tore laeta,
Ut tua sit totum Miseratio nota per Orbem.
LXXVII
Mortuus ante Diem conspexit fidus
Abraham, 230
Vota tibi pariter nato solvebat Isaco,
Antitypum atque Typus, versare per
omnia vivus.
LXXVI 1 1
Est Evangelicus, Sapiens Academia,
Codex, Justitiam vicit Clementia blanda
severam, Sobrius ut Vitam ducebas, Fortis
obibas.
LXXIX
Es Tu, sacra Domus, Tu purum
Altare, Sacerdos, Tu Vitse Panis, citra fastidia Festum, Ex Escis ubi acuta novis exurgit
Orexis.
LXXX
MortaH natus mortaha Crimina
deles, Victima grata foret Tibi quodvis
Pectus honestum, 240
( 470 )
Ob Genus humanum qui velles fundere Vitam.
LXXXI
Non dedignatus, Crucis es tolerare
probrosae Tormina, quo nobis concessus sit
Paradisus ; Quo pia Sanctorum Solentur Gaudia
Mentes.
Lxxxn Ferrea Tartarei diffringens Claustra
Tyranni, Dira tenebrosi Phlegetontis Monstra
coerces : Sic tua cunctaTibisubigebatDextera
victrix.
LXXXIII
Tu Virtute tua solvebas Vincula
Mortis, Atque reviviscens superam contendis
in Arcem, Inspirat Vitam Lsthatis Spiritus
Oris. 2co
LXXXIV
Te, Pater, electis ut signet Dona
Salutis Spiritus Alme, dedit Nato (sic
- Trinus in Uno) Sanctificas Omnes proprie, non solus at Omnes.
LXXXV
Patris Amor, nee non Nati, coeleste
Sigillum, Prgesidium Sanctis, felix Pietatis
Origo, Alta salutiferje pandas Hysteria
Linguae.
LXXXVI
O Jubar immensum Radiis insigne
coruscis, Omnis ab aspectu Sophi^e Radiatio
clara, Non collata potest minui tua Copia
cunctis.
LXXXVII
Gaudia sunt Comites, Clementia, Pacis Amorque; 260
Quorum pacatum perturbant nulla Tenorem
Canto VII] TheophUcB Amoris Hostia
Tristia ; Quem Mundus, nee Mors, nee destruat Orcus.
LXXXVIII
t'estum ex selectis quod constet
talibus Escis, Qualiter baud acris possit consumere
Orexis, Dives Odor quem non dispergat
Ventus in Auram :
LXXXIX
Lux Oculos fugiens, tamen Ipse per
Omnia splendes, Tu Sonus es qualem non Musicus
explicet ullus, Arctus es Amplexus, quem Tempora
nulla resolvant. xc Exinde irrefluo volvuntur Gaudia
Cursu, Qualia inexhaustis soleas pnebere
Culullis, 270
Cordibus, a foeda Peccati Labe
rem Otis.
xci Ecstaticum hoc Vinum quod tradit
Spiritus Almus, Sidereum motas extoUit ad ^-Ethera
Mentes ; Terrenis orbas Coeli Solatia mulcent.
XCII
O quam sacrati connectit Gluten
Amoris ! Ros fluit Ambrosise divino qualis
ab Ore ! Sunt tua qu0e solum faciunt Com-
mercia Caelum.
XCIII
Illustres Animse, succensae hoc
Lumine summo, Quando tuos Vultus radiantes Luce
tuentur, Quodque Decus reputant obscurae
Noctis adinstar. 280
xciv Sublimis nostros superans Infusio
Sensus,
Tu stupor Eloquii Nomen mereare
profundi, w^quet hyperbolicus quem nullus
Sermo superbus.
xcv Sacrosancta Trias, complecteris
Omnia solum, Exuperans quodcunque Bonum,
super Omnia Felix, Nos haustura, tamen vivo hoc in
Fonte natamus :
XCVI
Imperio Rex magne tuo par nulla
Potestas, Augusto cujus MajestasprovenitOre, Pulchra es perpetui praecinctus
Veste Decoris.
XCVII
Justitia est Sceptrum, Solium mise- ratio Mitis, 290
Regna perimmensos extendunt coe- lica Tractus,
Gloria permansura, Tibi, per Secla Corona.
XCVIII
Pax Intellectus tua quodvis praestat
Acumen, Obsisti poterit tua vasta Potentia
frustra, Numen es Ipse sacrum, Sacro
purgatius omni.
xcix Ore fluit Verum, Sapientia Pectore
manat, Ante tuam excubias agit Omni-
potentia Turrim, Aligeri peragunt tua Jussa verenda
Ministri.
c Perspicit Obtutu vel cuncta Scientia
primo, Thesauro frueris per Te sine Fine
beato, 3CO
Tempus es Sternum ; Quae me
demergat Abyssus !
(47i)
Edward Be7iIowes
[Canto VII
Peroratlo Eucharistica
SUMMAS Tibi agit Grates, maxime CoelorumPR/ESES,ceternumqueadoran- dum Numen, Servus tuus humillimus, quern post tot varias mundanarum SoUicitudinum Procellas, vastosque Curarum Fluctus, cum olim HoUan- diam, Brabantiam, Artesiam, Germa- niam, Austriam, Hungariam, Styriam, Carinthiam, partem Italiae, nee non Gallias incolumem in Patriam reduxisti. Quam gratum enim mihi placidum, post tot periculosas inter peregrinandum
Agitationes, Quietis Pacisque Interval- lum, ut devots Legum tuarum Obser- vationi totus exind^ vacem ! Tu, benigne Deus, dulcissimum hoc mihi Otium concedis, quo Tibi Soli prompto Hbentique Animo inservire statui : sicut per Te vivo, sic Tibi viverem, & quic- quid a Gratii acceperim, in Honorem refunderem ! Haec ergo Laudi & Glorice solius sapientis &: immortalis Dei submiss^ consecrentur ^
CONDITOR Omnipotens Ccelique Solique ! supremum Cujus ad Arbitrium cuncta creata fluunt ; Clement&r Finem lassis imponito Rebus, Nee plus terrenis Mens operosa vacet : Omnia solerter sub utroque jacentia Phoebo [scio.
Perpendens, tandem non nisi vana Ouk sese bifido Scaldis discriminat Alveo Vidi, Teque tua, Rhene palustris, Aqua: Non iter excelsae remoratas Nubibus Alpes, Queenecin aeriisNixsedetaltaJugis; Vidimus oppositos vario sub Chmate M ores ; 1 1
Vidimus innumeras quas vehit Ister Aquas : Diverso didici diversaldiomataTractu, Qusque Observatu sunt bene digna, scio : GalHca Mobilitas, Fraus Itala, Fastus Iberi, Teutonica Ebrietas notafuerenimis. Quamhbet in Partem Regina Pecunia Mundum Flectit, acerba Meum Bella Tuumque gerunt. Me conservanti per mille Pericula, Grates Qui possimmeritas solvere, Christe, Tibi! 20
Cerno, detestans Vitium, lassusque Tumultu, Quod, non Vita, prior Vita, sed Error erat. Velle Meum, sitvelle Tuum, Regnator Olympi ! Cui soli Grates Mens agit, egit, aget. Si plures mihi Vita futura superstet in Annos, Huic sit juncta pia Sedulitate Fides ! Nam nil contulerim bene docto sanus Amico, Spiritus ut sano Corpore sanus agat. Nosse, & amare Deum ; Promissis credere Christi, 29
Consulere Afflictis, edocuisse Rudes, Accumulare Bonis Inopes, succurrere Lapsis, Obnixfe Votis Ista petenda meis. Vertam Bodleias, congesta Volumina, Gazas, Quae Vaticano proxima, Roma, tuo : Nocturna versanda tamen, versanda diurna, Pras cunctis aliis Biblia Sacra Manu: Undfe, ut Apis sese sustentat Nectare Cellie ; Sic vivam lectis Floribus hisce piis. Talia fac, vives, Lector ; (2uicunque beatus Esse cupis, tali Vita sit actamodo. 40 Me Vitam, atque Necem tibi pro- posuisse memento : Elige siv6 velis vivere, sivc mori.
FINIS.
^ The reference to Benlowes' travels is interesting, though there seems to be something lost after Gallix. Where was the country retreat so agreeably described in the last cantos ? He must probably have got rid of Brent Hall by this time : but it may be this. From the allusion to the Bodleian in the following lines he must already have been thinking of establishing himself at Oxford.
(472 )
THE
SUMMARY
OF
W I S E D O M E.
BY
EDfFz^RD BENLOWES, Esq.
Love not the World ^ neither the things that are in the World ^ if any Man love the World^ the love of the Father is not in him : For all that is in the World ^ the Lust of the Eyes^ the Lust of the Fleshy and the Pride of Lifey is not of the Father, but is of the World ^ and the World passeth aivay^ and the Lust thereof But He that doeth the IVill of God abideth for ever. I Joh. i. 15-, \6^ 17.
L 0 ND 0 N,
Printed for Humphry "J^losely., and are to be sold at the 'Princes Arms in St. Vaiils Church- yard, i<5y7.
Eclwa?^ci Beizlowes
THE SUMMARY OF WISDOM^
Love not the ivorld, neither the things that are in the world ; if any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him, Ct'c. i Joh. ii. 15, 16, 17.
Worldlings we court not, envy not, nor fear ; May friends to virtue lend their ear : While sinners split on shelves, saints to Heav'n's harbour steer. II Earthlings ! what 's heap of wealth ? what 's Honour's height ? What 's Pleasure's May ? can toys so slight Bless Heav'n-descended souls with life's eternal light? Ill Riches from most men, swift as eagles, fly ; Honours on popular breath rely ; Pleasure 's a flash ; — and All com- bin'd, but Vanity.
IV
Why dot'st thou. World, on these ?
we will not stay : 10
Juggler, we know thy tempting
way; Which is, by charms to mock our
sense, and then betray.
V
Art toils to serve thee ; sables yield
their skins ; The silkworm for thy wardrobe
spins ; The rock with gems, the sea with
pearls, emboss thy sins.
VI
To bribe thy palate. Lust drains earth, air, seas ;
Whence finny, wing'd, hoof'd droves must please The glutton, made thereby a spittle of each disease.
VII
False World, asp's poison equals not
thy gall, Embittering souls to Hell. Thus
all 20
Thy darlings thou delud'st with thy
enchanting call.
VIII
I wonder not unbridled fools run
on ; Since all their Heav'n 's on earth
alone ; Which, though thou seem'st to give,
as soon as giv'n, 'tis gone.
IX
Kiss, and betray, then Nero's rage
outdare ; He, whom thou hugg'st, should
most beware : I shall unmask thy guiles, and thy
fond gulls unsnare.
X
Thy smile is but a trap, thy frown a
bubble, Thy praise a squib, thy beauty
stubble ; Who know thee best, have found a
theatre of trouble : 30
XI
Where men and devils meet ; and sense, compact With fraud, gild every vicious fact:
' As has been noted in Introduction, and as carofull (or even careless) readers of Theophila will notice at once, this piece is a sort of cento of Thcophila itself. But the mosaic is a curious one, the constituent pieces are sometimes slightly altered, and, vinless I mistake, there are new links and patches. At any rate, as extremely rare and as a sort of authentic abridgement, it seemed worth giving.
( 474)
The Summary of Wisdom
Where we must evil hear, or suffer it, or act.
XII
Thy friends are thieves of Time ;
The chat they vent (Light airs please toyish ears) is
spent On trash, which minds seduce with
cheating blandishment.
XIII
Thy gifted scythemen have Religion
mown. Which, in their meeting-barns,
is grown From best to all (like Corinth's
schism) from all, to none.
XIV
Thy shop vents braided ware of apish fashion ; 40
Thy gauds (Wealth, Sport, Pride) breed vexation ;
Like hautboys, on Earth's stage, oft ushering in — damnation.
XV
Ah, while, like larks, fools with vain
feathers play, Pleas'd with Sin's glass, are
snatch'd away. In midst of their excess, to Hell's
tormenting bay !
XVI
World, thou soul-wracking ocean ! Flatteries blow
Thee up, thou blue with spite dost grow, Brinish with lust, like the Red-Sea with blood, dost flow.
XVII
And, like the Basilisk's prodigious
eyes. Thy first sight kills, but thyself
dies 50
First seen : quick-sighted Faith thy
darts prevents, and spies.
XVI 1 1
Hadst been less cruel, thou hadst
been less kind ; Thy gall, prov'd medicine, heals
my mind : Thus Hell may help to Heav'n, the
Fiend a soul befriend.
XIX
The age-bow'd earth groans under
sinners' weight ! Justice, oppress'd, to Heav'n takes
flight. Vengeance her place supplies, which
with keen edge will smite.
XX
False World ! is Hell the legacy to
thy friend ? Crawl with thy trifles to the
Fiend : We scorn thy pack, — this year may
burning close thy end. 60
For all that is in the world, the lust of the eyes, is not of the Father, but is of the world, C/c.
Misgotten elf, thou Heav'n-designed souls dost sink !
XXIII
Whose gain is godliness, — the scrip- ture he Perverts : days him with interest see, Who incest still commits with his
XXI
Midas, to th' bar ; thou void of
grace, yet stor'd With gold, thy minted god, ador'd : Thou, and thine idol, perish in thy
wretched hoard.
XXII
Thy heart is lock'd up in thy shrined chink : Oh, heavy gold, bred near Hell's brink !
coins progeny.
XXIV
Thou hast too much, yet still thou whin'st for more ; 70
39 like Corinth's schism] This may serve, once for all, as an instance of the altera- tions noteworthy here and justifying the reprint. These words do not appear in the line as given and annotated above at Canto xii. st. vii. 1. 21 of Theophila.
(475)
Edward -Benlowes
Thou, wishing, want'st ; art, want- ing, poor : Thou wouldst ev'n plunder Hell for cash to cram thy store.
XXV
While gripes of famine mutiny with- in, And tan, like hides, the shrivell'd skin
Of those thou hast decoy'd into thy tangling gin.
XXVI
Whose skin, sear as the bark of sap- less wood. Clings to their bones, for want of food ;
Friendless, as are sea-monsters thrown ashore by th' flood.
XXVII
Though fasts be all their physic,
their corpse all Their earth, who for thy pity
call, 80
Yet art thou harder to them than
their bed, the stall.
XXVIII
' Penurious churl, when shall I '
(says thine heir) ' Ransack thy chests ? so ease thy
care : Purchase, instead of ground, a
grave ! — Die, wretch, to spare !
XXIX
' Hath treach'rous coin swell'd by thy curse ? — Live still Lay-Elder : soon thy crimes ful- fil: '
The heaviest curse on this side Hell 's to thrive in ill.
XXX
How cursed Love of Money doth
bewitch The leprous Mind with pleasing
itch! This slave to his own servant, ne'er
was poor, till rich ! 90
XXXI
Graves may be sooner cloy'd, than craving eyes :
(476)
Bribes blanch Gehazi till he dies. ' Thou fool, Death shall this night thy dunghill soul surprise.'
XXXII
Nor would this city-wolf lead men to
snares, Nor vex his mind with carking
cares, View'd he himself i' th' mirror which
Despair prepares.
XXXIII
So wasteful, usurer, as thyself,
there 's none ; Who part'st with three true gems,
for one Brittle as glass ; — thy fame, rest,
soul for ever gone !
XXXIV
Who nettles sow, shall prickles reap ;
the train 100
To Hell is idolized gain : Unless thou fiends canst bribe, thou
go'st to endless pain !
XXXV
His hidebound conscience opens
now. — ' Lve run On rocks ' (he howls) ' too late to
shun ! Grace left, Wrath seiz'd me ! Gold,
my god, hath me undone !
XXXVI
' Often to Hell in dreams I head- long fall ! From devils then I seem to crawl,
While furies round about with whips my soul appal !
XXXVII
' Atheism our root, for boughs were Faction's store. Hypocrisy our leaves gilt o'er, no Wrath, Treachery, and Extortion, were the fruit we bore.
XXXVIII
' Like profane Esau have we sold
our bliss. For shine of pelf, that nothing is ! This desperates our rage, we still
blaspheme at this ! '
The Summary of Wisdom
XXXIX
Thus cursed gripers restless tortures
feel, Whose hearts seem'd rocks, whose
bowels steel. ' I burn ' (cries Dives) 'for one drop,
denied, I kneel !
XL
' Fire each where broils me, fire as
black as night ! Goblins mine eyes, ears shrieks
affright ! ' Sin's debt still paying, ne'er dis-
charg'd, is infinite ! 120
For all that is in the world, the lust of the fleshy is not of the Father, but is of the
world, ifc.
XLI
Strow flowers for spendthrift ; Ante- masks he might Act before Apes, Spectators right :
Whose dops, shrugs, puppet-plays, show best by candlelight.
XLII
Hot shows the season by his dusty head; With fancied ribbons round be- spread ;
Modish, and maddish, all untruss'd, as going to bed.
XLIII
' Ho ! First brisk wine, next let a
sparkling dame Fire our high blood, then quench
our flame ! Blest is the son, whose father 's gone
i' th' Devil's Name.
XLIV
' Each pottle breeds a ruby, drawer, score 'um : 130
Cheeks dyed in claret, seem o' th' quorum,
When our Nose-Carbuncles, like linkboySj blaze before 'um.'
XLV
Complete thy funeral-pile ; shouldst
thou mark well How down the drunkard's throat
to Hell Death smoothly glides ; to swim so
sadly would thee quell !
XLVI
Spawns of Excess, dropsies and
surfeits are ; From tenants' sweat 's thy bill of
fare : Each glutton digs with 's teeth his
grave, whose maw's his care.
XLVI I
He's sick, and staggers. Doctor, his case state us, ' His Cachexy results from flatus Hypochondruncicus, ex crapulacrea-
tUS.' 141
XLVIII
Scarce well, he swills what should
the needy store ; And grinds between his teeth
the poor, Who beg dry crumbs, which they
with tears would moisten o'er.
XLIX
He a sharp reck'ning shall, with
Dives, pay ; Whose feasts did hasten his
audit-day ; Death brought the voider, and the
Devil took away !
L
Enter his courtesan, who fans his fire;
Her prattling eyes teach loose
desire :
Fondlings to catch this art-fair fly,
like trouts aspire. 150
LI
With paint, false hair, and naked breasts she jets
121 Strow flowers, &c.] Another change ; see xi. vi. 16. But it is not necessary to note all.
141 Hypochondruncicus! Here, as noticed above, some timid person has crossed out the right word in the B. M. copy of the Summary and substituted hypocliondxi&cus.
(477 )
Edward Be^tlowes
And patches (Lust's new lime- twigs) sets ; Like tickets on the door, herself (for gold) she lets.
LII
Her basilisk-like glances taint the air
Of virgin-modesty, and snare His tangling thoughts in trammels of her ambush-hair.
LIII
With her profusely he misspends
his days In balls, and dances, treatments,
plays ; And in his bosom this close-biting
serpent lays.
LIV
Death, after sickness, seize this Helen must ; 160
Whose radiant eyes, now orbs of lust.
Shall sink, as falling stars, which, jellied, turn to dust.
LV
How wildly shows corrupted Nature's
face, Till deck'd by Reason, Learning,
Grace ! Without which politure the noblest
stem is base !
LVI
Fools rifle out Time's lottery : who misspend
For all that is m the world, the pride of life, and the world passeth away, and the lusts
LXI
Usher Aspiro in wi th 's looms of state. To weave Fraud's web, and his
own fate ; Who, mounted up, throws down the
steps him rais'd of late.
LXII
His posture is ambiguous, his pace
Is stately high, who thinks it Grace^ If he casts forth a word, and deigns but half a face :
LXIII
Nor minds he what he speaks ; for by false light,
( 4:8 )
The soul's rich joys, ahve de- scend. And antedate with stings their never- ending end !
LVII
Thy acts outsin the Devil; who's ne'er soil'd With gluttony or lust, ne'er foil'd 170
By drink; nor in the net of sloth- fulness entoil'd.
LVIII
Therefore in time beware ; let not
sin-charms Bewitch thee, till Wrath cries to
arms. Sin's first face smiles, her second
frowns, her third alarms.
LIX
How blind mad sinners are when
they transgress ! All woes are, than such blindness,
less ! That wretch most wretched is who
slights his wretchedness !
LX
When Death shall quench thy flames,
and fiends thee seize. In brimstone-torrents, without
ease, Thou'lt broil midst blackest fires, and
roar midst burning seas ! 180
is not of the Father, but is of the world ; thereof, C/c.
Like to his faith, he thrives ; whose sight. Clouded with jealousy, can never judge aright.
LXIV
By dubious answers he is wont to
guess 190
At men's dislikes; and fears no less
Feign'd quips, than just reproofs : fear haunts him in each dress.
LXV
Ambition prompts to precipices steep, Which Envy gets, and Hate doth keep ;
1
The Summary of Wisdofn
His daily thoughts of climbing break his nightly sleep.
LXVI
Could he with 's foot spurn empires
into air, And sit i' th' universal chair Of state ; were pageants made for
him, as the World's Mayor ;
LXVII
Those fond disguisements could not
long him fence, But crosses still would vex his
sense, 200
And leave him blest but in the
preterperfect tense.
LXVIII
Ev'n that at which Pride's tow'ring
project flies, If gain'd obliquely, sinks, and
dies : Earth's potentates ! great aims, plots,
fears makes tragedies.
LXIX
Achitophel and Absalon prove this, (Who of their plots, not plagues
did miss) To Macchiavels : ' That ill worst to
the plotter is.'
LXX
Pompey and Caesar so ambitious
grow, A battle must be fought to show Which of those cocks o' th' game
o'er Rome at last should crow.
LXXI
The world, as great — Cham, Turk, Mogul upcries, 211
Tuscan's Great Duke (all, no great prize).
Great Alexander: — the Nine Worthy ironies.
LXXII
Ev'n sceptres reel like reeds : who
had no bound. Is bounded in six foot of ground ; ' Here lies the Great '■ — thou li'st,
here but his dust is found.
LXXIII
Who lately svvell'd to be his lord- ship's slave, May trample now upon his grave,
That levels all. Best lectures dust- seal'd pulpits have.
LXXIV
Where's now the Assyrian lion? Persian bear? 220
Greek leopard? Rome's spread- eagle where ?
Where now fani'd Troy, that did in old time domineer?
LXXV
Troy 's gone, yet Simois stays. See
Fate's strange play ! That which was fix'd, is fled away ; And what was ever sliding, that doth
only stay !
LXXVI
Therefore, why gap'st thou thus for
shadows ? who Neglected lets the substance go. Led by false hope, he makes sad
end in endless woe !
LXXVII
The Mighty mighty torments shall
endure. If impious : Hell admits no cure: Ambition 's never safe, though often
too secure. 231
LXXVIII
If Pride on wing could reach the
stars ; yet shall. Like Lucifer, its carcass fall : Pride mounted Babel's tower, and
arched Satan's hall.
LXXIX
In centre of the terrible abyss.
Remotest from supernal bliss. That hapless, hopeless, easeless, endless dungeon is !
LXXX
Where nought is heard, but yelling!
' Oh, that I Might once more live ! or once
more die ! ' Cursing his woes, he wooes God's
curse eternally
240
( 479 )
Edward Benlowes
Put he that doeth the will of God, ahideth Lord, teach us so to number our days, that
LXXXI
Lust brings forth Sin ; Sin shame ;
Shame cries, ' Repent ; ' Repentance weeps ; tears Prayer
do vent ; Prayer brings down Grace ; Grace
Faith ; Faith Love ; Love Zeal
upsent.
LXXXII
Who fears God, is, without despon- dence, sad ; Timorous, without despair ; and glad.
Without wild freaks : whereas the World 's knave, fool, or mad.
LXXXIII
Part should the world what are in
man combin'd ; The body melts to be refin'd ; Grace cheers the suffering, Glory
crowns the conquering mind.
LXXXIV
Nor chance, change, fraud, nor force, the just man fright, 250 In greatest pressures he stands right ;
Ever the same (while Sloth feels want. Ambition spite).
LXXXV
From costly bills of greedy empirics
free ; From plea of Ambidexter's fee ; From hypocritic schism of kirkish
tyranny.
LXXXVI
He with observance honours Virtue's
friends ; And to their faithful counsel
bends ; But not on empty forms of worldly
gauds depends.
LXXXVII
In praising God, above the stars he climbs ; And pitying courts, with all their
(480)
for ever.
we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.
And fawns, and frowns, dares to be good in worst of times.
LXXXVI 1 1
Joy, little world, spite of the greater,
blest ; Scanted abroad, within dost feast, Hast Christ Himself for cates.
The Holy Ghost for guest.
LXXXIX
Thou walk'st in groves of myrrh,
with Christ thy guide (The best of friends that e'er was
tried). By thee in vale of tears spiritual
joy 's descried.
xc Knew but the World what glorious joys still move In Faith's bright orb, 'twould soar above All sense, and centre in the point of heav'nly love ! 270
xci
Oh, Love's high'st height ! Thou i
art the wise man's bliss ! |
T' enjoy thee 's Heav'n, Hell thee
too miss !
The Earth, yea, Heav'n hath its
beatitude from this !
XCII
No Christian kings win by each
other's loss ; What one gets by retail, in gross All lose ; while still the Crescent
gains upon the Cross.
XCIII
As children fight for toys ; so kings
for clods : Heav'n's heir's more great, and
rich by odds : For All is his, and he is Christ's,
and Christ is God's.
XCIV
No bank on earth such sums of wealth can lend, 280
The Summary of Wisdom
As saints, who on Heav'n's grace depend ; God's Word their law, His Spirit their guide, the Lamb their friend.
xcv But, what 's vain man ? what his earth-crawling race ? That God should such a shadow grace. And him eternally in Glory's region place ?
xcvi No surfeits' maw-worm's there, no itch of Lust, No tympany of Pride, no rust Of Envy, no Wrath's spleen, nor Obduration's crust.
XCVII
But, there, though Bliss exceeds, it never cloys ; for, sweet Fruition's feast em- ploys 290
Still new desire ; where none can count his least of joys !
XCVIII
The soul there (throwing off her
rags of clay. Laid in Earth's wardrobe, till last
day) Ever triumphs in every beatific ray.
XCIX
There, each saint doth an endless
kingdom own ! There each king hath a starry
crown ! Each sceptre there o'erpowers the
world, and Devil's frown !
c
None blest, but he who finds the Judge his friend. When the last trump shall sum- mons send ! 299
The End doth crown, the Work, may Jesus crown The End.
(481)
I 1
Edward Be7ilowes
A POETIC DESCANT UPON A PRIVATE MUSIC-MEETING^
Muse ! Rise, and plume thy feet, and let 's converse This morn together : let 's re- hearse Last evening's sweets ; and run one heat in full-speed verse. II Prank not thyself in metaphors ; but pound Thy ranging tropes, that they may sound Nothing but what our Paradise did then surround. Ill Thron'd first Parthenian heav'n-bred beauties were Near crystal casements' Eastern sphere ; AVho like to Venus sparkled, yet more chaste than fair.
IV
'Mongst which, one radiant star so largely shone, lo
She seem'd a constellation ; Her front 'bove lily-white, cheek 'bove rose-red, full blown, v Yet be not planet-struck, like some that gaze Too eagerly on Beauty's blaze ; There 's none like thine, dear Muse! theirs are but meteor-rays.
VI
Suitors to idols offer idle suits. Which hold their presence more
recruits Their broken hopes, than viols,
pedals, organs, lutes.
VII
But, whist ! The masculine sweet
planets met. Their instruments in tune have
set, 20
And now begin to ransack Music's
cabinet.
VIII
Sol ! Thou pure fountain of this
streaming Noise ! Patron of Sweetness ! Soul of
Joys ! How were we ravish'd with thy viol's
warbling voice !
IX
Thy nectar-dropping joints so played their part. They forced the fibres of our heart
To dance : thy bow's swift light- ning made the tears [to ?] start.
X
Thou didst ev'n saw the grumbling
catlines still. And tortured'st the base, until His roaring diapasons did the whole
room fill. 30
XI
Luna the pedal richly did adorn ; If 'twixt the cedar and the thorn There 's ought harmonious, 'twas from this sweet fir-tree born.
XII
As Philomel, Night's minstrel, jugs
her tides Of rolling melody ; she rides On surges down to th' deep ; and,
when she lifts, up glides. i
' This is taken from the B. M. copy f669 f. 15. 2"^, a single sheet not noted in Hazlitt's Hand-book. It is extremely characteristic, and perhaps as good an average example of Benlowcs as could be given. If never at his very best in it, he is nowhere near his worst.
(482)
A Poetic Descant
XIII
Jove cataracts of liquid gold did
pour, More precious than his Danae's
show'r ; From pedal-drops to organ-deluge
swell'd the stour.
XIV
Mars twang'd a violin (his fierce drums for fight 40
Turn'd to brisk Almans) with what sprite
His treble shrill'd forth marches, which he strain'd to the height !
XV
His active bow, arm'd with a war- like tone, Rallied his troops of strings, as one.
Which volleys gave i' th' chase of swift division.
XVI
So the Pelean youth was vanquish'd still By his renown'd musician's skill. Which could disarm, and arm the conqueror at will.
XVII
Last Mercury with ravishing strains
fell on, Whose violin seem'd the chymic-
stone, 50
For every melting touch was pure
projection.
XVIII
Chair'd midst the spheres of Music's Heav'n, I hear, I gaze ; charm'd all to eye and ear ;
Both which, with objects too intense, even martyr'd were.
XIX
Th' excess of fairs, distill'd through sweets, did woo
My wav'ring soul, maz'd what to do. Or to quit eyes for ears, or ears for eyes forgo.
XX
Giddy i' th' change which sex to
crown with praise ; Time swore he never was with
lays More sweetly spent ; nor Beauty
ever beam'd such rays. 60
XXI
'Twixt these extremes mine eyes
and ears did stray. And sure it was no time to pray ; The Deities themselves then being
all at play.
XXII
The fuU-throng'd room its ruin
quite defies : Nor fairs, nor airs are pond'rous ;
skies Do scorn to shrink, though pil'd with
stars and harmonies.
XXIII
Form, Beauty, Sweetness, all did here conspire, Combin'd in one Celestial Quire, To charm the enthusiastic soul with enthean fire :
XXIV
These buoy up care-sunk thoughts ;
their power endues 70
A castril brain with eagle-muse : When Saints would highest soar
they Music['s] pinions use.
XXV
Music ! thy med'cines can our griefs allay, And re-inspire our lumpish clay : Muse ! Thou transcend'st ; Thou without instruments canst play.
BLANDULIS LONGUM VALE CANTI- LENIS.
39 stour] 'Assault,' 'din,' A favourite word of Spenser's. 41 Almans] German marches. ' Sprite' = ' sprightliness.'
71 castrilj 'Kestrel,' &c., an ill-bred hawk.
(483)
I 1 2
POEM
By the moft defervedly Admired
M^^ Katherine Philips,
The N^Iatchlefsr
J 7 2//.
O R I N D A.
To which is added
POMPEY]
& ^TRAGEDIES.
HORACEJ
With feveral other Ttanflations out of
Printed by 7*. N. for Henry Herringman at the Sign of
the Blsw Anchor in the Lower Wall{^ of the
NfK> Exchange. 1^78.
INTRODUCTION TO KATHERINE PHILIPS
The Poems of ' the matchless Orinda * ' are better suited to stand the test on which Joe Gargery apologized for his indulgence at the public house than that on which William Taylor of Norwich judged poetry and was laughed at by Carlyle for judging it. They ' do not over-stimilate ' : on the division of ' Quotidian and Stimulant ' they approach nearer to the former than to the latter. But this is no reason for excluding them from such a collection as this, where some at least of the constituents are rather too much than too little heady. And even if it deserved consideration there are many things on the other side to overrule it. Mrs. Philips as a poetess has been much more talked of than read, a state of things which it is one of the primary duties of editors to combat or cure ; the references to her, from Dryden downwards, are more than sufficient vouchers for her reintroduction ; and her intrinsic interest, though mild, is by no means insignificant. It is an obvious fancy, but neither too obvious nor too fanciful, to compare the attraction of her verse to that of the large portrait-bust which serves as frontispiece to the
^ She was born on New Year's Day, 1631, the daughter of John Fowler, a merchant of Bucklersbury in the City of London ; and educated at one of the famous Hackney boarding-schools, which, however, she must have left full twenty years before the unhallowed eyes of Samuel Pepys gloated over ' the young ladies of the schools, whereof there is great store, very pretty' on Sunday, April 21st, 1667. John Fowler dying, his widow married a Welshman, Hector Philips of Forth Eynon, whose son, by his first wife, Katherine herself married in 1647. The. Dictiottary of Natio>ial Biography assigns to her a son (named after his grandfather Hector, and living but forty days) in the year of her marriage. But she expressly says in his epitaph
Twice forty jnonths of zvedlock did 1 stay, Then had my vows crowned by a lovely boy.
She had, however, another child, a daughter christened after herself, who was born in 1656, and lived to be married. ' Orinda' began her appearance as a poetess with verses on Vaughan's poems in 1651 : and soon attained a considerable (coterie and other) reputation. In 1662 she went to Dublin and had her version of Corneille's Ponipey performed there. She died of small-pox in Fleet Street, London, on June 22, 1664, iiaving been vexed a little earlier by an unauthorized issue of her Poems. (This irritation though excusable, was a little unreasonable, for the delinquent book is a prettier volume than the authorized version, and the variants are neither many nor important.) A further unfinished version of Horace was completed by Denhain, but neither of these falls within our scope. The Poems were collected and published in 1667, and more than once reprinted, without any substantive changes as far as I have noticed. The principal modern treatment of her is in Mr. i^osscs Sevcnteentli-century Studies, and there is a selection, with Introduction by Miss Guiney, in The Orinda Booklets. J. R. Tutin, 1904.
(486)
I
hitroductioit
folio edition of her poems, and which is delicately apologized for as 'a poor paper shadow of a statue made after a portrait not very like her.' In this portrait the features are too much accentuated and the expression hardened and vulgarized a little by adherence to fashion, and supposed proportion, and the like : but there is still an aura of possible charm about it \ The Poems of Orinda are studiously adjusted to Romantic-Platonic ideas of friendship, studiously artificial, studiously 'proper.' But there is more than a suggestion that not merely must ' Rosania ' and ' Lucasia ' and the rest have possessed and lost a friend worth having, but that ' my Antenor ' (less romantically Mr. Philips,) was by more than convention a fortunate man in his marriage, and an unlucky one in his widower-hood.
Part of the interest and value of Orinda's poems for us lie in the way in which they exhibit the settling down of poetry to its more prosaic kinds and expressions about the period of the Restoration : and it is very curious that another poetess, born just after Orinda's death, shows us in like manner the rise from this. Katherine Philips and Lady Winchelsea cover in their lives ten years short of a century, for the elder was still young and the younger not yet old when she died. But between them they give us the curve almost complete. Orinda in such a poem as ' The Soul ' shows us the insolent and passionate Elizabethan poetry still trying to soar, but with flagging wings and in a too rare atmosphere ; Ardelia's ' Nocturnal Reverie ' shows us the recovery of the way to the empyrean by a diligent and loving attention to the things of terrestrial nature.
The greatest danger for a modern reader of Katherine Philips is of course the associations of the Precieuse School, with Rosania and Lucasia and their little harmless plays at being each a Sappho non doctior sedpudica (to vary the epigrammatist). But one fashion is very much like another ; seldom much more absurd, almost always as well worth understanding. In England, as in France, there was undoubtedly a good deal of roughness and coarseness to be worn off and cleansed away, and Mrs. Philips and her friends, though Addison was to give their successors a little of his milder satire, were practically doing Addison's work before he himself was born. And the whole thing is a sort of ' side-show ' to the Heroic entertainment which is one of the main things that our time has to provide. It does not appear that 'Antenor' objected, or that he had any reason to object; indeed he seems to have played his part with all the mix- ture of gravity and zeal that could have been required in the Hotel de Rambouillet itself, and no doubt regarded his gifted spouse as more ingenious if less in quality than even 'Julie.'
To come to details, her couplet verses are rarely very good, and she
^ This is, perhaps not quite fancifully, brought out in a mezzotint by Beckett, inserted by some one in the B. M. copy of the 1678 ed., a really attractive face, and with character in it. Beckett's work is mostly dated about twenty years after Orinda's death. Another later portrait in the same copy is prettified, but mawkish.
(487)
Kathertne Philips
seldom anticipates, as Chamberlayne and others do after Fairfax, the clench and grip of her contemporary Dryden. But she has retained something of the mysterious charm of earlier Caroline poetry in the shorter and intertwisted measures. For instance, quite early in
Come, my Lucasia, since we see
the quintet, though it has no extraordinary poetical ideas or images to carry, carries its actual burden with something of the strange throb and pulse of pace which we find in the greatest things of Marvell. The next poem is far less effectual, but why ? because the couplet added to the quatrain in its six-line arrangement is infinitely less effective than the single line. She is again at home in the simpler octosyllabic quatrain
Come, my Ardelia, to this bower
and hardly less (though she cannot approach the best things of the time) in that unique form of the ' common measure ' which that time invented, and which makes one wonder how it can possibly be the same in mere mathematical respects with the jogtrot of Delony or Sternhold.
I did not love until this time
Crowned my felicity. When I could say without a crime
I am not thine but thee.
How did Donne or Jonson {for it was apparently one or the other) discover this ineffable cadence ? How did they manage to teach it to (all but) all and sundry, for half a century ? How did it get utterly lost ? and how has it been only occasionally and uncertainly recovered ? But these are questions, themselves 'begottenof Despair upon Impossibility' yet delightfully suggested by such matter as that which we here collect for study.
Of less strange piquancy, but too good to be left inaccessible, are the ' Lines to Regina Collier on her cruelty to Philaster.' ' Regina,' it may be observed, appears to have been a real name and not of the Orinda kind. Those to Rosania herself
As men that are with visions graced
apply the spell once more. *A Prayer' is fine; but somehow Orinda is always more at home with her Sapphic-Platonics as in 'To Mrs. M. A. [Mary Aubrey] at Parting ' :
I have examined and do find
Of all that favour me, There 's none I grieve to leave behind
But only, only thee.
Once more the commonest of commonplaces in sentiment, the most ordinary — almost to the Wordsworthian paradox-level — of words : yet of cadence ineffable, and such that Keats found it, and knew it. ' The Enquiry,' 'To My Lucasia' and others, are hardly inferior. She was less happy (488)
hitroduction
at the ode ; but she could often manage song-measures featly enough ; as, for instance, in
How prodigious is my fate which does not ill deserve a place in the too little known anthology of Second-Caroline songs. * The Parting of Lucasia, Rosania and Orinda at a fountain' (which the sensible Platonics mitigated with Bacchus) is not contemptible : and the epitaph on her own infant son is not the worst of the school of Jonson.
Nor will the reader who really cares for poetry fail to find other things in the Matchless Orinda which will please him ; nor would she have been very sorry not to please the reader who does not so care.
(489)
THE PREFACE
When the false Edition of these Poems stole into the light, a friend of that incomparable Lady's that made them, knowing how averse she was to be in Print, and therefore being sure that it was absolutely against her consent, as he believed it utterly without her know- ledge, (she being then in Wales, above 1 50 miles from this town) went presently both to the Gentleman, who licens'd it upon the stationer's averment that he had her leave, and to the stationer himself for whom it was printed, and took the best course he could with both to get it suppress'd, as it presently was (though afterward many of the books were privately sold) and gave her an account, by the next post, of what he had done. A while after he received this answer, which you have here (taken from her own hand) under that disguised name she had given him, it being her custom to use such with most of her particular friends.
Worthy Poliarchus, It is very well that you chid me so much for endeavouring to express a part of the sense I have of your obligations ; for while you go on in conferring them beyond all possibility of acknowledgement, it is convenient for me to be forbidden to attempt it. Your last generous concern for me, in vindicating me from the unworthy usage I have received at London from the press, doth as much transcend all your former favours \ as the injury done me by that Publisher and Printer exceeds all the troubles that I re- member I ever had. All I can say to you for it, is, that though you assist'* an unhappy, it is yet a very innocent person, and that it is impossible for malice itself to have printed those Rimes ^ (you tell me are gotten abroad so impudently) with so much abuse to the things, as the very publication
Orig. usually the ' or ' form.
of them at all, though they had been never so correct, had been to me ; to me (Sir) who never writ any line in my life with an intention to have it printed, and who am of my Lord Falkland's mind, that said,
He danger fear'd than censure less, Nor could he dread a breach like to a Press.
And who (I think you know) am sufficiently distrustful of all, that my own want of company and better employment, or others' commands have seduc'd me to write, to endea- vour rather that they should never be seen at all, than that they should be expos'd to the world with such effronters^ as now they most unhappily are. But is there no retreat from the malice of this World ? I thought a rock and a mountain might have hidden me, and that it had been free for all to spend their solitude in what Reveries ^ they please, and that our rivers (though they are babbling) would not have betray'd the follies of impertinent thoughts upon their banks ; but 'tis only 1 who am that unfortunate person that cannot so much as think in private, that must have my imaginations rifled and exposed to play the mountebanks, and dance upon the ropes to enter- tain all the rabble ; to undergo all the raillery of the Wits, and all the severity of the Wise ; and to be the sport of some that can, and some that cannot read a verse. This is a most cruel accident, and hath made so propor- tionate an impression upon me, that really it hath cost me a sharp fit of sickness since I heard it ; and I be- lieve would be more fatal but that I know what a Champion 1 have in you, and that I am sure your credit in the World will gain me a belief from all that are knowing and civil, that I am so innocent of that wretched
" I substitute ' assist ' for ' assert.'
' I think it fair to keep this spelling, more especially because I think it the wrong one, * effrontery ? ^ Orig. Resveires.
( 490 )
Preface
artifice of a secret consent (of which I am, I fear, suspected) that whoever would have brought me those copies corrected and amended, and a thou- sand pounds to have bought my per- mission for their being printed, should not have obtained it. But though there are many things, I believe, in this wicked impression of those fancies, which the ignorance of what occasion'd them, and the falseness of the copies may represent very ridiculous and extravagant, yet I could give some account of them to the severest Cato, and I am sure they must be more abus'd than I think is possible (for I have not seen the Book, nor can imagine what 's in 't) before they can be render'd otherwise than Sir Edward Bering says in his Epilogue to Pompey,
No bolder thought can tax
Those Rimes of blemish to the blush- ing Sex,
As chaste the lines, as harmless is the sense,
As the first smiles of infant innocence.
So that J hope there will be no need of justifying them to Virtue and Hon- our; and 1 am so little concern'd for the reputation of writing sense, that, provided the World would believe me innocent of any manner of knowledge, much less connivance at this publica- tion, I shall willingly compound never to trouble them with the true copies, as you advise me to do : which ifyou still should judge absolutely necessary to the reparation of this mis- fortune, and to general satisfaction ; and that, as you tell me, all the rest of my friends will press me to it, I should yield to it with the same re- luctancy as I would cut off a limb to save my life. However I hope you will satisfy all your acquaintance of my aversion to it, and did they know me as well as you do, that apology were very needless, for I am so far from expecting applause for any thing I scribble, that I can hardly expect pardon ; and sometimes I think that employment so far above my reach, and unfit for my sex, that I am going to resolve against it for ever ; and could 1 have recovered those fugitive papers that have escap'd my hands, 1 had long since made a sacrifice of
(491 )
them all. The truth is, I have an incorrigible inclination to that folly of riming, and intending the effects of that humour, only for my own amuse- ment in a retir'd life ; I did not so much resist it as a wiser woman would have done ; but some of my dearest friends having found my Ballads, (for they deserve no better name) they made me so much believe they did not dishke them, that I was betray'd to permit some copies for their divertisement ; but this, with so little concern for them, that I have lost most of the originals, and that I suppose to be the cause of my present misfortune ; for some infernal spirits or other have catch'd those rags of paper, and what the careless blotted writing kept them from understanding, they have supplied by conjecture, till they put them into the shape wherein you saw them, or else I know not which way it is possible for them to be collected, or so abominably transcrib'd as I hear they are. I believe also there are some among them that are not mine, but every way I have so much injury, and the worthy persons that had the ill luck of my converse, and so their names expos'd in this impression without their leave, that few things in the power of Fortune could have given me so great a tor- ment as this most afiflictive accident. I know you Sir, so much my friend, that I need not ask your pardon for making this tedious complaint ; but methinks it is a great injustice to revenge myself upon you by this harangue for the wrongs I have re- ceived from others ; therefore I will only tell you that the sole advantage I have by this cruel news, is that it has given me an experiment. That no adversity can shake the constancy of your friendship, and that in the worst humour that ever I was in, I am still,
Worthy Poliarchus, Your most faithful, most obliged Friend, and most humble Servant Orinda.
Cardigan, y^w. 29, l66f.
She writ divers letters to many of her other friends, full of the like resent- ments ; but this is enough to show
Kath
erine
Philipi^
how little she desired the fame of being in print ; and how much she was troubled to be so exposed. It may serve likewise to give a taste of her prose to those that have seen none of it, and of her way of writing familiar letters, which she did with strange readiness and facility, in a very fair hand, and perfect ortho- graphy ; and if they were collected with those excellent discourses she writ on several subjects, they would make a volume much larger than this, and no less worth the reading.
About three months after this Letter she came to London, where her Friends did much solicit her to redeem her- self by a correct impression ; yet she continued still averse, though perhaps in time she might have been over- rul'd by their persuasions if she had lived.
But the small-pox, that malicious disease (as knowing how little she would have been concern'd for her handsomeness, when at the best) was not satisfied to be as injurious a printer of her face, as the other had been of her Poems, but treated her with a more fatal cruelty than the stationer had them : for though he, to her most sensible affliction, surreptitiously possess'd himself of a false copy, and sent those children of her fancy into the World, so martyred, that they were more unlike themselves than she could have been made, had she escaped ; that murtherous tyrant, with greater barbarity, seiz'd unexpectedly upon her, the true original, and to the much juster affliction of all the world, violently tore her out of it, and hurried her untimely to her grave, upon the 22nd of June, 1664, she being then but 3 1 years of age.
But he could not bury her in oblivion, for this monument which she erected for herself, will, for ever, make her to be honoured as the honour of her sex, the emulation of ours, and the admiration of both. That unfortunate surprise had robb'd it of much of that perfection it might else have had, having broke off the Translation of Horace before it was finish'd, much less review'd, and
hindered the rest from being more exactly corrected, and put into the order they were written in, as she possibly herself would have done, had she consented to a second Edition. 'Tis probable she would also have left out some of those pieces that were written with less care and upon occasions less fit to be made public, and she might also have added more : but all industry has been us'd to make this Collection as full and as perfect as might be, by the addition of many that were not in the former impression, and by divers Translations, whereof the first has the Original in the opposite page ; that they who have a mind to compare them, may, by that pattern, find how just she has been in all the rest to both the Languages, exactly rendering the full sense of the one, without tying herself strictly to the words, and clearly evincing the capaciousness of the other, by com- prising it fully in the same number of lines, though in the Plays half the verses of the French are of thirteen syllables, and the rest of twelve, where- as the English have no more but ten \ In short, though some of her pieces may perhaps be lost, and others in hands that have not pro- duc'd them ; yet none that upon good grounds could be known to be hers, are left out ; for many of the less con- siderable ones were publish'd in the other ; but those, or others that shall be judged so, may be excused by the politeness of the rest which have more of her true spirit, and of her diligence. Some of them would be no disgrace to the name of any Man that amongst us is most esteemed for his excellency in this kind, and there are none that may not pass with fa- vour, when it is remembered that they fell hastily from the pen but of a Woman. We might well have call'd her the English Sappho, she of all the female poets of former Ages, being for her verses and her virtues both, the most highly to be valued ; but she has call'd herself Orinda, a name that deserves to be added to the number of the muses, and to live with honour as long as they. Were our language
^ It has seemed sufficient to meet this by giving ofie stanza of the orig. in a note. (49^ )
Preface
as generally known to the world as the Greek and Latin were anciently, or as the French is now, her verses could not be confin'd within the narrow limits of our islands, but would spread themselves as far as the continent has inhabitants, or as the seas have any shore. And for her virtues, they as much surpass'd those of Sappho as the Theological do the Moral, (where- in yet Orinda was not her inferior) or as the fading immortality of an earthly laurel, which the justice of men can- not deny to her excellent poetry, is transcended by that incorruptible and eternal Crown of Glory, wherewith the Mercy of God hath undoubtedly rewarded her more eminent piety. Her merit should have had a statue of porphyry wrought by some great artist, equal in skill to Michael Angelo, that might have transferr'd to posterity the lasting image of so rare a person : but here is only a poor paper-shadow of a statue made after a picture not very like her, to accompany that she has drawn of herself in these Poems, and which represents the beauties of her mind with a far truer resemblance, than that does the lineaments of her face.
They had sooner performed this right ^ to her memory, if that raging Pes- tilence which, not long after her, swept away so many thousands here and in other places of this Kingdom ; that devouring Fire, which since de- stroy'd this famous City ; and the harsh sounds of War, which with the thunder- ings of cannon, deafn'd all ears to the gentle and tender strains of Friend- ship, had not made the publication of them hitherto unseasonable. But they have outliv'd all these dismal things to see the blessing of Peace, a con- juncture more suitable to their Nature, all compos'd of kindness ; so that I hope Time itself shall have as little power against them, as these other storms have had, and then * Ovid's conclusion of his ATetaniorphosts may, with little alteration, more truth, and less vanity than by him to himself, be applied to these once transformed, or rather deformed Poems, which are here in some measure restor'd to their native shape and beauty, and there- fore certainly cannot fail of a welcome reception now, since they wanted it not before, when they appeared in that strange disguise.
The Earl of Orrery to Mrs. Philips
Madam, When I but knew you by report, I fear'd the praises of th' admiring
Court Were but their compliments, but now
I must Confess, what I thought civil is scarce
just: For they imperfect trophies to you
raise, You deserve wonder, and they pay but
praise ; A praise, which is as short of your
great due, As all which yet have writ come short
of you.
You, to whom wonder 's paid by double
right. Both for your verses, smoothness and
their height. lo
In me it does not the least trouble
breed, That your fair sex does ours, in verse,
exceed, Since every Poet this great truth does
prove. Nothing so much inspires a Muse as
Love ; Thence has your sex the best poetic
fires, For what's inspir'd must yield to what
inspires.
' I am in two minds as to substituting ' rite' for this.
* Nee Jovis ira, nee ignis, nee poteris {sic in orig. side-note) ferrum, nee edax abolere vetustas, &c.
( 493)
Katherine Philips
And as our sex resigns to yours the
due, So all of your bright sex must yield to
You. Experience shows, that never fountain
fed A stream which could ascend above
its head ; 20
For those whose wit fam'd Helicon
does give. To rise above its height durst never
strive, Their double hill too, though 'tis often
clear, Yet often on it clouds and storms
appear. Let none admire then that the ancient
wit Shar'd in those elements infused
[in ?] it ; Nor that your Muse than theirs ascends
much higher. She sharing in no element but fire. Past ages could not think those things
you do, For their Hill was their basis and
height too : 30
So that 'tis truth, not compliment, to
tell, Your lowest height their highest did
excel ; Your nobler thoughts warm'd by a
heav'nly fire. To their bright centre constantly
aspire ; And by the place to which they take
their flight. Leave us no doubt from whence they
have their light. Your merit has attain'd this high
degree, 'Tis above praise as much as flattery, And when in that we have drain'd all
our store. All grant from this nought can be
distant more. 40
Though you have sung of friend- ship's power so well. That you in that, as you in wit excel ; Yet my own interest obliges me To praise your practice more than
theory ;
For by that kindness you your friend
did show The honour I obtain'd of knowing
You. In pictures none hereafter will
delight, You draw more to the life in black
and white ; The pencil to your pen must yield the
place, This draws the soul, where that draws,
but the face. 50
Of blest retirement such great
Truths you write, That 'tis my wish as much as your
delight; Our gratitude to praise it does think
Since all you writ are but effects of it. You English Corneil[le]'s Pompey
with such flame. That you both raise our wonder and
his fame ; If he could read it, he like us would
call The copy greater than th' original ; You cannot mend what is already
done, Unless you'll finish what you have
begun : 60
Who your Translation sees, cannot but
say. That 'tis Orinda's work, and but his
play. The French to learn our language
now will seek, To hear their greatest Wit more nobly J
speak ; '
Rome too would grant, were our tongue
to her known, Caesar speaks better in 't than in his
own. And all those wreaths once circl'd
Pompey's brow, Exalt his fame, less than your verses
now. From these clear truths all must
acknowledge this. If there be Helicon, in Wales it is. 70 Oh happy Country which to our Prince
gives His Title, and in which Orinda lives !
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Commendatojy Poejns
The Earl of Roscommon to Orinda : an imitation of Horace
Integer vitae, &c.
Cartn. lib. i. od. 22.
Virtue (dear Friend) needs no
defence, No arms, but its own innocence ; Quivers and bows, and poison'd darts, Are only us'd by guilty hearts.
II
An honest mind, safely, alone May travel through the burning Zone, Or through the deepest Scythian snows, Or where the fam'd Hydaspes flows.
Ill
While (rul'd by a resistless fire) Our great Orinda I admire. 10
The hungry wolves that see me stray Unarm'd and single, run away.
IV
Set me in the remotest place That ever Neptune did embrace, When there her image fills my breast, Helicon is not half so blest.
Leave me upon some Lybian plain, So she my fancy entertain, And when the thirsty monsters meet, They'll all pay homage at my feet. 20
VI
The magic of Orinda's name, Not only can their fierceness tame, But, if that mighty word I once rehearse, They seem submissively to roar in verse.
Upon Mrs. Philips her Poems
We allow'd you beauty, and we did submit To all the tyrannies of it. Ah cruel Sex! will you dispose us too in Wit? Orinda does in that too reign, Does man behind her in proud triumph
draw. And cancel great Apollo's Salic Law.
We our old Title plead in vain : Man may be head, but Woman 's now the brain. Verse was love's fire-arms heretofore : In beauty's camp it was not known, Too many arms beside that conqueror bore. 1 1
'Twas the great cannon we brought down, T' assault a stubborn town. Orinda first did a bold sally make, Our strongest quarter take, And so successful prov'd that she Turn'd upon Love himself his own artillery.
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II
Women, as if the Body were the whole, Did that, and not the Soul, Transmit to their posterity ; 20
If in it sometimes they conceiv'd, Th' abortive issue never liv'd. 'Twere shame andpity,Orinda, if in thee A spirit so rich, so noble, and so high,
Should unmanur'd or barren lie. But thou industriously hast sow'd and till'd The fair and fruitful field : And 'tis a strange increase that it doth yield. As when the happy Gods above Meet all together at a feast, 30 A secret joy unspeakably does move In their great Mother Cybele's con- tented breast : With no less pleasure thou, methinks,
shouldst see This thy no less immortal progeny. And in their birth thou no one touch dost find, Of th' ancient curse to woman-kind ;
Katherine Philips
Thou bring'st not forth with pain, It neither travel is, nor labour of thy brain. So easily they from thee come, And there is so much room, 4° In the unexhausted and unfathom'd
womb ; That, like the Holland Countess, thou
might'st bear A child for ev'ry day of all the fertile year.
Ill
Thou dost my wonder, wouldst my
envy raise. If to be prais'd I lov'd more than to praise. Where'er I see an excellence, I must admire to see thy well-knit
sense, Thynumbersgentle,andthyfancieshigh, Those as thy forehead smooth, these sparkling as thine eye. 'Tis solid, and 'tis manly all, 50 Or rather, 'tis angelical: For, as in Angels, we Do in thy verses see Both improv'd sexes eminently meet ; They are than Man more strong, and more than Woman sweet.
IV
They talk of nine, I know not who, Female Chimaeras, that o'er Poets
reign ; I ne'er could find that fancy true. But have invok'd them oft I'm sure in
vain. They talk of Sappho, but, alas the
shame ! 60
111 manners soil the lustre of her fame. Orinda's inward virtue is so bright. That, like a lantern's fair enclosed light,
It through the paper shines where she
doth write. Honour and Friendship, and the gen'- rous scorn Of things for which we were not born, (Things that can only, by a fond
disease, Like that of girls, our vicious stomachs
please) Are the instructive subjects of her pen. And as the Roman victory 70
Taught our rude land arts, and civility, At once she overcomes, enslaves, and betters men.
V
But Rome with all her arts could ne'er inspire A female breast with such a fire. The warlike Amazonian train. Which, in Elysium, now do peaceful
reign, And Wit's mild empire before Arms
prefer. Hope 'twill be settled in their sex by
her. Merlin the seer (and sure he would not lie In such a sacred Company) 80
Does Prophecies of learn'd Orinda
show, Which he had darkly spoke so long ago. Even Boadicia's' angry Ghost Forgets her own misfortune and dis- grace. And to her injur'd Daughters now does
boast. That Rome's o'ercome at last by a Woman of her race.
Abraham Cowley.
To the excellent Orinda
Let the male Poets their male Phoebus
choose, Thee I invoke, Orinda, for my
Muse ; He could but force a branch. Daphne
her tree Most freely offers to her sex and thee. And says to verse, so unconstrain'd as
yours,
Her laurel freely comes, your fame
secures : And men no longer shall with ravish'd
bays Crown their forc'd Poems by as forc'd
a praise. Thou glory of our sex, envy of men, Who are both pleas'd and vex'd with
thy bright pen : 10
> Boadicia in orig. and better kept for metre.
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Commendatory Poems
Its lustre doth entice their eyes to
gaze, Ikit men's sore eyes cannot endure its
rays; It dazzles and surprises so with light, To find a noon where they expected
night : A woman translate Pompey ! which the
fam'd Corneille with such art and labour
fram'd ! To whose close version the Wits club
their sense, And a new lay-poetic Smec^ springs
thence ! Yes, that bold work a woman dares
translate, Not to provoke, nor yet to fear men's
hate. 20
Nature doth find that she hath err'd
too long, And now resolves to recompense that
wrong : Phoebus to Cynthia must his beams
resign, The rule of Day, and Wit's now Femi- nine. That sex, which heretofore was not
allow'd To understand more than a beast, or
crowd ; Of which problems were made, whether
or no Women had souls ; but to be damn'd,
if so ; Whose highest contemplation could
not pass, In men's esteem, no higher that the
class ; 30
And all the painful labours of their
brain, Was only how to dress and entertain : Or. if they ventur'd to speak sense,
the wise Made that, and speaking ox like pro- digies. From these the more than masculine
pen hath rear'd Our sex ; first to be prais'd, next to be
fear'd. And by the same pen forc'd, men now
confess. To keep their greatness, was to make
us less. Men know of how refin'd and rich
a mould
Our sex is fram'd, what sun is in our
cold : 40
They know in lead no diamonds are
set. And jewels only fill the cabinet. Our spirits purer far than theirs, they
see ; By which even men from men dis-
tinguish'd be: By which the soul is judg'd, and does
appear Fit or unfit for action, as they are. When in an organ various sounds
do stroke. Or grate the ear, as birds sing, or toads
croak ; The breath, that voices every pipe, 's
the same. But the bad metal doth the sound
defame. 50
So, if our souls by sweeter organs
speak, And theirs with harsh, false notes the
air do break ; The soul's the same, alike in both doth
dwell, 'Tis from her instruments that we
excel. Ask me not then, why jealous men
debar Our sex from books in peace, from
arms in war ; It is because our parts will soon
demand Tribunals for our persons, and com- mand. Shall it be our reproach, that we are
weak, And cannot fight, nor as the school- men speak ? 60 Even men themselves are neither
strong nor wise, If limbs and parts they do not exer- cise, Train'd up to arms, we Amazons
have been. And Spartan virgins strong" as Spartan
men : Breed Women but as Men, and they
are these ; Whilst Sybarit Men are Women by
their ease. Why should not brave Semiramis
break a lance, And why should not soft Ninyas curl
and dance?
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^ Smcdymnuus, Kk
Katherine Philips
Ovid in vain bodies with change did vex, Changing her form of life, Iphis chang'd sex. 70
Nature to females freely doth impart That, which the males usurp, a stout,
bold heart. Thus hunters female beasts fear to assail : And female hawks more metalled than
the male : Men ought not then courage and wit
ingross. Whilst the fox lives, the lion, or the
horse. Much less ought men both to them- selves confine, Whilst Women, such as you, Orinda, shine. That noble friendship brought thee to our Coast, We thank Lucasia, and thy courage boast. 80
Death in each wave could not Orinda
fright. Fearless she acts that friendship she
did write : Which manlyVirtue to their sex confin'd, Thou rescuest to confirm our softer
mind ; For there 's required (to do that virtue
right) Courage, as much in friendship as in
fight. The dangers we despise, doth this truth
prove. Though boldly we not fight, we boldly love. Engage us unto books, Sappho comes forth. Though notof Hesiod's age,of Hesiod's worth. 90
If souls no sexes have, as 'tis confest, 'Tis not the He or She makes Poems
best : Nor can men call these versesfeminine. Be the sense vigorous and masculine. 'Tis true, Apollo sits as judge of Wit, But the nine Female learned troop
are it : Those laws for which Numa did wise
appear, Wiser Egeria whisper'd in his ear. The Gracchi's Mother taught them
eloquence; From her breasts courage flow'd, from her brain sense; 100
And the grave beards, who heard her speak in Rome,
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Blush 'd not to be instructed, but o'er-
come. Your speech, as hers, commands re- spect from all. Your verj' looks, as hers, rhetorical: Something of grandeur in your verse
men see, That they rise up to it as Majesty. The wise and noble Orrery's regard. Was much observ'd, when he your
Poem heard :
All said, a fitter match was never seen,
Had Pompey's Widow been Arsamnes'
Queen. no
Pompey, who greater than himself 's
become,
Now in your Poem, than before in
Rome ; And much more lasting in the poet's pen. Great Princes live, than the proud
towers of men. He thanks false Egypt for its treachery, Since that his ruin is so sung by thee; And so again would perish, if withal, Orinda would but celebrate his fall. Thus pleasingly the bee delights to die, Foreseeing, he in amber tomb shall lie. If that all Egypt, for to purge its crime, Were built into one pyramid o'er him, Pompey would lie less stately in that hearse, 1 2 3
Than he doth now, Orinda, in thy verse : This makes Cornel ia for her Pompey vow, Her hand shall plant his laurel on thy
brow : So equal in their merits were both found , That the same Wreath Poets and
Princes Crown'd : And what on that great captain's brow
was dead,
She joys to see re-flourish'd on thy
head. 130
In the French rock Cornelia first did
shine.
But shin'd not like herself till she
was thine : Poems, like gems, translated from the
place Where they first grew, receive another
grace. Dress'd by thy hand, and polish'd by
thy pen, She glitters now a star, but jewel then : No flaw remains, no cloud, all now is
light. Transparent as the day, bright parts iTiore bright.
Commendatory Poe?ns
Cornelia, now made English, so doth
thrive, As trees transplanted do much lustier
live. 140
Thus ore digg'd forth and by such
hands as thine Refin'd and stamp'd, is richer than the
mine. Liquors from vessel into vessel pour'd, Must lose some spirits, which are
scarce restor'd : But the French wines, in their own
vessel rare, Pour'd into ours, by thy hand, spirits
are ; So high in taste, and so delicious, Before his own Cornelia thine would
choose. He finds himself enlightened here,
where shade Of dark expression his own words had
made : 150
There what he would have said, he
sees so writ. As generously, to just decorum fit. When in more words than his you
please to flow, Like a spread flood, enriching all
below, To the advantage of his well-meant
sense, He gains by you another excellence. To render wordforword.atthe oldrate. Is only but to construe, not translate : In your own fancy free, to his sense true. We read Cornelia, and Orindatoo : 160 And yet ye both are so the very same, As when two tapers join'd make one
bright flame. And sure the copier's honour is not
small. When artists doubt which is original. But if your fetter'd Muse thus praised
be,
What great things do you write when
it is free ? When it is free to choose both sense
and words. Or any subject the vast World affords ? A gliding sea of crystal doth best
show How smooth, clear, full, and rich your
verse doth flow : 170
Your words are chosen, cull'd, not by
chance writ. To make the sense, as anagrams do hit. Your rich becoming words on the sense
wait, As Maids of Honour on a Queen of
State. 'Tis not white satin ^ makes a verse
more white. Or soft ; Iron is both, write you on it. Your Poems come forth cast, no file
you need. At one brave heat both shap'd and
polished. But why all these encomiums of you, Who eitl>er doubts, or will not take as
due? 180
Renown how little you regard, or need, Who like the bee, on your own sweets
do feed ? There are, who like weak fowl with
shouts fall down, Doz'd with an army's acclamation : Not able to endure applause, they
fall, Giddy with praise, their praises' funeral. But you, Orinda, are so unconcern'd. As if when you, another we commend ^. Thus, as the Sun, you, in your course,
shine on, Unmov'd with all our admiration. 190 Flying above the praise you shun,
we see Wit is still higher by humility.
Philo-Philippa.
To the memory of the excellent Orinda
Forgive, bright Saint, a vot'ry, who
No missive Orders has to show. Nor does a call to inspiration owe :
Yet rudely dares intrude among
' It was not unusual to print on Avhite satin.
- In this rhyme * Philo-Philippa ' has out-Barretted Mrs. Browning 150 years before hand. Even a careful student of all ages of English poetry might be puzzled to find a worse.
( 499 ) K k 2
This sacred, and inspired throng; Where looking round me, ev'ry one I see. Is a sworn Priest of Phoebus, or of thee,
Pepys mentions instances.
Katherine Philips
Forgive this forward zeal for things
divine,
If I strange fire do offer at thy shrine :
Since the pure incense, and the gum
We send up to the Povv'rs above, 1 1
(If with devotion giv'n, and love)
Smells sweet, and does alike accepted
prove, As if from golden censers it did come ;
Though we the pious tribute pay In some rude vessel made of common clay.
II What by Pindarics can be done,
Since the great Pindar's greater ' Son (By ev'ry Grace adorn'd, and ev'ry
Muse inspir'd) From th' ungrateful W^orld, to kinder Heaven 's retir'd : 20
He, and Orinda from us gone. What Name, like theirs, shall we now call upon ? Whether her Virtue, or her Wit We choose for our eternal theme, What hand can draw the perfect scheme ? None but herself could such high subjects fit : We yield, with shame we yield To Death and Her the field : For were not Nature partial to us men, The World's great order had inverted been ; 30
Had she such souls plac'd in all women- kind, Giv'n 'em like wit, not with like good- ness join'd,
Our vassal sex to hers had homage
paid ; Women had rul'd the World, and
weaker Man obey'd.
Ill
To thee O Fame, we now commit Her, and these last remains of gen'rous wit ; I charge thee, deeply to enroll This glorious Name in thy immortal scroll ; Write ev'ry letter in large text. And then to make the lustre hold, 40 Let it be done with purest gold. To dazzle this age, and outshine the next : Since not a name more bright than
Hers, In this, or thy large book appears. And thou impartial, powerful Grave, These Reliques (like her deathless Poems) save Ev'n from devouring Time secure. May they still rest from other mixture
pure : Unless some dying Monarch shall to
try Whether Orinda, though herself could die, 50
Can still give others immortality ; Think, if but laid in her miraculous
Tomb, As from the Prophet's touch, new life from hers may come.
James Tyrrell.
To the memory of the incomparable Orinda
A Pindaric Ode
A LONG Adieu to all that 's bright. Noble, or brave, in Womankind, To all the wonders of their wit. And trophies of their mind ; The glowing heat of th' holy fire is gone. To th' altar, whence 'twas kindled, flown ; There's nought on Earth, but ashes left behind ; E'er since th' amazing sound was spread
Orinda 's Dead,
' Mr. A. Cowley. ( roo )
10
Every soft and fragrant word, All that language could afford.
Every high and lofty thing That's wont to set the soul on wing. No longer with this worthless World would stay : Thus when the death of the great
PAN was told, Along the shore the dismal tidings roll'd, The lesser Gods their fanes for- sook; Confounded with the mighty stroke,
i^Ori^. note al side.)
Comme7idato?y Poems
They could not over-live that fatal day, But sigh'd, and groan'd their gasping Oracles away, 20
II How rigid are the laws of Fate, And how severe that black de- cree? No sublunar)' things is free, But all must enter th' adamantine gate : Sooner, or later shall we come To Nature's dark retiring-room ;
And yet 'tis pity, is it not ? The learned as the fool should die. One full as low as t'other lie : Together blended in the general lot ; 50 Distinguish'd only from the common
crowd, By an hing'd cofifn, or an Holland
shroud, Though Fame and Honour speak them ne'er so loud ; Alas Orinda, even thou ! Whose happy verse made others live, And certain immortality could give ; Blasted are all thy blooming glories
now: The Laurel withers o'er thy brow : Methinks it should disturb thee to conceive That when poor I this artless breath resign, 40
My dust should have as much of Poetry as thine.
Ill Too soon welanguish with desire Of what we never could enough admire ; On th' billows of this world some- times we rise So dangerously high. We are to Heaven too nigh ; When (all in rage Grown hoary with one minute's age,)
The very self-same fickle wave,
Which the entrancing prospect gave,
Swoll'n to a mountain, sinks into a
grave. 5 1
Too happy mortals if the Pow'rs above
As merciful would be, And easy to preserve the thing we love, As in the giving they are free ! But they too oft delude our weary'd Eyes, They fix a flaming sword 'twixt us and Paradise ;
( 50' )
A weeping evening crowns a smiling
day, Yet why should heads of gold have
feet of clay ? Why should the man that wav'd th' almighty wand, 60
That led the murmuring crowd, By pillar and by cloud, Shivering atop of aery Pisgah stand, Only to see, but never, never tread the Promis'd Land ?
IV Throw your swords and gauntlets by, You daring sons of war. You cannot purchase e'er you die One honourable scar. Since that fair hand that gilded all
your bays. That in heroic numbers wrote your praise, 70
While you securely slept in honour's
bed. Itself, alas ! is withered, cold, and dead; Cold and dead are all those
charms. Which burnish'd your victorious
arms : Inglorious arms hereafter must Blush first inblood,andtheninrust: No oil, but that of Her smooth words will serve Weapon, and warrior to preserve. Expect no more from this dull age, But folly, or poetic rage, 80
Short-liv'd nothings of the stage, Vented to-day, and cried to-morrow
down. With Her the soul of poesy is gone : Gone, while our expectations flew As high a pitch as She has done, Exhal'dto Heaven like early dew. Betimes the little shining drops are
flown. Ere th' drowsy World perceived that Manna was come down.
V
You of the sex that would be fair, Exceeding lovely, hither come 90 Would you be pure as Angels are, Come dress you by Orinda's tomb, And leave your flatt'ring glass at home ; Within this marble mirror see How one day such as She You must, and yet alas ! can never be.
Kath
ert7te
Philips
Think on the heights of that vast soul, And then admire, and then con- dole. Think on the wonders of Her pen, 'Twas that made Pompey truly Great, loo
Neither th' expense of blood nor sweat
Nor yet Cornelia's kindness made him live agen. With envy think, when to the
grave you go, How very little must be said of you. Since all that can be said of virtuous Woman was her due.
Thomas Flatman, M.A.
On the Death of Mrs. Katherine PhiHps
Cruel Disease! Ah, could it not suffice Thy old and constant spite to exercise Against the gentlest and the fairest
sex, Which still thy depredations most do
vex? Where still thy malice most of all (Thy malice or thy lust) does on the
fairest fall ; And in them most assault the fairest
place. The throne of Empress Beauty, even
the face ? There was enough of that here to
assuage (One would have thought) either thy
lust or rage
lO
Was 't not enough, when thou, profane
Disease, Didst on this glorious temple seize ? Was 't not enough, like a wild zealot
there. All the rich outward ornaments to tear; Deface the innocent pride of beauteous
images ? Was 't not enough thus rudely to
defile, But thou must quite destroy the goodly
pile ? And thy unbounded sacrilege commit On th' inward Holiest Holy of her
Wit? Cruel Disease ! there thou mistook'st
thy power ; 20
No mine of Death can that devour ; On her embalmed name it will abide
An everlasting Pyramid, As high as Heaven the top, as Earth
the basis wide. II All ages past, record ; all countries
now
(503 )
In various kinds such equal beauties
show.
That even Judge Paris would not
know
On whom the Golden Apple to bestow.
Though Goddesses to his sentence did
submit, Women and lovers would appeal from it; 30
Nor durst he say, of all the female race This is the sovereign face. And some (though these be of a kind
that 's rare, That's much, oh much less frequent
than the fair) So equally renown'd for virtue are. That it the Mother of the Gods might
pose, When the best Woman for her guide she chose : But if Apollo should design A Woman-Laureat to make, Without dispute he would Orinda take. Though Sappho and the famous Nine 41
Stood by, and did repine. To be a princess or a Queen Is great, but 'tis a greatness always
seen ; The World did never but two women
know Who, one by fraud, the other by wit
did rise To the two tops of Spiritual dignities ; One female Pope of old, one female Poet now.
Ill Of female Poets who had names of old. Nothing is shown, but only told, 50 And all we hear of them, perhaps may be Male flattery only, and male Poetry ;
Commendatory Poems
Few minutes did their beauties' light- ning wast, The thunder of their voice did longer
last, But that too soon was past. The certain proofs of our Orinda's
Wit In her own lasting characters are writ, And they will long my praise of them
survive, Though long perhaps too that may
live. The trade of glory manag'd by the pen Though great it be, and everywhere
is found, 6 1
Does bring in but small profit to us
men ; 'Tis by the number of the sharers
drown'd, Orinda in the female coasts of fame Engrosses all the goods of a poetic
name, She does no partner with her see ; Does all the business there alone
which we Are forc'd to carry on by a whole
company.
IV
But Wit 's like a luxuriant vine, Unless to Virtue's prop it join, 70 Firm and erect towards Heaven bound,
with beauteous leaves and pleasant fruit be crown'd) It lies deform'd, and rotting on the ground. Now shame and blushes on us all Who our own sex superior call ; Orinda does our boasting sex out-do. Not in wit only, but in virtue too : She does above our best examples
rise. In hate of vice and scorn of vanities. Never did spirit of the manly make, 80
Though it
And dipp'd all o'er in learning's sacred
lake, A temper more invulnerable take ; No violent passion could an entrance
find Into the tender goodness of her mind : Through walls of stone those furious
bullets may Force their impetuous way ; When her soft breast they hit, damped
and dead they lay.
V
The fame of Friendship, which so
long had told Of three or four illustrious Names of
old, Till hoarse and weary of the tale she
grew, 90
Rejoices now to have got a new, A new, and more surprising story Of fair Lucasia and Orinda's glory. As when a prudent man does once per- ceive That in some foreign country he must
live. The language and the manners he
does strive To understand and practise here, That he may come no stranger there ; So well Orinda did herself prepare. In this much different clime for her
remove, 100
To the glad world of Poetry and Love ; There all the bless'd do but one body
grow. And are made one too with their
glorious Head, W' horn there triumphantly they wed, After the secret contract pass'd below ; Their Love into Identity does go, 'Tis the first unity's Monarchic Throne, The Centre ^ that knits all, where the
great Three 's but One.
Abraham Cowley.
' In orig. This destroys the value of ' center' found elsewhere. And so constantly.
(503)
Katherine Philips
The Table
Poem Page
1 Upon the double Murther of
King Charles I, in Answer to a Libellous Copy of Rymes ^ made by Vavasor Powell . 507
2 On the numerous Access of
the English to wait upon the King in Flanders . . . 507
3 Arion on a Dolphin, To his
Majesty at his passage into England .... 508
4 On the Fair Weather just at the
Coronation, it having rained immediately before and after . 509
5 To the Queen's Majesty on her
Arrival at Portsmouth, May 14, 1662 .... 509
6 TotheOueen-Mother'sMajesty,
Jan. l7 166J . . . .510
7 Upon the Princess Royal her
Return into England . • 5^1
8 On the Death of the Illustrious
Duke of Gloucester . . 512
9 To her Royal Highness the
Duchess of York, on her com- manding me to send her some things that I had written -513
10 On the Death of the Queen of
Bohemia .... 514
11 On the 3rd of September, 165 1 515
12 To the Noble Palaemon,onhis
incomparable Discourse of Friendship . . . • S^S
13 To the Right Honourable Alice
Countess of Carbery, at her coming into Wales . .516
14 To Sir Edward Dering (the
Noble Silvander) on his Dream and Navy, personat- ing Orinda's preferring Ros- ania before Solomon's Traffic to Ophir . . . .517
15 To Mr. Henry Lawes . .518
16 A Sea-Voyage from Tenby to
Bristol, begun Sept. 5. 1652, sent from Bristol to Lucasia, Sept. 8, 1652 . . . -519
17 Friendship's Mystery, To my
dearest Lucasia . . . 520
18 Content, Tomydearest Lucasia 521
19 A Dialogue of Absence 'twixt
Poem Page
Lucasia and Orinda. Set by Mr. Hen. Lawes . . . 522
20 To my dear Sister Mrs. C. P. on
her Marriage .... 522
21 To Mr. Henry Vaughan, Silu-
rist, on his Poems . . 523
22 A retir'd Friendship. To
Ardelia 524
23 To Mrs. Mary Carne, when
Philaster courted her . . 524
24 To Mr. J. B. the noble Cra-
tander, upon a Composition of his which he was not willing to own publicly . . -525
25 To the Excellent Mrs. Anne
Owen, upon her receiving the Name of Lucasia, and Adop- tion into our Society, Decem- ber 28, 165 1 . . . . 526
26 To the truly Noble Mrs. Anne
Owen, on my first Approaches 526
27 Lucasia 527
28 Wiston Vault . . . .528
29 Friendship in Emblem, or the
Seal. To my dearest Lucasia 529
30 In Memory of F. P. who died
at Acton on the 24 of May, 1 660,
at Twelve and an Half of Age 530
31 In Memory of that excellent
person Mrs. Mary Lloyd of Bodidrist in Denbigh-shire, who died Nov. 13, 1656, after she came thither from Pem- broke-shire .... 531
32 To the truly competent Judge
of Honour, Lucasia, upon a scandalous Libel made by J. J. 533 '^'^ To Antenor, on a Paper of mine which J. J. threatens to publish to prejudice him . 535
34 Rosania shadowed whilst Mrs.
Mary Awbrey . . . 535
35 To the Queen of Inconstancy,
Regina Collier, in Antwerp . 537
36 To my Excellent Lucasia, on
our P>iendship . . . 537 2,7 Rosania's private Marriage . 538
38 Injuria Amicitiae . . . 538
39 To Regina Collier, on her
cruelty to Philaster . . 539
' I keep this in order to show how little authority, even of its own, the earlier ' rimes' lias.
( 504 )
The Table
Poem Page
40 To Philaster, on his Melan-
choly for Regina . . . 540
41 Philoclea's parting .
42 To Rosania, now Mrs. Mon
tague, being with her
43 To my Lucasia
44 On Controversies in Religion
45 To the Honoured Lady E. C.
46 Parting with Lucasia, A Song
47 Against Pleasure. Set by Dr
Coleman
48 A Prayer
49 To Mrs. M. A. upon Absence
50 To Mrs. Mary Awbrey .
51 In Memory of Mr. Cartwright
52 Mr. Francis Finch, the Excel
lent Palaemon
53 To Mrs. M. A. at parting
54 To my dearest Antenor, on his
Partmg .
55 Engraven on Mr.John Collier's
Tomb-stone at Bedlington
56 On the little Regina Collier, on
the same Tomb-stone
57 Friendship
58 The Enquiry .
59 To my Lucasia, in defence of
declared Friendship
60 A Reverie ^
61 A Country-life
62 To Mrs. Wogan, my Honoured
Friend, on the Death of her Husband ....
63 In memory of the most justly
Honoured, JNIrs. Owen of Orielton
64 A Friend . • . . .
65 L' Accord du Bien. .
66 Invitation to the Country
67 In Memory of Mrs. E. H.
68 On Rosania's Apostasy, and
Lucasia's P^riendship
69 To my Lady Eliz. Boyle, sing- ing, Now affairs, <S:c.
Submission ....
2 Cor. v. 19. God was in Christ reconciling the World to Him- self
72 The World .
73 The Soul .
74 Happiness
75 Death
76 To the Queen's Majesty, on
her late Sickness and Re-
70 71
540
540
541 542
543 546
546
547 548 548 549
549 550
551
552
552 552 553
554 556 55S
559
559 561
563 564
565 566
567 567
569 569
571 573 574
covery
(505)
• 574 ' Orig. '
Poem Page
Tl Ode upon [Mr. Abraham
Cowley's] Retirement . . 575
78 The Irish Greyhound . . 577
79 Song to the tune of Soinmes
tious pas trop heicreux . . 577
80 A Dialogue betwixt Lucasia
and Rosania, imitating that of gentle Thyrsis . . 577 8r Song to the tune of Adieu,
Phillis 578
82 An Epitaph on my honoured
Mother[-in-law,]Mrs.Philips of Portheynon in Cardigan- shire, who died Jan. i, l66§ 578
83 Lucasia, Rosania, and Orinda
parting at a Fountain July, 1663 579
84 A Farewell to Rosania . . 579
85 To my Lady Anne Boyle, say-
ing I looked angrily upon her 579
86 On the Welsh Language . 580
87 To the Countess of Thanet,
upon her Marriage . .581
88 Epitaph on her Son H. P. at
St. Syth's Church, where her body also lies interred . .582
89 On the Death of my Lord Rich,
only son to the Earl of Warwick, who died of the small-pox, 1664 . . . 582
90 The Virgin .... 583
91 Upon the Graving of her
Name upon a Tree in Barn- Elms Walks . . .583
92 To my dearest friend Mrs. A.
Owen, upon her greatest loss 584
93 Orinda to Lucasia parting,
October, 1661, at London . 585
94 On the first of January, 1657. 587
95 To my Lady M. Cavendish,
choosingthenameofPolicrite 587
96 Against Love . . . 587
97 A Dialogue of Friendship mul-
tiplied 58S
98 Rosania to Lucasia on her
Letters . . . .588
99 To my Antenor, March 16,
166^ 589
100 A Triton to Lucasia going to
Sea 589
loi Orinda upon little Hector
Philips 590
102 To the Lady E. Boyle . . 591
103 Tomy Lord Duke of Ormond,
upon the late Plot . . 591 resvery.'
Kath
ert7ie
Philips
Poem
104 To the
Page Countess of Roscom- mon, with a Copy of Pompey 592
105 On the Death of the truly
honourable Sir Walter Floyd \sic\ S Kt 592
106 Orinda to Lucasia . . 593
107 To Celimena .... 594
108 An Answer to another per-
suading a Lady to Marriage 594
109 Lucasia and Orinda parting
with Pastora and Phillis at Ipswich .... 594 no Epitaph on my truly hon- oured Publius Scipio . . 595
111 To Mr. Sam. Cooper, having
taken Lucasia's Picture given December 14, 1660 . . 596
112 Parting with a Friend . . 596
113 To my dearest Friend, upon
her shunning Grandeur . 597
Poem Page
114 To Pastora being with her
Friend
115 To my Lord and Lady Dun-
gannon on their Marriage,
May II, 1662 To his Grace Gilbert, Lord
Archbishop of Canterbury,
July 10, 1664 La Solitude de St. Amant,
in French and English^ Tendres desers \sic\ out of
French Prose Amanti ch' in pianti, &c. A Pastoral of Mons. de
Scudery's in the first volume
of 'Almahide,' Englished . Translation of Thomas a
Kempis into verse, out of
Mons. Corneille . . . 609
116
117
118
119 120
121
598
599
600
601
604 604
604
' This, which in text is ' Lloyd,' possibly indicates the double pronunciation. "^ See note in text.
IMPRIMATUR
Aug. 20, 1667.
Roger L'Estrange.
(506)
POEMS
Upon the double Murther of King- Charles I, in Answer to a Libellous Copy of Rimes by Vavasor PowelP
I THINK not on the State, nor am
concern'd Which way soever the great hehn is
turn'd : But as that son whose Father 's
danger nigh Did force his native dumbness,
and untie The fetter'd organs ; so this is a cause That will excuse the breach of
Nature's laws, Silence were now a sin, nay passion
now Wise men themselves for merit
would allow. ^Vhat noble eye could see (and
careless pass) The dying Lion kick'd by every ass ? Has Charles so broke God's Laws,
he must not have 1 1
A quiet Crown, nor yet a quiet grave? Tombs have been sanctuaries ;
Thieves lie there Secure from all their penalty and
fear. Great Charles his double misery was
this, Unfaithful friends, ignoble enemies. Had any heathen been this Prince's
foe, He would have wept to see him
injur'd so, His title was his crime, they'd reason
good To quarrel at the right they had
withstood. 20
He broke God's Laws, and therefore
he must die ;
^ A bitter Welsh Nonconformist, and a Restoration, after which he had rather less
( 507 )
And what shall then become of thee
and I ? Slander must follow Treason ; but
yet stay. Take not our reason with our King
away. Though you have seiz'd upon all
our defence, Yet do not sequester our common
sense. Christ will be King, but I ne'er
understood His subjects built His Kingdom up
with blood, Except their own; or that He would
dispense With His commands, though for His
own defence. 30
Oh ! to what height of horror are
they come Who dare pull down a crown, tear
up a tomb ?
On the numerous Access of the English to wait upon the King in Flanders
Hasten, Great Prince, unto thy
British Isles, Or all thy subjects will become
exiles. To thee they flock, thy Presence is
their home. As Pompey's camp, where e'er it
mov'd, was Rome. They that asserted thy Just Cause
go hence To testify their joy and reverence ; And those that did not, now, by
wonder taught. Go to confess and expiate their
fault.
great harrier of the Church before the than due reward (i6i7-'2o).
Kath
lerine
Philip^
So that if thou dost stay, thy gasping
land Itself will empty on the Belgic
sand : lo
Where the affrighted Dutchman does
profess He thinks it an invasion, not address. As we unmonarch'd were for want
of thee, So till thou come we shall unpeopled
be. None but the close fanatic will
remain, Who by our loyalty his ends will
gain ; And he th' exhausted land will
quickly find As desolate a place as he design'd. For England (though grown old with
woes) will see Her long deny'd and sovereign
remedv. 20
So when old Jacob could but credit
give That his prodigious Joseph still did
live, (Joseph that was preserved to restore I'heir lives that would have taken
his before) It is enough (said he), to Egypt I ^Vill go, and see him once before
I die.
Arion 011 a Dolphin, To his Majesty at his passage into E norland
Whom does this stately navy bring? O ! 'tis Great Britain's glorious
King. Convey him then, ye Winds and
Seas, Swift as Desire and calm as Peace. In your respect let him survey What all his other subjects pay ; And prophesy to them again 'rhes[)lendi(l smoothness ofhisreign. Charles and his mighty hopes you
bear : A greater now than Caesar 's here ; 10
( 5'^« )
Whose veins a richer purple boast Than ever hero's yet engrost ; Sprung from a Father so august, He triumphs in his very dust. In him two miracles we view, His virtue and his safety too : For when compell'd by traitors'
crimes To breathe and bow in foreign
climes, Expos'd to all the rigid fate That does on wither'd greatness wait. Plots against life and conscience
laid, 21
By foes pursu'd, by friends betray'd ; Then Heaven, his secret potent
friend, Did him from drugs and stabs
defend ; And, what 's more yet, kept him
upright 'Midst flattering hope and bloody
fight. Cromwell his own Rightnevergain'd, Defender of the Faith remain'd, For which his predecessors fought And writ, but none so dearly bought. Never was Prince so much besieged, At home provok'd, abroad obliged ; Nor ever man resisted thus, 33
No not great Athanasius. No help of friends could, or foes'
spite. To fierce invasion him invite. Revenge to him no pleasure is. He spar'd their blood who gap'd
for his ; Blush'd any hands the English
Crown Should fasten on him but their own. As Peace and Freedom with him
went, 41
With him they came from banish- ment. That he might his dominions win, He with himself did first begin ; And, that best victory obtained, His kingdom quickly he regain'd. Th' illustrioussuffringsofthis Prince Did all reduce, and all convince.
A
rtofi on a
Dolphi.
in
He only liv'd with such success, That the whole world would fight
with less. 50
Assistant Kinsjs could but subdue Those Foes which he can pardon
too. He thinks no Slaughter-trophies
good, Nor laurels dipt in subjects' blood ; But with a sweet resistless art Disarms the hand, and wins the
heart ; And like a God doth rescue those Who did themselves and him
oppose. Go, wondrous Prince, adorn that
Throne Which birth and merit make your
own;
60
And in your mercy brighter shine Than in the glories of your line ; Find love at home, and abroad fear, And veneration everywhere. Th' united world will you allow Their Chief, to whom the English
bow ; And Monarchs shall to yours resort, As Sheba's Queen to Judah's Court ; Returning thence constrained more To wonder, envy, and adore. 70
Discovered Rome will hate your
crown, But she shall tremble at your frown. For England shall (rul'd and restor'd
by You) The suppliant world protect, or else
subdue.
On the Fair Weather just at the Coronation, it havino; rained immediately before and after
So clear a season, and so snatch'd
from storms, Shows Heav'n delights to see what
man performs. Well knew the Sun, if such a day
were dim,
(509 )
It would have been an injury to him :
For then a cloud had from his eye conceal'd
The noblest sight that ever he beheld.
He therefore check'd th' invading rains we fear'd.
And in a bright Parenthesis ap- pear'd.
So that we knew not which look'd most content.
The King, the people, or the firma- ment. 10
But the solemnity once fully past.
The storm return'd with an impetu- ous haste
And Heav'n and Earth each other to out-do,
Vied both in cannons and in fire- works too.
So Israel past through the divided flood,
While in obedient heaps the Ocean stood :
But the same sea (the Hebrews once on shore)
Return'd in torrents where it was before.
To the Queen's Majesty on her Arrival at Portsmouth, May 14, 1662
Now that the Seas and Winds so
kind are grown, For our advantage to resign their
own ; Nowyouhave quitted the triumphant
fleet. And suffered English ground to kiss
your feet. Whilst your glad subjects with
impatience throng To see a blessing they have begg'd
so long ; W^hiist Nature (who in compliment
to you Kept back till now her wealth and
beauty too)
Kath
erine
Phi lip ii
Hath, to attend the lustre your eyes
bring, Sent forth her lov'd Ambassador the
Spring; lo
Whilst in your praise Fame's echo
doth conspire With the soft touches of the sacred
Lyre; Let an obscurer Muse upon her
knees Present you with such offerings as
these. And you as a Divinity adore. That so your mercy may appear the
more ; Who, though of those you should
the best receive, Can such imperfect ones as these
forgive. Hail, Royal Beauty, Virgin bright
and great. Who do our hopes secure, our joys
complete. 20
We cannot reckon what to you we
owe. Who make him happy who makes
us be so. But Heav'n for us the desp'rate debt
hath paid, Who such a Monarch hath your
Trophy made. A Prince whose Virtue did alone
subdue Armies of men, and of offences too. So good, that from him all our
blessings flow, Yet is a greater than he can bestow. So great, that he dispenses life and
death. And Europe's fate depends upon his
breath. 30
(For Fortune in amends now courts
him more Than ever she affronted him before : As lovers that of jealousy repent Grow troublesome in kind acknow- ledgement.)
Who greater courage show'd in
wooing you, Than other Princes in their battles
do. Never was Spainsogenerously defied ; Where they design'd a prey, he
courts a bride. Hence they may guess what will his
anger prove, When heappear'dso brave in making
love ; 40
And be more wise than to provoke
his arms. Who can submit to nothing but your
charms. And till they give him leisure to
subdue. His enemies must owe their peace
to you. Whilst he and you mixing illustrious
rays. As much above our wishes as our
praise. Such heroes shall produce, as even
they Without regret or blushes shall obey.
To the Queen-Mother's Majesty, Jan. i, i66y
You justly may forsake a land which
you Have found so guilty and so fatal too. Fortune, injurious to your innocence, Shot all her poison'd arrows here,
or hence. 'Tvvas here bold rebels once your
life pursu'd (To whom 'twas Treason only to be
rude,) Till you were forc'd by their
unwearied spite (O glorious Criminal !) to take your
flight. Whence after you all that was
humane ^ fled ;
^ The old confusion (or rather not yet division) of 'human 'and 'humane' is not always to be got over by distributing the spelling. Something of both senses is wanted here.
(510)
To the Queen-Mother s Majesty
For here, oh ! here the Royal
Martyr bled, lo
Whose cause and heart must be
divine and high, That having you could be content
to die, Here they purloin'd what we to you
did owe, And paid you in variety of woe. Yet all those billows in your breast
did meet A heart so firm, so loyal, and so
sweet. That over them you greater conquest
made Than your immortal Father ever
had. For we may read in story of some
few That fought like him, none that endur'd like you : 20
Till Sorrow blush'd to act what
Traitors meant. And Providence itself did first
repent. But as our active, so our passive,
ill Hath made your share to be the
sufferer's still. As from our mischiefs all your
troubles grew, 'Tis your sad right to suffer for them
too. Else our great Charles had not been
hence so long, Nor the illustrious Glou'ster died so
young : Nor had we lost a Princess all
confest To be the greatest, wisest, and the best ; 30
Who leaving colder parts, but less
unkind, (For it was here she set, and there
she shin'd,) Did to a most ungrateful climate
come To make a visit, and to find a tomb. So that we should as much your smile despair,
(5-)
As of your stay in this unpurged air; But that your mercy doth exceed
our crimes As much as your example former
times, And will forgive our off'rings, though
the flame Does tremble still betwixt regret
and shame. 40
For we have justly suffered more
than you By the sad guilt of all your sufferings
too. As you the great Idea have been seen Of either fortune, and in both a
Queen, Live still triumphant by the noblest
wars, And justify your reconciled stars. See your offenders for your mercy
bow, And your tried virtue all mankind
allow ; While you to such a race have given
birth, As are contended for by Heaven
and Earth. ^o
Upon the Princess Royal her Return into Eno-land
o
Welcome, sure pledge of reconciled
Powers ; If Kingdoms have Good Angels, you
are ours : For th' 111 ones, check'd by your
bright influence, Could never strike till you were
hurried hence. But then, as streams withstood more
rapid grow. War and confusion soon did over- flow : Such and so many sorrows did
succeed. As it would be a new one now to
read. But whilst your lustre was to us
denied.
Katherine Philips
You scatter'd blessings everywhere
beside. i°
Nature and Fortune have so curious
been, To give you worth, and scene to
show it in. But we do most admire that gen'rous
care Which did your glorious Brother's
sufferings share ; So that he thought them in your
presence none, And yet your suff'rings did increase
his own. i
O wond'rous prodigy ! O race divine ! Who owe more to your actions than
your line. |
Your lives exalt your father's death- less name, The blush of England, and the
boast of Fame. 20
Pardon, Great Madam, this unfit
address, Which does profane the glory 'twould
confess. Our crimes have banish'd us from
you, and we Were more remov'd by them than
by the Sea. Nor is it known whether we wrong'd
you more When we rebell'd, or now we do
adore. But what Guilt found, Devotion
cannot miss ; And you who pardon'd that, will
pardon this. Your blest Return tells us our storms
are ceas'd, Our faults forgiven, and our stars
appeas'd, ?,o
Your mercy, which no malice could
destroy, Shall first bestow, and then in- struct, our joy. For bounteous Heav'n hath, in
your Highness sent Our great example, bliss and orna- ment.
(5.0
On the Death of the Illus- trious Duke of Glouces- ter
Great Glou'ster's dead! and yet in
this we must Confess that angry Heaven is wise
and just. We have so long and yet so ill en-
dur'd The woes which our offences had
procur'd, That this new stroke would all our
strength destroy, Had we not known an interval of
Joy.
And yet perhaps this stroke had
been excus'd, If we this interval had not abus'd. But our ingratitude and discontent, Deserv'd to know our mercies were but lent : 10
And those complaints Heaven in
this rigid fate Does first chastise, and then legiti- mate. By this it our divisions does reprove. And makes us join in grief, if not in
love : For (Glorious Youth !) all parties do
agree. As in admiring, so lamenting Thee ; The Sovereign's, subject's, foreigner's
delight ; Thou wert the Universal Favourite. Not Rome's Belov'd, and brave
Marcel) us, fell So much a darling or a miracle. 20 Though built of richest blood and
finest earth, Thou hadst a heart more noble than
thy birth ; Which by th' afflictive Changes thou
didst know, Thou hadst but too much cause and
time to show. P^or when Fate did thy infancy
expose To the most barbarous and stupid Foes ;
0;/ the Death of the Duke of Gloucester
Yet thou didst then so much express
the Prince, As did even them amaze, if not con- vince. Nay, that loose tyrant whom no bound
confin'd, Whom neither laws, nor oaths, nor
shame could bind, 30
Although his soul was than his look
more grim. Yet thy brave innocence half soft'n'd
him ; And he that worth wherein thy soul
was drest. By his ill-favour'd clemency confest; Lessening the ill which he could not
repent. He call'd that travel which was
banishment. Escap'd from him, thy trials were
increas'd ; The scene was chang'd, but not the
danger ceas'd : Thou from rough guardians to sedu- cers gone. Those made thy temper, these thy
judgement known ; 40
Whilst thou the noblest champion
wert for truth, Whether we view thy courage or thy
youth. If to foil Nature and Ambition claims Greater reward than to encounter
flames, All that shall know the story must
allow A martyr's crown prepared for thy
brow; But yet thou wert suspended from
thy throne, Till thy Great Brother had regain'd
his own : Who though the bravest suff'rer,
yet even He Could not at once have mist his
crown and thee. 50
But as commission'd angels make no
stay, But having done their errand go
their way : |
(513) Ll
So thy part done, not thy restored
state. The future splendour which did for
thee wait. Nor that thy Prince and country
must mourn for Sucha support, andsuchacounsellor. Could longer keep thee from that
bliss, whence thou Look'st down with pity on Earth's
Monarchs now ? Where thy capacious soul may
quench her thirst. And younger brothers may inherit
first. 60
While on our King Heav'n does
this care express. To make his comforts safe he makes
them less. For this successful heathens use[d?]
to say, It is too much, (great Gods) send
some allay.
To Her Royal Highness the Duchess of York, on her commanding me to send her some things that I had wfitten
To you whose dignity strikes us with awe,
And whose far greater judgement gives us law,
(Your mind b'ing more transcendent than your state,
For while but knees to this, hearts bow to that)
These humble papers never durst come near,
Had not your pow'rful word bid them appear ;
In which such majesty, such sweet- ness dwells,
As in one act obliges, and compels.
None can dispute commands vouch- saf'd by you :
What shall my fears then and con- fusion do? 10
Kath
67^1716
Phi lip i^
They must resign, and by their just pretence
Some value set on my obedience.
For in religious duties, 'tis confest,
The most implicit are accepted best.
If on that score your Highness will excuse
This blushing tribute of an artless Muse,
She may (encourag'd by your least regard.
Which first can worth create, and then reward)
At modest distance with improved strains
That Mercy celebrate which now she gains. 20
But should you that severer justice use,
Which these too prompt approaches may produce.
As the swift hind which hath es- caped long,
Believes a vulgar shot would be a wrong ;
But wounded by a Prince falls with- out shame,
And what in life she loses, gains in fame :
So if a ray from you chance to be sent.
Which to consume, and not to warm, is meant ;
My trembling Muse at least more nobly dies.
And falls by that a truer sacri- fice. 30
On the Death of the Queen of Bohemia
Although the most do with offi- cious heat
Only adore the living and the great ;
Yet this Queen's merits Fame so far hath spread.
That she rules still, though dispcssest and dead.
( .=iM )
For losing one, two other Crowns
remain'd ; Over all hearts and her own griefs
she reign'd. Two Thrones so splendid, as to
none are less But to that third which she does
now possess. Her heart and birth Fortune so well
did know. That seeking her own fame in such
a foe, 10
She drest the spacious theatre for
the fight : And the admiring World call'd to
the sight : An army then of mighty sorrows
brought, Who all against this single virtue
fought ; And sometimes stratagems, and
sometimes blows To her heroic soul they did oppose: But at her feet their vain attempts
did fall. And she discovered and subdu'd
them all. Till Fortune weary of her malice
grew, Became her captive and her trophy
too : 20
And by too late a tribute begg'd t'
have been Admitted subject to so brave a
Queen. But as some hero who a field hath
won, Viewing the things he had so greatly
done, When by his spirit's flight he finds
that he With hisownlifemustbuy his victory, He makes the slaughter'd heap that
next him lies His funeral pile, and then in triumph
dies : So fell this Royal Dame, with con- quering spent. And left in every breast her monu- ment ; 30
On the Death of the Qtceen of Bohemia
Wherein so high an Epitaph is writ,
As I must never dare to copy it.
But that bright Angel which did on her wait,
In fifty years' contention with her fate,
And in that office did with wonder see
How great her troubles, how much greater she —
How she maintain'd her best prero- gative,
In keeping still the power to forgive :
How high she did in her devotion go,
And how her condescension stoop'd as low ; 40
With how much glory she had ever been
A Daughter, Sister, Mother, Wife, and Queen — -
Will sure employ some deathless Muse to tell
Our children this instructive miracle.
Who may her sad illustrious life re- cite,
And after all her wrongs may do her right.
On the 3rd of September, 1651
As when the glorious magazine of
light Approaches to his canopy of night, He with new splendour clothes his
dying rays, And double brightness to his beams
conveys ; And (as to brave and check his
ending fate) Puts on his highest looks in's lowest
state, Drest in such terror as to make us all Be Anti- Persians, and adore his fall; Then quits the World depriving it
of day. While every herb and plant does
droop away : 10
So when ourgasping English Royalty Perceiv'd her period was now drawing
nigh,
(515) Ll
She summons her whole strength to
give one blow. To raise herself, or pull down others
too. Big with revenge and hope she now
spake more Of terror than in many months be- fore ; And musters her attendants, or to
save Her from, or else attend her to, the
grave : Yet but enjoy'd the miserable fate Of setting Majesty, to die in state. Unhappy Kings, who cannot keep a
throne, 21
Nor be so fortunate to fall alone ! Their weight sinks others : Pompey
could not fly. But half the World must bear him
company; And captiv'd Samson could not life
conclude. Unless attended with a multitude. Who'd trust to greatness now, whose
food is air. Whose ruin sudden, and whose end
despair ? Who would presume upon his
Glorious Birth, Or quarrel for a spacious share of
Earth, 30
That sees such Diadems become so
cheap. And Heroes tumble in a common
heap? Oh give me Virtue then, which sums
up all. And firmly stands when Crowns and
Sceptres fall.
To the Noble Palaemon, on his incomparable Dis- course of Friendship
We had been still undone^ wrapt in
disguise. Secure, not happy ; cunning, and
not wise ;
Kath
ertne
Philip
s
War had been our design, interest
our trade ; We had not dwelt in safety, but in
shade, Hadst thou not hung our light more
welcome far Than wand'ring sea-men think the
Northern Star ; To show, lest we our happiness
should miss, 'Tis plac'd in Friendship, men's and
angels' Bliss. Friendship, which had a scorn or
mask been made, And still had been derided or be-
tray'd; lo
At which the great physician still had
laugh'd, The soldier stormed \ and the gallant
scoffd ; Or worn not as a passion, but a plot. At first pretended, and at last forgot ; Hadst thou not been her great deli- verer, At first discover'd, and then rescu'd
her, And raising what rude malice had
flung down, Unveil'd her face, and then restor'd
her crown ; By so august an action to con- vince, 'Tis greater to support than be a
Prince. 20
Oh for a voice which loud as thunder
were. That all mankind thy conqu'ring
truths might hear ! Sure the litigious as amaz'd would
stand, As Fairy Knights touch'd with
Cambina's Wand, Drawn by thy softer, and yet stronger
charms, Nations and armies would lay down
their arms : And what more Honour can on thee
be hurl'd,
Than to protect a virtue, save a
World ? But while great friendship thou hast
copied out, Thou'st drawn thyself so well, that
we may doubt 30
Which most appears, thy candour or
thy art. Whether we owe more to thy brain
or heart. But this we know without thy own
consent, Thou'st rais'd thyself a glorious
monument : Temples and statues Time will eat
away. And tombs (like their Inhabitants)
decay ; But there Palaemon lives, and so
he must. When marbles crumble to forgot- ten dust.
To the Right Honourable AHce Countess of Carbery, at her coming into Wales
As when the first day dawn'd, Man's
greedy eye Was apt to dwell on the bright pro- digy, Till he might careless of his organ
grow, And let his wonder prove his danger
too : So when our country (which was
deem'd to be Close-mourner in its own obscurity, And in neglected Chaos so long lay) Was rescu'd by your beams into a
day. Like men into a sudden lustre
brought. We justly fear'd to gaze more than
we ought. 10
* The print in full of 'stormed' doubtless indicates its dis^'llabic value. (5.6)
To Alice^ Coimtess of Cai^hery
II
From hence it is you lose most of
your right, Since none can pay 't, nor durst do 't
if they might. Perfection's misery 'tis that Art and
Wit, While they would honour, do but
injure it. But as the Deity slights our expense. And loves Devotion more than
Eloquence : So 'tis our confidence you are divine, Makes us at distance thus approach
your Shrine. And thus secur'd, to you who need
no art, I that speak least my wit may speak
my heart. 20
in Then much above all zealous injury. Receive this tribute of our shades
from me, While your great splendours, like
eternal spring, To these sad groves such a refresh- ment bring. That the despised country may be
grown, And justly too, the envy of the town. That so when all mankind at length
have lost The Virtuous Grandeur which they
once did boast. Of you like pilgrims they may here
obtain Worth to recruit the dying world
again. 30
To Sir Edward Dering (the Noble Silvander) on his Dream and Navy, person- ating Orinda's preferring Rosania before Solomon's Traffic to Ophir
Then am I happier than is the King; My merchatidise does no such danger bring :
(517)
The fleet I traffic with fears no such
harms, Sails in my sight, and anchors iti my arms. Each new and unperceived grace Discovered in that mind a?idface, Each motion, smile and look from
thee. Brings pearls and Ophir- Gold to me.
Thus far Sir Edw. Dering.
Sir, To be noble, when 'twas voted
dowuj To dare be good, though a whole
age should frown ; To live within, and from that even
state See all the under-world stoop to its
fate ; To give the Law of Honour, and
dispense All that is handsome, great and
worthy thence ; Are things at once your practice and
your end, And which I dare admire, but not
commend. But since t' oblige the world is your
delight. You must descend within our reach
and sight : 10
For so Divinity must take dis- guise. Lest mortals perish with the bright
surprise, And thus your Muse (which can
enough reward All actions she vouchsafes but to
regard, And Honours gives, than Kings more
permanent. Above the reach of Acts of Parlia- ment) May suffer an acknowledgement
from me, For having thence receiv'd Eternity. My thoughts with such advantage
you express, I hardly know them in this charming
dress. ao
Katherine Philips
And had I more unkindness from
my friend Than my demerits e'er could appre- hend, Were the fleet courted with this gale
of wind, I might be sure a rich return to find. So when the Shepherd of his Nymph
complain'd, Apollo in his shape his mistress
gain'd : She might have scorn'd the swain,
and found excuse ; But could not his great OratorTefuse. But for Rosania's Interest I should
fear It would be hard t' obtain your
pardon here. 3°
But your first goodness will, I know,
allow That what was bounty then, is mercy
now. Forgiveness is the noblest charity. And nothing can worthy your favour
be. For you (God-like) are so much your
own fate, That what you will accept you must
create.
To Mr. Henry Lawes
Nature, which is the vast creation's
soul. That steady curious agent in the
whole, The art of Heaven, the order of this
frame. Is only Number in another name. For as some King conqu'ring what
was his own, Hath choice of several Titles to his
Crown ; So harmony on this score now, that
then. Yet still is all that takes and governs
Men. Beauty is but composure, and we find Content is but the concord of the
mind, lo
(518)
Friendship the unison of well-tun'd
hearts. Honour the Chorus of the noblest
parts. And all the world on which we can
reflect Music to th' ear, or to the intellect. If then each man 0. Little World
must be. How many Worlds are copied out in
thee. Who art so richly formed, so com- plete, T' epitomize all that is good and
great; Whose stars this brave advantage did
impart, Thy nature's as harmonious as thy art? 20
Thou dost above the Poets, praises
live, Who fetch from thee th' eternity they
give. And as true Reason triumphs over
sense, Yet is subjected to intelligence : So Poets on the lower World look
down, But Lawes on them ; his Height is
all his own, For, like Divinity itself, his lyre Rewards the wit it did at first inspire And thus by double right Poets allow His and their laurel should adorn his brow. 30
Live then, Great Soul of Nature, to
assuage The savage dullness of this sullen
Age. Charm us to Sense ; for though ex- perience fail, And Reason too, thy numbers may
prevail Then, like those ancients, strike, and
so command All Nature to obey thy gen'rous
hand. None will resist but such who needs
will be Morestupid thanastonc,afish,a tree.
To M7\ Henry Lawes
Be it thy care our age to new-create:
What built a World may sure repair
a state. 40
A Sea- Voyage from Tenby to Bristol, begun Sept. 5, 1652, sent from Bristol to Lucasia, Sept. 8, 1652
HoiSE ^ up the sail, cry'd they who
understand No word that carries kindness for
the land : Such sons of clamour, that I wonder
not ■ They love the sea, whom sure some
storm begot. Had he who doubted Motion these
men seen, Or heard their tongues, he had con- vinced been. For had our Barque mov'd half as
fast as they, We had not need cast Anchor by the
way. One of the rest pretending to more
wit, Some small Italian spoke, but mur-
ther'd it ; 10
For I (thanks to Saburra's Letters)
knew How to distinguish 'twixt the false
and true. But t' oppose these as mad a thing
would be As 'tis to contradict a Presbyt'ry. 'Tis Spanish though, (quoth I) e'en
what you please : For him that spoke it 't might be
Bread and Cheese. So softly moves the barque which
none controls. As are the meetings of agreeing souls: And the moon-beams did on the
water play, As if at midnight 'twould create a
day.
20
The amorous wave that shar'd in
such dispense Exprest at once delight and rever- ence. Such trepidation we in lovers spy Under th' oppression of a mistress'
eye. But then the wind so high did rise
and roar, Some vow'd they'd never trust the
traitor more. Behold the fate that all our glories
sweep, Writ in the dangerous wonders of
the deep : And yet behold man's easy folly more. How soon we curse what erst we did
adore. 30
Sure he that first himself did thus
convey, Had some strong passion that he
would obey. The barque wrought hard, but found
it was in vain To make its party good against the
main, Toss'd and retreated, till at last we
see She must be fast if e'er she should
be free. We gravely anchor cast, and pa- tiently Lie prisoners to the weather's cruelty. We had nor wind nor tide, nor aught
but grief, Till a kind spring-tide was our first
relief. 40
Then we float merrily, forgetting quite The sad confinement of the stormy
night. Ere we had lost these thoughts, we
ran aground, And then how vain to be secure we
found. Now they were all surpris'd. Well, if
we must, Yet none shall say that dust is gone
to dust.
1 ' Hoist ' as obligatory, is quite modern.
( 519 )
Kath
ert7te
Philipi^
But we are off now, and the civil
tide Assisted us the tempests to out-ride. But what most pleased my mind
upon the way, Was the ships' posture that in har- bour lay : 50 Which to a rocky grove so close were
fix'd, That the trees' branches with the
tackling mix'd. One would have thought it was, as
then it stood, A growing navy, or a floating wood. But I have done at last, and do
confess My voyage taught me so much
tediousness. In short, the Heav'ns must needs
propitious be, Because Lucasia was concern'd in
me.
Friendship's Mystery, To my dearest Lucasia
I Come, my Lucasia, since we see That miracles men's faith do move, By wonder and by prodigy
To the dull angry world let's
prove There 's a religion in our Love, II For though we were design'd t' agree.
That Fate no liberty destroys, But our Election is as free
As Angels', who with greedy
choice Are yet determin'd to their joys. 10
III Our hearts are doubled by the loss. Here mixture is addition grown ; We both diffuse, and both ingross : And we whose minds are so much
one. Never, yet ever are alone.
( 520 )
IV
We court our own captivity
Than thrones more great and innocent : 'Twere banishment to be set free, Since we wear fetters whose intent Not bondage is but ornament. 20 v Divided joys are tedious found.
And griefs united easier grow : We are ourselves but by rebound. And all our titles shuffled so. Both Princes, and both subjects too.
VI
Our hearts are mutual victims laid, While they (such power in Friend- ship lies) Are Altars, Priests, and Off'rings made : And each heart which thus kindly
dies. Grows deathless by the sacrifice.30
Content, To my dearest Lucasia
I
Content, the false World's best
disguise. The search and faction of the wise, Is so abstruse and hid in night. That, like that Fairy Red-cross Knight, Who treacherous Falsehood for clear
Truth had got. Men think they have it when they have it not.
II For Courts Content would gladly
own, But she ne'er dwelt about a
throne :
And to be flatter'd, rich, and great,
Are things which do men's senses
cheat. 10
But grave Experience long since this
did see, Ambition and Content would ne'er agree.
Conte72t^ To my dearest Lucasia
III
Some vainer would Content ex- pect
From what their bright outsides reflect :
But sure Content is more divine
Than to be digg'd from rock or mine : And they that know her beauties will
confess, She needs no lustre from a glittering dress.
IV
In Mirth some place her, but she
scorns Th' assistance of such crackling
thorns, 20 '
Nor owes herself to such thin i
sport, !
That is so sharp and yet so
short : And painters tell us they the same
strokes place, To make a laughing and a weeping
face.
Others there are that place Con- tent In liberty from Government : But whomsoe'er Passions deprave. Though free from shackles, he's a slave. Content and Bondage differ only
then. When we are chain'd by vices, not by men. 30
VI
Some think the camp Content
does know, And that she sits o' th' victor's
brow : But in his laurel there is seen Often a cypress-brow ^ between. Nor will Content herself in that
place give, Where Noise and Tumult and
Destruction live.
VII
But yet the most discreet believe, The Schools this jewel do receive, And thus far's true without dispute. Knowledge is still the sweetest fruit. 40
But whilst men seek for Truth they
lose their peace ; And who heaps knowledge, sorrow doth increase.
VIII
But now some sullen Hermit
smiles. And thinks he all the world be- guiles, And that his cell and dish contain What all mankind wish for in vain. But yet his pleasure 's follow'd with
a groan. For man was never bcjn to be alone.
IX
Content herself best comprehends Betwixt two souls, and they two friends, 5°
Whose either joys in both are fix'd, And multiplied by being mix'd : Whose minds and interests are so
the same ; Their griefs, when once imparted, lose that name.
X
These far remov'd from all bold
noise,
And (what is worse) all hollow joys,
Who never had a mean design.
Whose flame is serious and divine,
And calm, and even^ must contented
be, 59
For they've both Union and Society.
XI
Then, my Lucasia, we who have Whatever Love can give or crave ; Who can with pitying scorn survey The trifles which the most betray ; With innocence and perfect friend- ship fir'd, By Virtue join'd, and by our choice retir'd.
^ bough?
(521)
Kath
eri7te
Philips
xri
Whose mirrors are the crystal
brooks, Or else each other's hearts and
looks ; Who cannot wish for other things Than privacy and friendship
brings : 70
Whose thoughts and persons chang'd
and mixt are one, Enjoy Content, or else the World
hath -none.
A Dialogrue of Absence 'twixt Lucasia and Orinda. Set by Mr. Hen. Lawes
Luc. Say, my Orinda, why so sad ? Orin. Absence from thee doth tear
my heart ; Which, since with thine it union had. Each parting splits. Luc. And can we part ? Orin. Our bodies must. Liic. But never we : Our souls, without the help of Sense, By ways more noble and more free Can meet, and hold intelligence. Orin. And yet those Souls, when first they met, Lookt out at windows through the eyes. 10
Luc. But soon did such acquaint- ance get. Nor Fate nor Time can them surprise. Orin. Absence will rob us of that bliss To which this friendship title brings ; Love's fruits and joys aremadeby this Useless as crowns to captiv'd Kings. Luc. Friendship 's a Science, and we know There Contemplation's mostcm- ploy'd. Orin. Religion 's so, but practic too. And both by niceties destroy'd. 20 ( 522 )
Luc. But who ne'er parts can never meet. And so that happiness were lost. Orin. Thus Pain and Death are sadly sweet. Since Health and Heav'n such price must cost.
Chorus.
But we shall come where no rude
hand shall sever. And there we'll meet and part no
more for ever.
To my dear Sister Mrs. C. P. on her Marriagre
We will not like those men our
offerings pay Who crown the cup, then think
they crown the day. We make no garlands, nor an altar
build. Which help not Joy, but Ostentation
yield. Where mirth is justly grounded,
these wild toys Are but a troublesome, and empty
noise.
II But these shall be my great Solem- nities, Orinda's wishes for Cassandra's
bliss. May her Content be as unmix'd
and pure As my Affection, and like that
endure ; 10
And that strong happiness may she
still find Not owing to her fortune, but her
mind.
Ill May her Content and Duty be the
same, And may she know no grief but in
the name.
To 7ny dear Sister^ Mrs. C. P.
May his and her pleasure and love
be so Involv'd and growing, that we may
not know Who most affection or most peace
engrost ; Whose love is strongest, or whose
bliss is most.
IV
May nothing accidental e'er appear, But what shall with new bonds
their souls endear ; 20
And may they count the hours as
they pass, By their own joys, and not by sun
or glass : While every day like this may
sacred prove To Friendship, Gratitude, and
strictest Love.
To Mr. Henry Vaughan, Silurist, on his Poems
Had I ador'd the multitude, and thence
Got an antipathy to Wit and Sense,
And hugg'd that fate in hope the World would grant
'Twas good affection to be igno- rant;
Yet the least ray of thy bright fancy seen,
I had converted, or excuseless been ;
For each birth of thy Muse to after- times
Shall expiate for all this Age's crimes.
First shines thy Amoret, twice crown'd by thee,
Once by thy love, next by thy poetry : 10
Where thou the best of unions dost dispense,
Truth cloth'd in Wit, and Love in Innocence.
So that the muddiest lovers may learn here.
No Fountains can be sweet that are not clear.
(533)
There Juvenal reviv'd by thee
declares How flat Man's joys are, and how
mean his cares ; And generously upbraids the World
that they Should such a value for their ruin
pay. But when thy sacred Muse diverts
her quill, The landskip to design of Leon's
Hill; 20
As nothing else was worthy her or
thee, So we admire almost t' idolatry. What savage breast would not be
rap'd to find Such jewels in such cabinets en-
shrin'd ? Thou (fill'd with joys too great to
see or count) Descend'st from thence like Moses
from the Mount, And with a candid, yet unquestion'd
awe, Restor'st the Golden Age when
Verse was Law. Instructing us thou so secur'st thy
fame. That nothing can disturb it but my
name ; 30
Nay, I have hopes that standing
so near thine 'Twill lose its dross, and by degrees
refine. Live till the disabused World con- sent, All truths of use, or strength, or
ornament, Are with such harmony by thee
display'd. As the whole World was first by
Number made ; And from the charming rigour
thy Muse brings, Learn, there 's no pleasure but in
serious things.
Katherine Philips
A retir'd Friendship. To Ardelia
Come, my Ardelia, to this Bower, Where kindly mingling souls awhile,
Let 's innocently spend an hour, And at all serious follies smile.
II
Here is no quarrelling for crowns, Nor fear of changes in our fate ;
No trembling at the Great One's frowns, Nor any slavery of state.
Ill
Here's no disguise nor treachery. Nor any deep conceal'd design ; From blood and plots this place is free, 1 1
And calm as are those looks of thine,
IV
Here let us sit and bless our stars, Who did such happy quiet give.
As that remov'd from noise of w^rs, In one another's hearts we live,
Why should we entertain a fear ?
Love cares not how the World is
turn'd :
If crowds of dangers should appear,
Yet Friendship can be uncon-
cern'd. 20
VI
We wear about us such a charm. No horror can be our offence ;
For mischiefs self can do no harm To Friendship or to Innocence.
VII
Let 's mark how soon Apollo's beams Command the flocks to quit their meat. And not entreat the neighbouring streams To quench their thirst, but cool their heat.
(5m)
VIII
In such a scorching age as this, Who would not ever seek a shade,
Deserve their happiness to miss, 31 As having their own peace betray'd.
IX
But we (of one another's mind Assur'd) the boisterous World disdain ;
With quiet souls and unconfin'd Enjoy what Princes wish in vain.
To Mrs. Mary Carne, when Philaster courted her
As some great Conqueror who
knows no bounds. But hunting Honour in a thousand
wounds. Pursues his rage, and thinks that
triumph cheap That's butattended with the common
heap, Till his more happy fortune doth
afford Some Royal captive that deserv'd
his sword, And only now is of his laurel proud, Thinking his dang'rous valour well
bestow'd ; But then retreats, and spending
hate no more, Thinks Mercy now what Courage
was before : 10
As cowardice in fight, so equally He doth abhor a bloody victory: So, madam, though your Beauty
were allow'd To be severe unto the yielding
crowd. That were subdu'd ere you an Object
knew Worthy your conquest and your
mercy too ; Yet now 'tis gain'd, your victory 's
complete. Only your clemency should be as
great.
To Mrs. Mary Came
None will dispute the power of
your eyes, That understands Philaster is their
prize. 20
Hope not your glory can have new
access, For all your future trophies will
grow less : And with that homage be you
satisfi'd From him that conquers all the
world beside. Nor let your rigour now the triumph
blot. And lose the honour which your
beauty got. Be just and kind unto your peace
and fame, In being so to him, for they're the
same : And live and die at once, if you
would be Nobly transmitted to posterity. 30 Take heed lest in the story they
peruse A murther which no language can
excuse : But wisely spare the trouble of one
frown ; Give him his happiness, and know
your own. Thus shall you be as Honour's self
esteem'd. Who have one sex oblig'd, your own
redeem'd. Thus the religion due unto your
shrine Shall be as universal, as divine : And that Devotion shall this bless- ing gain, Which Law and Reason do attempt
in vain, 40
The world shall join, maintaining
but one strife, Who shall most thank you for
Philaster's hfe.
To Mr. J. B. the noble Cratander, upon a Com- position of his which he was not willinof to own pubHcly
As when some injur'd Prince assumes
disguise. And strives to make his carriage
sympathize. Yet hath a great becoming mien and
air, Which speaks hirri Royal spite of
all his care : So th' issues of thy soul can ne'er
be hid. And the Sun's force may be as soon
forbid As thine obscur'd ; there is ho
shade so great Through which it will not dart forth
light and heat. Thus we discover thee by thy own
day, Against thy will snatching the cloud
away. 10
Now the piece shines, and though
we will not say, Parents can souls, as taper ^ lights,
convey ; Yet we must grant thy soul trans- mitted here In beams almost as lasting and as
clear. And that's our highest praise, for
but thy mind. Thy works could never a resem- blance find. That mind whosesearchcan Nature's
secret hand At one great stroke discover and
command, Which cleareth times and things,
before whose eyes Nor men nor notions dare put on
disguise.
20
(525)
Tapers ?
Kath
ertiie
Philip ii
And were all authors now as much
forgot As prosperous Ignorance herself
would plot, Had we the rich supplies of thy own
breast, The knowing World would never
miss the rest. Men did before from Ignorance
take their fame. But Learning's self is honour'd by
thy name. Thou studiest not belief to intro- duce Of novelties, more fit for show than
use; But think'st it nobler charity t'
uphold The credit and the beauty of the old : And with one hand canst easily
support 31
Learning and Law, a Temple and
a Court. And this secures me : for as we
below Valleys from hills, houses from
churches know, But to their fight who stand extremely
high, These forms will have one flat
equality : So from a lower soul I well might
fear A critic censure when survey'd too
near ; But not from him who plac'd above
the best. Lives in a height which levels all the rest. 40
To the Excellent Mrs. Anne Owen, upon her receiving the Name of Lucasia, and Adoption into our Society, December 28, 1651
We are complete, and Fate hath
now No greater blessing to bestow : (526)
Nay, the dull World must now
confess. We have all worth, all happiness. Annals of State are trifles to our
fame, Now 'tis made sacred by Lucasia's name.
But as though through a burning- glass
The Sun more vigorous doth pass,
Yet still with general freedom shines ;
For that contracts, but not con- fines : 10 So though by this her beams are
fixed here. Yet she diff'uses Glory everywhere.
Her mind is so entirely bright, The splendour would but wound
our sight, And must to some disguise submit. Or we could never worship it. And we by this relation are allow'd Lustre enough to be Lucasia's cloud.
Nations will own us now to be A Temple of Divinity ; 20
And pilgrims shall ten ages hence Approach our tombs with reverence. May then that time which did such
bliss convey. Be kept by us perpetual Holy-day.
To the truly Noble Mrs. Anne Owen, on my first Approaches
Madam, As in a triumph conquerors admit Their meanest captives to attend on
it, Who, though unworthy, have the
power confest. And justifi'd the yielding of the rest : So when the busy World (in hope t'
excuse Their own surprise) your Conquests
do peruse,
To the truly Noble Mf^s. Aitiie Owe7i
And find my name, they will be apt
to say, Your charms were blinded, or else
thrown away. There is no honour got in gaining me. Who am a prize not worth your
victory. lo
But this will clear you, that 'tis
general. The worst applaud what is admir'd
by all. But I have plots in 't : for the way
to be Secure of fame to all posterity, Is to obtain the honour I pursue. To tell the World I was subdu'd by
you. And since in you all wonders
common are. Your votaries may in your virtues
share, While you by noble magic worth
impart : She that can conquer, can reclaim a
heart. 20
Of this creation I shall not despair. Since for your own sake it concerns
your care. For 'tis more honour that the world
should know You made a noble Soul, than found
it so.
Lucasia
Not to oblige Lucasia by my voice. To boast my fate, or justify my
choice, Is this design'd ; but pity does
engage My pen to rescue the declining Age. For since 'tis grown in fashion to be
bad, And to be vain or angry, proud or mad, (While in their vices only men agree) Is thought the only modern gallantry; How would some brave examples
check the crimes. And both reproach, and yet reform,
the times ? 10
(5^7)
Nor can Morality itself reclaim Th' apostate World like my Lucasia's
name : Lucasia, whose rich soul had it been
known In that time th' Ancients call'd the
Golden one, When Innocence and Greatness were
the same. And men no battles knew but in a
game. Choosing what Nature, not what Art,
prefers ; Poets were Judges, Kings Philo- sophers 3 Even then from her the wise would
copies draw. And she to th' infant world had
giv'n a law. 20
That souls were made of Number
could not be An observation, but a prophecy. It meant Lucasia, whose harmonious
state The Spheres and Muses only imitate. But as then Music is best under- stood. When every chord 's examin'd and
found good : So what in others Judgement is and
Will, In her is the same even Reason still. And as some colour various seems,
but yet 'Tis but our diff'rence in considering
it : 30
So she now light, and then does
light dispense, But is one shining orb of excellence : And that so piercing when she
judgement takes. She doth not search, but intuition
makes : And her discoveries more easy are Than Caesar's Conquest in his Pontic
War. As bright and vigorous her beams
are pure, And in their own rich candour so
secure,
Katherine Philips
That had she liv'd where legends
were devised, Rome had been just, and she been
canonized. 4°
Nay Innocence herself less clear
must be, If Innocence be anything but she. For virtue's so congenial to her
mind, That liquid things, or friends, are
less combin'd. So that in her that sage his wish had
seen. And virtue's self had personated
been. Now as distilled simples do agreCj And in th' alembic lose variety : So virtue, though in pieces scatter'd
'twas. Is by her mind hiade one rich useful
mass. 50
Nor doth Discretion put Religion
down. Nor hasty Zeal usurp the judgement's
crown. Wisdom and Friendship have one
single throne. And make another friendship of
their own. Each sev'ral piece darts such fierce
pleasing rays, Poetic Lovers would but wrong in
praise. All hath proportion, all hath come- liness, And her Humility alone excess. Her modesty doth wrong a worth
so great, Which Calumny herself would
noblier treat : 60
While true to Friendship and to
Nature's trust, To her own merits only she 's un- just. But as Divinity we best declare By sounds as broken as our notions
are ; So to acknowledge such Vast
eminence, Imperfect wonder is our eloquence. (5^8)
No pen Lucasia's glories can re- late.
But they admire best who dare imitate.
Wiston Vault
And why this vault and tomb?
Alike we must Put off distinction, and put on our
dust. Nor can the stateliest fabric help to
save From the corruptions of a common
grave ; Nor for the Resurrection more
prepare, Than if the dust were scatter'd into
air. What then? Th' ambition's just,
say some, that we May thus perpetuate our memory. Ah false vain task of Art ! ah poor
weak Man ! Whose monument does more than 's
merit can : 10
Who by his friends' best care and
love 's abus'd. And in his very Epitaph accus'd : For did they not suspect his Name
would fall, There would not need an Epitaph
at all. But after death too I would be
alive, And shall, if my Lucasia do, sur- vive. I quit these pomps of death, and am
content, Having her heart to be my monu- ment : Though ne'er stone to me, 'twill
stone for me prove, By the peculiar miracles of Love. 20 There I'll inscription have which no
tomb gives, Not, Here Orinda lies, but. Here
she lives.
Frie7idship ifi Eml?iem^ or the Seal
Friendship in Emblem, or
the Seal. To my dearest
Lucasia
I The Hearts thus intermixed speak A love that no bold shock can
break ; For join'd and growing both in one, None can be disturb'd alone.
II That means a mutual Knowledge
too; For what is 't either heart can do, Which by its panting sentinel It does not to the other tell ?
in That Friendship hearts so much
refines, It nothing but itself designs : lo The hearts are free from lower
ends, For each point to the other tends.
IV
They flame, 'tis true, and several
ways, But still those Flames do so much
raise, That while to either they incline, They yet are noble and divine.
V
From smoke or hurt those flames are free,
From grossness or mortality :
The heart (like Moses' Bush pre- sumed)
Warm'd and enlightened, not consumed. 20
VI
The Compasses that stand above. Express this great immortal Love ; For friends, like them, can prove
this true. They are, and yet they are not, two.
VII
And in their posture is exprest Friendship's exalted interest : Each follows where the other leans. And what each does, this other means.
( 529 ) i^i
VIII
And as when one foot does stand fast, And t' other circles seeks to cast, 30 The steady part does regulate And make the wand'rer's motion
straight
IX
So friends are only two in this, T' reclaim each other when they miss : For whosoe'er will grossly fall. Can never be a friend at all.
X
And as that useful instrument For even lines was ever meant ; So Friendship from good Angels
springs. To teach the world heroic things. 40
XI
As these are found out in design To rule and measure every line ; So Friendship governs actions best, Prescribing unto all the rest.
XII
And as in Nature nothing 's set So just as lines in number met ; So Compasses for these b'ing made. Do friendship's harmony persuade.
XIII
And like to them, so friends may own Extension, not division : 50
Their points, like bodies, separate ; But head, like souls, knows no such fate.
XIV
And as each part so well is knit, That their embraces ever fit : So friends are such by destiny. And no third can the place supply.
XV
There needs no Motto to the Seal: But that we may the mind reveal To the dull eye, it was thought fit That Friendship only should be writ. Co
XVI
But as there are degrees of bliss, So there's no Friendship meant by
this, But such as will transmit to Fame Lucasia and Orinda's Name.
m
Katherine Philips
In Memory of F. P. who died at Acton on the 24 of May, 1660, at Twelve and an Half of Age
If I could ever write a lasting verse, It should be laid, dear Saint, upon
thy hearse. But Sorrow is no Muse, and does
confess, That it least can, what it would most
express. Yet that I may some bounds to
Grief allow, I'll try if I can weep in numbers
now. Ah, beauteous blossom, too untimely
dead ! Whither, ah, whither is thy sweet- ness fled ? Where are the charms that always
did arise From the prevailing language of thy
eyes ? 10
Where is thy beauteous and lovely
mien, And all the wonders that in thee
were seen ? Alas ! in vain, in vain on thee I rave ; There is no pity in the stupid grave. But so the bankrupt sitting on the
brim Of those fierce billows which had
ruin'd him. Begs for his lost estate, and does
complain To the inexorable floods in vain. As well we may enquire when roses
die. To what retirement their sweetodours
fly; 20
Whither their virtues and their
blushes haste, When the short triumph of their life
is past ; Or call their perishing beauties back
with tears. As add one moment to thy finish'd
years.
(530)
No, thou art gone, and thy presaging
mind So thriftily thy early hours de-
sign'd. That hasty Death was baffled in his
pride. Since nothing of thee but thy body
di'd. Thy soul was up betimes, and so
concern'd To grasp all excellence that could
be learn'd, 30
That finding nothing fill her thirsting
here. To the spring-head she went to
quench it there ; And so prepar'd, that being freed
from sin She quickly might become a
Cherubin. Thou wert all Soul, and through
thy eyes it shin'd : Asham'd and angry to be so con-
fin'd, It long'd to be uncag'd, and thither
flown Where it might know as clearly as
'twas known. In these vast hopes we might thy
change have found. But that Heav'n blinds whom it
decrees to wound. 40
For parts so soon at so sublime a
pitch, A judgement so mature, fancy so
rich. Never appear unto unthankful Men, But as a vision to be hid again. So glorious scenes in masques,
spectators view With the short pleasure of an hour
or two ; But that once past, the ornaments
are gone. The lights extinguish'd, and the
curtains drawn. Yet all these gifts were thy less
noble part. Not was thy head so worthy as thy
heart ; 50
In Memory of F. P.
Where the Divine Impression shin'd
so clear, As snatch 'd thee hence, and yet
endear'd thee here : For what in thee did most command
our love, Was both the cause and sign of thy
remove. Such fools are we, so fatally we
choose, That what we most would keep, we
soonest lose. The humble greatness of thy pious
thought. Sweetness unforc'd, and bashfulness
untaught, The native candour of thine open
breast, And all the beams wherein thy
worth was drest, 60
Thy wit so bright, so piercing and
immense, Adorn'd with wise and lovely inno- cence, Might have foretold thou wert not
so complete, But that our joy might be as short
as great. So the poor swain beholds his
ripen'd corn Ey some rough wind without a sickle
torn. Never, ah ! never let sad parents
guess At one remove of future happinfess: But reckon children 'mong those
passing joys, Which one hour gives, and the
next hour destroys. 70
Alas ! we were secure of our con- tent ; But find too late that it was only
lent, To be a mirror wherein we may see How frail we are, how spotless we
should be. But if to thy blest soul my grief
appears, Forgive and pity these injurious
tears :
( 531 ) M m 2
Impute them to Affection's sad
excess, Which will not yield to Nature's
tenderness. Since 'twas through dearest ties and
highest trust Continued from thy cradle to thy
dust ; 80
And so rewarded and confirm'd by
thine, That (woe is me !) I thought thee
too much mine. But I'll resign, and follow thee as
fast As my unhappy minutes will make
haste. Till when the fresh remembrances
of thee Shall be my Emblems of Mortality. For such a loss as this (bright Soul !)
is not Ever to be repaired, or forgot.
In, Memory of that excellent Person Mrs. Mary Lloyd of Bodidrist in Denbigh- shire, who died Nov. 13, 1656, after she came thither from Pembroke-shire.
I CANNOT hold, for though to write
were rude, Yet to be silent were ingratitude, And folly too ; for if posterity Should never hear of such an one as
thee. And only know this age's brutish
fame, They would think Virtue nothing
but a name. And though far abler pens must her
define, Yet her adoption hath engaged
mine : And I must own where merit shines
so clear, 'Tis hard to write, but harder to
forbear. 10
Katheri7te Philips
Sprung from an ancient and an
honour'd stem, Who lent her lustre, and she paid
it them ; Who still in great and noble things
appear'dj Whom all their country lov'd, and
yet they fear'd. Match'd to another good and great
as they, Who did their country both oblige
and sway. Behold herself, who had without
dispute, More than both families could
contribute. What early beauty Grief and Age
had broke, Her lovely rehques and her offspring spoke. 20
She was by Nature and her parents'
care, A woman long before most others are. But yet that antedated season she Improv'd to Virtue, not to Liberty. For she was still in eitherstate of life, Meek as a virgin, prudent as a wife. And she well knew, although so
young and fair, Justly to mix Obedience, Love, and
Care ; Whil'st to her children she did still
appear So wisely kind, so tenderly severe, That they from her rule and example brought 31
A native Honour, which she stampt
and taught. Nor can a single pen enough com- mend So kind a sister and so clear a friend. A wisdom from above did her
secure. Which as 'twas peaceable, was ever
pure. And if well-order'd Commonwealths
must be Patterns for every private family.
Her house, rul'd by her hand and
by her eye,
Might be a pattern for a Monarchy.
Solomon's wisest woman less could
do ; 41
She built her house, but this
preserv'd hers too. She was so pious that when she did die, She scarce chang'd place, I'm sure
not company. Her Zeal was primitive and practice
too ; She did believe, and pray, and read,
and do. A firm and equal soul she had
engrost. Just ev'n to those that disoblig'd
her most. She grew to love those wrongs she
did receive
For giving her the power to forgive.
Her alms I may admire, but not
relate, 5 i
But her own works shall praise her
in the gate. Her life was chequer'd with afflictive
years, And even her comfort season'd in
her tears. Scarce for a husband's loss her
eyes were dried ', And that loss by her children half
supplied, When Heav'n was pleas'd not these
dear props t' afford. But tore most off by sickness or by
sword. She, who in them could still their
father boast,
Was a fresh widow every son she lost.
Litigious hands did her of right
deprive, 6 1
That after all 'twas penance to
survive. She still these griefs had nobly
undergone, Which few support at all, but better none.
» Orig. 'dri'd' and 'suppli'd' which is not quite ncghgible. ( 532 )
/;/ Mei?tory of Mrs. Ma?y Lloyd
Such a submissive greatness who can
find? A tender heart with so resolv'd
a mind ! But she, though sensible, was still
the same, Of a resigned soul, untainted fame ; Nor were her virtues coarsely set,
for she Out-did example in civility. 70
To bestow blessings, to oblige,
relieve. Was all for which she could endure
to live. She had a joy higher in doing good, Than they to whom the benefit
accru'd. Though none of Honour had a
quicker sense, Never had woman more of compla- cence ^ ; Yet lost it not in empty forms, but
still Her Nature noble was, her soul
gentile -. And as in youth she did attract (for
she The verdure had without the vanity), So she in age was mild and grave
to all, 81
Was not morose, but was majestical. Thus from all other women she
had skill To draw their good, but nothing of
their ill. And since she knew the mad
tumultuous World Saw crowns revers'd, temples to
ruin hurl'd ; She in retirement chose to shine and
burn, As a bright lamp shut in some Roman
urn. At last, when spent with sickness,
grief and age. Her Guardian Angel did her death
presage 90
* Note the French accent.
* This seems worth keeping, both as a document of form and because of the horrible degradation of *gen/^e/' in meaning.
( 533 )
(So that by strong impulse she
cheerfully Dispensed blessings, and went home
to die ; That so she might, when to that
place remov'd. Marry his ashes whom she ever
lov'd) : She died, gain'd a reward, and paid
a debt The Sun himself did never brighter
set. Happy were they that knew her and
her end. More happy they that did from her
descend : A double blessing they may hope to
have. One she convey'd to them, and one
she gave. 100
All that are hers are therefore sure
to be Blest by inheritance and legacy. A Royal Birth had less advantage
been. 'Tis more to die a Saint than
live a Queen.
To the truly competent Judge of Honour, Lucasia, upon a scandalous Libel made by J. J.
Honour, which differs man from man much more
Than Reason difier'd him from beasts before.
Suffers this common fate of all things good.
By the blind World to be misunder- stood.
For as some heathens did their Gods confine,
While in a bird or beast they made their shrine ;
Katherine Philips
Depos'd their Deities to earth, and
then Offer'd them rites that were too low
for Men : So those who most to Honour
sacrifice, Prescribe to her a mean and weak
disguise ; lo
Imprison her to others' false applause. And from Opinion do receive their
laws. While that inconstant Idol they
implore, Which in one breath can murther
and adore. From hence it is that those who
Honour court, (And place her in a popular report) l)o prostitute themselves to sordid
Fate, And from their being oft degenerate. And thus their Tenents^ too are
low and bad. As if 'twere honourable to be mad : Or that their Honour had concerned
been 21
But to conceal, not to forbear, a sin. But Honour is more great and more
sublime. Above the battery of Fate or Time. We see in Beauty certain airs are
found, Which not one grace can make,
but all compound. Honour 's to th' mind as Beauty to
the sense. The fair result of mixed excellence. As many diamonds together lie. And dart one lustre to amaze the
eye : 30
So Honour is that bright aetherial
ray Which many stars doth in one light
display. But as that Beauty were as truly
sweet, Were there no tongue to praise, no
eye to see 't ;
And 'tis the privilege of a native
Spark, To shed a constant splendour in the
dark : So Honour is its own reward and
end. And satisfied within, cannot descend To beg the suffrage of a vulgar
tongue. Which by commending Virtue doth
it wrong. ^o
It is the charter of a noble action, That the performance giveth satis- faction. Other things are below 't ; for from
a clown Would any Conqueror receive his
crown ? 'Tis restless cowardice to be a drudge To an uncertain and unworthy
judge. So the Cameleon, who lives on air. Is of all creatures most inclin'd to
fear. But peaceable reflections on the
mind, Will in a silent shade Contentment
find. 50
Honour keeps court at home, and
doth not fear To be Gondemn'd abroad, if quitted
there. While I have this retreat, 'tis not
the noise Of slander, though believ'd, can
wrong my joys. There is advantage in 't : for gold
uncoin'd Had been unuseful, not with glory
shin'd : This stamp'd my innocency in the
ore. Which was as much, but not so
bright, before. Till an Alembic wakes and outward
draws, The strength of sweets lies sleeping
in their cause : 60
•Tenant' or 'tenet'? The latter better.
(534)
'To the truly compete7^t yiidge of Ho7iour
So this gave me an opportunity To feed upon my own Integrity. And though their judgement I must
still disclaim, Who can nor give nor take away
a fame : Yet I'll appeal unto the knowing
few, Who dare be just, and rip my heart
to you.
To Antenor^ on a Paper of mine which J. J. threatens to pubHsh to prejudice him
Must then my crimes become thy
scandal too ? Why, sure the Devil hath not much
to do. The weakness of the other charge
is clear, When such a trifle must bring lip
the rear. But this is mad design, for who
before Lost his repute upon another's score ? My love and life I must confess are
thine. But not my errors, they are only
mine. And if my faults must be for thine
allow'd, It will be hard to dissipate the cloud : For Eve's rebellion did not Adam
blast, II
Until himself forbidden fruit did
taste. 'Tis possible this magazine of Hell (Whose name would turn a verse
into a spellj Whose mischief is congenial to his
life) May yet enjoy an honourable wife. Nor let his ill be reckoned as her
blame, Nor yet my follies blast Antenor's
name.
( 535 )
But if those lines a punishment
could call Lasting and great as this dark
lanthorn's gall ; 20
Alone I'd court the torments with
content. To testify that thou art innocent. So if my ink through malice prov'd
a stain. My blood should justly wash it off
again. But since that mint of slander could
invent To make so dull a rhyme his instru- ment. Let verse revenge the quarrel. But
he 's worse Than wishes, and below a Poet's
curse ; And more than this Wit knows not
how to give. Let him be still himself, and let him
live. 30
Rosania shadowed whilst Mrs. Mary Awbrey
If any could my dear Rosania hate, They only should her Character
relate. Truth shines so bright there, that an
enemy Would be a better orator than I. Love stifles language, and I must
confess, I had said more, if I had loved
less. Yet the most critical who that face
see, Will ne'er suspect a partiality. Others by time and by degrees
persuade, But her first look doth every heart
invade. 10
She hath a face so eminently bright, Would makeaLoverof an Anchorite: A face where conquest mixt with
modesty, Are both completed in Divinity.
Katheri7te Philips
Not her least glance but sets a heart
on fire, And checks it if it should too much
aspire. Such is the magic of her looks, the
same Beam doth both kindle and refine
our flame. If she doth smile, no painter e'er
would take Another rule when he would Mercy
make. 20
And Heav'n to her such splendour
hath allow'd, That no one posture can her beauty
cloud : For if she frown, none but would
fancy then Justice descended here to punish
men. Her common looks I know not how
to call Any one Grace, they are compos'd
of all. And if we mortals could the doctrine
reach. Her eyes have language, and her
looks do teach. And as in palaces the outmost,
worst Rooms entertain our wonder at the
first \ 30
But once within the Presence-
Chamber door, We do despise whate'er we saw
before : So when you with her mind acquaint- ance get, You'll hardly think upon the
cabinet. Her soul, that ray shot from the
Deity, Doth still preserve its native purity ; Which earth can neither threaten
nor allure, Nor by false joys defile it, or ob- scure. The innocence which in her heart
doth dwell, Angels themselves can only parallel.
(536)
More gently soft than is an evening
shower : 41
And in that sweetness there is
coucht a power, Which scorning Pride, doth think it
very hard That modesty should need so mean
a guard. Her Honour is protected by her eyes, As the old Flaming Sword kept
Paradise. Such constancy of Temper, Truth
and Law, Guides all her actions, that the
World may draw From her one soul the noblest
precedent Of the most safe, wise, virtuous
government. 50
And as the highest element is clear From all the tempests which disturb
the air : So she above the World and its rude
noise. Above our storms a quiet calm
enjoys. Transcendent things her noble
thoughts sublime. Above the faults and trifles of the
time. Unlike those gallants which take far
less care To have their souls, than make their
bodies fair ; Who (sick with too much leisure)
time do pass With these two books. Pride, and a
looking-glass : 60
Plot to surprise men's hearts, their
pow'r to try. And call that Love, which is mere
Vanity. But she, although the greatest
INIurthcrer, (For cv'ry glance commits a
Massacre) Yet glories not that slaves her power
confess. But wishes that her monarchy were
less.
Rosania shadowed
And if she love, it is not thrown
away,
As many do, only to spend the day;
But hers is serious, and enough alone
To make all Love become Religion.
And to her friendship she so faith- ful is, 71
That 'tis her only blot and pre- judice :
For Envy's self could never error see
Within that soul, 'bating her love to me.
Now as I must confess the name of friend
To her that all the World doth comprehend.
Is a most wild ambition ; so for me
To draw her picture is flat lunacy.
Oh ! I must think the rest ; for who can write,
Or into words confine what's infinite? So
To the Queen of Inconstancy, Regina Collier, in Antwerp
I
Unworthy, since thou hast decreed Thy Love and honour both shall
bleed. My Friendship could not choose to
die In better time or company.
II
What thou hast got by this exchange Thou wilt perceive, when the re- venge Shall by those treacheries be made, For which our Faith thou hast betray'd.
Ill When thy idolaters shall be True to themselves, and false to thee, 10
Thou'lt see thatin heart-merchandise. Value, not number, makes the price.
( 537 )
IV
Live to that day, my Innocence
Shall be my Friendship's just
defence : For this is all the World can find. While thou wert noble, I was kind.
v The desp'rate game that thou dost
play At private ruins cannot stay ; The horrid treachery of that face Will sure undo its native place. 20
VI
Then let the Frenchmen never fear The victory while thou art there : Forif sins will call judgements down. Thou hast enough to stock the Town.
To my Excellent Lucasia, on our Friendship
I DID not live until this time
Crown'd my felicity, When I could say without a crime,
I am not thine, but Thee.
This carcase breath'd, and walkt, and slept.
So that the World believ'd There was a soul the motions kept ;
But they were all deceiv'd. For as a watch by art is wound
To motion, such was mine : 10 But never had Orinda found
A soul till she found thine ; Which now inspires, cures and supplies.
And guides my darkened breast : For thou art all that I can prize.
My Joy, my Life, my Rest. No bridegroom's nor crown- conqueror's mirth
To mine compar'd can be : They have but pieces of this Earth,
I've all the World in thee. 20
Then let our flames still light and shine.
And no false fear control, As innocent as our design,
Immortal as our soul.
Katherine Philips
s
Rosania's private Marriage
It was a wise and kind design of
Fate, That none should this day's glory
celebrate : For 'twere in vain to keep a time
which is Above the reach of all solemnities. The greatest actions pass without a
noise, And tumults but profane diviner
joys. Silence wit^ things transcendent
nearest suits, The greatest Emperors are serv'd by
mutes. And as in ancient time the Deities To their own priests reveal'd no
mysteries lo
Until they were from all the World
retir'd, And in some cave made fit to be
inspir'd. So when Rosania (who hath them
out-vied. And with more justice might be
deified ; Who if she had their rites and
altars, we Should hardly think it were
idolatry) Had found a breast that did deserve
to be Receptacle of her Divinity; It was not fit the gazing World
should know When she convey'd Tierself to him,
or how. 20
An eagle safely may behold the
Sun, When weak eyes are with too much
light undone. Now as in oracles were understood. Not the priest's only, but the
common good : So her great soul would not imparted
be. But in design of general Charity.
(538)
She now is more diffusive than
before ; And what men then admir'd, they
now adore. For this exchange makes not her
power less, But only fitter for the World's
address. 30
May then that Mind (which, if we
will admit The Universe one Soul, must sure
be it) Inform this All (which, till she
shin'd out, lay As drowsy men do in a cloudy day), And Honour, Virtue, Reason so
dispense. That all may owe them to her
influence : And while this age is thus employ'd,
may she Scatter new blessings for posterity. I dare not any other wish prefer, 39 For only her bestowing adds to her. And to a soul so in herself complete As would be wrong'd by any
epithet. Whose splendour 's fix'd unto her
chosen sphere, And fill'd with love and satisfaction
there, What can increase the triumph, but
to see The World her Convert and her
History ?
Injuria Amicitiae
Lovely Apostate ! what was my
offence ? Or am I punish'd for obedience ? Must thy strange rigour find as
strange a time ? The act and season are an equal
crime. Of what thy most ingenious scorns
could do, Must I be subject and spectator
too?
hijiiria Ajtticitiae
Or were the sufferings and sins too few To be sustain'd by me, perform'd
by you ? Unless (with Nero) your uncurb'd
desire Be to survey the Rome you set on
fire. lo
While wounded for and by your
power, I At once your Martyr and your
Prospect die. This is my doom, and such a
riddling fate As all impossibles doth complicate. For Obligation here is Injury, Constancy Crime, Friendship a
Heresy. And you appear so much on ruin
bent, Your own destruction gives you
now Content : For our twin-spirits did so long
agree, You must undo yourself to ruin me. And, like some frantic Goddess,
you're inclin'd, 21
To raze the temple where you are
enshrin'd. And, what 's the miracle of cruelty. Kill that which gave you immortality. While glorious friendship, whence
your honour springs. Lies gasping in the Crowd of common
things ; And I'm so odious, that for being
kind Doubled and studied murthers are
design'd. Thy sin 's all paradox, for shouldst
thou be Thyself again, th' wouldst be severe
to me. 30
For thy repentance coming now so
late. Would only change, and not relieve
my fate. So dangerous is the consequence
of ill. Thy least of crimes is to be cruel
still.
( 539 )
For of thy smiles I should yet more
complain, If I should live to be betray'd again. Live then (fair Tyrant) in security, From both my kindness and revenge
be free ; While I, who to the swains had
sung thy fame. And taught each echo to repeat thy
name, 40
Will now my private sorrow enter- tain, To rocks and rivers, not to thee,
complain. And though before our union
cherish'd me, 'Tis now my pleasure that we
disagree. For from my passion your last rigour
grew. And you kill'd me because I
worshipp'd you. But my worst vows shall be your
happiness. And not to be disturb'd by my
distress. And though it would my sacred
flames pollute, To make my heart ?. scorned pros- titute ; 50 Yet I'll adore the author of my death, And kiss the hand that robs me of
my breath.
To Regina Collier, on her cruelty to Philaster
Triumphant Queen of scorn ! how
ill doth sit In all that sweetness, such injurious
Wit ! Unjust and Cruel ? what can be
your prize. To make one heart a double
Sacrifice ? Where such ingenious rigour you do
show, To break his heart, you break his
image too ;
Kath
eri7ie
Philips
And by a tyranny that's strange and
new, You murther him because he
worships you. No pride can raise you, or can make
him start, Since Love and Honour do enrich
his heart. lo
Be wise and good^ lest when fate
will be just, She should o'erthrow those glories in
the dust, Rifle your beauties, and you thus
forlorn IMake a cheap victim to another's
scorn ; And in those fetters which you do
upbraid. Yourself a wretched captive may
be made. Redeem the poison'd Age, let it be
seen There's no such freedom as to serve
a Queen. But you I see are lately Round-head
grown,
And whom you vanquish you insult upon. 20
To Philaster, on his Melan- choly for Regina
Give over now thy tears, thou vain And double Murtherer; For every minute of thy pain
^^'ounds both thyself and her. Then leave this dullness ; for 'tis
our belief. Thy Queen must cure, or not deserve, thy grief.
Philoclea's parting
Kinder than a condemned man's
reprieve, Was your dear company that bad
nie live.
( 54^- )
When by Rosania's silence I had
been The wretched'st martyr any age hath
seen. But as when traitors faint upon the
rack, Tormenters strive to call their spirits
back ; Not out of kindness to preserve
their breath. But to increase the torments of their
Death : So was I raised to this glorious
state. To make my fall the more
unfortunate. lo
But this I know, none ever died
before Upon a sadder or a nobler score.
To Rosania, now Mrs. Montague, being with her
I As men that are with visions grac'd. Must have all other thoughts dis-
plac'd. And buy those short descents ofLight With loss of sense : or spirit's flight :
II So since thou wert my happiness, I could not hope the rate was less ; And thus the Vision which I gain Is short t' enjoy, and hard t' attain.
Ill Ah then ! what a poor trifle's all That thing which here we Pleasure
call, 1 ->
Since what our very souls hath cost Is hardly got and quickly lost !
IV
Yet is there justice in the fate ; For should we dwell in blest estate. Our joys thereby would so inflame. We should forget from whence we came.
V
If this so sad a doom can quit Me for the follies I commit ;
To Rosa?iia
Let no estrangement on thy part Add a new ruin to my heart. 20
VI
When on myself I do reflect, I can no smile from thee expect : But if thy kindness hath no plea, Some freedom grant for charity.
VII
Else the just World must needs deny Our Friendship an eternity : This love will ne'er that title hold : For mine 's too hot, and thine too cold.
VIII
Divided rivers lose their name ; And so our too unequal flame 30 Parted, will Passion be in me, And an indifference in thee.
IX
Thy absence I could easier find, Provided thou wert well and kind. Than such a presence as is this, Made up of snatches of my bliss.
X
So when the Earth long gasps for
rain. If she at last some few drops gain, She is more parched than at first ; That small recruit increas'd the
thirst. 40
To my Liicasia
Let dull philosophers enquire no
more In Nature's womb, or causes strive
t' explore. By what strange harmony and course
of things Each body to the whole a tribute
brings; What secret unions secret neigh-
bourings make, And of each other how they do par- take. These are but low experiments :
but he That Nature's harmony entire would
see,
( 541 )
Must search agreeing souls, sit down
and view How sweet the mixture is, how full,
how true ; 10
By what soft touches spirits greet
and kiss, And in each other can complete their
bliss. A wonder so sublime, it will admit No rude spectator to contemplate it. The object will refine, and he that can Friendship revere, must be a noble
man. How much above the common rate
of things Must they then be, from whom this
union springs
t
But what's all this to me, who live
to be Disprover of my own mortality ? 20 And he that knew my unimproved
soul. Would say I meant all friendship to
control. But bodies move in time, and so
must minds ; And though th' attempt no easy
progress finds. Yet quit me not, lest I should des-
p'rate grow. And to such friendship add some
patience now. O may good Heav'n but so much
virtue lend, To make me fit to be Lucasia's
Friend ! But I'll forsake myself, and seek a
new Self in her breast that 's far more
rich and true. .^o
Thus the poor Bee unmark'd doth
hum and fly. And dron'd with age would unre- garded die. Unless some lucky drop of precious
gum, Do bless the insect with an Amber- tomb. Then glorious in its funeral the Bee Gets Eminence, and gets Eternity.
Katheriiie Philips
On Controversies in Religion
Religion, which true poHcy be- friends, Design'd by God to serve Man's
noblest ends, Is by that old Deceiver's subtle play Made the chief party in its own
decay, And meets that eagle's destiny,
whose breast Felt the same shaft which his own
feathers drest. For that great Enemy of souls per-
ceiv'd. The notion of a Deity was weav'd So closely in Man's soul ; to ruin
that, He must at once the World depopu- late. 10 But as those tyrants who their wills
pursue, If they expound old laws, need make
no new : So he advantage takes of Nature's
light. And raises that to a bare useless
height ; Or while we seek for Truth, he in the
quest Mixes a Passion, or an Interest, To make us lose it ; that I know
not how, 'Tis not our practice, but our quarrel
now. As in the Moon's eclipse some Pagans
thought Their barbarous clamours her deliver- ance wrought : 20 So we suppose that truth oppressed
lies. And needs a rescue by our enmities. But 'tis injustice, and the mind's
disease. To think of gaining Truth by losing
Peace. Knowledge and Love, if true, do
still unite ; God's Love and Knowledge are both
infinite.
(54^ )
And though indeed Truth does delight to lie
At some remoteness from a com- mon eye ;
Yet 'tis not in a thunder or a noise,
But in soft whispers and the stiller Voice. 30
Why should we then Knowledge so rudely treat,
Making our weapon what was meant our meat ?
'Tis Ignorance that makes us quarrel so ;
The soul that 's dark will be contracted too.
Chimaeras make a noise, swelling and vain.
And soon resolve to their own smoke again.
But a true light the spirit doth dilate.
And robs it of its proud and sullen state ;
Makes Love admir'd because 'tis understood,
And makes us wise because it makes us good. 40
'Tis to a right prospect of things that we
Owe our Uprightness and our Charity.
For who resists a beam when shin- ing bright.
Is not a sinner of a common height.
That state 's a forfeiture, and helps are spent,
Not more a Sin, than 'tis a punish- ment.
The soul which sees things in their native frame.
Without Opinion's mask or Custom's name.
Cannot be clogg'd to Sense, or count that high
Which hath its estimation from a lie. .so
(Mean, sordid things, which by mis- take we prize.
And absent covet, but enjoy'd despise.)
On Controversies iii Religio7i
But scorning these hath robb'd them
of their art, Either to swell or to subdue the
Heart ; And learn'd that generous frame to
be above The World in hopes, below it all in
love : Touch'd with divine and inward
life doth run. Not resting till it hath its centre won ; Moves steadily until it safe doth lie r th' root of all its immortality ; 60 And resting here hath yet activity To grow more like unto the Deity ; Good, Universal, Wise, and Just
as he, (The same in kind, though diff'ring
in degree) Till at the last 'tis swallowed up and
grown With God and with the whole Crea- tion one ; Itself, so small a part, i' th' Whole
is lost. And generals have particulars en-
grost. That dark contracted personality, Like mists before the Sun, will from
it fly. 70
And then the soul, one shining
sphere, at length With true Love's wisdom fill'd and
purged strength, Beholds her highest good with open
face. And like him all the World she can
embrace.
To the Honoured Lady E.C.
Madam,
I do not write to you that men may know
How much I'm honour'd that I may do so :
Nor hope (though I your rich ex- ample give)
To write with more success than I can live,
( 543 )
To cure the age ; nor think I can be
just, Who only dare to write, because
I must. I'm full of you, and something must
express, To vent my wonder and your pow'r
confess. Had I ne'er heard of your illustrious
nam5, Nor known the Scotch or English
ancient fame ; 10
Yet if your glorious frame did but
appear, I could have soon read all your
grandeur there. I could have seea in each majestic ray, What greatness ancestors could e'er
convey ; And in the lustre of your eyes alone, How near you were allied to the
Throne : Which yet doth lessen you, who
cannot need Those blight advantages which you
exceed. For you are such, that your descent
from Kings Receives more honour from you
than it brings : 20
As much above their glories as our
toil. A Court to you were but a hand- some soil. And if we name the stock on which
you grew, 'Tis rather to do right to it than
you : For those that would your greatest
splendour see. Must read your soul more than your
pedigree. For as the sacred Temple had with- out Beauty to feed those eyes that gaz'd
about. And yet had riches, state, and wonder
more. For those that stood within the shin- ing door ; 30
Kath
ertne
Philips
But in the Holy Place the admitted
few, Lustre receiv'd and inspiration too : So though your glories in your face
be seen, And so much bright instruction in
your mien ; You are not known but where you
will impart The treasures of your more illustrious
heart. Religion all her odours sheds on
you, Who by obeying vindicate her too : For that rich beam of Heaven was
almost In nice disputes and false pretences
lost ; 40
, So doubly injur'd, she could scarce
subsist Betwixt the hypocrite and casuist ; Till you by great example did con- vince Us of her nature and her residence. And chose to show her face, and
ease her grief, Less by your arguments than by
your life ; Which if it should be copied out,
would be A solid body of divinity. Your principle and practice light
would give What we should do, and what we
should believe : 50
For the extensive knowledge you
profess, You do acquire with more ease than
confess, And as by you knowledge has thus
obtain'd To be refin'd, and then to be
explain'd : So in return she useful is to you, In practice and in contemplation
too. For by the various succours she
hath lent, You act with judgement, and think
with content.
( 544 )
Yet those vast parts with such a
temper meet. That you can lay them at Religion's
feet. 60
Nor is it half so bold as it is true, That Virtue is herself oblig'd to
you : For being drest in your subduing
charms. She conquers more than did the
Roman arms. We see in you how much that
Malice lied That stuck on goodness any sullen
pride ; And that the harshness some pro- fessors wear Falls to their own, and not Religion's
share. But your bright sweetness if it but
appear, Reclaims the bad, and softens the
austere. 70
Men talk'd of Honour too, but could
not tell What was the secret of that active
spell. That beauteous mantle they to divers
lent. Yet wonder'd what the mighty no- thing meant. Some did confine her to a worthy
fame, And some to Royal parents gave her
name. You having claim unto her either
way. By what a King could give, a world
could pay, Have a more Uving honour in your
breast, Which justifies, and yet obscures the
rest ; 80
A principle from fame and pomp
untied. So truly high that it despises Pride ; Buying good actions at the dearest
rate, Looks down on ill with as much scorn
as hate;
To the Ho?toured Lady E. C.
Acts things so generous and bravely
hard, And in obliging finds so much
reward ; So self-denying great, so firmly
just. Apt to confer, strict to preserve a
trust ; That all whose honour would be
justified, Must by your standards have it
stamp'd and tried. 90
But your perfection heightens others'
crimes, And you reproach while you inform
the times. Which sad advantage you will scarce
believe ; Or if you must, you do conceal and
grieve. You scorn so poor a foil as others'
ill. And are protector to th' unhappy
still ; Yet are so tender when you see a
spot, You blush for those who for them- selves could not. You are so much above your sex,
that we Believe your Life your greatest
courtesy: 100
For women boast, they have you
while you live. A pattern and a representative, And future mothers who in child- birth groan, Shall wish for daughters, knowing
you are one. The world hath Kings whose crowns
are cemented. Or by the blood they boast, or that
they shed : Yet these great idols of the stooping
crew Have neither pleasure sound, nor
honour true. They either fight, or play ; and
power court, In trivial anger, or in cruel sport, no
You, who a nobler privilege enjoy, (For you can save whom they can
but destroy) An Empire have where different
mixtures kiss ; You're grave, not sour^ and kind,
but not remiss. Such sweetened Majesty, such
humble State, Do love and reverence at once
create. Pardon (dear Madam) these untaught
essays, I can admire more fitly than I
praise. Things so sublime are dimly under- stood. And you are born so great, and are
so good, 120
So much above the honour of your
name, And by neglect do so secure your
fame ; Whose beauty's such as captivates
the wise. Yet only you of all the World
despise ; That have so vast a knowledge so
subdued. Religion so adorn'd, and so pursued ; A wit so strong, that who would it
define. Will need one ten times more acute
than mine ', Yet rul'd so that its vigour manag'd
thus Becomes at once graceful and
generous ; ijo
Whose honour has so delicate a
sense, Who always pardon, never give
offence ; Who needing nothing, yet to all are
kind. Who have so large a heart, so rich
a mind ; Whose Friendship still's of the oblig- ing side. And yet so free from Tyranny and
Pride ;
( 545 )
N n
Kath
ertne
Philips
Who do in love like Jonathan de- scend, And strip yourself to clothe your
happy friend ; Whose kindness and whose modesty
is such, T' expect so little and deserve so
much; 140
Who have such candid worth, such
dear concern, Where we so much may love, and so
much learn ; Whose every wonder though it fills
and shines, It never to an ill excess declines ; But all are found so sweetly oppo- site, As are in Titian's pieces shade and
light : That he that would your great
description try. Though he write well, would be as
lost as I, Who of injurious Zeal convicted
stand. To draw you with so bold and bad
a hand ; 150
But that, like other glories, I
presume You will enlighten, where you
might consume.
Parting with LiicasIa,A Song
Well, we will do that rigid thing Which makes spectators think we part; Though Absence hath for none a sting But those who keep each other's heart.
II And when our sense is dispossest, Our labouring souls will heave and pant. And gasp for one another's breast, Since their conveyances they want.
(546)
III
Nay, we have felt the tedious smart
Of absent Friendship, and do know
That when we die we can but part ;
And who knows what we shall do
now ? 12
IV
Yet I must go : we will submit, And so our own disposers be ;
For while we nobly suffer it, We triumph o'er Necessity.
V
By this we shall be truly great, If having other things o'ercome,
To make our victory complete 19 We can be conquerors at home.
VI
Nay then to meet we may conclude, And all obstructions overthrow,
Since we our passion have subdu'd. Which is the strongest thing I know.
Against Pleasure. Set by Dr. Coleman
There's no such thing as Pleasure here,
'Tis all a perfect cheat, Which does but shine and disappear,
Whose charm is but deceit : The empty bribe of yielding souls. Which first betrays, and then con- trols.
II 'Tis true, it looks at distance fair;
But if we do approach, The fruit of Sodom will impair,
And perish at a touch : 10
In being than in fancy less. And we expect more than possess.
Ill For by our pleasures we are cloy'd,
And so Desire is done ; Or else, like rivers, they make wide
The channel where they run : And either way true bliss destroys. Making Us narrow, or our Joys.
Against Pleasure
IV
We covet pleasure easily,
But it not so possess ; 20
For many things must make it be,
But one may make it less. Nay, were our state as we could
choose it, 'Twould be consum'd by fear to lose it.
V
What art thou then, thou winged air, More weak and swift than Fame ?
Whose next successor is Despair, And its attendant Shame.
Th' experienc'd Prince then reason had,
Who said of pleasure, It is mad. 30
A Prayer
Eternal Reason, Glorious Majesty, Compar'd to whom what can be said
to be? Whose attributes are Thee, who art
alone Cause of all various things, and yet
but One ; Whose Essence can no more be
search'd by man, Than Heav'n,Thy Throne,begraspM
with a span. Yet if this great Creation was de-
sign'd To several ends fitted for every
kind ; Sure Man (the World's epitome)
must be Form'd to the best, that is to study
Thee. 10
And as our dignity, 'tis duty too. Which is summ'd up in this, to
know and do. These comely rows of creatures spell
Thy Name, Whereby we grope to find from
whence they came. By Thy own chain of causes brought
to think There must be one, then find that
highest link.
( 547 ) N
Thus all created Excellence we see Is a resembla nee faint and dark of
Thee. Such shadows are produc'd by the
moon-beams Of trees or houses in the running
streams. 20
Yet by impressions born with us we
find How good, great, just Thou art, how
unconfin'd. Here we are swallowed up and gladly
dwell. Safely adoring what we cannot tell. All we know is. Thou art supremely
good, And dost delight to be so under- stood. A spicy mountain on the universe. On which Thy richest odours do
disperse. But as the sea to fill a vessel heaves, More greedily than any cask re- ceives, 30 Besieging round to find some gap
in it, Which will a new infusion admit : So dost Thou covet that Thou mayst
dispense Upon the empty World Thy influence ; Lov'st to disburse Thyself in kindness :
Thus The King of Kings waits to be
gracious. On this account, O God, enlarge my
heart To entertain what Thou wouldst fain
impart. Nor let that soul, by several titles
Thine, And most capacious form'd for
things Divine, 40
(So nobly meant, that when it most
doth miss, 'Tis in mistaken pantings after
bliss) Degrade itself in sordid things' de- light, Or by profaner mixtures lose its
right.
n 2
Kath
erine
Philipi^
Oh! that with fixt unbroken thoughts
it may Admire the h'ght which does obscure
the day. And since 'tis Angels' work it hath
to do, May its composure be like Angels
too. When shall these clogs of Sense and
Fancy break, That I may hear the God within
me speak ? 50
When with a silent and retired art Shall I with all this empty hurry
part? To the Still Voice above, my soul
advance ; My light and joy plac'd in his
countenance? By whose dispense my soul to such
frame brought, May tame each treach'rous, fix each
scatt'ring thought ; With such distinctions all things
here behold. And so to separate each dross from
gold. That nothing my free Soul may
satisfy, 59
But t' imitate, enjoy, and study thee.
To Mrs. M. A. upon Absence
I 'Tis now since I began to die
Four months, yet still I gasping hve ; Wrapp'd up in sorrow do I lie,
Hoping, yet doubting a reprieve. Adam from Paradise expell'd Just such a wretched being held.
II 'Tis not thy love I fear to lose,
That will in spite of absence hold ; But 'tis the benefit and use
Is lost, as in imprison'd gold : ro Which though the sum be ne'er so
great, Enriches nothing but conceit.
(548)
III What angry star then governs me
That I must feel a double smart, Prisoner to fate as well as thee ; Kept from thy face, link'd to thy heart ? Because my love all love excels, Must my grief have no parallels ?
IV
Sapless and dead as Winter here I now remain, and all I see 20
Copies of my wild state appear, But I am their epitome.
Love me no more, for I am grown
Too dead and dull for thee to own.
To Mrs. Mary Awbrey
Soul of my soul, my Joy, my Crown,
my Friend, A name which all the rest doth
comprehend ; How happy are we now, whose souls
are grown. By an incomparable mixture, one : Whose well-acquainted minds are
now as near As Love, or Vows, or Friendship can
endear ? I have no thought but what's to thee
reveal'd, Nor thou desire that is from me
conceal'd. Thy heart locks up my secrets richly
set, And my breast is thy private cabinet. Thou shed'st no tear but what my
moisture lent, 1 1
And if I sigh, it is thy breath is
spent. United thus, what horror can appear Worthy our sorrow, anger, or our
fear? Let the dull World alone to talk and
fight, And with their vast ambitions Nature
fright ;
To Mrs. Mary Awbrey
Let them despise so innocent a
flame, While Envy, Pride, and Faction
play their game : But we by Love sublim'd so high
shall rise, To pity Kings, and Conquerors
despise, 20
Since we that sacred union have
engrost, Which they and all the factious
World have lost.
In Memory of Mr. Cartwright
Stay, Prince of Fancy, stay, we are
not fit To welcome or admire thy raptures
yet : Such horrid Ignorance benights the
times, That Wit and Honour are become
our crimes. But when those happy Pow'rs which
guard thy dust To us, and to thy Mem'ry shall be
just. And by a flame from thy blest Genius
lent. Rescue us from our dull imprison- ment, Unsequester our Fancies, and create A worth that may upon thy glories
wait : 10
We then shall understand thee, and
descry The splendour of restored Poetry. Till when let no bold hand profane
thy shrine ; 'Tis high Wit-Treason to debase thy
coin.
Mr, Francis Finch, the Excellent Palaemon
This is confest presumption, for
had I All that rich stock of ingenuity
Which I could wish for this, yet
would it be Palaemon's blot, a pious injury. But as no votaries are scorn'd when
they The meanest victim in Religion
pay; Not that the Pow'r they worship needs
a gum. But that they speak their thanks for
all with some : So though the most contemptible
of all That do themselves Palaemon's ser- vants call, iQ I know that Zeal is more than
sacrifice, (For God did not the widow's mite
despise) And that Palaemon hath Divinity, And Mercy is his highest property : He that doth such transcendent
merit own. Must have imperfect off'rings or none. He 's one rich lustre which doth rays
dispense. As Knowledge will when set in
Innocence. For Learning did select his noble
breast. Where (in her native majesty) to
rest ; 20
Free from the tyranny and pride of
Schools, Who have confin'd her to pedantic
rules ; And that gentiler ^ error which does
take Offence at Learning for her habit's
sake, Palaemon hath redeem'd her, who
may be Esteem'd himself an University; And yet so muchagentleman, that he Needs not (though he enjoys) a
pedigree. Sure he was built and sent to let us
know
^ Spelling of 'gentiler' retained for reasons elsewhere given. ( 549 )
Kath
eri7^e
Philip:^
What man completed could both be
and do. 30
Freedom from vice is in him Nature's
part, Without the help of discipline or
art. He 's his own happiness and his own
law, Whereby he keeps Passion and Fate
in awe. Nor was this wrought in him by
Time and growth. His Genius had anticipated both. Had all men been Palaemons, Pride
had ne'er Taught one man Tyranny, the other
Fear; Ambition had been full as monstrous
then As this ill World doth render
W'Orthy men. 40
Had men his spirit, they would
soon forbear Grovelling for dirt, and quarrelling
for air. Were his harmonious soul diffus'd
in all, We should believe that men did
never fall. It is Palaemon's soul that hath
engrost Th' ingenuous candour that the
World hath lost ; Whose own mind seats him quiet,
safe and high, Above the reach of Time or
Destiny. 'Twas he that rescu'd gasping
Friendship when The bell toll'd for her funeral with
men : 50
'Twas he that made Friends more
than Lovers burn, And then made Love to sacred
Friendship turn : 'Twas he tum'd Honour inward, set
her free From titles and from popularity. Now fix'd to Virtue, she begs praise
of none,
( 550 )
But 's witness'd and rewarded both
at home. And in his breast this Honour 's so
enshrin'd. As the old Law was in the Ark
confin'd : To which posterity shall all consent. And less dispute than Acts of
Parliament. 60
He 's our original, by whom we see How much we fail, and what we
ought to be. But why do I to copy him pretend ? My rhymes but libel whom they
would commend. 'Tis true ; but none can reach what's
set so high ; And though I miss, Fve noble
company : For the most happy language must
confess. It doth obscure Palaemon, not
express.
To Mrs. M. A. at parting
I
I HAVE examin'd and do find,
Of all that favour me, There's none I grieve to leave behind
But only, only thee. To part with thee I needs must die, Could parting sep'rate thee and I.
II But neither Chance nor Compliment
Did element our Love ; 'Twas sacred Sympathy was lent
Us from the quire above. 10
That Friendship Fortune did create, Still fears a wound from Time or Fate.
Ill Our chang'd and mingled souls are grown To such acquaintance now. That if each would resume their own, Alas ! we know not how. We have each other so engrost, That each is in the union lost.
'To Mrs, M. A. at parting
IV
And thus we can no Absence know, Nor shall we be confin'd ; 20
Our active souls will daily go To learn each other's mind.
Nay, should we never meet to Sense,
Our souls would hold Intelligence.
V
Inspired with a flame divine^
I scorn to court a stay ; For from that noble soul of thine
I ne'er can be away. But I shall weep when thou dost
grieve ; Nor can I die whilst thou dost live. 30
VI
By my own temper I shall guess
At thy felicity, And only like my happiness
Because it pleaseth thee. Our hearts at any time will tell, If thou, or I, be sick, or well.
VII
All Honour sure I must pretend, All that is good or Great ;
She that would be Rosania's Friend, Must be at least complete. 40
If I have any bravery,
'Tis cause I have so much of thee.
VIII
Thy leiger ' soul in me shall lie, And all thy thoughts reveal ;
Then back again with mine shall fly. And thence to me shall steal.
Thus still to one another tend ;
Such is the sacred Name of Friend.
IX
Thus our twin-souls in one shall grow.
And teach the World new love, 50 Redeem the age and sex, and show
A flame Fate dares not move : And courting Death to be our friend. Our lives together too shall end.
X
A dew shall dwell upon our Tomb
Of such a quality. That fighting armies, thither come.
Shall reconciled be. We'll ask no Epitaph, but say
Orinda and RosANiA. 60
To my dearest Antenor, on his Parting
Though it be just to grieve when
I must part With him that is the Guardian of
my Heart ; Yet by a happy change the loss
of mine Is with advantage paid in having
thine. And I (by that dear guest instructed)
find Absence can do no hurt to souls
combin'd. As we were born to love, brought
to agree By the impressions of Divine decree: So when united nearer we became, It did not weaken, but increase, our
flame. 10
Unlike to those who distant joys
admire. But slight them when possest of
their desire. Each of our souls did its own
temper fit, And in the other's mould so fashion'd
That now our inclinations both ate
grown. Like to our interests and persons,
one 3 And souls whom such an union
fortifies. Passion can ne'er destroy, nor Fate
surprise.
* The spelling 'leiger' may be worth keeping, though 'leaguer' Ccf. leaguer-lass) is best known in this meaning. Some, however, dispute the identity of these two : and identify 'leiger' in the sense of 'resident,' 'stationary,' with 'ledger.' These words, in the passages in which they occur, admit of a good deal of argument, and were probably not seldom confused originally.
(551)
Katherine Philips
Now as in watches, though we do
not know When the hand moves, we find it
still doth go : 20
So I, by secret sympathy inclin'd, Will absent meet, and understand
thy mind ; And thou at thy return shalt find
thy heart Still safe, with all the love thou
didst impart. For though that treasure I have
ne'er deserv'd, It shall with strong religion be
preserv'd. And besides this thou shalt in me
survey Thyself reflected while thou art
away. For what some forward arts do
undertake, The images of absent friends to
make, 3°
And represent their actions in a
glass, Friendship itself can only bring to
pass, That magic which both Fate and
Time beguiles, And in a moment runs a thousand
miles. So in my breast thy picture drawn
shall be, My Guide, Life, Object, Friend,
and Destiny : And none shall know, though they
employ their wit, Which is the right Antenor, thou,
or it.
Engraven on Mr. John Collier's Tomb-stone at Becllington
Here what remains of him doth lie. Who was the World's epitome. Religion's darling, merchants' glory, Men's true delight, and Virtue's story ;
(55O
Who, though a prisoner to the
grave, A glorious freedom once shall have : Till when no monument is fit. But what 's beyond our love and wit.
On the little Regina Collier, on the same Tomb-stone
Virtue's blossom, Beauty's bud, The pride of all that 's fair and good, By Death's fierce hand was snatched
hence In her state of Innocence : Who by it this advantage gains, Her wages got without her pains.
Friendship
Let the dull brutish World that
know not Love, Continue heretics, and disapprove That noble flame ; but the refined
know, 'Tis all the Heaven we have here
below. Nature subsists by Love, and they
do tie Things to their causes but by
sympathy. Love chains the different Elements
in one Great harmony, link'd to the
Heav'nly Throne. And as on earth, so the blest quire
above Of Saints and Angels aremaintain'd
by Love ; 10
That is their business and felicity, And will be so to all Eternity. That is the ocean, our affections
here Are but streams borrow'd from the
fountain there. And 'tis the noblest argument to
prove A beauteous mind, that it knows
how to Love.
Friendship
Those kind impressions which Fate
can't control, Are Heaven's mintage on a worthy
soul. For Love is all the Arts' epitome, And is the sum of all Divinity. 20 He 's worse than beast that cannot
love, and yet It is not bought for money, pains or
wit ; For no chance or design can spirits
move, But the eternal destiny of Love : And when two souls are chang'd
and mixed so, It is what they and none but they
can do. This, this is Friendship, that
abstracted flame Which grovelling mortals know not
how to name. All Love is sacred, and the marriage- tie Hath much of honour and divinity. But Lust, Design, or some unworthy
ends 31
May mingle there, which are despis'd
by Friends. Passion hath violent extremes, and
thus All oppositions are contiguous. So when the end is serv'd their Love
will bate, If Friendship make it not more
fortunate : Friendship, that Love's elixir, that
pure fire Which burns the clearer 'cause it
burns the higher. For Love, like earthly fires (which
will decay If the material fuel be away) 40 Is with offensive smoke accompanied. And by resistance only is supplied : But Friendship, like the fiery element, With its own heat and nourishment
content. Where neither hurt, nor smoke, nor
noise is made, Scorns the assistance of a foreign aid.
(553)
Friendship (like Heraldry) is hereby
known. Richest when plainest, bravest when
alone ; Calm as a virgin, and more innocent Than sleeping doves are, and as
much content 50
As Saints in visions ; quiet as the
night, But clear and open as the summer's
light ; United more than spirits' faculties, Higher in thoughts than are the
eagle's eyes ; What shall I say ? when we true
friends are grown, W' are like — Alas, w' are like our- selves alone.
The Enquiry
I If we no old historian's name
Authentic will admit, But think all said of Friendship's fame But Poetry or Wit : Yet what's rever'd by minds so pure, Must be a bright Idea sure.
II But as our immortality
By inward sense we find, Judging that if it could not be,
It would not be design'd : 10
So here how could such copies fall, If there were no original ?
in But if truth be in ancient song,
Or story we believe, If the inspir'd and graver throng
Have scorned to deceive ; There have been hearts whose
friendship gave Them thoughts at once both soft and brave.
IV
Among that consecrated few.
Some more seraphic shade 20
Lend me a favourable clew Now mists my eyes invade.
Kath
ertiie
Philips
Why, having fill'd the World with
fame, Left you so little of your flame ?
V
Why is 't so difficult to see I'wo bodies and one mind ?
And why are those w^ho else agree So differently kind ?
Hath Nature such fantastic art,
That she can vary every heart ; 30
VI
Why are the bands of Friendship tied
With so remiss a knot, That by the most it is defied,
And by the rest forgot ? Why do we step with so light sense From friendship to Indifference ?
VII
If Friendship sympathy impart. Why this ill-shuffled game.
That heart can never meet with heart. Or flame encounter flame ? 40
What does this cruelty create ?
Is 't the intrigue of Love or Fate ?
VIII
Had Friendship ne'er been known to men,
(The Ghost at last confest) The World had been a stranger then
To all that Heaven possest. But could it all be here acquir'd, Not Heaven itself would be desir'd.
To my Lucasia, in defence of declared Friendship
I
O MY Lucasia, let us speak our
Love, And think not that impertinent can
be, Which to us both doth such
assurance prove. And whence we find how justly
we agree.
II Before we knew the treasures of our
Love, Our noble aims our joys did
entertain ; And shall enjoyment nothing then
improve ? 'Twere best for us then to begin again.
Ill Now we have gain'd, we must not stop, and sleep Out all the rest of our mysterious reign : 10
It is as hard and glorious to keep A victory, as it is to obtain.
IV
Nay, to what end did we once barter minds. Only to know and to neglect the claim ? Or (like some wantons) our pride pleasure finds, To throw away the thing at which we aim.
V
If this be all our Friendship does
design.
We covet not enjoyment then,
but Power :
To our opinion we our bliss confine.
And love to have, but not to
smell, the flower. 20
VI
Ah ! then let misers bury thus their gold, Who though they starve, no farthing will produce : But we lov'd to enjoy and to behold, x\nd sure we cannot spend our stock by use.
VII
Think not 'tis needless to repeat desires ; The fervent turtles always court and bill. And yet their spotless passion never tires, But does increase by repetition still.
( 554)
To my Lucasia
VIII
Although we know we love, yet while our soul Is thus iniprison'd by the flesh we wear, 3°
There's no way left that bondage to control. But to convey transactions through the ear.
IX
Nay though we read our passions in the eye, It will oblige and please to tell them too : Such joys as these by motion multiply, Were 't but to find that our souls told us true.
X
Believe not then, that being now secure Of cither's heart, we have no more to do : The spheres themselves by motion do endure, And they move on by circulation too. 40
XI
And as a river, when it once hath paid The tribute which it to the ocean owes, Stops not, but turns, and having curl'd and play'd On its own waves, the shore it overflows.
XII
So the soul's motion does not end in bliss. But on herself she scatters and dilates. And on the object doubles till by this She finds new joys which that reflux creates.
XIII
But then because it cannot all contain, It seeks a vent by telling the glad news, 50
( 555 )
First to the heart which did its joys obtain, Then to the heart which did those joys produce.
XIV
When my soul then doth such excursions make. Unless thy soul delight to meet it too, What satisfaction can it give or take. Thou being absent at the inter- view?
XV
'Tis not distrust ; for were that plea allow'd. Letters and visits all would useless grow : Love's whole expression then would be its cloud, And it would be refin'd to nothing so. 60
XVI
If I distrust, 'tis my own worth for thee, 'Tis my own fitness for a love like thine ; And therefore still new evidence would see, T' assure my wonder that thou canst be mine.
XVII
But as the morning Sun to drooping flowers, As weary travellers a shade do find. As to the parched violet evening showers ; Such is from thee to me a look that's kind.
XVIII
But when that look is drest in words, 'tis like The mystic pow'r of music's unison ; 70
Which when the finger doth one viol strike, The other's string heaves to reflection.
Kath
ertite
Philips
XIX
Be kind to me, and just then to our love, To which we owe our free and dear converse ; And let not tract of Time wear or remove It from the privilege of that commerce.
XX
Tyrants do banish what they can't requite : But let us never know such mean desires ; But to be grateful to that love delight Which all our joys and noble thoughts inspires. So
A Reverie ^
A CHOSEN privacy, a cheap content. And all the peace a friendship ever
lent, A rock which civil Nature made a
seat, A willow that repulses all the heat. The beauteous quiet of a summer's
day, A brook which sobb'd aloud and
ran away. Invited my repose, and then conspir'd To entertain my Fancy thus retir'd. As Lucian's ferry-man aloft did
view The angry World, and then laugh'd
at it too : lo
So all its sullen follies seem to me But as a too-well acted tragedy. One dangerous Ambition doth
befool. Another envies to see that man
rule : One makes his love the parent of his
rage. For private friendship publicly t'
engage :
And some for Conscience, some for
Honour die; And some are meanly kill'd they
know not why. . More different than men's faces are
their ends. Whom yet one common ruin can maice friends. 20
Death, dust and darkness they have
only won. And hastily unto their periods run. Death is a Leveller ; Beauty, and
Kings, And Conquerors, and all those
glorious things. Are tumbled to their graves in one
rude heap. Like common dust as quiet and as
cheap. At greater changes who would
wonder then. Since Kingdoms have their Fates as
well as men ? They must fall sick and die ;
nothing can be In this World certain, but uncer- tainty. 30 Since Pow'r and Greatness are such
slippery things, Who'd pity cottages, or envy Kings? Now least of all, when, weary of
deceit. The World no longer flatters with
the great. Though such confusions here below
we find, As Providence were wanton with
mankind : Yet in this chaos some things do
send forth, (Like jewels in the dark) a native
worth. He that derives his high Nobility, Not from the mention of a pedigree; Who thinks it not his praise that others know 41
His ancestors were gallant long ago;
(556)
^ Spelt in orig. as usual ' resvery.'
A Reverie
Who scorns to boast the glories of
his blood, And thinks he can't be great that is
not good ; Who knows the World, and what
we Pleasure call, Yet cannot sell one conscience for
them all ; Who hates to hoard that gold with
an excuse. For which he can find out a nobler
use; Who dares not keep that life that he
can spend, To serve his God, his Country, and
his Friend ; 50
Who flattery and falsehood doth so
hate, He would not buy ten lives at such
a rate ; Whose soul, than diamonds more
rich and clear. Naked and open as his face doth
wear ; Who dares be good alone in such a
time. When Virtue's held and punish'd as
a crime
Who thinks dark crooked plots a
mean defence. And is both safe and wise in Inno- cence ; Who dares both fight and die, but
dares not fear ; Whose only doubt is, if his cause be
clear ; 60
Whose Courage and his Justice
equal worn. Can dangers grapple, overcome and
scorn, Yet not insult upon a conquer'd foe, But can forgive him and oblige him
too ; Whose Friendship is congenial with
his soul. Who where he gives a heart, bestows
it whole ; Whose other ties and titles here do
end, Orburiedorcompletedinthe Friend;
(557)
Who ne'er resumes the soul he once
did give, While his Friend's honesty and hon- our live ; 70 And if his Friend's content could
cost the price, Would count himself a happy sacri- fice ; Whose happy days no pride infects,
nor can His other titles make him slight the
man ; No dark ambitious thoughts do
cloud his brow. Nor restless cares when to be great,
and how ; Who scorns to envy wealth where'er
it be, But pities such a golden slavery ; With no mean fawnings can the
people court. Nor wholly slight a popular report ; Whose house no orphan groans do
shake or blast, 81
Nor any riot help to serve his
taste : Who from the top of his pros- perities Can take a fall, and yet without
surprise ; Who with the same august and even
state Can entertain the best and worst of
fate ; Whose suffering 's sweet, if Honour
once adorn it ; Who slights Revenge, yet does not
fear, but scorn it ; Whose happiness in ev'ry fortune
lives. For that no fortune either takes or
gives ; 90
Who no unhandsome ways can bribe
his Fate, Nay, out of prison marches through
the gate ; Who losing all his titles and his
pelf, Nay, all the World; can never lose
himself;
Kath
erine
Philips
This Person shines indeed, and he
that can Be Virtuous is the great Immortal
Man.
A Country-life
How sacred and how innocent
A country-hfe appears, How free from tumult, discontent.
From flattery or fears ! This was the first and happiest life,
When man enjoy'd himself; Till Pride exchanged peace for strife,
And happiness for pelf. 'Twas here the Poets were inspir'd.
Here taught the multitude ; lo The brave they here with Honour fir'd.
And civiliz'd the rude, That Golden Age did entertain
No passion but of Love ; The thoughts of ruling and of gain
Did ne'er their fancies move. None then did envy neighbour's wealth,
Nor plot to wrong his bed : Happy in friendship and in health,
On roots, not beasts, they fed. 20 They knew no Law nor Physic then,
Nature was all their Wit. And if there yet remain to men
Content, sure this is it. What blessings doth this World afford
To tempt or bribe desire ? Her courtship is all fire and sword,
Who would not then retire? Then welcome, dearest Solitude,
My great felicity ; 30
Though some are pleas'd to call thee rude.
Thou art not so, but we.~ Them that do covet only rest,
A cottage will suffice : It is not brave to be possest
Of Earth, but to despise. Opinion is the rate of things,
From hence our peace doth flow ;
(i58)
I have a better Fate than Kings,
Because I think it so. 40
When all the stormy World doth roar
How unconcern'd am I ! I cannot fear to tumble lower
Who never could be high. Secure in these unenvied walls
I think not on the State, And pity no man's case that falls
From his Ambition's height. Silence and Innocence are safe ;
A heart that 's nobly true 50
At all these little arts can laugh
That do the World subdue. While others revel it in State,
Here I'll contented sit, And think I have as good a Fate
As wealth and pomp admit. Let some in courtship take delight,
And to th' Exchange resort ; Then revel out a winter's night,
Not making love, but sport. 60 These never know a noble flame,
'Tis lust, scorn, or Design : While Vanity plays all their game,
Let Peace and Honour mine. When the inviting Spring appears,
To Hyde-Park let them go, And hasting thence be full of fears
To lose Spring-Garden show. Let others (nobler) seek to gain
In knowledge happy fate, 70
And others busy them in vain
To study ways of State. But I, resolvM from within,
Confirmed from without, In privacy intend to spin
My future minutes out. And from this hermitage of mine
I banish all wild toys. And nothing that is not Divine
Shall dare to tempt my joys. 80 There are below but two things good,
Friendship and Honesty, And only those of all I would
Ask for felicity. In this retir'd and humble seat
Free from both war and strife, I am not forc'd to make retreat,
But choose to spend my life.
To Mrs, Wogan
To Mrs. Wogan, my Hon- oured Friend, on the Death of her Husband
Dry up your tears, there 's enough
shed by you, And we must pay our share of sorrows
too. It is no private loss when such men
fall. The World 's concern'd, and grief is
general. But though of our misfortune we
complain, To him it is injurious and vain. For since we know his rich integ- rity, His real sweetness, and full har- mony ; How free his heart and house were
to his friends, Whom he oblig'd without design or
ends ; lo
How universal was his courtesy, How clear a soul, how even, and how
high; How much he scorn'd disguise or
meaner arts, But with a native honour conquer'd
hearts ; We must conclude he was a treasure
lent. Soon weary of this sordid tenement. The Age and World deserv'd him not,
and he Was kindly snatch'd from future
misery. We can scarce say he's dead, but
gone to rest, And left a monument in ev'ry breast. For you to grieve then in this sad
excess, 2 r
Is not to speak of love, but make it
less. A noble soul no friendship will
admit. But what 's Eternal and Divine as it. The soul is hid in mortal flesh we
know, And all its weaknesses must undergo,
(559)
Till by degrees it does shine forth at
length, And gathers Beauty, Purity, and
Strength : But never yet doth this immortal
ray Put on full splendour till it put off
clay : _ _ 30
So infant Love is, in the worthiest
breast. By Sense and Passion fetter'd and
opprest ; But by degrees it grows still more
refin'd, And scorning clogs, only concerns
the mind. Now as the soul you lov'd is here
set free From its material gross capacity ; Your love should follow him now he
is gone. And quitting Passion, put Perfection
on. Such Love as this will its own good
deny. If its dear object have felicity. 40 And since we cannot his great loss
reprieve, Let 's not lose you in whom he still
doth live. For while you are by grief secluded
thus. It doth appear your funeral to us.
In memory of the most justly Honoured, Mrs, Owen of Oriel ton
As when the ancient World by
Reason liv'd, The Asian Monarchs' deaths were
never griev'd ; Their glorious lives made all their
Subjects call Their rites a triumph, not a funeral : So still the Good are Princes, and
their fate Invites us not to weep but imitate.
Kath
ertne
Phi lip i^
Nature intends a progress of each
stage Whereby weak man creeps to succeed- ing Age, Ripens him for that change for which
he 's made, Where th' active soul is in her
centre staid. lo
And since none stript of infancy
complain, 'Cause 'tis both their necessity and
gain : SoAgeand Death by slow approaches
come, And by that just inevitable doom By which the soul (her cloggy dross
once gone) Puts on perfection, and resumes her
own. Since then we moufn a happy soul,
O why Disturb we her with ferring piety ? Who 's so enamour'd on the beau- teous ground, When with rich autumn's livery hung
round, 20
As to deny a sickle to his
grain. And not undress the teeming Earth
again ? Fruits grow for use, mankind is born
to die ; And both fates have the same neces- sity. Then grieve no more, sad relatives,
but learn ; Sigh not, but profit by your just
concern. Read over her life's volume : wise
and good. Not 'cause she must be so, but
'cause she wou'd. To chosen Virtue still a constant
friend. She saw the times which chang'd,
but did not metld. ^o
And as some are so civil to the
Sun, They'd fix his beams, and make the
Earth to run :
(560)
So she unmov'd beheld the angry
Fate Which tore a Church, and overthrew
a State : Still durst be good, and own the
noble truth. To crown her Age which had adorn'd
her Youth. Great without pride, a soul which
still could be Humble and high, full of calm
majesty. She kept true state within, and could
not buy Her satisfaction with her Charity. 40 Fortune or birth ne'er rais'd her
mind, which stood. Not on her being rich, but doing
good. Oblig'd the World, but yet would
scorn to be Paid with requitals, thanks or
vanity. How oft did she what all the World
adore. Make the poor happy with her use- ful store ? So general was her bounty, that she
gave Equality to all before the grave. By several means she different per- sons tied. Who by her goodness only were
allied. 50
Her Virtue was her temper, not her
fit; Fear'd nothing but the crimes which
some commit ; Scorn'd those dark arts which pass
for wisdom now. Nor to a mean ignoble thing could
bow. And her vast prudence had no other
end, But to forgive a foe, endear a
fdend : To use, but slight, the World ; and
fixt above. Shine down in beams of Piety and
Love.
Mrs, Owen of Orielton
Why should we then by poor un- just complaint
Prove envious sinners 'cause she is a Saint ? 60
Close then the monument ; let not a tear
That may profane her ashes now appear :
For her best obsequies are that we be
Prudent and Good, Noble and Sweet, as she.
A Friend
I
Love, Nature's plot, this great crea- tion's soul, The being and the harmony of things. Doth still preserve and propagate the whole, From whence man's happiness and safety springs : The earliest, whitest, blessed'st
times did draw From her alone their universal Law.
II Friendship's an abstractof this nobler flame, 'Tis Love refin'd and purg'd from all its dross, The next to Angels' love, if not the same, As strong as Passion is, though not so gross : 10
It antedates a glad eternity, And is an Heaven in epitome.
Ill Nobler than kindred or than mar- riage-band, Because more free ; wedlock-feli- city Itself doth only by this union stand, And turns to friendship or to misery. Force or Design matches to pass
may bring, But Friendship doth from Love and Honour spring.
( 561 ) O
IV
If souls no sexes have, for men t' exclude Woman from Friendship's vast capacity, 20
Is a design injurious or rude,
Onlymaintain'd by partial tyranny. Love is allow'd to us and Innocence, And noblest friendships do proceed from thence, v The chiefest thing in friends is Sympathy : There is a secret that doth friend- ship guide. Which makes two souls before they know agree. Who by a thousand mixtures are allied, And chang'd and lost, so that it is not
known Within which breast doth now reside their own. 30
VI
Essential Honour must be in a
friend. Not such as every breath fans to
and fro ; But born within, is its own judge
and end. And dares not sin though sure
that none should know. Where Friendship 's spoke, Honesty 's
understood ] For none can be a friend that is not
good.
VII
Friendship doth carry more than
common trust, And Treachery is here the greatest
sin. Secrets deposed then none ever
must Presume to open, but who put
them in. 40
They that in one chest lay up all
their stock. Had need be sure that none can pick
the lock.
Kath
ert7te
Philips
VIII
A breast too open Friendship does
not love, For that the other's trust will not
conceal ; Nor one too much reserv'd can it
approve, Its own condition this will not
reveal. We empty passions for a double
end, To be refresh'd and guarded by a
friend.
IX
Wisdom and Knowledge Friendship
does require, The first for counsel, this for
company ; 50
And though not mainly, yet we may
desire BothComplaisanceand Ingenuity. Though everything may love, yet
'tis a rule, He cannot be a friend that is a
fool.
X
Discretion uses parts, and best knows
how ; And Patience will all qualities
commend : That serves a need best, but this
doth allow The weaknesses and passions of
a friend. We are not yet come to the quire
above : Who cannot pardon here, can never
love. 60
XI
Thick waters show no images of things : Friends are each other's mirrors, and should be Clearer than crystal or the mountain springs, And free from clouds, design or flattery.
(56O
For vulgar souls no part of Friend- ship share :
Poets and friends are born to what they are.
XII
Friends should observe and chide
each other's faults, To be severe then is most just
and kind ; Nothing can 'scape their search who
knew the thoughts : This they should give and take
with equal mind. 70
For Friendship, when this freedom
is denied, Is like a painter when his hands are
tied.
XIII
A friend should find out each
necessity, And then unask'd relieve 't at any
rate : It is not Friendship, but Formality, To be desir'd : for Kindness
keeps no state. Of friends he doth the benefactor
prove, That gives his friend the means t'
express his love.
XIV
Absence doth not from Friendship's
right excuse : Them who preserve each other's
heart and fame, 80
Parting can ne'er divide, it may
diffuse ; As a far stretch'd-out river 's still
the same. Though presence help'd them at
the first to greet, Their souls know now without those
aids to meet.
XV
Constant and solid, whom no storms
can shake, Nor death unfix, a right friend
ought to be ; And if condemned to survive, doth
make
A Friend
No second choice, but Grief and
Memory. But Friendship's best fate is, when
it can spend A life, a fortune, all to serve
a Friend. uo
L'Accord du Blen
Order, by which all things are
made, And this great World's foundation
laid. Is nothing else but Harmony, Where different parts are brought t'
agree.
11
As empires are still best maintain'd Those ways which first their great- ness gain'd : So in this universal frame What made and keeps it, is the same.
Ill Thus all things unto peace do tend, Even discords have it for their end. The cause why elements do fight, 1 1 Is but their instinct to unite.
IV
iMusic could never please the sense
But by united excellence :
The sweetest note which numbers
know, If struck alone, would tedious grow.
V
Man, the whole World's epitome. Is by creation Harmony. 'Twas Sin first quarrell'd in his breast, Then made him angry with the rest.
VI
But goodness keeps that unity, 21 And loves its own society So well, that seldom we have known One real worth to dwell alone.
VII
And hence it is we Friendship call Not by one virtue's name, but all. Nor is it when bad things agree
Thought union, but conspiracy, (563)
o
VIII
Nature and Grace, such enemies, That when one fell t' other did rise, Are now by Mercy even set, 31
As stars in constellations met.
IX
If Nature were herself a sin, Her Author (God) had guilty bin ; But Man by sin contracting stain. Shall, purg'd from that, be clear again.
X
To prove that Nature 's excellent, Even Sin itself 's an argument : Therefore we Nature's stain deplore, Because itself was pure before. 40
XI
And Grace destroys not, but refines, Unveils our Reason, then it shines ; Restores what was depress'd by sin. The fainting beam of God within.
XII
The mainspring (Judgement) recti- fied, j Will all the lesser motions guide, i To spend our Labour, Love and Care, I Not as things seem, but as they are.
XIII
'Tis Fancy lost. Wit thrown away, In trifles to employ that ray, 50
Which then doth in full lustre shine When both ingenious and divine.
XIV
To eyes by humour vitiated All things seem falsely coloured : So 'tis our prejudicial thought That makes clear objects seem in fault.
XV
They scarce believe united good, By whom 'twas never understood : They think one Grace enough for
one, And 'tis because their selves have
none. 60
XVI
We hunt extremes, and run so fast, We can no steady judgement cast : o 2
Kath
ertne
Philips
He best surveys the circuit round, Who stands i' th' middle of the ground.
XVII
That happy mean would let us see Knowledge and Meekness may
agree ; And find, when each thing hath its
name, Passion and Zeal are not the same.
XVIII
Who studies God doth upwards fly, And heighth still lessens to our eye ; And he that knows God, soon will see 71
Vast cause for his humility.
XIX
For by that search it will be known There's nothingbutourWillourown : And who doth so that stock employ, But finds more cause for shame than joy?
XX
We know so little and so dark. And so extinguish our own spark, That he who furthest here can go, Knows nothing as he ought to know.
XXI
It will with the most learned suit, 81 More to inquire than dispute : But vapours swell within a cloud ; 'Tis Ignorance that makes us proud.
XXII
So when their own vain heart behes, Like inflammations quickly rise : But that soul which is truly great, Is lowest in its own conceit.
XXIII
Yet while we hug our own mistake. We censures, but not judgements, make ; 9°
And thence it is we cannot see Obedience stand with liberty.
XXIV
Providence still keeps even state ; liut he can best command his fate, Whose art by adding his own voice, Makes his necessity his choice.
(564)
XXV
Rightly to rule one's self must be The hardest, largest monarchy : Whose passions are his masters
grown, Will be a captive in a throne. 100
XXVI
He most the inward freedom gains, W^ho just submissions entertains : For while in that his reason sways. It is himself that he obeys.
xxvii But only in Eternity We can these beauteous unions see : For Heaven itself and Glory is But one harmonious constant bliss.
Invitation to the Country
Be kind, my dear Rosania, though
'tis true Thy friendship will become thy
penance too ; Though there be nothing can reward
the pain. Nothing to satisfy or entertain ; Though all be empty, wild, and
like to me, Who make new troubles in my
company : Yet is the action more obliging great ; 'Tis Hardship only makes Desert
complete. But yet to prove mixtures all things
compound, There may in this be some advantage found ; 10
For a retirement from the noise of
towns, Is that for which some kings have
left their crowns : And conquerors, whose laurel
press'd the brow. Have chang'd it for the quiet myrtle- bough. For titles, honours, and the World's
address. Are things too cheap to make up happiness ;
htvitation to the Cou7itry
I
The easy tribute of a giddy race, And paid less to the person than
the place. So false reflected and so short
content Is that which Fortune and Opinion
lent, 20
That who most tried it have of
Fate complain'd, With titles burthen'd and to great- ness chain'd. For they alone enjoy'd what they
possest, Who relish'd most and understood it
best. And yet that understanding made
them know The empty swift dispatch of all
below. So that what most can outward
things endear, Is the best means to make them
disappear : And even that Tyrant (Sense) doth
these destroy. As more officious to our grief than
joy. 30
Thus all the glittering World is but
a cheat. Obtruding on our sense things
gross for great. But he that can inquire and undis-
guise, Will soon perceive the sting that
hidden lies ; And find no joys merit esteem but
those Whose scene lies only at our own
dispose. Man unconcern'd without himself
may be His own both prospect and security. Kings may be slaves by their own
passions hurl'd, But who commands himself com- mands the World. 40 A country-life assists this study
best, Where no distractions do the soul
arrest :
( 565 )
There Heav'n and Earth lie open
to our view, There we search Nature and its
Author too ; Possess'd with freedom and a real state Look down on Vice, and Vanity,
and Fate. There (my Rosania) will we,
mingling souls, Pity the folly which the World
controls ; And all those grandeurs which the
World do prize 49
We either can enjoy, or will despise.
In Memory of Mrs. E. H.
As some choice plant cherish'd by
sun and air. And ready to requite the gard'ner's
care. Blossoms and flourishes, but then,
we find. Is made the triumph of some ruder
wind : So thy untimely grave did both
entomb Thy sweetness now, and wonders
yet to come. Hung full of hopes thou sell'st a
lovely prize. Just as thou didst attract all hearts
and eyes. Thus we might apprehend, for had
thy years Been lengthen'd to have paid those
vast arrears 10
The World expected, we should then
conclude. The Age of Miracles had been
renew'd. For thou already hast with ease
found out What others study with such pains
and doubt ; That frame of soul which is content
alone, And needs no entertainment but its
own.
Kath
eri7te
Philips
Thy even mind, which made thee
good and great, Was to thee both a shelter and retreat. Of all the tumults which this World
do fill, Thou wert an unconcern'd spectator
still : 20
And, were thy duty punctually
supplied. Indifferent to all the World beside. Thou wert made up within resolv'd
and fix'd, And wouldst not with a base allay be
mix'd ; Above the World, couldst equally
despise Both its temptations and its injuries; Couldst sum up all, and find not
worth desire Those glittering trifles which the
most admire ; But with a nobler aim, and higher
born. Look down on greatness with con- tempt and scorn. 30 Thou hadst no arts that others this
might see. Nor lov'dst a trumpet to thy piety : But silent and retir'd, calm and
serene, Stol'st to thy blessed Haven hardly
seen. It were vain to describe thee then,
but now Thy vast accession harder is to
know ; How full of light, and satisfied thou
art. So early from this treach'rous World
to part ; How pleas'd thou art reflections now
to make, And find thou didst not things below
mistake ; 40
In how abstracted converse thou
dost live, How much thy knowledge is intui- tive ;
How great and bright a glory is en-
joy'd With Angels, and in mysteries,
employ'd. 'Tis si n then to lament thy fate, but we Should help thee to a new eternity ; And by successive imitation strive, Till time shall die, to keep thee still
alive ; And (by thy great example furnish'd)
be More apt to live than write thy
Elogy \ 50
On Rosania's Apostasy, and Lucasia's Friendship
Great Soul of Friendship, whither art thou fled?
Where dost thou now choose to re- pose thy head ?
Or art thou nothing but voice, air and name,
Found out to put souls in pursuit of fame ?
Thy flames being thought immortal, we may doubt
Whether they e'er did burn that see them out.
Go, wearied Soul, find out thy
wonted rest. In the safe harbour of Orinda's
Breast ; There all unknown adventures thou
hast found In thy late transmigrationsexpound ; That so Rosania's darkness may be
known 1 1
To be her want of lustre, not thy own.
Then to the great Lucasia have recourse,
There gather up new excellence and force,
Till by a free unbiass'd clear com- merce.
Endearments which no tongue can e'er rehearse.
* This form once more.
(566)
On Rosa?tids Apostasy
Lucasia and Orinda shall thee give Eternity, and make even Friendship live.
Hail, great Lucasia, thou shalt
doubly shine, What was Rosania's own is now
twice thine ; 20
Thou saw'st Rosania's chariot and
her flight. And so the double portion is thy
right : Though 'twas Rosania's spirit be
content. Since 'twas at first from thy Orinda
sent.
To my Lady Elizabeth Boyle, singing Now affairs^, &c.
Subduing Fair ! what will you win
To use a needless dart ? Why then so many to take in
One undefended heart ?
I came expos'd to all your charms, 'Gainst which the first half-hour
I had no will to take up arms, And in the next no power.
How can you choose but win the day.
Who can resist your siege, 10
Who in one action know the way
To vanquish and oblige ?
Your voice which can in melting strains
Teach Beauty to be blind. Confines me yet in stronger chains,
By being soft and kind.
Whilst you my trivial fancy sing.
You it to wit refine. As leather once stamp'd by a King
Became a current coin. 20
By this my verse is sure to gain
Eternity with men, Which by your voice it will obtain,
Though never by my pen.
Fd rather in your favour live
Than in a lasting name. And much a greater rate would give
For Happiness than Fame.
Submission
'Tis so, and humbly I will resign, Nor dare dispute with Providence
Divine. In vain, alas ! we struggle with our
chains, But more entangled by the fruitless
pains. For as i' th' great Creation of this All, Nothing by chance could in such
order fall ; And what would single be deform'd
confest. Grows beauteous in its union with
the rest : So Providence like Wisdom we allow, (For what created once does govern
now) 10
And the same Fate that seems to
one reverse. Is necessary to the Universe. All these particular and various
things, Link'd to their causes by such secret
springs. Are held so fast, and govern'd by
such art. That nothing can out of its order
start. The World's God's watch where
nothing is so small. But makes a part of what composes
all: Could the least pin be lost or else
displac'd. The World would be disorder'd and
defac'd. 2c
It beats no pulse in vain, but keeps
its time, And undiscern'd to its own height
doth climb ;
( 567 )
See Appendix, first Song from Pontpey.
Kath
erine
Philips
Strung first and daily wound up by
His hand Who can its motions guide and
understand. No secret cunning then nor multi- tude Can Providence divert, cross or
delude. And her just full decrees are hidden
things, Which harder are to find than births
of springs. Yet all in various consorts^ fitly
sound, And by their discords Harmony
compound. 30
Hence is that Order, Life and
Energy, Whereby Forms are preserv'd though
Matters die ; And, shifting dress, keep their own
living state : So that what kills this, does that
propagate. This made the ancient Sage in
rapture cry, That sure the World had full eternity. For though itself to Time and Fate
subrnit. He 's above both who made and
governs it ; And to each creature hath such por- tion lent, As Love and Wisdom sees con- venient. 40 For He 's no Tyrant^ nor delights to
grieve The beings which from him alone
can live. He's most concern'd, and hath the
greatest share In Man, and therefore takes the
greatest care To make him happy, who alone can
be So by submission and conformity. For why should changes here below
surprise,
When the whole World its revolution
tries ? Where were our springs, our harvests'
pleasant use, Unless Vicissitude did them produce ? Nay, what can be so wearisome a
pain, 51
As when no alterations entertain ? To lose, to suffer, to be sick and die, Arrest us by the same necessity. Nor could they trouble us, but that
our mind Hath its own glory unto dross con-
fin'd, For outward things remove not from
their place. Till our souls run to beg their mean
embrace ; Then doting on the choice make it
our own, By placing trifles in th' Opinion's
throne. 60
So when they are divorc'd by some
new cross. Our souls seem widow'd by the fatal
loss : But could we keep our grandeur and
our state. Nothing below would seem un- fortunate ; But Grace and Reason, which best
succours bring. Would with advantage manage every- thing ; And by right judgement would pre- vent our moan. For losing that which never was our
own. For right opinion's like a marble grot, In summer cool, and in the winter
hot ; 70
A principle which in each fortune
lives. Bestowing catholic preservatives. 'Tis this resolves, there are no losses
where Virtue and Reason are continued
there.
1 _ <
(568)
= ' concerts,' as commonly.
Submission
The meanest soul might such a for- tune share,
But no mean soul could so that for- tune bear.
Thus I compose my thoughts grown insolent,
As th' Irish harper doth his instru- ment ;
Which if once struck doth murmur and complain,
But the next touch will silence all again. 80
2 Cor. V. 19. God was in Christ reconcilinof the World to Himself
When God, contracted to Humanity, Could sigh and suffer, could be sick
and die ; When all the heap of miracles com-
bin'd To form the greatest, which was,
save Mankind : Then God took stand in Christ,
studying a way How to repair the ruin'd World's
decay. His Love, Pow'r, Wisdom, must
some means procure His Mercy to advance, Justice
secure : And since Man in such misery was
hurl'd, It cost him more to save, than make
the World. 10
Oh ! what a desp'rate load of sins
had we, When God must plot for our felicity ! When God must beg us that He may
forgive, And die Himself before Mankind
could live ! And what still are we, when our
King in vain Begs His lost rebels to be friends
again ! What floods of Love proceed from
Heaven's smile,
(569)
At once to pardon and to reconcile ! What God Himself hath made He
cannot hate, For 'tis one act to love and to
create : 20
And He's too perfect full of Majesty, To need additions from our misery. He hath a father's, not a tyrant's, joy ; Shows more His pow'r to save, than
to destroy. Did there ten thousand Worlds to
ruin fall, One God could save, one Christ
redeem them all. Be silent then, ye narrow souls, take
heed Lest you restrain the Mercy you will
need. But O my soul, fromthese be different, Imitate thou a nobler precedent : 30 As God with open arms the World
does woo, Learn thou like God to be enlarged
too; As He begs thy consent to pardon
thee. Learn to submit unto thy enemy ; As He stands ready thee to entertain, Be thou as forward to return again ; As He was crucified for and by thee, Crucify thou what caus'd His Agony : And like to Him be mortified to sin. Die to the World as He died for it
then, 40
The World
We falsely think it due unto our friends,
That we should grieve for their un- timely ends.
He that surveys the world with serious eyes.
And strips her from her gross and weak disguise.
Shall find 'tis injury to mourn their fate;
He only dies untimely who dies late.
Katherine Philips
For if 'twere told to children in the womb,
To what a stage of mischiefs they must come ;
Could they foresee with how much toil and sweat
Men count that gilded nothing, be- ing great ; lo
What pains they take not to be what they seem,
Rating their bliss by others' false esteem.
And sacrificing their content, to be
Guilty of grave and serious vanity ;
How each condition hath its proper thorns.
And what one man admits, another scorns ;
How frequently their happiness they miss.
So far even from agreeing what it is.
That the same person we can hardly find,
Who is an hour together in one mind : 20
Sure they would beg a period of their breath,
And what we call their birth would count their death.
Mankind is mad ; for none can live alone,
Because their joys stand by com- parison :
And yet they quarrel at society,
And strive to kill they know not whom, nor why.
We all live by mistake, delight in dreams,
Lost to ourselves, and dwelling in extremes ;
Rejecting whatwe have, though ne'er so good.
And prizing what we never under- stood. 30
Compar'd t' our boisterous incon- stancy
Tempests are calm, and Discords harmony.
Hence we reverse the A\'orld, and yet do find
(570)
The God that made can hardly
please our mind. We live by chance and slip into
events ; Have all of beasts except their
innocence. The soul, which no man's pow'r can
reach, a thing That makes each woman man, each
man a King, Doth so much lose, and from its
height so fall, That some contend to have no soul
at all. 40
'Tis either not observ'd, or at the
best By Passion fought withal, by Sin
deprest. Freedom of Will (God's image) is
forgot ; And if we know it, we improve it
not. Our thoughts, though nothing can
be more our own, Are still unguided, very seldom
knov/n. Time 'scapes our hands as water in
a sieve. We come to die ere we begin to
live. Truth, the most suitable and noble
prize. Food of our spirits, yet neglected
lies. 50
Error and shadows are our choice,
and we Owe our perdition to our own
decree. If we search Truth, we make it more
obscure. And when it shines, cannot the
light endure, For most men now, who plod, and
eat, and drink. Have nothing less their bus'ness
than to think. And those few tliat inquire, how
small a share Of Truth they find, how dark their
notions are !
The IV or Id
That serious evenness that calms
the breast, And in a tempest can bestow
a rest, 60
We either not attempt, or else
dechne, By ev'ry trifle snatch'd from our
design. (Others he must in his deceits
involve, Who is not true unto his own
resolve.) We govern not ourselves, but loose
the reins, Counting our bondage to a thousand
chains ; And with as many slaveries, content As there are tyrants ready to tor- ment. We live upon a rack extended still To one extreme or both, but always
ill. 70
For since our fortune is not under- stood, We suffer less from bad than from
the good. The sting is better dress'd and longer
lasts. As surfeits are more dangerous than
fasts. And to complete the misery to us, We see extremes are still contiguous. And as we run so fast from what we
hate, Like squibs on ropes, to know no
middle state ; So, outward storms strengthen'd by
us, we find Our Fortune as disordered as our
mind. 80
But that 's excus'd by this, it doth
its part ; A treach'rous World befits a treach-
'rous heart. All ill 's our own, the outward storms
we loath
Receive from us their birth, their
sting, or both. And that our Vanity be past a
doubt, 'Tis one new vanity to find it out. Happy are they to whom God gives
a grave. And from themselves as from His
wrath doth save. 'Tis good not to be born ; but if
we must. The next good is, soon to return
to dust, 90
When th' uncag'd soul fled to
Eternity Shall rest, and live, and sing, and
love, and see. Here we but crawl and grovel, play
and cry ; Are first our own, then others'
enemy : But there shall be defac'd both
stain and score. For Time, and Death, and Sin shall
be no more.
The Soul
I
How vain a thing is Man, whose noblest part. That soul which through the World doth roam \ Traverses Heav'n, finds out the depth of Art, Yet is so ignorant at home ? II In every brook or mirror we can find Reflections of our face to be ; But a true optic to present our mind We hardly get, and darkly see. Ill Yet in the search after ourselves we run. Actions and causes we survey ; ro
' Orig. ' rome,' doubtless on the principle of which Spenser is the most distin- guished exponent. It may be worth observing that this quatrain of 10, 8, 10, 8 is not very common, and for good reasons. The immense improvement in The Palace of Art by the change to 10, 8, 10, 6 is an excellent subject for metrical study.
(571)
Kath
ertfte
Phi lip i^
And when the weary chase is almost done, Then from our quest we slip away.
IV
'Tis strange and sad, that since we do believe We have a soul must never die, There are so few that can a reason give How it obtains that life, or why.
V
I wonder not to find those that
know most.
Profess so much their ignorance ;
Since in their own souls greatest
wits are lost,
And of themselves have scarce
a glance. 20
VI
But somewhat sure doth here ob- scurely lie. That above dross would fain advance, And pants and catches at Eternity, As 'twere its own inheritance.
VII
A soul self-mov'd which can dilate, contract, Pierces and judges things unseen : But this gross heap of Matter cannot act. Unless impulsed from within.
VIII
Distance and Quantity, to bodies due,
The state of souls cannot admit ;
And all the contraries which Nature
knew 31
Meet there, nor hurt themselves,
nor it.
IX
God never body made so bright and clean, Which Good and Evil could dis- cern : What these words Honesty and Honour mean, The soul alone knows how to learn.
X
And though 'tis true she is imprison'd
here,
Yet hath she notions of her own,
W^hich Sense doth only jog, awake,
and clear.
But cannot at the first make
known.
40
XI
The soul her own felicity hath laid. And independent on ^ the sense. Sees the weak terrors which the World invade With pity or with negligence.
XII
So unconcern'd she lives, so much above The rubbish of a sordid jail. That nothing doth her energy im- prove So much as when those structures fail.
XIII
She's then a substance subtile, strong and pure. So immaterial and refin'd 50
As speaks her from the body's fate secure, And wholly of a diff rent kind.
XIV
Religion for reward in vain would look, Virtue were doom'd to misery, All actions were like bubbles in a brook, Were 't not for Immortality.
XV
But as that Conqueror who millions spent Thought it too mean to give a mite ; So the World's Judge can never be content To bestow less than Infinite. 60
' It may be doubted whether we have done well to substitute ' independent of as is often done; while keeping ' dependent on,''
(570
The Soul
XVI
Treason against Eternal Majesty Must have eternal Justice too ;
And since unbounded Love did satisfy, He will unbounded Mercy show.
XVII
It is our narrow thoughts shorten these things, By their companion flesh inclin'd ; Which feeling its own weakness glad- ly brings The same opinion to the mind.
XVIII
We stifle our own Sun, and live in
shade ;
But where its beams do once
appear, 70
They make that person of himself
afraid,
And to his own acts most severe.
XIX
For ways, to sin close, and our breast disguise From outward search, we soon may find : But who can his own soul bribe or surprise. Or sin without a sting behind ?
XX
He that commands himself is more a Prince Than he who nations keeps in awe ; Who yield to all that does their soul convince. Shall never need another Law. 80
Happiness
Nature courts Happiness^ although
it be Unknown as the Athenian Deity. It dwells not in man's sense, yet he
supplies That want by growing fond of its
disguise. The false appearances of joy deceive,
(573)
And seeking her unto her like we
cleave. For sinking Man hath scarce sense
left to know Whether the plank he grasps will
hold or no. While all the business of the World
is this. To seek that good which by mistake
they miss, 10
And all the several Passions men
express Are but for Pleasure in a diff'rent
dress. They hope for Happiness in being
great, Or rich, or lov'd, then hug their own
conceit. But the good man can find this
treasure out, For which in vain others do dig
and doubt ; And hath such secret full Content
within, Though all abroad be storms, yet
he can sing. His peace is made, all's quiet in
that place, Where Nature 's cur'd and exercis'd
by Grace. 20
This inward calm prevents his
enemies. For he can neither envy nor despise : But in the beauty of his ordered
mind Doth still a new, rich satisfaction
find. Innocent epicure ! whose single
breast Can furnish him with a continual
feast. A Prince at home, and sceptres can
refuse ; Valuing only what he cannot lose. He studies to do good ; (a man may
be Harmless for want of opportunity :) But he 's industrious kindness to
dispense, 31
And therein only covets eminence.
Kath
eri7te
Philips
Others do court applause and fame,
but he Thinks all that giddy noise but
Vanity. He takes no pains to be observ'd or
seen, While all his acts are echoed from
within. He 's still himself, when company are
gone. Too well employ'd ever to be alone. For studying God in all his volumes,
he Begins the business of Eternity ; 40 And unconcern'd without, retains a
power To suck (like bees) a sweet from
ev'ry flower. And as the Manna of the Israelites Had several tastes to please all
appetites : So his Contentment is that catholic
food, That makes all states seem fit as
well as good. He dares not wish, nor his own fate
propound ; Butj if God sends, reads Love in
every wound : And would not lose for all the joys
of sense The glorious pleasures of obedience. His better part can neither change
nor lose, 51
And all God's will can bear, can do,
can choose.
Death
How weak a star doth rule mankind.
Which owes its ruin to the same Causes which Nature had design'd To cherish and preserve the frame !
II As commonwealths may be secure. And no remote invasion dread ;
(574)
Yet may a sadder fall endure
From traitors in their bosom bred : III
So while we feel no violence, 9
And on our active health do trust,
A secret hand doth snatch us hence, And tumbles us into the dust.
IV
Yet carelessly we run our race. As if we could Death's summons wave; And think not on the narrow space Between a table and a grave, v But since we cannot Death reprieve. Our souls and fame we ought to mind. For they our bodies will survive ; That goes beyond, this stays behind. 20
VI
If I be sure my soul is safe,
And that my actions will provide
My tomb a nobler epitaph.
Than that I only liv'd and died.
VII
So that in various accidents
I Conscience may, and Honour, keep;
I with that ease and innocence Shall die, as infants go to sleep.
To the Queen's Majesty, on her late Sickness and Recovery
The public gladness that 's to us
restor'd, For your escape from what we so
deplor'd, Will want as well resemblance as
belief. Unless our joy be measur'd by our
grief. When in your fever we with terror
saw At once our hopes and happiness
withdraw ;
Tl'o the Queen s Majesty
And every crisis did with jealous
fear Inquire the news we scarce durst
stay to hear. Some dying Princes have their ser- vants slain, That after death they might not
want a train. lo
Such cruelty were here a needless
sin ; For had our fatal fears prophetic
been \ Sorrow alone that service would
have done, And you by Nations had been waited
on. Your danger was in ev'ry visage seen, And only yours was quiet and serene. But all our zealous grief had been in
vain. Had not great Charles's call'd you
back again : Who did your sufPrings with such
pain discern. He lost three Kingdoms once with
less concern. ao
Lab'ring your safety he neglected
his, Nor fear'd he death in any shape
but this. His Genius did the bold distemper
tame, And his rich tears quench'd the
rebellious flame. As^ once the Thracian Hero lov'd
and griev'd, Till he his lost felicity retriev'd ; And with the moving accents of
his woe. His spouse recover'd from the shades
below. So the King's grief your threaten'd
loss withstood, Who mourn'd with the same fortune
that he woo'd, 3*^
And to his happy passion we have
been
Now twice oblig'd for so ador'd a
Queen. But how severe a choice had you to
make. When you must Heav'n delay, or
Him forsake? Yet since those joys you made such
haste to find Had scarce been full if he were left
behind. How well did Fate decide your in- ward strife By making him a present of your life ? Which rescu'd blessing he must
long enjoy, Since our offences could it not
destroy. 40
For none but Death durst rival him
in you ; And Death himself was baffled in it
too.
Upon Mr. Abraham Cowley's Retirement
ODE
I
No, no, unfaithful World, thou hast
Too long my easy heart betray'd,
And me too long thy foot-ball made :
But I am wiser grown at last, And will improve by all that I have
past. I know 'twas just I should be prac-
tis'd on ; For I was told before, And told in sober and instructive
lore. How little all that trusted thee have
won : And yet I would make haste to be
undone. 10
Now by my suffring I am better
taught. And shall no more commit that
stupid fault.
^ So in orig., showing that ' bin ' for this rhyme is more or less of an accident. ^ Orig. ' at.'
( 575 )
Katherine Phiiips
Go, get some other fool, Whom thou mayst next cajole : On me thy frowns thou dost in vain bestow ; For I know how To be as coy and as reserved ' as thou.
II
In my remote and humble seat
Now I'm again possest 19
Of that late fugitive, my breast, From all thy tumults and from all
thy heat I'll find a quiet and a cool retreat ; And on the fetters I have worn Look with experienc'd and revenge- ful scorn, In this my sov'reign privacy. 'Tis true I cannot govern thee. But yet myself I may subdue ; And that's the nobler empire of the two. If ev'ry Passion had got leave Its satisfaction to receive, :^o
Yet I would it a higher pleasure call, To conquer one, than to indulge them all.
Ill For thy inconstant sea, no more I'll leave that safe and solid shore : No, though to prosper in the cheat, Thou shouldst my Destiny defeat. And make me be belov'd, or rich, or great : Nor from myself shouldst me reclaim With all the noise and all the pomp of Fame. Judiciously I'll these despise ; 40 Too small the bargain, and too great the price, For them to cozen twice. At length this secret I have learn'd ; Who will be happy, must be uncon- cern'd,
Must all their comfort in their bosom
wear. And seek their treasure and their
power there.
IV
No other wealth will I aspire. But that of Nature to admire ; Nor envy on a laurel will bestow. Whilst I have any in my garden grow. And when I would be great, 51 'Tis but ascending to a seat Which Nature in a lofty rock hath
built ; A throne as free from trouble as from guilt. Where when my soul her wings
does raise Above what worldlings fear or praise. With innocence and quiet pride
I'll sit. And see the humble waves pay tri- bute to my feet^ O life divine, when free from joys
diseas'd, Not always merry, but 'tis always pleas'd ! 60
V
A heart, which is too great a thing To be a present for a Persian King, Which God Himself would have to
be His court. Where Angels would officiously re- sort. From its own height should much
decline, If this converse it should resign (Ill-natur'd World !) for thine. Thy unwise rigour hath thy empire lost ; It hath not only set me free, But it hath made me .see, 70 They only can of thy possession
boast, Who do enjoy thee least, and under- stand thee most.
* Orig. ' reserv'e ' (with sup:f?estion of Frencli ■).
^ The rhyme here is worth comparison with that of * been ' ^so spelt) with ' sin,'
(576)
Up07t Mr. Abraham Cowley s Retirement
For lo, the man whom all mankind
admir'd, (By ev'ry Grace adorn'd, and ev'ry Muse inspir'd) Is now triumphantly retir'd. The mighty Cowley this hath done, And over thee a Parthian conquest won : Which future ages shall adore, And which in this subdues thee more Than either Greek or Roman ever could before. 80
The Irish Greyhound
Behold this creature's form and state, Which Nature therefore did create, That to the World might be exprest What mien there can be in a beast ; And that we in this shape may find A lion of another kind. For this heroic beast does seem In majesty to rival him ; And yet vouchsafes, to man, to show Both service and submission too. 10 From whence we this distinction have, That beast is fierce, but this is brave. This dog hath so himself subdu'd, That hunger cannot make him rude : And his behaviour does confess True courage dwells with gentleness. With sternest wolves he dares engage, And acts on them successful rage. Yet too much courtesy may chance To put him out of countenance. 20 When in his opposer's blood, Fortune hath made his virtue good ; This creature from an act so brave Grows not more sullen, but more
grave. Man's guard he would be, not his
sport. Believing he hath ventur'd for 't ;
But yet no blood or shed or spent Can ever make him insolent.
Few men of him to do great things
have learn'd. And when th' are done, to be so unconcern'd. 30
Song
To the Tune of Sommes nous pas trap heureiix
I
How prodigious is my fate. Since I can't determine clearly. Whether you'll do more severely Giving me your love or hate ! For if you with kindness bless me,
Since from you I soon must part ; Fortune will so dispossess me,
That your Love will break my heart. II But since Death all sorrow cures, Might I choose my way of dying, lo I could wish the arrow flying From Fortune's quiver, not from
yours. For in the sad unusual story
How my wretched heart was torn, It will more concern your glory,
I by absence fell than scorn.
A Dialosfue betwixt Lucasia and Rosania, imitating that of gentle Thyrsis ^
Ros. My Lucasia, leave the moun- tain-tops. And like a nearer air. Luc. How shall I then forsake my lovely flocks Bequeathed to my care ?
' A coincidence with the lines in The Princess, Canto vii, ' Come down, O maid.' The internal rhyme, after the first quatrain, is curious. It might be better to print the
lines separately —
' Shepherdess, Thy flocks will not be less,' &c,
(577) PP
Kath
erine
Philips.
Ros. Shepherdess, thy flocks will not be less, Although thou shouldst come hither. Luc, But I fear, the world will be severe, Should I leave them to go thither. Ros. O ! my friend, if you on that depend. You'll never know content. lo Luc. Rather I near thee would live and die, Would fortune but consent. Ros. But did you ask leave to love me too, That others should deprive me ? Luc. Not all mankind, a stratagem can find Which from that heart should drive me. Ros. Better 't had been, I thee had never seen. Than that content to lose. Luc. Such are thy charms, I'd dwell within thine arms Could I my station choose. 20 Ros. When life is done, the World to us is gone. And all our cares do end. Luc. Nay, I know there's nothing sweet below, Unless it be a friend. Ros. Then whilst we live, this joy let 's take and give. Since death us soon will sever. Luc. But I trust, when crumbled into dust. We shall meet and love for ever.
Song
To the Tune of Adieu, Phillis
'Tis true our life is but a long disease, Made up of real pain and seeming
ease. You stars, who these entangled for- tunes give,
(578)
O tell me why
It is so hard to die,
Yet such a task to live ?
If with some pleasure we our griefs
betray. It costs us dearer than it can repay. For Time or Fortune all things so devours ;
Our hopes are crost, 10
Or else the object lost. Ere we can call it ours.
An Epitaph on my honoured Mother- in- Law, Mrs. Phil[l]ips of Portheynon in Cardiganshire, who died Jan. I, anno i66|-.
Reader, stay, it is but just ; Thou dost not tread on common
dust. For underneath this stone does lie One whose name can never die : Who from an honour'd lineage
sprung, Was to another matched young ; Whose happiness she ever sought ; One blessing was, and many brought. And to her spouse her faith did
prove By fifteen pledges of their love. 10 But when by Death of him depriv'd, An honourable widow liv'd Full four and twenty years, wherein Though she had rnuch afflicted been, Saw many of her children fall. And public ruin threaten all. Yet from above assisted, she Both did and suffer'd worthily. She to the Crown and Church ad-
her'd. And in their sorrows them rever'd, 20 With piety which knew no strife, But was as sober as her life. A furnish'd table, open door. That for her friends, this for the
poor.
An Epitaph
She kept ; yet did her fortune find, Too narrow for her nobler mind ; Which seeking objects to reHeve, Did food to many orphans give, Who in her Hfe no want did know. But all the poor are orphans now. .^o Yet hold, her fame is much too safe, To need a written epitaph. Her fame was so confess'd, that she Can never here forgotten be, Till Cardigan itself become To its own ruin'd heaps a tomb.
Lucasia, Rosania, and Orinda parting at a Fountain, J uly.
i66^s
Here, here are our enjoyments done. And since the love and grief we
wear Forbids us either word or tear. And Art wants here expression, See Nature furnish us with one.
n The kind and mournfulnymph which here Inhabits in her humble cells. No longer her own sorrow tells. Nor for it now concern'd appears. But for our parting sheds these tears. lo
ni Unless she may afflicted be,
Lest we should doubt her inno- cence ; Since she hath lost her best pre- tence Unto a matchless purity ; Our love being clearer far than she.
IV
Cold as the streams that from her flow. Or (if her privater recess A greater coldness can express) Then cold as those dark beds of
snow Our hearts are at this parting blow, ao
( 579 ) P
But Time, that has both wings and feet. Our suffering minutes being spent. Will visit us with new content. And sure, if kindness be so sweet 'Tis harder to forget than meet.
VI
Then though the sad adieu we say. Yet as the wine we hither bring. Revives, and then exalts the spring : So let our hopes to meet allay The fears and sorrows of this day. 30
A Farewell to Rosania
My dear Rosania, sometimes be so
kind. To think upon the friend thou leav'st
behind, And wish thee here, to make thy joys
complete. Or else me there, to share thy blest
retreat. But to the heart which for thy loss
doth mourn, The kindest thought is that of quick
return.
To my Lady Anne Boyle, saying I looked angrily upon her
Ador'd Valeria, and can you con- clude,
Orinda lost in such ingratitude ;
And so mis-spell the language of my face.
When in my heart you have so great a place ?
Ah ! be assur'd I could no look direct
To you, not full of passion and respect.
Or if my looks have play'd that treach'rous part.
And so much misinterpreted my heart,
I shall forgive them that one false- hood, less
Than all their folly, and their ugli-
ness
10
Katharine Philips
And had much rather choose they should appear
Always unhandsome, than once un- sincere.
But I must thank your error, which procures
Me such obliging jealousy as yours.
For at that quarrel I can ne'er repine,
Which shows your kindness, though it questions mine.
To your concern I pardon your dis- trust,
And prize your love, ev'n when it is unjust.
On the Welsh Language
If Honour to an ancient name be
due, Or Riches challenge it for one that's
new, The British language claims in either
sense, Both for its age, and for its opulence. But all great things must be from
us remov'd, To be with higher reverence belov'd. So landscapes which in prospects
distant lie, With greater wonder draw the pleased
eye. Is not great Troy to one dark ruin
hurl'd ? Once the fam'd scene of all the
fighting world. lo
\Vhere's Athens now, to whom Rome
Learning owes. And the safe laurels that adorn'd her
brows ? A strange reverse of Fate she did
endure. Never once greater, than she's now
obscure. Ev'n Rome herself can but some
footsteps show Of Scipio's times, or those of Cicero. ..\nd as the Roman and the Grecian
State,
The British fell, the spoil of Time
and Fate. But though the Language hath the
beauty lost. Yet she has still some great Remains
to boast. 2 0
For 'twas in that, the sacred Bards of
old, In deathless numbers did their
thoughts unfold. In groves, by rivers, and on fertile
plains. They civiliz'd and taught the list'n-
ing swains ; Whilst with high raptures, and as
great success. Virtue they clothed in Music's charm- ing dress. This Merlin spoke, who in his gloomy
cave, Ev'n Destiny herself seem'd to en- slave. For to his sight the future time was
known. Much better than to others is their
own : 30
And with such state, predictions from
him fell. As if he did decree, and not fore- tell. This spoke King Arthur, who, if
Fame be true, Could have compell'd mankind to
speak it too. In this once Boadicca^ valour taught, And spoke more nobly than her
soldiers fought : Tell me what hero could be more
than she. Who fell at once for Fame and
Liberty ? Nor could a greater sacrifice belong. Or to her children's, or her country's
wrong. 40
This spoke Caractacus, who was so
brave, That to the Roman Fortune check
he gave :
' Sic in orig., and the form, which has some authority, is wanted for the verse. ( 580 )
On the Welsh La?iguage
And when their yoke he could decline
no more, He it so decently and nobly wore, That Rome herself with blushes did
believe A Britain * would the Law of Honour
give ; And hastily his chains away she
threw, Lest her own captive else should her
subdue.
To the Countess of Thanet, upon her JNTarriage
Since you who credit to all wonders
bring, That lovers can believe, or poets
sing ; Whose only shape and fashion does
express. Your virtue is your nature, not your
dress ; In whom the most admir'd extremes
appear. Humble and fair, prudent and yet
sincere '^ : Whose matchless worth transmits
such splendid rays. As those that envy it are forc'd to
praise. Since you have found such an illus- trious sphere. And are resolv'd to fix your glories
there ; lo
A heart whose bravery to his sex
secures As much renown as you have done
to yours ; And whose perfections in obtaining
you. Are both discover'd and rewarded
too ; 'Twere almost equal boldness to
invent
How to increase your merit, or
content. Yet sure the Muses somewhat have
to say, But they will send it you a better
way : The Court, which so much to your
lustre owes. Must also pay you its officious
vows. 20
But whilst this shows respect, and
those their art. Let me too speak the language of my
heart ; Whose ruder ofPrings dare approach
your shrine. For you, who merit theirs, can pardon
mine. Fortune and Virtue with such heat
contend (As once for Rome) now to make
you their friend : As you so well can this prefer to
that, As you can neither fear, nor mend
your fate : Yet since the votes of joy from all
are due, A love like mine must find some
wishes too. 30
May you in this bright constella- tion set, Still show how much the Good out- shine the Great : May you be courted with all joys of
sense, Yet place the highest in your inno- cence ; Whose praise may you enjoy, but
not regard. Finding within both motive and
reward. May Fortune still to your commands
be just, Yet still beneath your kindness or
your trust.
1 This is not impossible, though ' a Briton ' is more likely.
* This line in orig. illustrates the futility of retaining typographical peculiarities in- discriminately. Besides 'Humble,' 'Fair' and 'Prudent' there have capitals, 'sincere' not. Let him, who can, distinguish.
(581)
Kath
eri7ie
Philips
May you no trouble either feel or
fear, But from your pity for what others
wear ; 4°
And may the happy owner of your
breast, Still find his passion with his joys
increas'd ; Whilst every moment your concern
makes known, And gives him too, fresh reason for
his own : And from their Parents may your
Offspring have Ail that is wise and lovely, soft and
brave : Or if all wishes we in one would
give, For him, and for the world, Long
may you live.
Epitaph ^ on her Son H. P. at St. Syth's Church, where her body also Hes interred
What on Earth deserves our trust ; Youth and Beauty both are dust. Long we gathering are with pain, What one moment calls again. Seven years childless marriage past, A Son, a Son is born at last : So exactly limb'd and fair. Full of good spirits, mien, and air, As a long life promised, Yet, in less than six weeks dead. lo Too promising, too great a mind In so small room to be confin'd : Therefore, as fit in Heav'n to dwell. He quickly broke the prison shell. So the subtle alchymist, Can't with Hermes' Seal resist The powerful spirit's subtler fiight, J)Ut 'twill bid him long good night : And so the Sun, if it arise Half so glorious as his eyes, 20
Like this Lifant, takes a shroud. Buried in a morning cloud.
On the Death of my Lord Rich, only son to the Earl of Warwick, who died of the small-pox, 1664
Have not so many lives of late Suffic'd to quench the greedy thirst
of Fate? Though to increase the mournful
purple flood. As well as noble, she drank Royal
blood ; That not content, against us to
engage Our own wild fury, and usurpers'
rage ; By sickness now, when all that storm
is past. She strives to hew our heroes down
as fast ; And by the prey she chooses, shows
her aim Is to extinguish all the English
Fame. to
Else had this generous Youth we now
have lost, Been still his friends' delight, and
country's boast. And higher rais'd the illustrious
name he bore, Than all our chronicles had done
before. Had Death consider'd ere he struck
this blow. How many noble hopes 'twould over- throw ; The Genius of his House (who did
complain That all her worthies now died o'er
again) ; His flourishing, and yet untainted
years ; His father's anguish, and his mother's
tears ; 20
Sure he had been persuaded to
relent. Nor had for so much early sweetness,
sent
* Sec Introduction.
(582)
0;/ the Death of my Lord Rich
That fierce disease, which knows not
how to spare The young, the great, the knowing,
or the fair. But we as well might flatter every
wind, And court the tempests to be less
unkind. As hope from churlish Death to
snatch his prey. Who is as furious and as deaf as they; And who hath cruelly surpris'd in him, His parents' joy^ and all the World's
esteem. 30
Say, treacherous Hopes that
whisper in our ear. Still to expect some steady comfort
here. And though we oft discover all your
arts, Would still betray our disappointed
hearts ; What new delusion can you now
prepare. Since this pale object shows how
false you are ? 'Twill fully answer all you have to
plead, If we reply, great Warwick's heir is
dead : Blush, human Hopes and Joys, and
then be all 39
In solemn mourning 1 at this funeral.
P^or since such expectations brittle
prove, ^Vhat can we safely either hope or
love ?
The Virgin
The things that make a Virgin please, She that seeks, will find them these ; A Beauty, not to Art in debt, Rather agreeable than great ;
An eye, wherein at once do meet. The beams of kindness, and of
wit; An undissembled Innocence, Apt not to give, nor take offence : A conversation at once free From Passion, and from Sub- tlety ; 10 A face that's modest, yet serene, A sober, and yet lively mien ; The virtue which does her adorn, By Honour guarded, not by Scorn ; With such wise lowliness endu'd. As never can be mean, or rude ; That prudent negligence enrich, And Time 's her silence and her
speech ^ ; Whose equal mind does always
move, Neither a foe, nor slave to love ; 20 And whose Religion 's strong and
plain. Not superstitious, nor profane.
Upon the Graving of her Name upon a Tree in Barn- Elms Walks
Alas, how barbarous are we.
Thus to reward the courteous-^
Tree, Who its broad shade affording us. Deserves not to be wounded thus ! See how the yielding bark complies With our ungrateful injuries ! And seeing this, say how much
then Trees are more generous then
men. Who by a nobleness so pure, Can first oblige, and then endure. 10
* Grig. ' morning.'
"- This very ' metaphysical ' couplet seems to mean, ' If you add riches to her wise retiringness, Time will have nothing bad and everything good to say of her.' But I could add other interpretations, and am not sure of any.
(583)
Kath
erine
Philip ii
To my dearest Friend Mrs. A. Owen, upon her greatest loss
As when two sister-rivulets who crept From that dark bed of snow wherein
they slept, By private distant currents under
ground, Have by maeanders ^ cither's bosom
found, They sob aloud, and break down
what withstood, Swoln by their own embraces to
a flood : So when my sympathy for thy dear
grief Had brought me near, in hope to
give relief, I found my sorrow heighten'd when
so join'd. And thine increas'd by being so
combin'd, lo
Since to the bleeding hopes of many
years, I could contribute nothing but my
tears ; Fears which to thy sad fate were
justly due. And to his loss, by all who that
loss knew ; For thy Charistus was so much above 'I'he eloquence of all our grief and
love. That it would be injurious to his
hearse. To think to crowd his worth into
a verse : Could I by miracle such praise
indite, Who with more ease and justice
weep than write, 20
He was all that which History can
boast. Or bolder Poetry had e'er engross'd.
So pious, just, noble, discreet, and
kind. Their best ideas know not how to
find. His strong Religion not on trifles
spent. Was useful, firm, early, and eminent, Never betray'd to indigested heat, Nor yet entic'd from what was
safely great. And this so soon, as if he had
foresight, He must begin betimes whose noon
is night. 30
His virtue was his choice, and not
his chance. Not mov'd by Age, nor born of
Ignorance. He well knew whom, and what he
did believe. And for his faith did not dispute,
but live. And liv'd just like his infant inno- cence. But that was crown'd with free
obedience. How did he scorn design, and
equally How much abhorr'dthis age's vanity ! He neither lik'd its tumults, nor its
joys, Slighted alike Earth's pleasures, and
her noise. 40
But unconcern'd in both, in his own
mind Alone could power and satisfaction
find. A treasury of merit there lay hid, Which though he ne'er confess'd,
his actions did. His modesty unto his virtue lent At once a shadow and an ornament. But what could hide those filial rites
he paid ? How much he lov'd, how prudently
obey'd ?
' The orig. has the diphthong ; but as it also has capital initial and italic spelling, it is open to any one to contend that Orinda, or her printer, was uncertain whether the word had yet become a common noun. I wish it had kept the diphthong as such.
(584)
To Mrs. A. Owejty up07i her greatest loss
How as a brother did he justly
share His kind concern betwixt respect
and care ? 50
And to a wife how fully did he
prove How wisely he could judge, how
fondly love ? As husbands serious, but as lovers
kind, He valu'd all of her, but lov'd her
mind ; And with a passion made this riddle
true, 'Twas ever perfect, and yet still it
grew. Such handsome thoughts his breast
did ever fill. He durst do anything, but what
was ill ; Unlike those gallants who so use
their time. As opportunity to act their crime, 60 And lost in wine or vanity when
young, They die too soon, because they
liv'd too long : But he has hallowed so his early
death, 'Tis almost shame to draw a longer
breath. I can no more, they that can must
have learn'd To be more eloquent, and less
concern'd. But all that noble justice to his
name. His own good Angel will commit
to Fame. Could grief recall this happiness
again. Of thy dear sorrow I would ne'er
complain, 70
But such an opportunity would take To grieve an useless life out for thy
sake. But since it cannot, I must pray
thee live. That so much of Charistus may
survive,
(585)
And that thou do not act so harsh
to Love, As that his glory should thy sorrow
move : Endure thy loss till Heav'n shall it
repay. Upon thy last and glorious wedding- day, When thou shalt know him more,
and quickly find The love increas'd by being so
refin'd, 80
And there possess him without
parting fears. As I my friendship free from
future tears.
Orinda to Lucasia parting, October, 1 661, at London
Adieu, dear Object of my Love's
excess. And with thee all my hopes of
happiness. With the same fervent and unchanged
heart Which did its whole self once to
thee impart, (And which, though fortune has so
sorely bruis'd. Would suffer more, to be from this
excus'd) I to resign thy dear converse
submit. Since I can neither keep, nor merit it. Thou hast too long to me confined
been, Who ruin am without, passion
within. 10
My mind is sunk below thy tender- ness, And my condition does deserve it
less ; I'm so entangl'd and so lost a thing By all the shocks my daily sorrow[s]
bring. That wouldst thou for thy old Orinda
call, Thou hardly couldst unravel her at all.
Katherine Philips
And should I thy clear fortunes
interline AVith the incessant miseries of mine ? No, no, I never lov'd at such a
rate, To tie thee to the rigours of my
fate. 20
As from my obligations thou art
free. Sure thou shalt be so from my
injury. Though every other worthiness
I miss, Yet I'll at least be generous in this. I'd rather perish without sigh or
groan, Than thou shouldst be condemn'd
to give me one ; Nay, in my soul I rather could
allow Friendship should be a sufferer,
than thou : Go then, since my sad heart has set
thee free, Let all the loads and chains remain
on me. 30
Though I be left the prey of sea
and wind, Thou, being happyj wilt in that be
kind ; Nor shall I my undoing much
deplore, Since thou art safe, whom I must
value more. Oh ! mayst thou ever be so, and as
free From all ills else, as from my
company ; And may the torments thou hast
had from it, Be all that Heaven will to thy life
permit. And that they may thy virtue service
do, Mayst thou be able to forgive them
too :
40
But though I must this sharp
submission learn, I cannot yet unwish thy dear
concern.
( 5S6 )
Not one new comfort I expect to see, I quit my Joy, Hope, Life, and all
but thee ; Nor seek I thence aught that may
discompose That mind where so serene a good- ness grows. I ask no inconvenient kindness
now, To move thy passion, or to cloud
thy brow ; And thou wilt satisfy my boldest plea By some few soft remembrances of
me, ?o
Which may present thee with this
candid thought, I meant not all the troubles that
I brought. Own not what Passion rules, and
Fate does crush. But wish thou couldst have done 't
without a blush ; And that I had been, ere it was tod
late, Either more worthy, or more
fortunate. Ah, who can love the thing they
cannot prize ? But thou mayst pity though thou
dost despise. Yet I should think that pity bought
too dear, If it should cost those precious
eyes a tear. 60
Oh, may no minute's trouble thee
possess, But to endear the next hour's
happiness ; And mayst thou when thou art from
me remov'd, Be better pleas'd, but never worse
belov'd : Oh, pardon me for pouring out my
woes In rhyme now, that I dare not do 't
in prose. For I must lose whatever is call'd
dear. And thy assistance all that loss to
bear,
Oriiida to Liccasia parting
And have more cause than e'er
I had before, 'i'o fear that I shall never see thee
more. 70
On the first of January, 1657
Th' Eternal Centre of my life and
me, A\'ho when I was not, gave me room
to be, Hath since (my time preserving in
his hands) By moments number'd out the
precious sands. Till it is swell'd to six and twenty
years, Chequer'd by Providence with smiles
and tears. I have observ'd how vain all glories
are, 'I'he change of Empire, and the
chance of War : Seen Faction with its native venom
burst. And Treason struck, by what itself
had nurs'd : 10
Seen useless crimes, whose owners
but made way For future candidates to wear the
bay.
To my Lady M. Cavendish, choosing the name of Policrite
That Nature in your frame has
taken care. As well your birth as beauty do
declare. Since we at once discover in your
face. The lustre of your eyes and of your
race : And that your shape and fashion
does attest. So bright a form has yet a brighter
Guest,
(587)
To future times authentic fame shall
bring. Historians shall relate, and Poets
sing. But since your boundless mind
upon my head. Some rays of splendour is content
to shed ; 10
And lest I suffer by the great
surprise. Since you submit to meet me in
disguise, Can lay aside what dazzles vulgar
sight, _ _
And to Orinda can be Policrite. You must endure my vows, and
find the way To entertain such rites as I can pay : For so the Pow'r Divine new praise
acquires, By scorning nothing that it once
inspires : I have no merits that your smile
can win. Nor offering to appease you when
I sin ; 20
Nor can my useless homage hope to
raise, ^\Tien what I cannot serve, I strive
to praise : But I can love, and love at such a
pitch, As I dare boast it will ev'n you
enrich ; For kindness is a mine, when great
and true. Of nobler ore than ever Indians
knew ; 'Tis all that mortals can on Heav'n
bestow. And all that Heav'n can val^ie here
below.
Against Love
Hence, Cupid ! with your cheating
toys, Your real Griefs, and painted Joys, Your Pleasure which itself destroys.
Kath
lertne
Phi lip i^
Lovers like men in fevers burn
and rave, And only what will injure them do crave. Men's weakness makes Love so
severe, They give him power by their
fear, And make the shackles which they wear. Who to another does his heart
submit, Makes his own Idol, and then worships it. lo
Him whose heart is all his own. Peace and liberty does crown, He apprehends no killing frown. He feels no raptures which are
joys diseas'd. And is not much transported, but still pleas'd.
A Dialogue of Friendship multiplied
Musidorus Will you unto one single sense Confine a starry Influence ; Or when you do the rays combine. To themselves only make them shine ? Love that 's engross'd by one
alone, Is envy, not affection. Orinda No, Musidorus, this would be But Friendship's prodigality ; Union in rays does not confine, But doubles lustre when they shine, And souls united live above ii
Envy, as much as scatter'd Love. PViendship (like rivers) as it
multiplies In many streams, grows weaker still and dies.
Afusidorus Rivers indeed may lose their force, When they divide or break their course ;
(588)
For they may want some hidden
Spring, Which to their streams recruits may
bring : But Friendship's made of purest
fire. Which burns and keeps its stock entire. 20
Love, like the Sun, may shed his
beams on all. And grow more great by being general.
Orinda The purity of Friendship's flame, Proves that from sympathy it came. And that the hearts so close do knit. They no third partner can admit ; Love like the Sun does all inspire, But burns most by contracted fire. Then though I honour every
worthy guest. Yet my Lucasia only rules my breast. 30
Rosania to Lucasia on her Letters
Ah ! strike outright, or else forbear ; Be more kind, or more severe ; For in this chequer'd mixture I Cannot live, and would not die : And must I neither ? Tell me why.
When thy pen thy kindness tells. My heart transported leaps and
swells. But when my greedy eye does stray. Thy threaten'd absence to survey, That heart is struck, and faints
away. 10
To give me title to rich land. And the fruition to withstand, Or solemnly to send the key Of treasures I must never see. Would it contempt, or bounty be ?
This is such refin'd distress. That thy sad lovers sigh for less,
Rosania to Lucasia o?i her Letters
Though thou their hopes hast over- thrown,
They lose but what they ne'er have known, 19
But I am plunder'd from my own.
How canst thou thy Rosania prize, And be so cruel and so wise ? For if such rigid policy Must thy resolves dispute with me, ^\^here then is Friendship's victory ?
Kindness is of so brave a make, 'Twill rather death than bondage
take ; So that if thine no power can have, (live it and me one common grave, But quickly either kill or save. 30
To my Antenor, March 16, 166^
My dear Antenor, now give o'er. For my sake talk of graves no more ; Death is not in your power to gain. And is both wish'd and fear'd in
vain. Let's be as angry as we will, (irief sooner may distract than kill, And the unhappy often prove Death is as coy a thing as Love. Those whose own sword their death
did give. Afraid were or asham'd to live ; 10 And by an act so desperate, Did poorly run away from Fate ; 'Tis braver much t' outride the
storm. Endure its rage, and shun his harm^ ; Affliction nobly undergone, More greatness shows than having
none. But yet the wheel in turning round, At last may lift us from the ground. And w'hen our Fortune's most severe, The less we have, the less we fear. 20
And why should we that grief permit, Which can nor mend nor shorten it ? Let 's wait for a succeeding good. Woes have their ebb as well as flood : And since the Parliament have rescu'd
Believe that Providence will do so too.
A Triton to Lucasia going to Sea, shortly after the Queen's arrival
My Master Neptune took such pains
of late To quiet the comrnotions of his
state '^, That he might give, through his
fierce winds and seas, Safe passage to the Royal Portuguese, Thathee'er sinceat home has kept. And in his crystal palace slept, Till a swift wind told him to-day, A stranger was to pass this way, Whom he hath sent me out to view-, And I must tell him. Madam, it is you. 10
n He knows you by an honourable
fame : Who hath not heard Lucasia's worthy
name ? But should he see you too, I doubt
he will Grow amorous, and here detain you still : I know his humour very well, So best can the event foretell. But wishing you better success. And that my Master's guilt be less, I will say nothing of your form. Till you are past the danger of a storm. 20
' The concurrence of 'its' and 'his' is rather curious, especially in view of the rather recent establishment of the former. Of course both may not refer to ' storm ' ; but Orinda would hardlv have made Fate masculine, and Death is some way behind.
''■ Quite a Drydenian line : cf. MacFleckiioe, 1. 10.
( 5H9 )
Katheri7ie Philips
III
Fear nothing else^ for eyes so sweet as
these, No power that is sea-born can dis- please ; You are much more than Nymph or
Goddess bright ;
I saw 'm ^ all at supper t'other night :
They with far less attraction draw,
TheygiveusLove, yougiveusLaw.
Your charms the winds and seas
will move, But 'tis no wonder, not to Love. Your only danger is, lest they Stiff with amazement should becalm your way. 30
IV
But should they all want breath to
make a gale. What's sent in prayers for you will
fill your sail ; What brought you hither will your
way secure, Courage and Kindness can no slip
endure ; The winds will do as much for you.
V
Yetsince our birth the English Ocean
boasts. We hope sometimes to see you on
these coasts.
And we will order for you as you pass,
Winds soft as lovers' vows, waves
smooth as glass.
Each Deity shall you befriend, 40
And all the Sea-Nymphs shall
attend ; But if because a ship 's too strait ", Or else unworthy such a freight, A coach more useful would appear. That and six Danish steeds you know are here.
Orinda upon little Hector Philips
I " Twice forty months of wedlock I did
stay, Then had my vows crown'd with a
lovely boy. And yet in forty days he dropt away ;
0 swift vicissitude of human joy !
II
1 did but see him, and he dis-
appear'd, I did but pluck the rosebud and
it fell ; A sorrow unforeseen and scarcely
fear'd. For ill can mortals their afflictions
spell.
Ill And now (sweet Babe !) what can my
trembling heart Suggest to right my doleful fate or
thee ? 1 o
Tears are my Muse, and sorrow all
my art. So piercing groans must be thy
Elogy \
IV
Thus whilst no eye is witness of my
moan, I grieve thy loss (Ah, Boy too dear
to live !)> And let the unconcerned World
alone. Who neither will nor can refreshment
give.
V
An off'ring to ^ for thy sad tomb I
have. Too just a tribute to thy early herse,
* Sic in orig., and just worth noting for prosody's sake. ° Orig. 'straight'; but this confusion is incessant.
' Again see Introduction.
* Sic The reader may choose between 'eulogy' and 'elegy' — the latter being of course the more obvious.
* Sicrn orig. It is of course wrong ; but to substitute ' too ' would make an awkward clash with the next line. I am inclined to read ' offering ' in full and to suppose that she wrote ' to thy' first, and substituted 'for' without cancelling ' to' — when the thirst of the age for apostrophes would do the rest.
( 590)
Ormda upon little Hector Philips
Receive these gasping numbers to
thy grave, The last of thy unhappy mother's
verse. 20
To the Lady E. Boyle
Ah, lovely Celimena ! why Are you so full of charms,
That neither sex can from them fly, Nor take against them arms ?
Others in time may gain a part,
But you at once snatch all the heart.
Dear Tyrant, why will you subdue
Orinda's trivial heart. Which can no triumph add to you.
Not meriting your dart ? 10
And sure you will not grant it one, If not for my sake, for your own.
For it has been by tenderness Already so much bruis'd.
That at your altars I may guess It will be but refus'd.
For never Deity did prize
A torn and maimed sacrifice.
But oh ! what madness can or dare Dispute this noble chain, 20
Which 'tis a greater thing to wear. Than empires to obtain ?
To be your slave I more design.
Than to have all the World be mine.
Those glorious fetters will create
A merit fit for them. Repair the breaches made by Fate,
And whom they own redeem. What thus ennobles and thus cures. Can be no influence but yours. 30
Pardon th' ambition of my aim, Who love you at that rate,
That story cannot boast a flame So lasting and so great.
I can be only kind and true,
But what else can be worthy you ?
(591 )
To my Lord Duke of Ormond, upon the late Plot
Though you, great Sir, be Heav'n's
immediate care. Who show'd you danger, and then
broke the snare : And our first gratitude to that be
due. Yet there is much that must be paid
to you : For 'tis your prudence Ireland's
peace secures, Gives her her safety, and (what's
dearer) yours, Whilst your prevailing Genius does
dispense. At once its conduct and its influence. Less honour from a battle won, is
got, Than to repel so dangerous a plot ; Fortune with Courage may play booty
there, 1 1
But single Virtue is triumphant here : In vain the bold ungrateful rebels
aim To overturn when you support the
same : j You who three potent Kingdoms late
have seen Tremble with fury, and yet steadfast
been; WTio an afflicted Majesty could
wait. When it was seemingly forsook by
Fate; Whose settled loyalty no storms dis- mayed, Nor the more flattering mischiefs could dissuade : 20
And having 'scap'd so dangerous a
coast. Could you now fall, expiring Treason's
boast ? Or was it hop'd by this contemned
crew, That you could Fortune and not them subdue ?
Kath
erine
Phi lip i^
But whilst these wretches at this im- pious rate,
Will buy the knowledge of your mighty fate ;
You shall preserve your King's en- trusted crown,
Assisted by his fortune and your own.
And w^hilst his sword Kingdoms abroad bestows,
You, with the next renown, shall this dispose. 30
To the Countess of Roscom- mon, with a Copy of Pompey
Great Pompey's Fame from Egypt
made escape. And flies to you for succour in this
shape : A shape, which, I assur'd him, would
appear. Nor fit for you to see, nor him to
wear. Yet he says. Madam, he's resolv'd to
come. And run a hazard of a second doom : But still he hopes to bribe you, by
that trust You may be kind, but cannot be un- just ; Each of whose favours will delight
him more Than all the laurels that his temples
wore : 10
Yet if his name and his misfortunes
fail. He thinks my intercession will pre- vail ; And whilst my numbers would relate
his end. Not like a Judge you'll listen, but a
Friend \ For how can either of us fear your
frown. Since he and I are both so much
your own. i
( 59O
But when you wonder at my bold
design. Remember who did that high task
enjoin ; Th' illustrious Orrery, whose least
command You would more wonder if I could
withstand : 20
Of him I cannot which is hardest
tell. Or not to praise him, or to praise
him well ; Who on that height from whence
true glory came. Does there possess and thence dis- tribute fame ; Where all their lyres the willing
Muses bring. To learn of him whatever they shall
sing; Since all must yield, whilst there are
books or men, The universal empire to his pen ; Oh ! had that powerful Genius but
inspir'd The feeble hand, whose service he
requir'd, 30
It had your Justice then, not Mercy
pray'd, Had pleas'd you more, and better
him obey'd.
On the Death of the truly- honourable Sir Walter Lloyd, Knight
At obsequies where so much grief
is due. The Muses are in solemn mourning
too. And by their dead astonishment
confess. They can lament this loss, though
not express : Nay, if those ancient Bards had seen
this herse. Who once in British shades spoke
living verse,
On the Death of Sir Walter Lloyd
Their high concern for him had made
them be Apter to weep, than write his Elogy^ When on our land that flood of
woes was sent, \\' hich swallow'd all things sacred as
it went, lo
The injur'd Arts and Virtues made
his breast The ark wherein they did securely
rest : For as that old one was toss'd up
and down, And yet the angry billows could not
drown ; So Heav'n did him in this worse
deluge save, i\.nd made him triumph o'er th' un- quiet wave : Who while he did with that wild
storm contest, Such real magnanimity exprest, That he dar'd to be loyal, in a time When 'twas a danger made, and
thought a crime : 20
Duty, and not Ambition, was his
aim. Who studied Conscience ever more
than Fame ; And thought it so desirable a thing, To be preferr'd to suffer for his King, That he all Fortune's spite had
pardon'd her. Had she not made his Prince a
sufferer; For whose lov'd cause he did both
act and grieve. And for it only did endure to live. To teach the World what Man can
be and do, Arm'd by Allegiance and Religion
too. 30
His head and heart mutual assist- j ance gave,
' That being still so wise, and this ; so brave,
J That 'twas acknowledg'd all he said I and did,
From Judgement, and from Honour
did proceed : Such was the useful mixture of his
mind, 'Twas at once meek and knowing,
stout and kind ; For he was civil, bountiful, and
learn'd, And for his friends so generously
concern'd. That both his heart and house, his
hand and tongue, To them, more than himself, seem'd
to belong ; 40
As if to his wrong'd party he would be Both an example and apology : For when both swords and pens
ceas'd the dispute, His life alone Rebellion did confute. But when his vows propitious
Heaven had heard, And our unequall'd King at length
appear'd. As aged Simeon did his spirits yield. When he had seen his dearest hopes
fulfiU'd ; He gladly saw the morning of that day, Wliich Charles his growing splendour
did display ; 50
Then to eternal joys made greater
haste. Because his present ones flow'd in
so fast ; From which he fled, out of a pious fear. Lest he by them should be rewarded
here; While his sad country by his death
have lost Their noblest pattern, and their
greatest boast.
Orinda to Lucasia
I
Observe the weary birds ere night
be done, How they would fain call up the
tardy Sun,
' This hybrid has been already noted.
( 593 ) Q q
Kath
erine
Philips,
With feathers hung with dew, And trembhng voices too, They court their glorious planet to
appear, That they may find recruits of spirits there. The drooping flowers hang their
heads, And languish down into their beds : While brooks more bold and fierce than they. Wanting those beams, from whence lo
All things drink influence. Openly murmur and demand the day.
II Thou, my Lucasia, art far more to
me, Than he to all the under-world can be ; From thee I've heat and light. Thy absence makes my night. But ah ! my friend, it now grows
very long. The sadness weighty, and the dark- ness strong : My tears (its due ') dwell on my
cheeks, And still my heart thy dawning seeks, 20
And to thee mournfully it cries, That if too long I wait, Ev'n thou mayst come too late, And not restore my life, but close my eyes.
To Celimena
Forbear, fond heart (say I), torment
no more That Celimena whom thou dost
adore \ For since so many of her chains are
proud.
How canst thou be distinguished in
the crowd ? But say, bold Trifler, what dost thou
pretend ? Wouldst thou depose thy Saint into
thy Friend ? Equality of friendship is requir'd. Which here were criminal to be
desir'd.
An Answer to another per- suading a Lady to Marriage
I Forbear, bold Youth, all 's Heaven here. And what you do aver. To others courtship may appear, 'Tis sacrilege to her. II She is a public Deity,
And were't not very odd She should depose herself to be A petty household god ? Ill First make the Sun in private shine, And bid the World adieu, 10
That so he may his beams confine In compliment to you.
IV
But if of that you do despair, Think how you did amiss.
To strive to fix her beams which are More bright and large than this.
Lucasia and Orinda parting with Pastora and Phillis at Ipswich
I In your converse we best can read,
How constant we should be ; But, 'tis in losing that, we need
All your philosophy.
* Sic in orig., and quite probable witli 'absence.* But 'dew' with 'darkness' is possible, and a play on the two words perhaps most likely of all.
( 594 )
I
Lucasia and Orinda
II
How perish'd is the joy that 's past,
The present how unsteady ! What comfort can be great, and last,
When this is gone already ? Ill Yet that it subtly may torment,
The memory does remain ; lo
For what was, when enjoy'd, Content^
Is, in its absence. Pain,
IV
If you'll restore it, we'll not grieve That Fate does now us sever ;
'Tis better by your gift to live. Than by our own endeavour.
Epitaph on my truly honoured Publius Scipio
To the officious marble we commit A name, above the art of time or wit ; 'Tis righteous, valiant Scipio, whose
life we Found the best sermon, and best
history : A\'hose courage was no aguish,
brutish heat\ But such as spoke him good, as well
as great ; Which first engag'd his arms to prop
the state Of the almost undone Palatinate, And help the Netherlands to stem
the tide Of Rome's Ambition, and the
Austrian Pride ; lo
Which shall in every History be
fam'd. Wherein Breda or Frankendale are
nam'd. And when forc'd by his country's
angry stars To be a party in her Civil Wars, He so much conduct by his valour
taught.
So wisely govern'd, and so bravely
fought, That th' English Annals shall this
record bear. None better could direct or further
dare. Form'd both for war and peace^ was
brave in fight. And in debate judicious and upright : Religion was his first and highest
care, 2 i
Which rul'd his heart in peace, his
hand in war : Which at the least sin made him
tremble still. And rather stand a breach, than act
an ill ; For his great heart did such a
temper show, Stout as a rock, yet soft as melting
snow. In him so prudent, and yet so
sincere. The serpent much, the dove did
more appear : He was above the little arts of
State, And scorn'd to sell his peace to
mend his Fate ; p,o
Anxious of nothing, but an inward
spot. His hand was open, but his con- science not ; Just to his word, to all religions
kind. In duty strict, in bounty unconfin'd ; And yet so modest, 'twas to him
less pain To do great things, than hear them
told again. Perform, sad Stone, thy honourable
trust Unto his memory, and thyself be
just, For his immortal name shall thee
befriend, And pay thee back more fame than
thou canst lend. 40
^ Grig. ' bru/'tish,' which could be forced into a sense, but very idly. ( 595 ) Q q 2
Katherine Philips
To Mr. Sam. Cooper, having taken Lucasia's Picture given December 14, 1660
I
If noble things can noble thoughts
infuse, Your art might ev'n in me create
a Muse, And what you did inspire, you
would excuse. II But if it such a miracle could do, That Muse would not return you
half your due, Since 'twould my thanks, but not the
praise pursue. Ill To praise your art is then itself
more hard. Nor would it the endeavour much
regard, Since it and Virtue are their own
reward.
IV
A pencil from an Angel newly caught j 10
And colours in the Morning's bosom sought,
Would make no picture, if by you not wrought.
V
But done by you it does no more
admit Of an encomium from the highest
wit, Than that another hand should
equal it.
VI
Yet whilst you with creating power
vie. Command the very spirit of the
eye, And then reward it with eternity —
VII
Whilst your each touch does Life and Air convey,
Fetch the soul out, like overcoming day, 20
And I my friend repeated here survey —
VIII
I by a passive way may do you
right, Wearing in that, what none could
e'er indite. Your panegyric, and my own
delight.
Partinof with a Friend
Whoever thinks that joys below
Can lasting be and great, Let him behold this parting blow.
And cure his own deceit. II Alas ! how soon are Pleasures done
Where Fortune has a power ! How like to the decUning Sun,
Or to the wither'd flower ! Ill A thousand unconcerned eyes
She'll suffer us to see, But of those ^ we chiefly prize.
We must deprived be.
IV
But we may conquer if we will. The wanton Tyrant teach.
That we have something left us still Which grows not in her reach.
V
That unseen string which fastens hearts.
Nor time, nor chance e'er tied, Nor can it be in cither's arts
Their unions to divide. 20
VI
Where sympathy does Love convey, It braves all other powers ;
Lucasia, and Rosania, say. Has it not formt;d ours ?
VII
If forty weeks' converse has not Been able yet to tie
10
' One feels inclined to insert 'joys' or 'which' or something similar. (596)
Parti?tg with a Friend
Your souls in that mysterious knot, How wretched then am I !
VIII
But if I read in either's mind, As sure I hope to do, 30
That each to other is combin'd, Absence will make it true.
IX
No accident will e'er surprise, Or make your kindness start ;
Although you lose each other's eyes, You'll faster keep the heart.
X
Letters as kind as turtle-doves, And undisguis'd as thought,
Will entertain those fervent Loves Which have each other bought. 40
XI
Till Fortune vexed with the sight Of Faith so free from stain.
Shall then grow weary of her spite. And let you meet again.
XII
Wherein may you that rapture find, That sister Cherals ^ have.
When I am in my rocks confin'd, Or seal'd up in my grave.
To my dearest Friend, upon her shunning Grandeur
Shine out. Rich Soul ! to Greatness
be, What it can never be to thee, An ornament. Thou canst restore The lustre which it had before These ruins ; own it, and 'twill live ; Thy favour 's more than Kings can
give. Hast more above all titles then ^ The bearers are 'bove common men ; And so heroic art within, 9
Thou must descend to be a Queen. Yet honour may convenient prove. By giving thy soul room to move :
?,o
Affording scene unto that mind, Which is too great to be confin'd. Wert thou with single virtue stor'd, To be approv'd but not ador'd ; Thou might'st retire ; but who e'er
meant A palace for a tenement? Heaven has so built thee, that we
find Thee buried when thou art confin'd : If thou in privacy wouldst live, 21 Yet lustre to thy virtues give ; To stifle them for want of air, Injurious is to Heaven's care. If thou wilt be immured *, where Shall thy obliging soul appear ? Where shall thy generous prudence
be. And where thy magnanimity ? Nay, thy own darling thou dost hide Thy self-denial is denied ; For he that never greatness tries. Can never safely it despise. That Antoninus writ well, when He held a sceptre and a pen : Less credit Solomon does bring As a philosopher than king ; So much advantage flows from
hence. To write by our experience. Diogenes I must suspect Of envy more than wise neglect, 40 \\Tien he his Prince so ill did treat. And so much spurned at the great : A censure is not clear from those Whom Fate subjects, or does depose ; Nor can we Greatness understand From an oppress'd or fallen hand : But 'tis some Prince must thatdefine, Or one that freely did resign. A great Almanzor teaches thus, Or else a Dionysius. 50
For to know Grandeur we must live In that, and not in perspective ; Vouchsafe the trial then, that thou Mayst safely wield, yet disallow
^ Chorals (?) connected with assembly of the blest.'
' choir.' Orinda elsewhere uses ' Quire ' as = ' the
^ Then = ' than ' as so often.
' Grig. ' immur'd,' with the usual thirst for apostrophes.
(597)
Kath
ertne
Philips
The world's temptations, and be still
Above whatever would thee fill.
Convince mankind, there 's some- what more
(ireat than the titles they adore :
Stand near them, and 'twill soon be known
'i'hou hast more splendour of thy
own
60
Yield to the wanting Age, and be
('hannel of true nobility :
For from thy womb such heroes
need must rise. Who honours will deserve, and can
despise.
To Pastora belnor with her Friend
While you the double joy obtain Of what you give, and what you
gain : Friendship, who owes you so much
fame. Commands my tribute to your
name.
II Friendship that was almost forlorn, Sunk under every critic's scorn ; But that your Genius her protects. Had fled the World, at least the
sex.
Ill You have restored them and us, "Whence both are happy ; Caesar
thus 10
Ow'd Rome the glories of his reign, And Rome ow'd him as much
again.
IV
You in your friend those joys have
found Which all relations can propound;
What Nature does 'mong them
disperse, You multiply in her converse.
V
You her enjoyment have pursu'd In company, and solitude ; And wheresoever she'll retire, There 's the diversion you desire. 20
VI
Your joys by this are more immense, And heat contracted grows intense ; And friendship to be such to you, Will make these pleasures, honours too.
VII
Be to each other that Content, As to your sex y' are ornament ; And may your hearts by mixture
lost. Be still each other's bliss and boast.
VIII
Impossible your parting be
As that you e'er should disagree ; 30
And then even Death your friend
will prove, And both at once (though late)
remove.
IX
But that you may severely ^ live. You must th' offending World for- give, And to employ your charity. You have an object now in me.
X
My pen so much for you unfit. Presents my heart, though not my
wit ; Which heart admires what you
express, More than what Monarchs do
possess.
40
XI
Fear not infection from my Fate, Though I must be unfortunate. For having paid my vows due, I Shall soon withdraw, wither and die.
(598)
' Securely (?).
To my Lord and Lady Dunga7ino7t
To my Lord and Lady Dungannon, on their Marriage, May ii, 1662
To you, who, in yourselves, do
comprehend All you can wish, and all we can
commend ; Whom worth does guide, and
destiny obey, What offerings can the useless Muses
pay? J'^ach must at once suspend her
charming lyre. Till she hath learnt from you what to
inspire : ^\'eU may they wonder to observe
a knot, \ So curiously by Love and P'ortune
! wrought,
^ '1
o which propitious Heaven did
decree. All things on earth should tributary
be; 10
Jiy gentle, sure, but unperceiv'd
degrees, As the Sun's motion, or the growth
of trees, Does Providence our wills to hers
incline. And makes all accidents serve her
design : Her pencil (Sir) within your breast
did draw The picture of a face you never saw. ^\'ith touches, which so sweet were
and so true. By them alone th' original you knew ; Andat that sight with satisfaction yield \'our freedom which till then
maintain'd the field. 20
'Twas by the same mysterious
power too. That she has laeen so long reserv'd
for you ; \Miose noble passion, with submis- sive art,
' Grig. ' President,' but the enor is forced into sense.
( 599 )
Disarm'd her scruples and subdu'd
her heart. And now that at the last your souls
are tied, Whom floods nor difficulties could
divide, Ev'n you that beauteous union may
admire. Which was at once Heaven's care,
and your desire. You are so happy in each other's
love, And in assur'd protection from
above, 30
That we no wish can add unto your
bhss But that it should continue as it is. O ! may it so, and may the Wheel
of Fate, In you no more change than she
feels, create ; And may you still your happinesses
find. Not on your fortune growing, but
your mind. Whereby the shafts of chance as
vain will prove, As all things else did that oppos'd
your Love. Be kind and happy to that great
degree. As may instruct latest posterity, 40 From so rever'd a precedent ^ to
frame Rules to their duty, to their wishes
aim. May the vast sea for your sake quit
his pride. And grow so smooth, while on his
breast you ride. As may not only bring you to your
port, But show how all things do your
virtues court. May every object give you new
delight. May Time forget his scythe, and
Fate his spite ;
common, and 'president' could only be
Kath
ertne
Philips
And may you never other sorrow
know, But what your pity feels for others'
woe : 50
May your compassion be like that
Divine, Which relieves all on whom it does
but shine, Whilst you produce, a race that may
inherit All your great stock of Beauty,
Fame, and Merit.
To his Grace Gilbert, Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, July 10, 1664
That private shade, wherein my
Muse was bred. She always hop'd might hide her
humble head ; Believing the retirement she had
chose Might yield her, if not pardon, yet
repose ; Nor other repetitions did expect, Than what our Echoes from the
rocks reflect. But hurried from her cave with wild
affright. And dragg'd maliciously into the
light, (Which makes her like [the] Hebrew
Virgin mourn When from her face her veil was
rudely torn) 10
To you (my Lord) she now for
succour calls, And at your feet, with just confusion
falls. But she will thank the wrong deserv'd
her hate. If it procure her that auspicious
fate. That the same wing may over her
be cast,
Where the best Church of all the
World is plac'd, And under which when she is once
retir'd. She really may be come to be inspir'd ; And by the wonders which she
there shall view. May raise herself to such a theme
as you, 20
Who were preserv'd to govern and
restore That Church whose Confessor you
were before ; And show by your unwearied present
care, Your sufPrings are not ended, though
hers are : For whilst your crosier her defence
secures, You purchase her rest with the loss
of yours. And Heav'n who first refin'd your
worth, and then. Gave it so large and eminent a
scene. Hath paid you what was many ways
your due. And done itself a greater right
than ^ you. 30
For after such a rough and tedious
storm Had torn the Church, and done her
so much harm ; And (though at length rebuk'd, yet)
left behind Such angry relics, in the wave and
wind ; No Pilot could, whose skill and
faith were less. Manage the shatter'd vessel with
success. The Piety of the Apostles' times And Courage to resist this Age's
crimes ; Majestic sweetness, temper'd and
refin'd. In a polite, and comprehensive
mind, ^o
' Orig., as before, ' then.'
( 600 )
To his Grace the Ajxhbishop of Canterhia^y
Were all requir'd her ruins to
repair, And all united in her Primate are. In your aspect so candid and
serene, The conscience of such virtue may
be seen, As makes the sullen schismatic
consent, A Churchman may be great and
innocent. This shall those men reproach, if
not reduce. And take away their fault, or their
excuse. Whilst in your life and government
appear All that the pious wish, and factious
fear. 50
I Since the prevailing Cross her \ ensigns spread,
And Pagan Gods from Christian
Bishops fled. Time's curious eye till now hath
never spied The Church's helm so happily
supplied, Merit and Providence so fitly met. The worthiest Prelate in the highest
seat.
If noble things can noble thoughts
infuse. Your life (my Lord) may, ev'n in
me, produce Such raptures, that of their rich
fury proud, I may, perhaps, dare to proclaim
aloud ; 60
Assur'd, the World that ardour will
excuse ; Applaud the subject, and forgive the
Muse.
TRANSLATIONS
La Solitude de St. Amant ^
Englished.
I
O ! Solitude, my sweetest choice.
Places devoted to the night, Remote from tumult, and from noise,
How you my restless thoughts delight ! O Heavens ! what content is mine.
To see those trees which have appear'd From the nativity of Time,
And which all ages have rever'd.
To look to-day as fresh and green, As when their beauties first were seen !
10
II
A cheerful wind does court them so,
And with such amorous breath en- fold, That we by nothing else can know,
But by their height that they are old. Hither the demi-gods did fly
To seek a sanctuary, when Displeased Jove once pierc'd the sky.
To pour a deluge upon men,
* O ! Que j'aime la Solitude,
Que ces lieux sacrez a la nuict,
Elcignez du monde & de bruit, Plaisent a mon inquietude !
Mon Dieu ! que mes yeux sont contens.
De voir ces Bois, qui se trouverent A la nativite du Temps,
Et que tous les Siecles reverent, Estre encore aussi beaux & vers. Qu'aux premiers jours de I'Univers.
This (see Preface) will satisfy the reasonable demands of Orinda's first editor without giving the whole.
(601)
Kath
erine
Philip
s
And on these boughs themselves
did save, A\'hence they could hardly see a wave. 20
III Sad Philomel upon this thorn,
So curiously by Flora dress'd, In melting notes, her case forlorn, To entertain me, hath confess'd. O ! how agreeable a sight
These hanging mountains do ap- pear. Which the unhappy would invite To finish all their sorrows here, U'hen their hard fate makes them endure 29
Such woes, as only death can cure.
IV
A\'hat pretty desolations make
These torrents vagabond and fierce, \\'ho in vast leaps their springs for- sake.
This solitary Vale to pierce. Then sliding just as serpents do
Under the foot of every tree. Themselves are changed to rivers too.
Wherein some stately Nayade \ As in her native bed, is grown A Queen upon a crystal throne. 40
V
This fen beset with river plants,
O ! how it does my senses charm ! Nor elders, reeds, nor willows want, Which the sharp steel did never harm. Here Nymphs which come to take the air. May with such distaffs furnish'dbe, As flags and rushes can prepare. Where we the nimble frogs may see, Who frighted to retreat do fly. If an approaching man they spy. 50
VI
Here water-fowl repose enjoy,
Without the interrupting care, Lest Fortune should their bliss destroy By the malicious fowler's snare. Some ravish'd with so bright a day. Their feathers finely prune and deck ; Others their amorous heats allay, Which yet the waters could not check : All take their innocent content In this their lovely element. 60 1
VII
Summer's, nor Winter's bold ap-j proach.
This stream did never entertain ; Nor ever felt a boat or coach.
Whilst either season did remain. No thirsty traveller came near,
And rudely made his hand his cup; Nor any hunted hind hath here
Her hopeless life resigned up ; Nor ever did the treacherous hook Intrude to empty any brook. 70
VIII
What beauty is there in the sight
Of these old ruin'd castle-walls. On which the utmost rage and spight
Of Time's worst insurrection falls ? The witches keep their Sabbath here,
And wanton devils make retreat, Who in malicious sport appear,
Oursenseboth toafiflict and cheat ; And here within a thousand holes Are nests of adders and of owls. 80
IX
The raven with his dismal cries, That mortal augury of Fate,
Those ghastly goblins gratifies. Which in these gloomy places wait.
' The retention of the trisyllabic value of the French Naiade 2inA the accentuation of the e are interesting, though the latter is of course unjustifiable. Saint-Amant has the word in the middle of the line.
' Ou quelque Nayade superbe.' Tut, after all. the classical teaching of Hackney may have been slightly defective, and Orinda may have thought that ' Naiadfs ' authorized a singular ' Naiadt'c'
( 602 )
La Solitude cie St. Ama7tt
On a curs'd tree the Avind does move
A carcase which did once belong
To one that hang'd himself for love
Of a fair Nymph that did him
wrong,
Who though she saw his love and
truth, ^^'ith one look would not save the youth. 90
X
But Heaven which judges equally. And its own laws will still main- tain, Rewarded soon her cruelty
With a deserv'd and mighty pain •. ^ About this squalid heap of bones, Her wand'ring and condemned shade. Laments in long and piercing groans
The destiny her rigour made. And the more to augment her fright, Her crime is ever in her sight. 100
XI
'I'here upon antique marbles trac'd,
Devices of past times' we see. Here age hath almost quite defac'd
What lovers carv'd on every tree. The cellar, here, the highest room
Receives when its old rafters fail, Soil'd with the venom and the foam
Of the spider and the snail : And th' ivy in the chimney we rind shaded by a walnut tree. no
XII
Below there does a cave extend,
Wherein there is so dark a grot, That should the Sun himself descend,
I think he could not see a jot. Here sleep within a heavy lid
In quiet sadness locks up sense. And every care he does forbid,
Whilst in the arms of negligence, Lazily on his back he 's spread, And sheaves of poppy are his bed. 1 20
XIII
^Vithin this cool and hollow cave, Where Love itself might turn to • ice.
Poor Echo ceases not to rave On her Narcissus wild and nice : (603)
Hither I softly steal a thought,
And by the softer music made W'ith a sweet lute in charms well taught. Sometimes I flatter her sad shade, Whilst of my chords I make such
choice, They serve as body to her voice. 1 30
XIV
When from these ruins I retire,
This horrid rock I do invade, W'hose lofty brow seems to inquire
Of what materials mists are made : From thence descending leisurely
Under the brow of this steep hill. It with great pleasure I descry
By waters undermin'd, until They to Palaemon's seat did climb, Compos'd of sponges and of slime. 1 40
XV
How highly is the fancy pleas'd
To be upon the ocean's shore, W^hen she begins to be appeas'd. And her fierce billows cease to roar ! And when the hairy Tritons are Riding upon the shaken wave. With what strange sounds they strike the air Of their trumpets hoarse and brave, W'hose shrill report does every wind Unto his due submission bind !
i.^o
XVI
Sometimes the sea dispels the sand, Trembhng and murmuring in the bay. And rolls itself upon the shells Which it both brings and takes away. Sometimes exposes on the strand, Th' effects of Neptune's rage and scorn, Drown'd men, dead monsters cast on land. And ships that were in tempest . torn, 1 f,8
With diamonds and ambergreece. And many more such things as these.
Kath
ertne
Philips,
XVII
Sometimes so sweetly she does smile, A floating mirror she might be, And you would fancy all that while New Heavens in her face to see : The Sun himself is drawn so well, When there he would his picture view, That our eye can hardly tell
Which is the false Sun, which the true; And lest we give our sense the lie, We think he's fallen from the sky. 170
XVIII
Bernieres ! for whose beloved sake
My thoughts are at a noble strife, This my fantastic landskip take.
Which I have copied from the life. I only seek the deserts rough.
Where all alone I love to walk, And with discourse refin'd enough,
My Genius and the Muses talk ; But the converse most truly mine, Is the dear memory of thine. 180
XIX
Thou mayst in this Poem find.
So full of Uberty and heat, What illustrious rays have shin'd
To enlighten my conceit : Sometimes pensive, sometimes gay,
Just as that fury does control. And as the object I survey.
The notions grow up in my soul. And are as unconcern'd and free 189 As the flame which transported me.
XX
O ! how I Solitude adore,
That element of noblest wit, Where'I have learnt Apollo's lore,
Without the pains to study it : For thy sake I in love am grown
With what thy fancy does pursue ; But when I think upon my own,
I hate it for that reason too. Because it needs must hinder me 199 From seeing, and from serving thee.
(604)
Tendres desirs out of a French Prose
Go, soft desires. Love's gentle pro- geny, And on the heart of charming Sylvia seize,
Then quickly back again return tome, Since that 's the only cure for my disease ;
But if you miss her breast whom I adore.
Then take your flight, and visit mine no more.
A manti cH in pianti, &c.
Lovers who in complaints yourselves
consume, And to be happy once perhaps pre- sume ; Your Love and hopes alike are
vain, Nor will they ever cure your pain. They that in Love would joy attain, Their passion to their power must
frame ; Let them enjoy what theycan gain, And never higher aim.
Complaints and Sorrows, from me
now depart. You think to soften an ungentle heart, 10
When it not only wards such
blows. But from your sufferance prouder grows. They that in Love would joy, &c.
A Pastoral of Mons. de Scudery's in the first I volume of ' Almahide '
Englished.
Slothful deceiver, come away. With me again the fields survey ; And sleep no more, unless it be My fortune thou shouldst dream of me.
A Pastoral of Mons. de Scuderys
The sky, fropi which the night is fled, Is painted with a matchless red, 'Tis day; the morning greets my
eyes : Thou art my Sun, wilt thou not rise ?
Now the black shadows of the night From Heav'n and Earth are put to
flight : lo
Come and dispel each ling'ring
shade, With that light which thy eyes have
made.
That planet, which so like thee seems. In his long and piercing beams, At once illuminates and gilds All these valleys, and these fields.
The winds do rather sigh than blow, And rivers murmur as they go. And all things seem to thee to say. Rise, fair one, 'tis a lovely day. 20
Come, and the liquid pearls descry. Which glittering 'mong the flowers
lie ; Day finds them wet, when it appears. And 'tis too often with my tears.
Hearken, and thou wilt much ap- prove The warbling consort^ of this grove ; Complete the pleasure of our ears, Mixing thy harmony with theirs.
Feather'd musician step aside. Thyself within these bushes hide, 30 While my Aminta's voice affords Her charming notes to clothe my words.
Hasten to sing them, then, my fair. And put this proud one to despair. Whose voice, the bass and trebles
part. With so marvellous an art.
Come, Philomel, and now make use Of all thy practice can produce, All the harmonious secrets thou Canst try will do no service now. 40
Thou must to her this glory give. For nothing can thy fame relieve. Then ere thou dost the conquest try, Choose to be silent here or die.
Come, my Shepherdess, survey (While a hundred pipes do play,) From every fold, from every shed, How the herds and flocks are fed.
Hear the pleasing, harmless voice. Of thy lambs, now ^ they rejoice, 50 While with their bleating notes are
mix'd, Their pretty bounds, and leaps be- twixt.
See, see, how from the thatched
rooms Of these our artless cabins, comes A rustic troop of jolly swains. From every side, unto the plains.
Their sheep-hooks' steel, so bright
and clear. How it shines, both far and near ; A bag-pipe here, and there a flute, With merrier whistles do dispute. 60
Hear thy flocks, which for thee bleat In language innocent, and sweet; See here thy shepherd who attends
'em. And from the ravenous wolf defends
'em.
Thy Melampus him endears.
And leaps, and sports, when he
appears. He complains that thy sloth is such ; And my poor heart does that as
much.
Among the rest here 's a ram, we So white, so blithe, so merry see, 70 In all our flocks, there is not one, Deserves such praise, as he alone.
On the grass he butts and leaps, Flatters, and then away he skips ; So gentle, and yet proud is he, That surely he hath learn'd of thee.
* = 'concert,' as often.
^ ' Now ' is possible, but one rather suspects ' how,'
(605)
Katherine Philips
The fairest garlands we can find, Unworthy are, his horns to bind ; But flowers that death can never know, Are fittest to adorn his brow. 8d He is full of modest shame. And as full of amorous flame ; Astrologers in heaven see A beast less beautiful than he. I have for thee a sheep-hook brought, On which thy shepherd hard hath
wrought, Here he thy character hath trac'd ; Is it not neatly interlac'd ?
To that a scrip is tied for thee, Which woven is so curiously, 0° That the art does the stuff" excel. And gold itself looks not so well.
Here 's in a cage that he did make. All the birds that he could take. How glorious is their slavery. If they be not despis'd by thee !
A garland too for thee hath staid ; And 'tis of fairest flowers made : Aurora had this offering kept, And for its loss hath newly wept, i oo
A lovely fawn he brings along. Nimble, as thyself, and young, And greater presents he would bring, But that a shepherd is no king.
Come away, my lovely bliss. To such divertisement as this, And bring none to these lovely places. But only Venus, and the Graces.
Whatever company were nigh, 109 Would tedious be, when thou art by ; Venus and Fortune would to me Be troublesome, if I had thee.
She comes ! from far, the lovely maid Is by her shining charms betray'd : See how the flowers sprout up, to
meet A noble ruin from her feet.
How sprightly, and how fair is she ! How much undone then must I be ? My torment is, I know, severe. But who can think on't when she 's
near;
120
( 606 )
My heart leaps up within my breast. And sinks again with joy opprest ; But in her sight to yield my breath, Would be an acceptable death.
Come then, and, in this shade, be
sure, That thy fair skin shall be secure ; For else the Sun would wrong, I fear. The colours which do flourish there.
His flaming steeds do climb so fast, While they to our horizon haste, 130 That by this time his radiant coach, Does to his highest house approach.
His fiercer rays in heat, and length, Begin to rob us of our strength ; Directly on the Earth they dart, And all the shadows are grown short.
This valley hath a private seat, Which is a cool and moist retreat, Where th' angry Planet which we spy, Can ne'er invade us with his eye. 140
Behold this fresh and florid grass, Where never yet a foot did pass, A carpet spreads for us to sit, And to thy beauty offers it,
Th delicate apartment is Roof d o'er with agbd stooping trees. Whose verdant shadow does secure This place a native furniture.
The courts of Naiades are such, 149 In shades like these, ador'd so much, Where thousand fountains round
about Perpetually gush water out.
How finely this thick moss doth look, Which limits this transparent brook ; Whose sportful wave does swell and
spread, And is on flags and rushes shed !
Within this liquid crystal, see The cause of all my misery, And judge by that, (fair murtheress) If I could love thy beauty less. 160
Thy either eye does rays dispense Of modesty and innocence ; And with thy seriousness, we find The gladness of an infant join'd.
A Pastoral of Mons. de Scuderys
Thy frowns delight though they torment,
From thy looks life and death are sent ;
And thy whole air does on us throw
Arrows, which cureless wounds be- stow.
The stature of a mountain pine 169 Is crooked when compar'd to thine: Which does thy sex to envy move, As much as it does ours to love.
From thy dividing lips do fly Those pointed shafts that make us
die : Nor have our gardens e'er a rose. That to thy cheeks we dare oppose.
AVhen by a happy liberty, We may thy lovely bosom see, The whitest curds, nor falling snow, \ Can any such complexion show, i So
Thyme and Marjoram, whose scent, Of all perfume 's most innocent. Less fragrancy than thy breath have, Which all our senses does enslave.
Even when thou scornest, thou canst
please, And make us love our own disease. The blushes that our cherries wear, Do hardly to thy lips come near.
When upon the smoother plains. Thou to dance wilt take the pains, No hind, when she employs her feet, Is half so graceful, or so fleet. 192
Of thy garments fair and white. The neatness gives us most delight, i And I had rather them behold. Than clothes embroidered with gold.
I nothing in the world can see So rare as unadorned thee, I Who art (as it must be confess'd) Not by thy clothes, but beauty dress'd. 200
Thy lovely hair thou up hast tied. And in an unwrought veil dost hide ; I In the meantime thy single face All other beauties does disgrace. ( 607 )
Yes, yes, thy negligence alone. Does more than all their care hath
done : The Nymphs, in all their pompous
dress. Do entertain my fancy less.
A nosegay all thy jewel is,
And all thy art consists in this ; 210
And what from this pure spring does
pass, Is all thy paint, and all thy glass.
Adored beauty, here may we Ourselves in lovely glasses see : Come then, I pray thee, let us look, I in thy eyes, thou in the brook.
Within this faithful mirror see The object which hath conquer'd me, Which though the stream does well impart, 21^
'Tis better form'd here in my heart.
In th' entertainment of thy mind, When 'tis to pensiveness inclin'd. Count if thou canst these flowers,
and thou The sum of my desires wilt know.
Observe these turtles, kind and true, Hearken how frequently they woo : They faithful lovers are, and who That sees thee, would not be so too ?
Of them, my fair Aminta, learn 229 At length to grant me thy concern ; Follow what thou in them dost see, And thou wilt soon be kind to me.
Those mighty bulls are worth thy
sight, Who on the plains so stoutly fight ; Fiercely each other's brow they hit. Where beauty does with anger meet.
Love is the quarrel they maintain. As 'twas the reason of their pain. So would thy faithful shepherd do. If he should meet his rival too. 240
Thy shepherd, fair and cruel one, In all these villages is known : Such is his father's herd and flock, The plain is cover'd with the stock.
Katherine Philips
He the convenient'st pastures knows, And where the wholesome water
flows ; Knows where the coolest shadows are, And well hath learn'd a shepherd's
care.
Astrology he studies too, 249
As much as shepherds ought to do ; Nay, Magic nothing hath so dim, That can be long conceal'd from him.
When any do these secrets dread, He for himself hath this to plead ; That he by them such herbs can pick, As cure his sheep when they are sick.
He can foresee the coming storm. Nor hail, nor clouds, can do him harm, 258
And from their injuries can keep, Safely enough his lambs and sheep.
He knows the season of the year, When shepherds think it fit to shear Such inoffensive sheep as these, And strip them of their silver fleece.
He knows the scorching time of day, When he must lead his flock away To valleys which are cool and near, To chew the cud, and rest them there.
He dares the fiercest wolves engage. When 'tis their hunger makes them rage ; 2 70
The frighted dogs, when they retire. He with new courage can inspire.
He sings and dances passing well, And does in wrestling too excel ; Yes, fair maid, and few that know him. But these advantages allow him.
At our feast, he gets the praise, For his enchanting roundelays. And on his head have oftenest been The garlands and the prizes seen. 280
When the scrip and crook he quits, And free from all disturbance sits, He can make the bag-pipes swell. And oaten reeds his passion tell.
( 6c8)
When his flame does him excite, In amorous songs to do the right. He makes the verses which he uses. And borrows none of other Muses, j
He neglects his own affairs, i
To serve thee with greater cares, 290 And many shepherdesses would Deprive thee of him if they could.
Of Alceste he could tell.
And Silvia's eye, thouknow'st it well :
But as his modesty is great.
He blushes if he them repeat.
■\Vhen in the crystal stream he looks, If there be any truth in brooks, He finds, thy scorn can never be Excus'd by his deformity. 300
His passion is so high for thee. As 'twill admit no new degree. Why wilt not thou his love requite, Since kindness gives so much delight?
Aminta heark'ned all this while, | Then with a dext'rous, charming '
smile. Against her will, she let him see. That she would change his destiny.
I promise nothing, then said she, With an obliging air, and free ; 310 But I think, if you will try, The wolves are crueller than I.
When my sheep unhealthy are, I have compassion, I have care ; Nor pains, nor journeys then I
grudge, _
By which you may my nature judge.
When any of them goes astray, All the hamlets near us may Perceive me, all in grief and fear. Run and search it everywhere. 320
And when I happen once to find The object of my troubled mind. As soon as ever it I spy,
0 ! how overjoy'd am I !
1 flatter her, and I caress. And let her ruffle all my dress ; The vagabond I kindly treat,
And mint and thyme I make her eat.
A Pastoral of Mons. de Scuderys
When my sparrow does me quit, My throbbing heart makes after it ; And nothing can relief afford, 331 For my fair inconstant bird '.
When my dog hath me displeas'd, I am presently appeas'd ; And a tear is in my eye, If I have but made him cry.
I never could a hatred keep, But to the wolf that kills my sheep : Gentle and kind, and soft I am. And just as harmless as a lamb. 340
Dispel thy fear, cease thy complaint, O Shepherd timorous and faint ! For I'm a mistress very good. If you'll but serve me as you shou'd.
Words of a favourable strain, (Cried out that now transported
swain) Which do in thy Leontius' fate, So glad and swift a change create.
But look about, for now I mark The fields already growing dark, 350 And with those shadows cover'd all, Which from the neighbouring moun- tains fall. The wingbd quire on every tree By carolling melodiously, Do the declining Sun pursue. With their last homage, and adieu. From the next cottages I hear Voices well known unto my ear : They are of our domestics who Do pipe, and hollow for us too. 360
The flocks and herds do home- wards go,
I hear them hither bleat and low,
Thy eyes, which mine so much admire,
Tell me 'tis time we should retire.
Go, then, destroying fair one, go, Since I perceive it must be so. Sleep sweetly all the night, but be, At least, so kind to dream of me.
Translation ,of Thomas a Kempis into Verse, out of Mons. Corneille's lib. 3. cap. ""
2. Enoflished
Speak, Gracious Lord, Thy servant hears. For I both am and will be so. And in Thy pleasant paths will go
When the Sun shines, or disappears.
Give me Thy Spirit, that I may per- ceive ^, What by my soul Thou wouldst
have done : Let me have no desire but one, Thy will to practise and believe.
But yet Thy eloquence disarm. And as a whisper to my heart, 10 Let it, like dew, plenty impart.
And like that let it freely charm.
The Jews fear'd thunderbolts would fall, And that Thy words would Death
procure. Nor in the desert could endure To hear their Maker speak at all.
They court Moses to declare Thy will \ And begg'd to hear no more thy
voice. They could not stand the dreadful noise, 19
Lest it should both surprise and kill.
* This rhyme is an instance of a law which has not, I think, been generally noticed as prevailing in late seventeenth-century poetry, that for rhyme's sake a combination of letters may take a value which tt actually possesses only in another word. In ' word ' itself ord does rhyme to ird.
^ ' Spirit ' is of course constantly monosyllabic, and even if not lends itself easily to trisyllabic substitution. But the rest of the line makes it almost certain that Orinda, by oversight, put in a foot too much.
' This apparently hopeless verse is perhaps best mended into a t/^rasyllable (^cf, the first lines of stanzas 2 and 8) by reading ' courtfrf.'
(609)
R r
Kath
erine
Philips
Without those terrors^ I implore, And other favours I entreat, With confident^ though humble hearts
I beg what Samuel did of yore.
Though Thou art all that I can dread. Thy voice is music to tliy ears : Speak, Lord, then, for Thy servant hears,
And will obey what Thou hast said.
I ask no Moses that foi: Thee should speak. Nor Prophet to enlighten me ; 30 They all are taught and sent by Thee, And 'tis Thy voice I only seek.
Those beams proceed from Thee alone, Which through their words on us
do flow ; Thou without them canst all be- stow. But they without Thee can givenone.
They may repeat the sound of words, But not confer their hidden force, And without Thee, their best dis- course,
Nothing but scorn to men affords. 40
Let them Thy miracles impart. And vigorously Thy will declare ; Their voice, perhaps, may strike the ear.
But it can never move the heart.
Th' obscure and naked Word they sow. But thou dost open our dim eye. And the dead letter to supply.
The Living Spirit dost bestow.
Mysterious truths to us they brought. But Thou expound'st the riddle too, 50
And Thou alone canst make us do All the great things that they have taught.
They may indeed the way direct, But Thou enablest us to walk ; r th' ear alone sticks all they talk,
But thou dost even the heart dissect.
They wash the surface of the mind. But all her fruit Thy goodness
claims. All that e'er enlightens,or enflames, Must be to that alone assign'd. 60
APPENDIX
Songs from Pompey SONG {Pompey, Act I)
Since affairs of the State are already decreed ^ Make room for affairs of the Court ;
Employment and Pleasure each other succeed. Because they each other support. Were Princes confin'd From slackening their mind. When by Care it is ruffled and curl'd,
' It is probably useless to try to mend this rhyme, though 'heat' in the earlier metaphysicals would not be impossible.
^ It must be admitted that Orinda is not happy in these anapaests, and too much justifies in particular the generally unjust scorn of Bysshe for ' the disagreeableness of their measure.'
(6ro)
Songs from Pompey
A crown would appear Too heavy to wear, And no man would govern the world. lo
If the Gods themselves who have power enough, In diversions are various, and oft ; Since the business of Kings is angry and rough, Their intervals ought to be soft. Were Princes confin'd, &c.
To our Monarch we owe, whatsoe'er we enjoy : And no grateful subjects were those, Who would not the safety, he gives them, employ To contribute to his repose.
Were Princes confin'd, &c. 20
SONG {Pompey, Act II)
I
See how victorious Caesar's pride
Does Neptune's bosom sweep ! And with Thessalian fortune ride
In triumph o'er the deep. 2 What rival of the Gods is this
Who dares do more than they ? Whose feet the Fates themselves do kiss,
And Sea and Land obey.
I
What can the fortunate withstand ?
For this resistless He, 10
Rivers of blood brings on the land.
And bulwarks on the sea. 2 Since Gods as well as Men submit,
And Caesar's favour woo, Virtue herself may think it fit
That Egypt court him too.
But Pompey's head 's a rate too dear, For by that impious price
The God less noble will appear
Than does the Sacrifice. 20
( 611 ) R r 2
If Justice be a thing divine.
The Gods should it maintain,
For us t' attempt what they decline, Would be as rash as vain.
CHORUS
How desperate is our Prince's fate ?
What hazard does he run ? He must be wicked to be great,
Or to be just, undone.
SONG {Pompey, Act III)
From lasting and unclouded day From joys refin'd above allay. And from a spring without decay —
I come, by Cynthia's borrow'd beams. To visit my Cornelia's dreams. And give them yet sublimer themes.
Behold the man thou lov'dst before, Pure streams have wash'd away his
gore; And Pompey now shall bleed no
more.
By Death my Glory I resume ; 10 For 'twould have been a harsher
doom T' outlive the liberty of Rome.
By me her doubtful fortune tried, Falling, bequeaths my Fame this
pride, I for it liv'd, and with it died.
Nor shall my vengeance be with- stood Or unattended with a flood Of Roman and Egyptian blood.
Caesar himself it shall pursue. His days shall troubled be and few, And he shall fall by treason too. 21
He by severity divine
Shall be an offering at my shrine ;
As I was his, he must be mine.
Thy stormy life regret no more, For Fate shall waft thee soon
ashore, And to thy Pompey thee restore.
Kath
ertne
Philips
Where past the fears of sad removes We'll entertain our spotless loves, In beauteous and immortal groves. 30
There none a guilty crown shall wear, Nor Caesar be Dictator there, Nor shall Cornelia shed a tear.
SONG {Fompey, Act IV)
Proud monuments of royal dust !
Do not your old foundations shake, And labour to resign their trust ? For sure your mighty guests
should wake, Now their own Memphis lies at stake.
Alas ! in vain our dangers call ; They care not for our destiny,
Nor will they be concern'd at all If Egypt now enslav'd, or free, A kingdom or a province be. 10
What is become of all they did ? And what of all they had design'd.
Now Death the busy scene hath hid ? Where but in story shall we find Those great disturbers of mankind ?
When men their quiet minutes spent Where myrtles grew and fountains purl'd. As safe as they were innocent : What angry God among them
hurl'd Ambition to undo the World ? 20
What is the charm of being great ? Which oft is gain'd and lost with sin.
Or if w' attain a royal seat,
With guiltless steps what do we win. If Love and Honour fight within ?
Honour the brightness of the mind ! And Love her noblest ecstasy :
That does ourselves, this others bind. When you, great pair^shall disagree What casuistcanthe umpire be? 30
Though Love does all the heart subdue. With gentle, but resistless sway ;
Yet Honour must that govern too : And when thus Honour wins the
day. Love overcomes the bravest way.
SONG {Pompey, Act V)
I Ascend a throne, great Queen ! to
you By Nature, and by Fortune due ;
And let the World adore One who Ambition could withstand. Subdue Revenge, and Love com- mand. On Honour's single score.
2 Ye mighty Roman shades, permit That Pompey should above you sit, He must be deified. 9
For who like him, e'er fought or fell ? What hero ever liv'd so well, Or who so greatly died ?
I What cannot glorious Caesar do ? How nobly does he fight and woo ! On crowns how does he tread !
What mercy to the weak he shows. How fierce is he to living foes, How pious to the dead !
2 Cornelia yet would challenge tears, But that the sorrow which she wears, So charming is, and brave. 21
That it exalts her honour more. Than if she all the sceptres bore. Her generous husband gave.
CHORUS
Then after all the blood that 's shed, Let 's right the living and the dead :
Temples to Pompey raise ; Set Cleopatra on the throne ; Let ^ Caesar keep the World h' has won ;
And sing Cornelia's praise. 30
FINIS
(6ia)
» Orig. ' Let's.'
INTRODUCTION TO PATRICK HANNAY
The interest of the poems of Patrick Hannay, though not wholly dependent upon, is no doubt to some increased by, that extreme rarity on which is based the calculation that there are not more than six known copies of the original, while Utterson reprinted but fifteen, and the only later edition (used in the present issue) is that of a private society — the Hunterian Club of Glasgow. He is not a great poet, and he comes in point of publication a very little before the strict * Caroline ' period, though he lived, according to some accounts, well into it, and into it according to all \ But he is quite of the type ; and he contributes in Sheretme and Mariana one of those ' Heroic Poems ' of which the collection and com- munication to the student is one of the main objects of this book. It has the peculiarity, unusual in a piece of such length, of being written in the first person, the story being told throughout by the heroine : nor is this the only thing which makes it a useful document as to the strange difficulty with which straightforward prose fiction got itself born. Hannay does not manage his six-line stanza very well. The more lyrical sixteen-line stave of the earlier Philomela is less well suited for a poem which also is of considerable length ; but the poet is certainly less prosaic in it. In the original a musical setting is given for the first of these staves, and the author seems (from the note given below) to have thought it possible that some one might like to sing the whole poem — seventy pages, and nearly seventeen hundred lines ! The idea is a curious one. The ' Sonnets ' (the name being applied quite ad libitum) and * Songs ' are not uninteresting ; but here seems to be no need to take up precious space with much comment upon them. I am glad to have read Hannay, and to give others the opportunity of reading him.
^ The personal history and even identity of our poet are things deeply wrapped in mystery. David Laing's rather elaborate genealogical introduction to the Hunterian reprint establishes practically nothing but that he was of the family of Hannay, or Ahannay, of Sorby in Galloway, now represented by the Hannays of Kingsmuir in Fife, and the Rainsford- Hannays of Kirkdale in Kirkcudbright. The Hannays seem to have christened themselves Patrick with the inveteracy of the Princes of Reuss in regard to another name, and not to have tempered this with the numerical niceness of that house. Laing does not seem to have accepted what the Dictionary of National Biography states with positiveness — that the poet was Master in Chancery in Ireland in the year 1627 — or the rumour that he was drowned at sea two years later. That he was of the Sorby family, that he was Master of Arts, and that he was known to persons of distinction at the court of James I during the last years of his reign, may be said to be the only positively-known facts about him, except the dates of his works, which are, for The Happy Husband and the Elegies on Queen Anne (same year, but published separately) 1619, and for the Collected Poems 1622.
(615)
Patrick Hannay
To the most Illustrious Princess Francis ^ Duchess of Lenox, Countess of Hertford and Richmond
Sweet Philomela's long concealed woe, From dark oblivion now I bring to light ; That (though it help her not) the world
may know, The cause she sobbeth out her notes
by night : Which to you (greatest Lady) I
present. Fruit of some hours I with the Muses
spent.
It is well known'' honourhath been had By patronizing of a work of worth, Whilst skilful Art did cunningly o'er-
shade The Patron's weakness, and his praise
point forth : lo
Here it's not so, my work mean, your
worth main, Hereby I honour may, you none
attain.
For such are you, whom Nature,
Beauty, Grace, So fair hath fram'd, adorn'd, so well
endu'd : As if those three contended had toplace In you perfection, which their store
hath shew'd :
With whom virtue hath join'd and
mak'st appear. Deservedly you move first in this
sphere.
So as thou canst not by a learn'der quill Be honour'd, or receive an equal praise Unto thy merits, they each press should
fill, 21
Should go about with words thy worth
to raise : In it I'll rest : thy name which doth
adorn This frontispiece is my birds' April
morn.
If that your Grace do but my labours
grace, Each lady's lodging shall a grove be
thought : The nightingale shall sing in every
place ; Nay, thereby shall a mi racle be wrought : For if you but my Philomela cheer. Her singing-spring-tide shall last all
the year. 30
Ever most humbly devoted to your Grace's service,
Patrick Hannay.
To his friend the Author
Let those that study how to praise a
friend, Or seek to flatter him beyond desert. Shake hands with me, for I have no
such end, That befits him that hath a fawning heart : I only care to let the Author know I love him, and his book, for virtue's
sake : His work, his worth unto the world
doth show, Which for a pattern doth his practice
take.
It needs no sycophant to set it
forth, (The wine is good, you well the bush may scorn :) 10
My praise defective should detract the
worth, Which with such lustre doth each leaf adoin. All I will say is this, it's done so
well. Some may come nigh ; some match ; but none excel.
Edward Leventhorpe.
' It is well known that the distinction between Francis and Frances was so little observed that the usual abbreviation of the latter, as of the former, was * Frank.' " ' How ' dropped before ' honour ' (?j.
(6x6)
Commendatory Poems
To my loving Kinsman the Author
Thy Philomela's sad (yet well-sung)
note ; Wrong'd Sheretine and Mariana's
love : Home's Husband: Anna's Elegies so
wrote,
Thy Songs and Sonnets passion deep
did move ; Do well approve that thy ingenious
wit, For every measure, every subject's fit.
Robert Hannay.
Authorl
Qvis tibi Hannaee veteri pro stemmate certet? Gente k Romulidum gens tua quando venit ; Annsi micuere duo, vatesque sophusque, His etiam Hannaeus tertius esse potest.
loHANNES Dunbar \
To his much respected friend Master Patrick Hannay
Hannay, thy worth bewrays well whence thou'rt sprung. And that that honour'd Name thou dost not wrong: As if from Sorby's stock no branch could sprout, But should with rip'ning-time bear golden fruit : Thy ancestors were ever worthy found, Else Galdus' grave had grac'd no Hannay's ground : Thy father's father Donald well was known To th' English by his sword, but thou art shown To them by pen (times changing), Hannays are Active in acts of worth, be't peace or war, lo
Go on in virtue, After-times will tell, None but A Hannay could have done so well,
lo. Marshall.
King Gal- dus (that Worthy who so bravely fought with the Romans) lies buried in the lands of Patrick Hannay of Kirkdale in Galloway.
Of the Author
Reader, I'm brief, this Poem's penn'd so well, Of Muses Nine his is the Philomel,
lOHN Harmar.
1 The identification of the Senecas and the Hannays is ingenious, especially consider-
ing the form ' Ahannay.' (617)
But I wish lohannes Dunbar had written a better first hne.
Patrick Hannay To his friend the Author
Laus tua, non tua res, cogit me scribere, vultus Gratia sic dulcis : os facit, haud jubet ars.
M AEONIAN Chorus now incline to me,
A ssist my muse from your Parnassus high :
S ome influence infuse you in my brain,
T hat I this Author in a higher strain
E fiforc'd may be to praise : a simple wit
R are ones to praise, nor able is nor fit.
P ierian virtues with Homerian wit,
A ffixed are to thy ingenious brain :
T he penning of these Poems proveth it
R ais'd from oblivion in a lofty vein :
I n this our age (though many do affect
C unning in verse, and would be counted rare)
K now 1 none worthy of the like respect,
E ver green Laurel must fall to thy share.
H erein yet do I nothing flatter thee,
A Ithough in part thy parts I do display:
N or none will doubt thereof that doth thee see,
N eedless were feigning where such virtues sway :
A rt shows itself by thy sweet flowing pen,
Y
ielding the Wreath to thee from rarest men.
20
I. M. C.
To the Author ^
Here view the map of greatness, re- gal states.
Kings thrown from thrones, crowns thrown from royal mates :
Where treach'rous greed to reign, ambitious ends
Main rights divide, intrude false foes for friends :
Here try the course of wars, there see that stem,
The awful Sceptre, glorious Diadem,
Which once Hungarian Kings majes- tic sway'd,
(Bom to command, though never well obey'd)
How rear'd, subvers'd, replac'd, defac'd again,
Their Kingdom (uncontinu'd) did re- main. 10
But what in Thee (than rare) I most admire.
Is this fierce flame, fraught with Castaiian fire ;
Thy pleasant strain, fram'd in this art ,
divine '
And quick invention, th' essence of
engine ; Wherein Apollo harps, the Muses
prance The fount-drawn forked sharps, with
gleamings glance This tragic tune to grace; the Nymphs
adorn Thee, with immortal fame, of lives for- lorn : So do thy Lyrics, set in tripping
measures, Show skilful wit, sprung from Alcinoos
treasures, 20
Which swim on Demthen, sweet Per-
messen pleasures : Thus may thy worth, thy curious
works Thee raise; Few have deserv'd (or can attain)
more praise.
William Lithgow.
» For Hannay's repayment of this v. sub fin. In 1. ii, 'than rare' must be wrong. ' Thou rare,' as well as a dozen other things, occurs. In 1. 21, ' Permessen ' is of course ' Permcssian ' : ' Demthen ' is what anybody likes. 'Engine,' I. 14 = ingentum, as later in Scots.
(618)
Commendatory Poems In Imaginem
T' EXPRESS the Author face, brass, ink
and Art Have done their best, but for his better
part, The Grecian Philomel in English
tongue, Marian, a Husband, Elegies well sung. Have given a touch, as in a cloudy
night ObscurM Phoebe shows her veiled light; And at some turns where clouds do
ill cohere, With full beams shines out from her
silver sphere ; So are his shaded passages of wit,
(Where birds do speak, and women in
a fit :) lo
Who could so well have told fair
Marian's wrong. Or taught the Athenian bird a London
song. As he to whom the depth of love is
known. And carving others can cut out his
own : Which in some part is here so well
exprest. None but himself can represent the
rest.
Robert Alane,
Philomela, or the Nightingale, which here follows, is to be sung (by those that please) to the tune set down before in the frontispiece \
' See Introd. It has been thought best to reproduce the music exactly.
(6.9)
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PHILOMELA
THE NIGHTINGALE
THE ARGUMENT
Pandion, King of Athens, takes
a wife, He dearly loves her, she him with
like strife : They issue have, two daughters {who
excel) Progne the fair ; and fairer Philo- mel. Fortune befrierids not long, death her
surpriseth : Pandion grieves, new cause of grief
ariseth. Barbarians him invade, the Thracian
King Them foils ; and succours to the
sieged doth bring. He^s entertained ; Cupid with loving
fires Of Progne warms him ; she hath
like desires. lo
He woos, she 's won, her father 's glad
he sped : With Princely pomp they solemnly
do wed. Tereus with Progne unto Thrace
returns : Thrace Joys therefore, therefore sad
Athens mourns. Five years in Thrace they glad
together live, Progne /t?/- Philomela ^gins to grieve : Longs for her sight, her husband
doth entreat, To work a way they may together
meet. He yields, takes sail, to Athens back
returns, Unlawful love of Philomel him
burns. ao
(6.1)
Her native beauty, and her rich
attire, EnricKd by cunning Art he doth
admire. With lust enra^d he sore Pandion
prest That she might with him go, at last
did wrest Unwilling gratit : he her commits
with tears To Tereus' charge, his love suspecting
fears. He takes his faith, moves her to
S7vift return ; They weeping part, Pandion left doth
mourn. They sail, see shore, they land, no
more delay Tereus can brook, nor doth he her
assay 30
By words, knowing it bootless : to a
wood He drew her, spoke his thought ;
afnaz'd she stood. He fore" d, she faints; revived, revenge
of tvrong She votd'dto take; he fearful lest her
tongue Should blaze his crime, he cuts' t out
with his blade. That woful wood a prison for her
made. Then home returns, feigtieth her
funeral, Progne her mourns, she unto work
doth fall ; Of party-coloured wool by skilful
art, A web she made that did her woes
impart. 40
Patrick Hannay
Progne a sharp revenge doth under- take ; Time favours her designs with
Bacchus' wake, She takes her out, comes horne, her
flat f ring child She kills and dresses ; fury made
her zvild : To his sire for food she gives him, he
doth eat His own flesh ; his fault Progne lets
him weet. The sisters he pursues, with rage he
burned. Both he and they on sudden birds are
turned.
Walking I chanc'd into a shade, Which top-in-twining trees had made
Of many several kinds. There grew the high aspiring elm, With boughs bathing in gum-like balm. Distilling through their rinds. The maple with a scarry skin
Did spread broad pallid leaves : The quaking Aspen light and thin To th' air light passage gives : lo Resembling still The trembling ill Of tongues of womankind, Which never rest, But still are prest To wave with every wind.
II The Myrtle made of nought but
sweets, Love-loathing Daphne's offspring greets, Whose top no steel e'er lopp'd ; Nor under-boughs with biting beasts 20
Returning from their fodder-feasts.
For banquet ne'er had cropp'd. The lowly banks did bathe in dew,
Which from the tops distill'd : There Eglantine and Ivy grew, Sweet Mint and Marjoram wild : ( 622 )
With many more,
Pomona^ s store Was plentifully plac'd,
That nought did want, 30
Nor seemM scant, To please sight, scent, or taste.
Ill The blooming borders fresh and
fair. Were clad with clothes of colours
rare, Which fairest Flora fram'd : The Hyacinth, the self-lov'd lad, Adonis, Amaranthus sad,
There pleasing places claim'd. The Primrose, pride of pleasing
Prime, With roses of each hue : 40
The Cowslip, Pink, and savoury
Thyme, And Gilly-flower there grew.
The Marygold,
Which to behold Her lover loaths the night,
Locking her leaves
She inward grieves, When Sol is out of sight.
IV
Upon the boughs and tops of trees, Blithe birds did sit as thick as bees On blooming beans do bait : 51 And every bird some loving note Did warble through the swelling throat
To woo the wanton mate. There might be heard the throbbing thrush. The bull-finch blithe her by ; The black-bird in another bush. With thousands more her nigh. The ditties all.
To great and small, 60
Sweet Philomel did set, In all the grounds Of Music sounds, Those darlings did direct.
V
With pleasure which that place did
bring. Which seem'd to me perpetual
spring,
Philomela
T was inforc'd to stay : Leaning me lowly on the ground, To hear the sweet celestial sound
These Sylvans did bewray. 70 Ravish'd with liking of their songs,
I thought I understood The several language to each 'longs, That lodges in the wood. Most Philomel Did me compel To listen to her song, In sugar'd strains, While she complains Of tyrant Tereus' wrong. 80
VI
Compos'd to sing her saddest dit, She shrouded in a shade did sit.
Under a budding briar ; Whose thickness so debarr'd the
light, It seem'd an artificial night.
Leaves link'd in love so near. It seem'd she was asham'd to show
Herself in public place. By sight, lest seers so might know Her undeserv'd disgrace. 90
Hid from the eye, She thought none nigh Was for to pen her plaints ; She 'gins relate Her adverse fate, And thus her passion paints.
VII
'When Prince Pandion held that
state Which was the mirthful Muses' seat. With learning beautified ; 99
Governing there with peaceful rest, Where no disturbing storms distrest
Those that did there reside : In prime of youth he took a Dame,
By nature kind decor'd With beauty virtue vow'd that frame Should with her gifts be stor'd. I know not which Did seem most rich, By lavishness in giving ;
Each gave so much, no
I think none such Was left amongst the living.
(623)
VIII
With equal heat love so combin'd Their hearts, as they were still inclin'd To nill and will the same : Their minds so mingled were to- gether, They had nought proper unto either,
Both fires one common flame. Thus surfeiting on love's delight.
Where with a matching measure The one the other doth requite 121 In equal pitch of pleasure. Their days they spent In sweet content, Deeming all others wretched, Whose lesser joys, Mixt with annoys. To their full height not stretched.
IX
To add unto their happiness And further to increase their bliss, 130
The heavenly powers conspire. Of which they (Joy-drown'd) did not
dream. So perfect did their pleasures seem,
They could no more desire. Yet was their comfort so increas't,
With offsprings' happy store. As now they think they were not blest With benefits before. Thus is it known That none doth own 140
So much of earthly pleasure. But that the heart, A little part, May hold a greater measure.
X
We were by Muses Nine nurst up, We drunk with Heliconian cup.
Their number did increase, The goodly gifts, the Graces Three Gave to us, we did multiply
To number numberless. 150
No syllable could from us slide.
But in consenting sound Our looks, and gestures, who espied
The graces in them found.
Patrick Hannay
Each had such feature,
And good stature, As just proportion grac'd,
With colours rare
To make us fair, By Nature's pencil plac'd. i6o
XI
Thus did both heaven and earth
conspire To fill our father's dear desire.
With heaped happiness. But when things here are at the
height, Unlook'd for lot doth often light,
And drives them to distress, As when the Moon hath fiU'd her horn. She straight begins to wane. And when the flowing force is worn. The tide then turns again : 170 For here no state Is free from fate. With Time all turns about : Oft rise the small, The great oft fall. When they do nothing doubt.
XII
If pleasures here were permanent. Free from disturbing discontent.
Not any ways annoy'd, We should not relish our delights, 180 So dull should be our appetites. With senseless surfeit cloy'd. Therefore that we may better taste,
Each sweet hath many sours, The brightest blink is quickly past. And banished with showers : Also to show That we do owe To changing Time, we're tost
When least we fear, 190
It is most near. And our designs are crost.
XIII
So with my father did it fare. Whom meagre death did unaware
Deprive of his belov'd, My mother ; sickness so her seiz'd, As pain itself did seem displeas'd,
And senses all remov'd :
(634)
She seiz'd with ceaseless sleep, gave first Pandion cause of cares ; 200
Which Athens' woe soon after nurst, And bath'd in briny tears. Thus ever still Preceding ill Is followed fast with more : Ne'er comes alone One cause of moan. It's companied with store.
XIV
Before her death-bred grief was
'suag'd, Barbarians were so enrag'd, 210
(Gaping for greedy gain, Encourag'd by his carelessness. Whom they deem'd drunken with excess, They doubt not to obtain.) As they wall'd round rich Athens' walls. With warriors about. So fainting fear our force appals, It dares nowhere look out, Fear forc'd some sound, And did confound 220
In others resolution ; All were dejected, So unexpected, Was Fortune's revolution.
XV
In midst of this our great distress, Which did our former fears in- crease. Such troops we did behold, As with their brav'ry brav'd the
skies. And dazzled the beholders' eye
With beam-rebating gold, 230
In front with lofty plume in pride,
Mounted on stately steed. The likeliest of all did ride. Who seem'd the rest to lead, Curveting oft. Prancing aloft, His courser proud disdains To be control'd By bit of gold, Scorning commanding reins. 240
P/iilomela
XVI
But when he did approach more near He banished that former fear
Conceived by his sight : He forc'd our foes soon to retire, Who to resist had small desire,
They faintly fell in flight. We mus^d much what he should be,
Who with unasked aid, So suddenly did set us free,
And all our foes dismay'd ; 250 All ran to see, As he came nigh, And fixt on him their sight, And all those eyes Which him espies. Were taken with delight.
XVII
The streets as he did pass along, With gold were garnished and hung.
All bravely beautified ; The pavement pav'd with pleasing flowers, 260
The spoils oi Fiord's fragrant bowers.
Where Tereus did ride : Such was his name who us restor'd.
Of warlike Thracia King, Whom in triumphant wise decor'd, My father in did bring : In manner meet Each other greet. And kindly entertain :
T'his Palace fair, 270
To solace there, He brings him and his train.
XVIII
There banqueting with dainties best. To please the too too curious taste,
Which sea or land doth yield. With sweet discourses mixt among, Where a delightful pleasing tongue
Did rove in Rhet'ric field. When Tereus saw my sister fair, Progne, he pric'd her such, 280
As he believ'd no beauties were
Beside, she had so much.
His heart desires,
His eye admires Her pleasing form and feature :
He thinks all else
She far excels In goodly gifts of Nature.
XIX
When that his fancy on her face Doth feed, there grows no other grace, 290
He thinks, in other parts : It seems the curious cabinet, Where Nature had that treasure set
That most bewitches hearts. A rolling eye, whence thousand flights Of gold-dipt-darts do fly ; Whereof the least with love-delights Could wound a deity. Th' alluring glances Which by chances 300
From those two suns did dart. Love borrow'd still. When he had will To fire a frosty heart.
XX
A forehead where inthronizit Grave majesty in state did sit,
With humbleness attir'd ; Where meekness made the meaner
hope. And majesty cut short the scope
Of Pride, that high aspir'd. 310 Soft waving seas of sable hair — That hue was judg'd by love The best, and aptest to ensnare, Mild Zephyrus did move. In careless curls, He oft it hurls. He wantonness bewrays : He oft it flung Her back along. And beauty best displays. 330
XXI
A cheek where purest white, with red Of deepest dye, was overspread,
280 pric'd] A modern would probably have written 'prized': but the distinction is not necessary.
305 inthronizit] The Scots participle, kept for rhyme's sake, is always worth noticing in these seventeenth-century writers.
( 625 ) S S
Patrick Hannay
380
And meeting so were mixt, As neither red nor white they seem. But both in one made beauties
beam, These colours two betwixt. Her ruby lips, when they do kiss,
Cover prime pearly rows ; When they that kind conjunction miss, Arabian sweet outflows : 330
One sure would think, As she did drink, That blood light Bacchus fills. That it did pass. As through a glass Gray Claret wine distils.
XXII
What shame permits not to espy. He with Imagination's eye
Doth see, and values most : He views it o'er, and o'er again, 340 Seeks for a fault, but all in vain.
His labour there was lost ; It 's seldom seen but some defect,
By prudent Nature 's plac'd. To make the best be more re- spect. With glory more be grac'd ; Yet nowhere here There doth appear Least foil, all was so fair.
As fir'd him so, 350
He did not know, To hope, or to despair.
XXIII
Thus was he first enamourM, And still his loving fancy fed.
While on her face he gaz'd. His prying prest a beauty-blush, In crimson coat, her face to flush.
In Cupid's fire it blaz'd. Thus forc'd with fainting fever's fit,
His quaking heart did tremble, 360
336 'Gray' is very interesting as bearing on the miicli-vexed question of the history of the term 'Claret.' 'Cla/'ret' has never been used in France of a full red wine : but only of the wines betwixt red and white.
345 Respect = ' respeckit,' 'respected.'
361 I retain the italics in these passages, though there sometimes seems very little reason for them, because they appear to be intended as 'asides' of the author's, separate from Philomela's speech. In some cases, however, the printer has almost certainly gone wrong with them,
(6.6)
Where love 'y deep grounded, there 's no wit Can his sure signs disse??ible. He cools and burns, Heart inward mourns. He hopes, he oft doth fear ; She may consent, May not relent. May yield, may chance not hear.
XXIV
My father (as physician good) By signs his sickness understood,
(Having like passion prov'd) 371 He knew the salve could soonest
slack His sickness and his pain beat back. Was Progne, his belov'd. By matching him and her, he thinks
Such friendship to endear. As bound by wedlock's holy links. He needs no foe to fear. Thus policy, Lo7ig time we see, Hath ever had two ends, One is a train. But still the main To private profit tends.
XXV
He gives these lovers
gether, Tereus speaks not alone her, But in his heart doth pray That she had boldness to begin. In such a muse his mind was in,
He knew not what to say : 390 Still rumbling is the little rill.
Deep rivers silent move ; That deepest passion is most still. Experience doth prove. He much doth fear She will not hear
leave to- left with
Phi /o me la
If he good will should proffer ;
His often dread,
Not to come speed, Drives him he dares not offer. 400
XXVI
She muses thus to see him mute, She fears he follow not his suit,
(Which she deems her undoing.) When he resolved had to speak, What he should say, he had to seek,
(He was not wise in wooing.) W^en plainly we our passion tell,
It viaketh much in moving, A simple innocence so well
Beivrays a heart much loving : 410 For ever those Who (apt to glose) Too speedy are in speech, Love do not shcnv. But make maids know, They kindly can beseech.
XXVII
His speeches had more pleasing
sound. With rhetoric did more abound,
Unto my sister's sense. Then theirs who by their skilful art, 420
With sophistry can truth pervert,
To clear a foul offence. She willingly doth hear him woo.
She 's pleas'd to hear him plead, She could at first encounter, bow. But doubts do make her dread Lest quickly won, He should have done, His fancy should take flight :
Oft soon obtained 430
Are soon disdained : Such love is counted light.
XXVIII
Thus on she draws him with delay, She neither grants, nor gives a nay,
(For fear he flee the field ;) Her yielding blush doth make him bold,
To reinforce, and to unfold
All means to make her yield ; He vows, protests, and deeply swears. His love to her shall never 440 Languish, with length of ling'ring years. Nor faith fail he doth give her. ' 1 grant ' she said. No more he staid, But at her word did take her ; \^\\h. purple red, All overspread, Sweet virgin shame did make her.
XXIX
My father knowing th' had decreed To wed, and were thereon agreed,
He left his pausing pain : 451 For he had mused in his mind, To make her heart thereto inclin'd,
And beat his busy brain. Now all do haste with like desire,
To solemnize those rites. Which holy Hymen doth require, Tore lawful love-delights. They make such haste, The time they chas't, 460
Which little list makes long, The smallest stay That doth delay Enjoying 's judg'd a wrong.
XXX
The longed day is come should
crown Their wish'd desires, sweet Doric sound Doth deaf the itching ear. Shrill echo in the rocks did ring. Repeating what the sisters sing
In Prince Apollo's quire ; 47°
Kind Nature's Quiristers increast.
Mounting in crystal skies, The gods invite unto this feast. Which angry Heaven denies. They did envy P'elicity
398-400 This compressed phrase seems to mean ' his dread not to succeed [we must read 'spff/'] has such force with him that he does not offer.' There are others like it. 419 'Then,' as constantly, = 'than.' It will not be again noted. 461 ' List ' seems here to mean ' inclination.'
( 627 ) S S 2
Patrick Ha7i7tay
Should such on earth be seen : To Tragic end These joys should tend,
The grieved gods do mean. 480
XXXI
The Furies' brands aloft did bear For Hymenean candles clear, Which lent a dismal light : The raven and the night-crow cry, The ominous owl abroad doth fly
By day, and not by night. Juno, that blesseth first the bed
Of happy wedded lovers. Came not, in sa^ron colours clad, Hymen affrighted, hovers, 490 Not daring there Make his repair, (With presage dire dismay'd.) The Muses dread, The Graces fled, They were no less afraid.
XXXII
Yet did they dally in delights, And revel at unhallowed rites,
Till Time, (which nought can stay) Told Tereus his love delays, 500
His \vQ)VCiQ.-\^{X.-Thradan dismays.
Their comfort can decay. They fear his safety, he farewell
Must bid, Progne doth plaine : A pearly shower of liquid hail Out o'er her cheeks did rain. A tender heart, Such bitter smart, With sorrow doth suppress,
When bitter cup 510
Doth interrupt New tasted happiness.
XXXIII
Yet boots it not, she must be gone^ TereushQx trains (though weeping) on.
And we alike lament : Our sorrow so divided was. Half with us staid, and half did pass,
Whither that couple went. They shipp'd, a lusty gale of wind
So prosp'rously did blow, 520
The sails sufihcc fiU'd from behind,
There needeth none to row :
(628)
They soon came nigh. Where they would be, And do perceive the land ; They see the shore All peopled o'er With those he did command.
xxxiv For Fame, the air-winged post, (By going greater) fills the coast 530
Of Thrace, with coming-cries ; Her trumpet sounds his safe return, Theshores with blazingbeacons burn,
Where cries confus'dly rise, Which untir'd Echo in the hills (With her redoubling voice) So multiplies, the air it fills ; The gods seem to rejoice : The multitude
Confus'dly stood 540
Upon the shelvy shore. He happiest seems Next Neptune's streams. Can draw, though drown therefore.
XXXV
The smaller (yet the sager) sort, Do mind a more majestic sport, Rough rudeness they disdain ; Most stately triumphs they devise, After the victor's gorgeous guise,
Tereus to entertain. 550
Altars with incense sweetly smoke.
Priests lo Paean sing : The tottering steeples reel and rock, (So rolling bells do ring.) This day so glad. To those they add Which sacred they observ'd, From yearly mirth For Itys' birth, His first-born they ne'er swerv'd. 560
XXXV I
What time Titan our height had
sea I'd, Summer had sweat, winter had
hail'd, Autumn had filTd her lap, Five times the Spring in fragrant
flowers Was deck'd, warm sliding sunny
showers
Philomela
The soaking earth did sap. A\'hen pleasing Progne's longing love
For Philojnela' s sight Grew wakerife, and such thoughts did move, As lessens large delight, 570
IV/ien we depart From what our heart With liking once hath lov'd, Absence i7t fires, A fid more endears, The more it is remov'd.
XXXVII
This absence kindling longing love, Makes Progne all her practiques prove, Defers not her desire. 579
Woman {who would) delay disdaitis. Who doth deny, and who detains
With hope, hath equal hire. Fearing refusal, she puts on A look that most allures, And draws the eye, nor that alone, Her of her suit assures. Such weighty words Her wit affords. As for to move were meet,
With loving charms 590
Him in her arms Kissing, doth thus entreat.
XXXVIII
" Dearer to me then sweet repose To misers, seiz'd with ceaseless woes,
Who ne'er of comfort tasted ; More pleasing to me then is light Unto the silly sleepless wight,
Whom waking nights have wasted, Who present put'st those fears to flight. Which absent make me die : 600 As Titan makes the ugly flight. With forcing flatnes to fly ; Methinks far more I now adore, Love more, if such desire Could be increast, Which when at least, Was such could soar no higher.
574 ' Intires ' = ' makes whole.' (6.9)
XXXIX
Great love in length doth often dull ; Mine, (though so main) is not at full, 6io
It daily doth increase : No intermission makes it stay. No surfeit takes its edge away,
It grows, but never less : Which by effects may be perceiv'd,
For since I first was fir'd. No other happiness I crav'd, Than do as you desir'd : My chiefest grace, I there did place, 620
Held that my high'st content, Gladdest did pass The time that was In loving service spent."
XL
" Dost think I doubt " (the Prince
replies ;) Meanwhile looks babies in her eyes.
And dallies with delight ; Kind kisses on her fairest face, With soft impressions he doth place, Her lips have no respite ; 630 Her pretty parly so doth please.
Her lips so sweetly taste : He doubts, which rather he had leese, Both are to be embrac'd. He bids her say. Yet still doth stay With kissing her discourse. Whilst from her lips He nectar sips, As from celestial source. 640
XLI
" Speak, love " (he said) ; then she
proceeds, " If favour so affect my deeds,
As deem them of desert, I'll boldly beg, but such a suit. As kindness cannot so confute,
But I shall ease my heart. Since fate from fairest Philomel
(With that she deeply sigh'd) And destinies have doom'd me dwell.
To make the loss more light, 650
633 ' leese ' = * lose. '
Patrick Hannay
Suffer me, sweet,
(If you think meet) I may myself go see,
Or else devise,
Some other wise, That she may come to me.
XLII
The goodliest gift that thou canst
give, I for this grant with liking leave.
It seems to me the best : Promise Pandion swift return, 660 ^Vhose aged eyes will overrun,
At this unlook'd request." Thus having said with kind embrace.
Him in her arms she clings. With soaking tears bedews his face, Forc'd from her sunny springs : She doth attend, How he w-ill end. To do, or to deny :
With speaking signs, 670
She him entwines, "Who makes her this reply :
XLIII
" What, is this all ? sweet, sue for
more. Thou seem'st a niggard of my store.
Out of my kingdom cull : And eke unto thy late request Seek more, so more I shall be blest. By being bountiful." She only this : He more would add If he knew fit propine : 680
It seems so slender he is sad, None dearer can divine. Thus they do prove, ^^'hich most should love, That only was their strife, ^^'hich breeds no wars, Nor jealous jars, 'Twixt happy man and wife.
XLIV
Then did he haste him to the sea. That she might wit how willingly
He granted her desire. 691
I leave the piteous plaints to tell. That passion pour'd at this fare- well ;
(630)
Progne did nigh expire. Nor was this forc'd affection, feign'd
To move a more belief Of sincere love, the tears that rain'd Sprung from an inward grief : Let Ariost
His foul-mouth'd host 700
Of locufid's parting prate : Whose wife did swound. But of that wound A groom the grief did bate.
XLV
This was not such, but as the
show, Such was the substance of the woe.
Which thus their souls possest. For she like lonely dove doth lan- guish ; He goes with grief where bitter anguish Bides in his boiling breast. 710 At last Pireus^ port he spies : The sailors raise a song, The country, wakened with their cries, Unto the shore do throng : They feed their sight With sweet delight Of this unlook'd for guest ; They thrust him so. He scarce can go. Rude people so him prest. 720
XLVI
Pa?idion's state the street refrains, Yet at the gate him entertains.
And lovingly embrac'd. The right hand friendship's firmest
pledge. They mutually for love engage,
(Yet no good signs it grac'd :) Without inquiry he doth tell
The cause why he doth come. Is for his sister Philomel,
(Fresh beauty's budding bloom :) The presage bad, 731
His speech then had. My future ill divin'd : It lowring brake. That day of wrack, Which dismal deadly shin'd.
Philomela
XLVII
The glad congratulation past,
He goes on with his Heart's behest,
Which had him thither brought. He tells how pleasing Progne pines, Her mirth with melancholy dwines, In soHtary thought. 742
He tells how for her Philomel,
Progne did pensive long : All her discourse on her doth dwell, She wholly hath her tongue : He doth request, With speeches best, And aptest to persuade :
As yet the end 750
To nought did tend. But his love's life to glad^
XLVIII
Straight he doth after me inquire. Who him to see had like desire,
I to his presence rush'd. He at my sight amazed grew. He staid astonish'd at my view,
(My face such fairness flush'd) Our salutations had no touch
Of complimenting strains : 760 Light love is lavish ivhere it 's much. From flattery it refrains : He kist, embrac't. About my waist His winding arms he wrung : I did him meet With love as great. And to his body clung.
XLIX
My goodly garment all of gold. His griping made his eyes behold, 770
And note more narrowly : For though my robe itself were rich. Musing Minerva's stately stitch
It more did beautify. She had made it the masterpiece
Of all her studious store. Art, Art itself to pass did press,
Her cunning to decore. Reviewing still,
Deeming all ill 780
(Though well) if skill could better.
795 Note ' Aim ' for ' film.'
So jealousy The slyest spy, To needless work did set her.
L
There was Apollo in a chair
Of burnish'd gold, his flame-like hair
Against that brightness beam'd. An ivory harp with silver strings, With trembling touch which lightly rings, Did sound or sounding seem'd. 790 With leafy laurel he was crown'd,
And canopied o'erhead. Wherein chaste Z?«//^«^ lately wound, Did quiver yet for dread. The slender Aim, Which hid each limb. So offer'd to the eye ;
And was so wrought. You would have thought It to be maid and tree. 800
LI
Her leafy top (late hair) did shade The welkin, part it twilight made,
And part a mirthful morn. For lower was an azur'd sky. Where eastern beams did beautify
Half, half the stars adorn. Amongtheslender boughs some birds
Their list'ning ears incline, Others hover about in herds,
To hear these dits divine ; 810 Some's swelling breast The joy exprest, To hear how they did earn : Some's opening bill Bewray'd the will These wantons had to learn.
LII
A little lower from this state. Where Prince Apollo proudly sate,
With brightness overblown : The merry Muses rang'd in ranks, 820 Were seated on the sunny banks,
With favour sweets o'ergrown : While one dothtuneherlute, or voice.
One notes, one time doth measure. A silent sound, an unheard noise
813 ' earn ' = 'yearn.'
(631)
Patrick Hannay
Doth take the sight with pleasure.
Some garments grave
Others did have, Some hght, some long, some short,
Some chaplets wore, 830
And some forbore, Some mus'd, and some made sport.
LIII
Nearer the border one might see Orphetts and Kurydice,
Returning from the dead : He play'd, and with swift pace did
haste, Longing till she our air should taste,
Whom he to light did lead : But whether a desire of sight.
Or fear she did not follow, 840 Made him look back, his dear de- light _ The opening earth did swallow : He quickly snatch'd. And would have catch'd, But when it prov'd in vain, Her look did shriek, And in his cheek, Pale grief was pictur'd plain.
Liv A sea circled the lowest seam, With welling waves, and of that stream 850
The people pastime take : Fearful on fish Arion sits, He seeming seiz'd with quaking fits,
Did mournful music make. The Dolphifis dance now up, now down. And as much pleasure have, As he hath pain, for fear to drown, He sings his life to save, His hands scarce hold (With fear and cold S60
Benumb'd) his instrument : The swelling wave The motion gave, The saving sound that lent.
LV
'J'his gorgeous garment large and wide,
874 sien] Is this = 'scion,' a word of m seen ' ?
(63O
Before was with a button tied,
And careless hung about : My forepart was of purest lawn, Whereon the fairest flowers were drawn. That Nature e'er brought out : 870 Their roots a seeming earth did hide, Clad in a grassy green ; . The stalk stood out, as if beside The ground a growing sien : Some thought a scent Out from them went ; (So wrought they on conceit,) One maketh faith, He tasted hath Some leaf that fell of late. 880
LVI
Thus was I cloth'd. My breast was
bare. Never till then was white so fair.
Which made the world profane, And dare the mighty gods upbraid, That they such pureness never made. Nor could to such attain. Whereat the gods incensed grew.
And did together 'gree. Even with a curse their skill to show. Blaming world's-blasphemy. 890 No year doth fail But snow or hail, Since candies o'er the earth, Whose joy doth vanish, For it doth banish The beauty of its birth.
LVII
Yet he had not well view'd my
face, Which beauty-bringing years did
grace With rays of most respect : The buds he left so fair had
flourish'd, 900
So kindly Nature had them nour-
ish'd. As he did not expect.
any spellings? Or should it be 'agrowing
Philomela
The infant lustre lightly laid,
Was curiously o'errun, And careful Nature perfect made Her beauty-board begun :
Each lineament
She did acquaint With a proportion due,
And every limb, 910
Fashion'd so trim. Was hid in heavenly hue.
LVIII
The favour of my face was such, That beauty else, though ne'er so much, (If that I came in place) Was but a foil to make mine fairer, That fairness made mine seem the rarer, That glory gave mine grace. As former eye-contenting flowers
Lose lustre by the Rose, 920
As Phoebe's glore eclipsed lowers. When Sol his sight out-throws : Even so did mine Others outshine, Though fair in their degree ; The looks they lost, Which more them boast, If parallel'd with me.
LIX
Some would say Venus, when at
rarest. And fancied most for to be fairest,
(With Adoft hot in love) 931
Look'd like me, but that I more
chaste, Look'd constant, she did care to cast Such looks as lust could move. Others would say such Dian's look
(But more to wrath inclin'd) When hapless (bathing in a brook) Acteon did her find. Of goddesses
They did express 940
The goodly gifts by mine,
905 Orig. ' perfit.' The odd phrase ' beauty-board ' in the next line must be derived from the practice of painting portraits on panel, unless it means 'palette.'
921 The form 'glore,' with 'glory' just before, is interesting as showing the tyranny of strict syllabic scansion. It recurs below.
(>33 )
Not mine by theirs.
Their doom declares
They deem'd me more divine.
LX
These, these the tyrant so admir'd. As with their sight his heart was fir'd
With more then lawful love : He now thinks Prog?ie's parts were
poor : He wonders how they could allure. Or his affection move. 950
He wishes now he were unwed.
So I would hear him woo. He sighs, he with my sister sped, Or had with her to do : As parchM hay, Whereto we lay Quick fire, takes sudden flame. So burn'd his heart With every dart That light-like from me came. 960
LXI
He 's so enrag'd, he would not spare To tempt my fellows' faithful care,
(If that could do the deed) My Nurse's faith, nay e'en myself He would seduce with precious pelf.
If so he could come speed ; He cares not for the Kingdom's broil
To take me thence perforce. And to maintain his ravish'd spoil By slaughter'd souls' divorce : 970 His reinless love So much doth move, What is it but he dares ? Nor can his breast Those flames invest Which provocate his cares.
LXI I
Nor can he now delay endure. He thinks with cunning to procure,
Doth Progne's suit renew ; He makes it cloak his damn'd desire, 980
When more then right he did require.
So Progne did pursue.
Patrick Hannay
He would affirm his tongue did glose, {^Lovers are eloquent) E'en moving tears his cheeks o'erflovvs, (As if those Progne sent) How human minds, Oft error bhnds, He 's thought to be sincerCj
His wickedness 990
We kindness guess, Which doth him more endear.
LXIII
Behold, I for the same do sue, About my father's neck I threw
My arms, and him embrace, I maiden kisses intermixed, He notes them, for his eye is fixed
Still on my firing face : Each kiss he (covetous) did crave.
He wished he were my sire, icoo I to him sought, each gesture gave Good to his fond desire. My sire at last, By our request, Against his will is won : Having obtain'd, I good had gain'd Did deem, but was undone.
LXIV
Now Phoebus' steeds so swift had run, His daily course was almost done,
The height they passM have ; ion And now the steepy sky they beat \\' ith angry hoofs, to cool their heat,
Hasting in western wave. On table kingly cates w^ere plac'd
For to content the taste, Wi\1\\Q Bacchus' golden goblets grac'd. After this rich repast, To quiet rest
Each him addrest, 1020
But Tereus tiring care Lets silken sleep On him to creep, His woes so wakerife are.
LXV
The true Idea of each part
He saw, was seated in his heart :
What was hid from the sight. He fains it such as he would have it. And better then sight could con- ceive it, More delicate delight ; 1033
He thinks he sees face, feature, gait, And doth survey each limb. So apprehensive quick conceit Did represent to him. / The night was worn, A weeping morn Usher'd the doleful day. When hast'ning Fate, Full of deceit, Permits no longer stay. 1040
LXVI
Pandion then wdth gushing eyes. Where gorged grief a-bathing lies,
Me to him thus betakes : " This jewel, (dearest son) this pearl, My last, most lov'd, my dearest
girl, (His hand then shivering shakes) I give thee, and thy faith conjure
By all the gods above. To guard, her safety to assure
With a paternal love : 1050
Let knowen bed Which you have had, In firmness keep your faith, And bear in mind What Progne kind With me committed hath.
LXVII
And darling, now my sweetest stay. My age's hope, that from decay
Detains these turning hairs, Whose presence doth me primely nourish, loOo
Whose sight yet makes this face to flourish. And curbs my coming cares :
1021 Orig, 'tiring-care,' but these unnecessary hyphens were then frequent, suspects ' tyrant.'
1022 ' Lets ' of course = ' prevents,' not ' allows.' 1056 ' me ' = ' thee.'
(634)
One
Philomela
Sweet Philomel, I thee beseech Thou wouldst with speed return : While thou art absent, I must teach These moist'ned eyes to mourn.
Though loath to want,
Three months I grant, (So long to stay you have)
One day behind 1070
That time assign'd. Will bring me to my grave."
LXVIII
Thus speaks he with tear-dropping
eyes, Drowned in his brain-breeding seas,
Which doth his sorrow tell. I seem to go and oft turn back. And slender slips excuses make
To take a fresh farewell. Such was kind Ovid's ling'ring leave Departing from his wafe, loSo
And so did Cleopatra grieve^ Pity produc'd like strife, " Caesario go, O do not, no. Fly from Augustus^ snare ; Nay, stay a while, Fortune may smile. Yet go, it 's best beware."
LXIX
So far'd it here, so we entreat, Kiss'd, amongst kisses still we wet
Our cheeks with mixed tears : 1091 To firm our faith he takes our hands, Joins them, and mute amazed stands,
Full fraught with future fears. " At \a.si,Jove witness this (he says)
And punish those offend, And, daughter, do not use delays. To Progne me commend " : Scarce speaks he more, He faints so sore, 1100
As if his spirits were past, Yet bids farewell. Which seems to tell, (With staying) 'twas the last.
LXX
The night which did this day pre- cede, Did wrap itself in mourning weed
Of saddest sable hue, Such pitchy clouds were interpos'd, Phoebe was hid, small stars were los'd.
Their splendour none did view. At day Aurora! s eyes so wept iiix
As drunk each hill and dale. As if for Memnon now she kept The sad fresh funeral. Her eyes did soak The parched cloak Which Tellies then had on. The grass outsprung From clay was clung, At fall of Phaeton. 1 1 20
LXXI
Thus parted, we unto the sea, Our canvas wings we do display
iVgainst the growing gale, Which there resistance takes in
scorn. Whereby the bulk is forward borne
By proudly swelling sail. Though wat'ry hills were interpos'd,
Yet followed he with sight. Till his dim dazzled eyes were clos'd, 'Fore their time bringing night : Returning then 1 1 3 1
He doth complain His late received loss, As mounting waves, And falling graves, With stubborn billows toss.
LXXII
Now Tereus can no more contain His (yet hid) joy, it is so main,
Which vaunting voice doth vent. " The day is ours, the prize is won, My love whose light obscures the Sun, 114 1
Whose beams breed more content,
1066 moist'ned] It is perhaps worth noticing, once for all, that seventeenth-century' printers seem to have preferred the apostrophe for the first e in such forms as this ' threat'ned,' &c. Modern practice, not perhaps with much reason, seems 10 incHne the other way.
(635)
Patrick Ha72nay
Goeswithme : hath her sorrowing sire
(Who did her so much tender) Twin'd with her ? or drunk with desire, Do I dream he doth send her ? Rouse, rouse you spirits, Conceited sweets Of a fantastic love
No power have 1150
So to bereave, Nor can such pleasure move."
LXXIII
Thus says he ; nor doth turn aside His eyes from me, which still do bide Beholding with delight : As Adamant the Iron draws By Nature's close compelling laws,
So did I draw his sight : Look as the Eagle sharp doth pry
Upon his panting prey, 1160
Which in his cruel claws doth lie Hopeless to scape away : So he beheld, So I compell'd Was for to wait his will. Whom yet in mind I counted kind. Not conscious of ill.
LXXIV
Our fleeing sails had made such haste, That now the tedious travel 's past, The toiling sea brings forth : 1171 AVe touch upon the tyrant's coast, W^here hapless I, alas ! was lost,
And left of little worth. To shore the tired troops do hie.
Refreshment there to find : The anchor'd bulk lies at a bay, With sail strook from the wind. All do rejoice,
With cheerful voice, 1180
Their gesture shows they're glad, They think them blest, That with such haste They happy voyage made.
LXXV
A winter-wasted aged wood
Near to the landing-place there stood.
Spoiled (with length of years) Of beauty, no buds it had borne For many springs, the wet had worn The trunk with tempest-tears : 1 190 The barkless boughs spreading abroad, Unto the grassy ground Yielded no shade, with leafy load The branches were not crown'd. Whereby the heat So sore did beat From Phoebus^ fiery face : Flora for fear Durst not draw near To beautify that place. 1200
LXXVI
The winding ivy with soft moss The bodies bound, and did emboss
The rent and ragged rind. They wrap with warmness to restore Decayed age, and to decore
Time's ruins, 'bout them wind : It seem'd sad Desolation's seat
Far sever'd from resort. Where nought did grow was good of late For profit or for sport. 1210
No harmony From tree or sky The birds made, all was sad : The bad aspect, Show'd the neglect That nature thereof had.
LXXVII
Obscure bushes of fur and fern, Confus'dly mixt, where robbers learn
For to entrap the prey, 1219
Were rudely ranged here and there, Woven with brier and bramble bare,
Which close together lay ; A place most fit for such a fact.
For such a damn'd despite, Where Mischief meant his part to act,
1 145 ' Twin'd ' = ' twinned/ 'separated' or 'parted.'
1 147 Note 'spirit,' not only = ' sprite,' but = ' sprff/.'
1 1 77 'Bulk' and 'hulk' are often interchanged at this time.
121 7 'fur[ze]'?
(636)
Philomela
And hide it from the sight.
The most obdiit^d.
Would be obsair'd, When they commit a crime :
Sin is so shamed, 1230
Zest it be blamed. It seeks out place and time.
LXXVIII
Thither he hales me, I did quake, My heart did faint, my Hmbs did shake, I doubted and grew pale : I for my sister ask'd with tears, Not daring to confess my fears ;
Yet that did not avail : He did confess his foul intent,
Me to the ground he flung, 1240 His late-lov'd hair he rudely rent. And careless from me wrung. I call'd amain, But all in vain, On sister and on sire, On gods above. But could not move Them mitigate his ire.
LXXIX
He forc'd me, O how I did tremble ! Grief seem'd to kill, but did dis- semble, 1250 And would not prove so kind : O had I then given up the ghost. Before my virgin gem was lost,
As spotless as my mind ; Then had my body without stain,
In sweet Elysian shade, With the untainted virgin-train, A merry mansion had. Where now, alas ! It hath no place, 1260
Free from tormenting thought, Of that forc'd ill, Which 'gainst my will On woful me was wrought.
LXXX
The harmless unsuspecting lamb. Torn from the teats of fearful dam, By hungry wolves' surprise ;
Pursu'd by mast'ring mastiff fast, The robber leaves his prey for haste, Which much amazed lies, 1270 Still doubting if it be redeem'd
From such a deep distress, So fainting I confounded seem'd, My fear was nothing less : Fraught with despair, I did not care What mischief might betide ; As in a trance. Forsook of sense, I for a time did bide. 1280
LXXXI
When to myself I did return. My heart did heave, my cheeks did burn. My breast I boldly beat ; Rap'd with revenge I did not spare, As cause, (though guiltless) face and hair. So lovely look'd of late. From eye no tear, from tongue no words My passion did permit. The grief that such relief affords., Is soon freed from his fit : 1290 With sighs and sobs, And thrilling throbs, My body did rebound.
Mine eye him blam'd, Then straight asham'd, It stares upon the ground.
LXXXI I
But when as greater grief gave
place. Swift trickling tears did other trace.
My glowing cheeks bedew'd : Abortive words for birthright long'd, 1300
Each pressing first, his fellow throng'd. And hastily pursu'd. As respite gave me further leave,
I rat'd him in my rage, Thinking I gain'd if he did grieve. My sorrow to assuage.
1233 Orig. 'hails.'
1284 ' Rap'd,' though not certainly, probably = ' rapt,' ' distraught.'
1300 Orig. ' Obortive.'
(637)
Patrick Hannay
So raging spite
Doth take delight^ {Though thereby not relieved)
To vex the heart 1310
Procur'd its smart, And glares to see it griev'd.
LXXXIII
" O perjur'd, cursed, cruel wretch, To such a wickedness to stretch,
Respectless of the gods : Thou bUnded canst them not espy, Yet doubtless they do draw thee nigh, With new revenging rods. Could not Pandion^s prayers move
Thee keep thy promise past, 1320 Nor Frogne's charge? must mar- riage prove Thee base, which should make blest? A maid to stain, A bed profane With an incestuous lust, Me to deflore, My sister's whore. What can be more unjust !
LXXXIV
If there be gods, they'll be reveng'd; If not, even I (as far estrang'd 1330 From shame, as thou from grace) This heinous action shall proclaim. Notorious shall be thy name,
Hateful in every place. If here detain'd, with mirthless moans The mountains I'll acquaint : My cries shall cause the trees and stones To pity my complaint : To heaven I vow I shall strive how 1340
To taint him me betray'd ; The world shall know I was not slow To wreck a wronged maid."
LXXXV
These words the monster so com- mov'd,
He hates her now he lately lov'd,
For sin hath this farewell ; It relish'd, straight a loathing breeds, A minute's pleasure pain succeeds
That lastingly doth dwell. 1 350 Though Conscience he cannot calm,
Which restless now is rent ; Whose sore to salve he knows no balm, Yet seeks he to prevent, Lest I to Fame Should blaze his shame, He minds with more mischief Still to go on, Regardless grown, So name may find relief. 1360
LXXXVI
Thus arm'd with hate my hands he
bound Behind my back, my hair he wound
About a stubborn tree, He drew his sword, I hopbd death, Detesting a distained breath, My soul I sought to free : Yet he proves not so pitiful.
But to be out of doubt That I should blab, his pinchers pull My tongue with torment out : Thus joy-bereft, 1371
No comfort left. He loos'd and left alone To tigers wild. Then he more mild. With worthless speech to moan.
LXXXVII
Then to my sister he returns.
She asks for me, therewith he mourns.
Sighs, sorrow suits his face. He feigns my funeral, which drew The tears, which made his tale seem true, 1 38 1
None doubting my disgrace. Progne her precious garments gay,
That daintily did deck Her joyful, now she lays away. And d'ons the mournful black : A sable veil To ground did trail,
(638)
1380 Orig. ' fains.
Philomela
A tomb for me did make,
There incense burns, 1390
And for me mourns, That needed no such wake.
LXXXVIII
His flaming chariot 'bout the world, Posting through signs the Sun had hurl'd And yearly course dispatch'd While there I stay'd. No hope of
flight. My careful keeper day and night
So warily me watch'd ; I dumb could not the cause delate
Of this my strict restraint ; 1400 JBut subtile wit on u>oe doth zvait, Cunning V to caitifs lent : I cast about How to bring out His lewdness to the light ; Which while I mind, Occasion kind Doth offer to the sight.
LXXXIX
The blissless briers the coat had torn The fleecy flock had lately worn.
And still retain'd that spoil : 141 1 Of party-coloured wool there was Store sticking on the stalks, on grass
Some lay, some on the soil : A web I wrought of colour white.
Letters with blood distain'd I interweav'd, which his despite, And my care's cause contain'd. Thus brought to end, By signs I send 1420
Unto my sister-Queen ; Nor did he know To her did go, What these mixt marks did mean.
xc This petty present she o'erviews. And narrowly doth note the hues,
As she doth it unfold. These careful characters express'd. How doleful I was so distress'd,
She blush'd for to behold, 1430 O'er her proud cheek no tear distiU'd, No bitter word brake out, With vengeance and with hate she fill'd. Like fury flies about : She meditates To move the Fates To further her intent : To take revenge By means most strange, Her mind is fully bent. 1440
xci The hellish hags, hatchers of ill, That can seduce a doubtful will.
Finding her thus inclin'd, Rejoic'd, and with the Furies join'd To mould a mischief yet uncoin'd,
So to content her mind. The crime (admitting no excuse)
These imps do aggravate, They malice in the mind infuse That is at height of hate ; 1450 Thus do these elves Busy themselves To banish from the mind Pity that pleads For the misdeeds Of a dear friend unkind,
XCII
Thousand ideas in her brain
They stamp of distinct sorts of pain,
To punish each doth press. She 's loath the least of them should perish, 1460
Pitiless passion doth them cherish.
Till grown to excess They long for birth, the time in- vites, SwoU'n Bacchus feast drew near. Which Thracian dames with solemn rites Should celebrate that year. Both old and young. In confus'd throng,
1419 One feels rather inclined to read 'This' : but Hannay is so fond of elliptic con- structions that 'Thus,' with 'it' remembered after 'send,' is possible. 1462 Till] 'Until' or 'unto' probably written.
(639)
Patrick Ha?may
Do raving run about ;
Like beldams mad 1470
That day they gad, No danger then they doubt.
XCIII
When Phoebus' fiery Car withdrew, The Queen with a selected crew
Her princely palace left : The sounding brass so beat the walls, Glib Echo answering the calls,
The crystal covering cleft. A hair-lace of a leafy vine,
About her temples twin'd, 1480 A hart's hide was her habit fine, Which 'bout her she did bind, A small short spear Her shoulders bear : Thus arm'd away she hies To search the wood, Rites of that god She counterfeits with cries.
xciv
She with disordered fury roves
Through coverts, dens^ and shady
groves, 1490
With whoops and hollows loud.
"■So ho !" she sounds: ascarce-pac'd-
path Her prying eye discovered hath, Which seem'd as stain'd with blood : Her mind that mus'd on my mis- chance. Seeing the withered knops Of parched grass, her sudden glance Doth deem them bloody drops. What first the brain Doth entertain, 1500
There such impression takes, That oft the sight It changeth quite, And false resemblance makes.
xcv So was 't with her, which makes her
more Long for revenge then theretofore. She hastes, she thinks she hears My woful plaint, she presseth on,
1478 ' Crystal covering,' strictlj' the crystalline sphere of Ptolemaic astronomj' of course here used loosely for ' welkin ' or 'heaven ' generally.
(640)
My prison door, a moss-grown stone.
She breaks, and bushes tears ; 1510
She takes me out, she hides my face
With blooming heather sweet : She doth with Bacchus' livery grace Me, as the time was meet : She leads me home, Where when I come. My panting breast bewray'd That my poor heart With bitter smart ■
And sorrow was assay 'd. 1520
xcvi She having found a fitting place To vent her woe, unveils my face.
Off Bacchus' tokens takes ; She stares on me, I on the ground, A guiltless shame did me confound,
My face aflame it makes : With scalding tears she strives to stench The fervour of my face, Yet could not her eye-conduits 1 quench «
My fires, fed by disgrace. 1530 If I had had A tongue to plead, I had apologiz'd.
And sworn, constrain'd I had been stain'd. She 'gainst my will displeas'd.
XCVI I
My eloquence did so prevail. Which in sad silence told my tale,
It deep impression took : She reads the story in my face 1540 Of her wrong, and of my disgrace.
Pointed with pity's look. My tears that trickled down amain
She blames, " That 's not the way ^Says she in anger and disdain) My fury to allay : It 's fire and sword Must means afford. To take a sharp revenge \
Or if aught else 1550
Their force excels In torment ne'er so strange."
but
Philomela
XCVIII
While thus she speaks, her pretty
child Itys came, whom with looks unmild
She eyes : " How like his sire He looks ! " (her heart could not
afford Her woe-tied tongue another word,
Swelling with inward ire) Yet comes he nigh, and 'bout her neck He winds his wanton arms, 1560 He toys, he kisses, wrath doth check His childish snaring charms, Against her will Her eyes distil. She (mov'd with pity) mourn'd, But when on me She set her eye, Her tears to traitors turn'd.
xcix " See I my sister thus defil'd ? And toy I with the traitor's child ?
Doth he with prating sport, 1571 And sits she silent? calls he dame. And cannot she her sister name.
Distressed in such sort ? First let him die ; I gave him breath,
And what hath he deserv'd ? His sire gave what is worse than death. Should his seed be preserv'd ? What, shall she grieve ? And shall he live 1580
Still to upbraid our shame ? I'll not dispense With such offence For a kind mother's name."
c Thus reason'd she, thus wrath pre-
vail'd, A parent's part in pity fail'd, Sister she prov'd too dear, Rudely the tender boy she hales, Who flatteringly, kind mother calls.
Her fury made him fear : 1590 Remorse and pity from her fled,
Fell fury took the place ; She in his bosom bath'd a blade, As he would her embrace ; Nor so content, She cut, and rent Him piece-meal, part she boils, Some part she roasts, And thereof boasts. Blithe of her proper spoils. 1600
CI
She hereof makes a dainty feast For him that it suspected least ;
Her husband she invites. Feigning the custom did permit But one man at the most, to sit
At Bacchus' blessed rites : He set in state, that food before Him plac'd, thereon he feeds, Too dear a dish he doth devour, Yet nothing thereof dreads : 1610 He says " Bring here My darling dear, Itys my loved lad : "
Progne could nought More hide her thought, Revenge made her so glad.
CII
" Thou seest him " (says she) ;
"Where? "(he said).
I that no more could hide his head
Which quietly I kept, 1619
As it was stain'd with bark'ned blood,
Did hurl at him ; as he were wood,
He from the table leapt ; He wails, he weeps, he mad doth run, Full fraught with fury's fits, " My infant's herse, his tomb, un- done I am, bereft of wits, " (He said). O'erjoy'd To see him 'noy'd We were ; Revenge did smile,
With naked blade 1630
He doth invade Us, authors of this guile.
i6o6 blessed] Orig. * blissed.'
1607 ' set ' is participial, as is 'plac'd.' Hannay likes these absolute combinations. 1620 bark'ned] 'clotted' : cf. Scott's Gtiy Mamtermg, where Dandie Dinmont uses it. It is Northern English, and not merely Scots.
( 641 ) T t
Patrick Hannay
cm He eagerly doth us pursue So swift, as featherbd we flew,
Thereto enforc'd by fear, Soft pens sprout out, our arms turn
wings. New shape we take^ (who'll trust such things ?) Soft plumes our bodies bear : We become birds, Progne to town
Doth take a sudden flight, 1640 I wand'ringto the woods did bowne To wail my woes by night : Some bloody stain We still retain. The mark of that misdeed, Such crimson taint Our feathers paint. As they seem still to bleed.
CIV
Nor he who us pursu'd doth 'scape For his foul fault, he loseth shape,
He to a Tewghet turns ; 1651
His blade is turn'd into a bill To exercise his angry will :
His voice still sadly mourns, 'Cause once a King,acrown-like crest
He bravely yet doth bear ; His issue hatch'd, away do haste. Their father they do fear. Pandion heard
These news and barr'd 1660 All comfort, fed on care, Before his day Grief made a way To death, by dire despair.'
cv So far sweet Philomela sung, But here sad sorrow staid her tongue, Her throbbing breast did bound. Whereby I well might guess her grief, And 'cause I could not yield reUef,
Her woe my heart did wound. 1670 Pity with passion so me pierc'd,
I press'd her how to please, Her legend if it were rehears'd, I deem'd would do her ease : Not knowing well How she could tell Her tale so well agen, Returning back I was not slack. Thus her complaint to pen. 1680
FINIS
1651 Tewghet, teuchit, &c. = ' peewit.' This seems to be pure Scots.
(64.)
SHERETINE AND MARIANA
To the truly Honourable and Noble Lady Lucy Countess of Bedford ^
It is a continued custom (Right hon- ourable) that what passeth the Press, is Dedicated to some one of eminent quahty : Worth of the personage to whom, or a private respect of the party by whom it is offered, being chief causes thereof, the one for protection and honour, the other for a thankful re- membrance. Moved by both these, I present this small Poem (now exposed to public censure) to your Honour : first knowing the fore-placing of your Name (for true worth so deservedly well known to the world) will not only
be a defence against malignant carpers, but also an addition of grace. Secondly, the obligation of gratitude (whereby I am bound to your Ladyship's service) which cannot be cancelled, shall be hereby humbly acknowledged. If it please (that being the end of these endeavours) I have my desire. Deign to accept thereof( Madam) with afavour- able aspect, whereby I shall be encour- aged, and more strictly tied to remain Ever your Honour's, in all humble duty,
Patrick Hannay.
A brief collection out of the Hungarian History for the better understanding of this ensuing poem
AFTERtheloss ofthe battle of Mohacz, Lewis (the second of that name, King of Hungary and Bohemia) found dead in a rift of the earth half a mile above Mohacz ; the Turk invests John Zappoly (chosen at Alberegalis) King of Hungary. The Arch-Duke Ferdi- nand pretendingto be heirof Ladislas, is elected King of Bohemia, and growing great thinks of the conquest of Hung- ary ; alleging it did appertain to him by right of Prince Albert, and Anne his wife, sister to King Lewis : He gathering together a strong army, enters therewith into Hungary. King John unprovided of forces, retires to Transilvania : Ferdinand pursues and overthrows him : he flees towards Po- lonia, and Ferdinand is crowned King of Hungary. Jerome Lasky (a man of great power) receives John, and practiseth with the Turk for his resti- tution. Solyman undertakes his
defence, and brings him back. Many hostilities past twixt John and Ferdi- nand : Fortune now favouring the one, now the other; at last (wearied, and their forces weakened) they agreed : The conditions were, that John should enjoy all he then possessed during his natural life ; and at his death it should descend to Ferdinand : John's children (if he left any) to be honourably main- tained. Within short time after this agreement John dieth, leaving a son (named Stephen) of eleven days of age. Isabella (wife to John, and daughter to Sigismond King of Poland) together with a Friar named George (who had been a follower of John's fortunes) are left tutors to this young Prince. John dead, Ferdinand requires performance ofthe agreement ; which (by the Friar's means) is denied. The Queen with her son and George retire to Buda, which Ferdinand (by his Lieutenant
1 Lucy Harington, wife of the third earl, d. 1627, one of the most famous and favourite patronesses of men of letters in the first half of the seventeenth century.
( 643 ) T t 2
Patrick Hannay
Raccandolph) straitly besieges. Ma- humet Basha succours the Queen, Solyman himself coming to Andrionop- olis. Mustapha Basha is sent into Tran- silvania against Malliat Ferdinand's Lieutenant there. Raccandolph is quite defeat at Buda by Mahumet, who takes Pesth and divers other fortresses.
Malliat hearing of this overthrow (and despairing of succours from Ferdi- nand) retires to Fogare, a strong Castle, which by a thousand assaults of the Turks could not be taken. He comes to a parly with Mustafa^, who sends into Fogare four principal Captaines of the Cavalry^ as hostages ; Malliat on this assurance coming forth is betrayed in a banquet, seized on as a prisoner, and sent to Constantinople, where he remained prisoner till his death. Soly- man (having thus driven Ferdinand's forces out of Hungary) comethto Buda, from whence he sends Isabeland her son with the Friar to govern Transilvania, depriving her of Hungary against his passed faith. The Friar (of an insolent and haughty spirit) governeth all in Transilvania as he listeth, little regard- ing the Queen : She (disdaining to be curbed by one risen from so mean a quality) complaineth to Soliman. The Friar (fearing the Turk's force) sendeth privately to Ferdinand, entic- ing him to a new attempt, promising him the aid of the Transilvanians, with divers fortresses. Ferdinand (glad of this offer) sends to his brother Charles the Fifth, then warring in Germany : He (jealous of Frederick Duke of Saxon, and Philip Landgrave of Hess, whom yet he detained prisoners) sends him only John Baptista Castalde to be his Lieutenant, who comes to Vienna for his instructions. With him came divers Gentlemen, amongst whom was John Sheretine, who there becomes enamoured of Mariana, daughter to Lazare Ardech, and is requited with like affection: friends willingly con- sent, and they are contracted. Cast- aide (with instructions) leaves Vienna, whom Sheretine (after a sad farewell of Mariana) doth accompany. While they are in journey to Hungary, Maxi- milian son to Ferdinand returns from
' The variation is orig.
Spain, having wedded Mary, daughter to Charles the Fifth, in honour whereof divers triumphs are done. Nicholas Turian (a young Nobleman) coming with Maximilian to Vienna, and seeing Mariana, falls in love with her ; by means of her father's kinsman (his entire friend) he comes acquainted with Mariana's parents : he sues for Mariana : Her parents better liking his present and better means than Shere- tine's, (which most depended on hope) force her against her will and plighted faith, to wed Turian.
Castalde(come intoHungary) causeth Agria (a town of great importance, yet neither strong by site nor Art) to be strongly fortified, committing the charge thereof to Erasmus Tewfle. Castalde proceeds on his journey to Transilvania. Arriving at Tiss or Tibiscus, (a large and deep river, which taketh his be- ginning in Poland, at the foot of the hill Carpatus, and thwarteth Hungary towards the South till it fall in Danu- bius, between Belgrad and Cenedin, where it loseth the name. It is in some places eight miles broad, by reason of quagmires) and having passedtheriver, they marched in battle till they came to Debrezen : there he met with two of the greatest and richest Lords of Hun- gary, Andrew Buttor, and Thomas Nadasdy, who joined with him. By the way Dalmas, holdingfor the Queen, is besieged, and taken by John Baptista of Arco. The Queen hearing of Cas- talde his approach, calleth a Diet at Egneth, which (by the Friar's cunning) is dissolved without anything con- cluded. She retires with her son to Albeiula with such force as she had. The Friar pursues her, and she fear- ing the weakness of the town, retires to Sassebess (a place by situation far stronger than Albeiula :) George besiegeth Albeiula. The Queen hearing of the approach often thousand Spaniards to his aid, seeks an accord, which George easily grants, knowing Castalde was not nigh. The Queen yields the Town on condition to have her movables saved. George consents thereto, not suffering one of his soldiers to enter, till her goods were brought
^ Orig. ' Cavaliaric'
(644)
Sheretine a7id Mariana
out and carried to her. Castalde and George meet soon after at Egneth ; they go to seek the Queen to Sasse- bess : there they sit in council : Cas- talde declares his charge : that the Queen should render the kingdom according to the former agreement made with her Husband John. He adds also, that the Infanta Joan (young- est daughter to Ferdinand, with loo.ooo Crowns for a Dowry) should be given to her son Stephenin marriage . ■ with other offers, allseeminggoodtothat assembly. They send her that mes- sage by George ; whereupon she (know- ing the impossibility to keep it by force, being destitute of all aid) yields herself to Ferdinand. The Friar (fear- ing lest this agreement might eclipse his greatness) seeks to dissolve it ; but she (jealous of his inconstancy and cunning, and not able longer to suffer his insolencies) accuseth him to Cas- talde ; seekethto confirm the agreement, and at a Diet held at Egneth in pres- ence of her son and Nobility, delivers up the kingly Ornaments, which were a Crown of plates of gold mounting on high in form of a high-crowned hat, enriched with Pearl and stones, with a small golden Cross on the top, a Sceptre of Ivory, a Mantle of cloth of gold set with stones : a Gown and a pair of shoes of gold : The Friar would have had the Crown in keeping, which she with disdain denied him, saying, ' She would never consent that a Friar should be King of that king-
dom, whereof she dispossessed herself and son.' Then (with great effusion of tears) delivers Castalde the Crown ; earnestly imploring Ferdinand's re- lief to her and her son (whose grief showed he disliked the surrender) con- sidering they were sprung from a noble stock. The next day alter she took her journey towards Cassovia with her sickly son, manifesting the great sorrow and discontent she felt to see herself deprived of her Kingdom ; and by agreement to leave her own, which (in time) small help of friends could still have kept. At Cassovia she stays, with patience expecting a change of Fortune. At last is made Vayvod of Transalpinia, seeketh aid of the Turk. The Transilvanians (wearied with the Austrian oppression) practise her re- turn. She coming, drives out Ferdi- nand's forces ; is re-established, and re- wardeth those who had still stuck to her. Castalde after receipt of the Crown diligently kept it. At last find- ing fit opportunity sends it to Ferdi- nand by John Alphonse Castalde Pes- caire (his nephew) whom Sheretine (longing to see Mariana) accompanieth
to Vienna : there
the incon-
stancy of Mariana (who had promised never to yield to any other) and the ill dealing of her parents, within short time he falleth sick with extreme sorrow, and dieth ; whose death bringeth on their tragic ends, as in this Poem more at large doth appear.
Canto I
THE ARGUMENT
Marian's Ghost her birth doth tell,
How Sheretine her lov'd : And how requited ; how both griev'd
When he to war remov'd.
I
One evening 'twas when the declin- ing Sun Wearied, gave place to the ensuing night :
And silver Phoebe had her course begun
(645)
To cheer the world with her more feeble light : To rest myself upon a bed I cast. Till gentle sleep seiz'd on me at the last.
II As soon as sleep me wholly had
possest, And bid sad cares a time for to
depart, I thought to me a lovely maid addrest,
Patrick Hannay
[Canto I
Whose sight might pierce the most
obdurate heart : lo
Soft was her gate, and heavy was
her cheer, Ghostly, yet mild, her visage did appear.
Ill Her golden tramels trailed down
her back. And in herhand a gory knife she bare: Down from her breast streamed a
bloody track ; A sable sarsenet was all that she ware, Thoro' which that blood appear'd,
as I on lawn Have seen with crimson silk a currant drawn.
IV
Then gently did she by the hand
me take. Saying, ' Fear not, with me vouch- safe to go, 20 Even for thine only Saint fair Coelia!s
sake, Where thou shalt all my forepast fortunes know ' : Then to a flow'ry green she forth
me led, Which was in Florals finest livery clad.
V
The Sun nor Moon there never
show their face, Nor yet doth horrid darkness there
appear ; Nor nights, nor days, nor seasons
there take place, One night, one day, one season
serves the year. Such light as when the early
lark doth sing, Such season as 'twixt summer and
the spring. 30
VI
Down by this field there runs a deep black lake.
O'er which a ferry-man doth steer a boat
So smear'd with blood, that doubt- ful it doth make,
Or black or red, with gory pitch^dcoat, With twisted long black hair, and
blue lips side^ Lamp-burning eyes, mare-brows and nostrils wide.
VII
To him there flock'd of every sort and fashion,
Over that river waftage for to have ;
But he devoid of all love and com- passion.
Would none transport, but such as
passport gave : 40
Here would she fain have past,
but back he held Her with his pole, and churlishly repell'd.
VIII
Then back she brought me to that flow'ry green.
And set me down, then pitifully said,
' Thou seest how fain I would trans- ported been ;
But churlish Charon hath my pas- sage staid : Nor ere can I pass o'er this grisly
lake, Unless thou deign pity on me to take.
IX
P'or still I'm stay'd till one do write
my story. Whose infant Muse is by a maid
inspir'd, 50
To write her worth, and to set forth
her glory,
13 ' tramels ' = 'chains,' or rather 'network' of hair.
23 flow'ry] Orig. ' floorie,' which might possibly, though not probably = 'level,' if it were not for stanza viii, where it is ' flowry.'
35 'side' in this engaging picture seems to have the old Scots sense of 'long,' 'trailing.'
36 ' mare-brows' are penthouse-eyebrows.
49 I keep the variation of • staid ' and ' stay'd ' in four lines only, for the moral.
(646)
Canto I]
Sheretine and Mariana
Who for her parts deserves to be
admir'd ; Such is thy fairest Coelia, such
the Muse Which her rare beauty bred and
did infuse.
X
By thy sweet Coelia!s name I thee conjure,
My rueful legend that thou wouldst relate,
This may from her some pity thee procure,
For as hers now, such once was my estate : I bid her say, and I would do
my best To please my mistress, and pro- cure her rest. 60
XI
Then thus. At Vien first I drew
my breath, And at my birth I Marian was nam'd, I at Vienna gave myself my death, For that alone not worthy to be
blam'd ; My parents had not base, nor
noble blood. But betwixt both in a mean
order stood.
XII
At my wretch'd birth appear'd no
ominous star. Which might my future misery
divine ; None opposite, they all according
were To show my rise, but not my sad
decline : 70
All did agree to grace my infant
years With happiness, but drown mine
age in tears.
XIII
Kind Nature freely her best gifts
bestow'd, And all the Graces join'd to do me
grace : In giving what they gave, they
nothing ow'd,
(647)
Which well to those appear'd, who
saw my face ; There was no maid who durst
with me compare, My beauty and my virtues were
so rare.
XIV
My parents plac'd in me their whole
content, I was their joy, they had no children
more, 80
Kin and acquaintance all of me
did vaunt. And bragg'd to see my youth produce
such store Of budding blossoms, fairest
fruit presaging, All which were nipp'd by adverse
fortune's raging.
XV
My parents' care was chiefly how to
train Me up in virtue from my tender years, They us'd all means, sparing nor
cost nor pain. Nor day nor night, me to instruct
forbears, So in short time my virtue had
such growth. As age whiles brings, but is not
seen in youth. 90
XVI
Like as the rising Sun with weaker
light. Steals from the bed of bashful
blushing Morn, Permitting freely to the feeblest sight Him to behold, but such beams him
adorn Mounting our height, as who him
then beholds. Is blinded, with the brightness
him enfolds.
XVII
So I an Infant at the first appearance,
With hopbd beauty did but weakly shine ;
But as in years I further did ad- vance.
Perfection's pencil so did me refine.
Patrick Ha72nay
[Canto I
As my accomplish'd beauty at
the height
lOI
Dazzled the bold beholder's dar- ing sight.
XVIII
About this time th' Hungarian state
distrest, (King John being dead) by civil
discord torn, Some Ferdinand would in the state
invest, The Friar for young Stephen others
doth suborn ; He with Queen Isabel calls in
the Turk, Who seems her friend, but for
himself doth work.
XIX
Biida by sieging Ferdinand is girt, By Solymoft his Army 's there
defeat; no
Who taketh Festhe, Mustafa doth
hurt. On Mai/iat wa.rs : The Transilvanian
state Swears homage unto Stephen ;
Malliat betray'd To StaniboVs sent, where till he
died he staid.
XX
Solyman having Ferdinand o'er-
thrown, To Buda comes ; deprives the
woful Queen Of Hungary, seizing it as his own : Sends her distressed with her Infant Stephen To Transilvafiia with the crafty
Friar Her coadjutor, for to govern there.
XXI
You easily may guess her heart was sorry, i 2 i
Being depriv'd of what she held most dear :
Robb'd of her state, degraded of her
glory By th' injust Lord she call'd to free her fear : Buda bears witness of her sad
complaint. Which mine own woe permits me not to paint.
XXII
To Transilvania come, no sorrow
ceaseth, Th' ambitious Bishop governs as
him listeth : The Queen he curbs, command in
her decreaseth. Whilst he grows greater and in
pride persisteth : 130
Till her abused patiencecannot bear More the demeanour of the saucy
Friar.
XXIII
Her Father Sigismond no comfort
sends her, He was but careless, though she
thus was crost : Not one of his confederates befriends
her. Seeing him leave her should relieve
her most. Ah, wretched Queen, what help
can moaning make thee, When father, friends, kin, and
allies forsake thee?
XXIV
Her sorrows now she can no more support,
(Yet peremptory George was great- est grief:) 140
Since who should love, had left her in such sort.
Her discontented mind hopes small relief: To Solyman she sends ; O woful
wight, To seek an injurer to do thee right.
Ill Pesthe] The orig. spelling ' Peslh^ ' is required here wei. grat.
n8 The evident scansion of this hne is 'distressed,' with 'Stephen' pronounced ' Ste'en ' as in ' Steenie,' to rhyme to Queen. This pronunciation may also save ]. 113 : but of the versification of these historical parts perhaps the less said the better.
132 Friar] = ' Frere ' : but Frier in orig.
(648)
Canto I]
Sheretine and Mariana
XXV
The Turk commiserates her sad estate ;
George knowing this, to Sassehess retires,
Scours ditches, heightens walls debas'd of late,
Lays in munition that a siege requires : Then raiseth forces. Isabel pro- vides Force 'gainst his force, which the whole land divides. 150
XXVI
The Turk Chiauss in Isabel's favour
sent Threatens the Friar, and those to
him adhere ; Which did no good but ill^ it from
her rent Most part of those that erst her
fautors were : Such inbred hatred to the Turk
they bore, They hate her cause, 'cause he
would her restore.
XXVII
The Queen (misdoubting of the
Turk^s supply) Seeks an agreement, which is lightly
granted : For the Friar knew that the Turk's
force drew nigh. Intelligence there to her hurt she
wanted: 160
Agreed, the Friar forceth the
Turk retire. Still misregards her^ still doth
high aspire.
XXVIII
She once again the Nobles doth
incite, (Disdaining his neglect) and they
once more In a firm league to her do reunite. The crafty Friar thinks to provide
therefore :
To Ferdinattd he sends, his aid
doth proffer, Which Ferdinand accepts, glad of
that offer.
XXIX
To Charles the Fifth his brother he
doth send, In such affair to have his present
aid, 170
Yet knowing no great succour he
could lend, (In Germany his whole force being
staid :) Yet at the least an expert Captain
brave For his Lieutenant he doth press
to have.
XXX
Charles weighing what this enter- prise importeth,
John Baptist Castald, Count of Piaden,
Doth single out, and to this charge exhorteth ;
He willingly accepts, but with few men He takes his leave, and unto Vien
comes. Where he is welcom'd with the pressing-drums. 1 80
XXXI
One of his train, (and what concerns
me most, With that she sigh'd) was one in
Viett born, Joh?i Sheretine, his kin of him did
boast, As if his stock he chiefly did adorn. And those who have no int'rest
in his blood. Honour him more, the more he's
understood.
XXXII
From native home he long time had
remain'd. In Padua ten years at school he staid, And in that time he so much learn- ing gain'd,
169 Fifth] Orig. here and elsewhere 'Fift,' Scotice. These survivals in the Angli- cized Scots of this period are perhaps worth noting.
( 649 )
Patrick Hannay
As virtue's firm foundations sure were
laid : _ ^9°
His father hereof knowing, him
commends To Castald, who on bloody Mars attends.
XXXIII
He willingly his father's hest obeys, And in short time made to the
world appear That learning ne'er the haughty
spirit allays, Which honour'd glory for his badge doth bear. And though that Envy still doth
hate brave deeds, Yet his worth even in Envy liking breeds.
xxxiv He with Castalde to Vien comes
back, Where hungry expectation longs to see him, 200
Kin and acquaintance to the case- ments make. They think him happiest that first can eye him : Yet when they see, they know hot
whom t' affect. All-changing Time had alter'd his aspect.
XXXV
To see these soldiers in the town
received, The confus'd multitude in clusters
throng : The better sort, (yet novelty that
craved) In spacious windows rangbd were
along ; There was I plac'd, I clothed was
in green. Embroidered o'er with flowers
like Summer's Queen. 210
XXXVI
As each did pass, he did our censure
pasSj
[Canto I did like, another did
Whom one
disdain : Shereiine came, and none knew
what he was. Yet each one's approbation he did
gain, Each one him prais'd, and I
amongst the rest, Of all that pass'd said he deserved
best.
XXX VI I
Nor was this favour forced from
affection. It was desert that drew this verdict
fra me, Love had not then inflam'd me
with infection, No object had had hap from me to
draw me ; 220
Though love had found me fit to
show his power. Yet did I live at liberty that hour.
XXXVIII
Though mine eyes were the arsenal
where he hid His choicest arms, from whence he
might take fires, (Which in continual lightning from
them slid) To kindle in cold hearts most hot
desires ; Yet I not knowing what their
power meant, My youth's sweet spring, free from
disquiet spent.
XXXIX
Some noble thought possessing still my mind)
Whilst gold on canvas ground my fingers place, 230
Ornimblyonalutelightnotesoutfind,
Which with sweet airs my charming voice did grace : These gave no leave to Love to let
mine ease, Which disrespect did the Love- god displease.
199 Castalde] The addition of the e to get an extra syllable is interesting-. 218 fra me] Note Hannay's utilizing of a Scots form for rhyme and the evidence for 'draw ' as 'dra'.' But he drops into it again infra, stanza xlix, where no rhyme calls.
(650)
Canto I]
Sheretine a7id Mariana
XL
He languish'd that the flames which
in mine eyes Were plac'd, had yet but darted
feeble rays : Now did the bruit of Sheretine him
please, Of him all speak, all listen to his
praise ; He thinks him only worthy of
those fires Which had not kindled others'
deep desires. 240
XLI
Whilst at Vienna they for dispatch stay,
They're visit'd by their country gallantry.
Which to express affection doth assay :
They with requital quit their curtesy ; For Sheretine the Fates do lay a
train. My father woos, he may him enter- tain.
XLII
He willing to his suit doth con- descend.
To be eye-witness (to his house resorted)
Whether that Fame me falsely did commend,
Or if I were such as I was
reported : 250
For she had blaz'd my beauty
everywhere, Call'd others fair and fairer, me most fair.
XLIII
The day did seem to break even at
the noon, My coming so eclips'd the former
light, Small stars are dimm'd so, by a
rounded moon Wliich from a cloud comes suddenly
to sight : My beauty blaz'd so at the first
appearing, He thinks report my worth had
wrong'd by bearing.
(651)
XLIV
What learned Padua could not
effect. Nor spacious Germany where he
had stayed, 260
That Vien doth, one beauty there
respect Bred, which all theirs conjoin'd in
vain assayed : His heart from their attracting
baits left free, At Vien he doth offer up to me.
XLV
My father his affection to express.
Bids him kind welcome as his dear- est friend,
Vows lasting love, meanwhile Love doth address
His surest shaft, his golden bow doth bend ; Mine eye the quiver whence he
took the dart With unavoiding stroke, that hit his heart. 270
XLVI
One might have seen mid-day of his desires,
Even from the East of their new- taken birth :
He strove to hide the new flame of his fires,
But grounded passion is not masqu'd with mirth : His mirth to melancholy sighs
redoubled. Did well bewray, his musing mind was troubled.
XLVII
Thus was he first enamoured, yet
he strove To hide his passion ; but we did
perceive Some unaccustom'd accident did
move These sudden fits, yet we no cause
would crave : 280
He takes his leave, unto his home
returns. Whilst in his heart, that new fire
hotly burns.
Patrick Hannay
[Canto I
XLVIII
He careless casts himself upon his
bed, And 'gins to reason with his restless
thought : He curseth Chance that first him
thither led, He straight doth bless it 'cause it
there him brought. He blames it for the breeding his
unrest, Loves it for showing what could
make him blest.
XLIX
" How did I live with unperturbed mind.
Passing the day with joy, the night with sleep, 290
(Saith he; where wakerife cares I now do find.
And new disquiet for my late de- light : Are these th' effects of Beauty and
of Love ? Heaven Love and Beauty fra me then remove.
L
Ah, hateful tongue, recant this foul
amiss. Love is the God that first gave life a
being : Beauty 's the breeder of this greater
bliss, How dar'st thou then profane their
power weying ? Beauty breeds Love, Love beauty
doth requite With the attractive lines of sweet
delight. 300
LI
Then welcome Love, I now will
entertain thee. Beauty, I'll thee with reverence
adore ; But what if beauteous love should
now disdain me, Since love and beauty I have brav'd
before ?
Nay, they will not take that as a
disgrace, I saw nor knew not them, till first
her face.
LII
Her face where wanton love keeps
residence, He takes no progress but when she
removes : Beauty projects from thence unto
the sense Such beaming glances, as their
brightness proves 310
Young Eaglets, pardon Love, for I
had been Sooner your subject, if she sooner
seen.
LIII
Thus passed he the night withouten slumber.
Longing for day, nor did I take such rest
As theretofore, new thoughts 'gan me to cumber,
Making me wakerife whilst my sleep decreast. Nor could I think what did pro- cure that change, 'Cause unaccustom'd I did hold it strange.
LIV
Whilst sleep remov'd, on Sheretine I
thought, (The mind must still be busied) I
his shape .^20
Did think that Nature curiously had
wrought. On which the Graces did their
blessings heap ; And Virtue that she part of him
might claim. Had deck'd with rarest ornaments
his frame.
LV
" Why should I think on him more
than another ? " (I say :) And straight begin my
thought to blame.
(653)
298 weyingj = ' weighing'?
Canto I]
Sheretine and Maria7ia
I would forget his shape, his virtues
smother, Place where he sate, the time he went and came : Yet still the more I wish him out
of mind. Him livelier represented there I find. 330
LVI
I sleepless spend the night, I early
rise. He restless longeth for to leave his bed, Ev'n then our thoughts began to
sympathize ; Abroad he walk'd as Morn the East- heaven clad : To put him out of mind I didrepair T' a Garden, yet in thought I found him there.
LVII
Ere noon he came (acquaintance
loath to lose) To visit and give thanks ; I joy'd to
see him, As he to be with me of all did
choose ; So I was well contented to be nigh
him : 34°
Thus did the Destinies draw on our
fate, I knew not Love, fear'd not his
hidden bait.
LVIII
After we often walk'd into the fields,
Passing the time with sport and harm- less mirth.
Where nought did want, that fairest Flora yields,
Or Tellus from her treasure bringeth forth : But discontented minds seld find
relief By outward show for inward hidden grief.
LIX
For in his countenance we might behold
Some hidden grief, though gilded
o'er with gladness, 350
Sudden abortive sighs unto us told ;
His pensive mind was seiz'd with
inward sadness ;
Ignorant of the cause, I thought
to please him, The more I cherish'd, more I did disease him.
LX
Shereti?ie's love still more and more
increast, The more he did my company
frequent : His beating breast bewrayed his
heart's unrest. Yet could not (though he strove) my
sight absent. So doth Farfalla dally with the
flame. Till, his wings sear'd, he sinks
down in the same. 360
LXI
Oft would he strive to look another
way, And still endeavour'd me for to
neglect : Yet did his eye more steadfast on me
stay, Endeav'ring to dislike bred more
respect. Now look'd he pale, now red, cold,
straight in fire, Merry, soon sad; how changing
is desire !
LXII
Yet his desire he strove to cover still. And each way to conceal his passion
tried, But love resisted, like a close-pent
kill Most hotly burns, when least the
flame 's espied, 370
He thought it would have kill'd it
to conceal it. The salve hurt most, which most
he thought should heal it.
340 nigh] ' nigh ' and ' see ' rhymed as above, st. xxxiv : ' see ' and ' eye.' 359 Farfalla\ ' butterfly,' ' moth.' 369 kiaj='kiln.'
(653)
Patrick Ha?27tay
[Canto I
LXIII
Within short time his hid fire out doth blaze,
His strength no longer able to sup- press it :
He woos Occasion, then blames her she stays
To fit him Time when he might well express it : Time soon befriends, we to a
garden walk, Unseen, unheard, where we might freely talk.
LXIV
" How comes it, Sir," taking him by the hand.
Then said I, "that grief taketh on you seizure : 380
(Without presumption if I might demand, )
Where nothing is intended but your pleasure ? For in your visage Care's idea's
plac'd. Which hath your late-joy sem- blance clean defac'd."
LXV
" Love-worthiest Maiden, blameless
if I durst (Saith he) lay ope my heart and
thought reveal, I would tell how my sobbing sighs
were first Conceiv'd, took birth, and why they
still do dwell." Then finding me willing to hear
inclined, He thus begins to tell his troubled
mind. 390
LXVI
" Fair(if that fair be not toobasea name For thee, sweet deity of my affection,) Before this boldness receive check,
or blame, (My tongue is free from flattery's
infection :) Vouchsafe to hear, (and hear
without offence) My rude, yet love-enforced
eloquence.
(654)
LXVII
Love now the sole commander o'er
my soul. Elsewhere that could not by his
craft or might Captive my thought, or liberty
control. Hath brought me here (using that
cunning slight) 400
To see thy face, which in an hour
hath gain'd Love conquest o'er him, who erst
love disdain'd.
LXVIII
'Gainst his assaults, hitherto as defence,
A constant resolution I prepar'd :
His beauty-batteries poorly beat my sense,
Beauty's neglect 'bout me kept watch and ward. Ne'er could love gain till thy com- manding look Surpris'd my fort and guard, me captive took.
LXIX
I am thy prisoner, but no freedom
seek, In this captivity I joy to bide, 410 Only I crave my heart's keeper be
meek ; Dear, let not this desire be me
denied : For it 's my joy, since Love doth
conquer all, That I had hap to be thy beauty's
thrall.
LXX
And thy sweet look (if I do right
divine) Doth promise, thou wilt not so cruel
prove. Nor pitiless to make thy captive
pine By base disdain, and so requite his
love, Which is not touched with least
part of folly, *
My aim is honest, my pretension 's
holy. 420
Canto I]
Sheretine and Maria7ta
LXXI
Then dear (but dearer far if thou
wer't mine), Let pity (the companion of sweet
beauty) Move thee to love him, whom Love
hath made thine : Love to requite with love is but love's
duty. Grant love ; if not, say thou scorn'st
my desires, That death may quickly quench
my loving fires."
LXXII
As doth a prisoner at the bar expect With pity-moving look the doubtful
doom, And by the judge's more severe
aspect. Doth rather fear than hope what is
to come : 430
So Sheretine torn betwixt hope and
fear. His joy or sorrow so awaits to
hear.
LXXIII
A purple blush with native tincture
dyed My cheek's late lily in a deepest red. Whilst I (abashed) to his speech
replied, Whose fainting eyes still on my face
do feed : I was amaz'd, I mus^d what to
say, Love seeks consent, modesty bids
deny.
LXXIV
At last " Brave Sir (said I), I am not
train'd So in love's school as make a quaint
reply, 440
Nor think I lovers can be so much
pain'd As they make shew, but thereby
only try Their wit on woman's weakness,
to ensnare That harmless sex before it be
aware.
(655)
LXXV
Or if they be, it's by some rarer beauty.
My poor perfection cannot passion move,
Your courage should propose else- where that duty ;
Vain-glory cannot so puff me with self-love As to believe mine such ; the
looks I scatter Are feeble, ne'er inflame, nor such I'll flatter." 45 ^
LXXVI
"My speech (saith he) of flattery Cometh not,
Love brings it from the oracle of truth :
I cannot flatter, I, nor fain God wot.
Nor doth it need where beauty hath such growth : With cunning I would not com- passion move. Nor try my wit with an imagin'd love.
LXXVII
My protestations whence they do
proceed, Will soon be seen by sighing out
my breath, Unless my martyrdom thy mercy
meed, Thou'lt know thy beauty's force by
timeless death : 460
Then shall you see character'd on
my heart True holy love, not flattery nor
art."
LXXVIII
" I must not enter in intelligence Of such love-passion, gentle Sir (I
said). If I have answer'd (prompt with
innocence) Seek not the rather to entrap a
maid. Th' access which my simplicity
doth give, Hence I will bar, unless such suit
you leave."
Patrick Han72ay
[Canto I
LXXIX
My father's coming hindered his
reply, Willi him the residue of the day he
spent, 47°
Then to his chamber went, there
down did He, Bathing his bed with tears of
discontent ; Accompanied with every kind of
care He tumbUng lay, Hope yielding
to Despair.
LXXX
My mind no less than his was sore
perplex'd, It griev'd me that I granted not his
suit : It vex'd my heart to know that he
was vex'd, I reason'd, and my reason did
confute. Should I have yielded ? no, who
soon are won. Are soon disdain'd, then I had
been undone. 4S0
LXXX I
Yet who doth love, and can torment her lover :
Yield then, unask'd ? may be he'll sue no more.
Alas, how shall I then my love discover ?
Oh ! would to God I granted had be- fore. His love 's extreme ; if it kill, or
take flight, Or turn to hate, then, all my joys, good night.
LXXXII
May be it was not serious that he
said. Oh! lamlostifthathe only tried me; Then my own self I seriously survey'd, And saw that loving Nature nought
denied me : 490
Yet priz'd I not my parts, 'cause
they were rare. But 'cause they could my Sheretine
ensnare.
(656)
LXXXIII
Yet being doubtful of his back
returning, I call myself too cruel, too unkind : And he that could not hinder inward
mourning. Absents not long, returns to know
my mind. He vows, protests, thereto adds
sighs and tears. Which sweeter than sweet'st
music pierc'd mine ears.
LXXXIV
I was well pleasl'd that he came
again, (But better far his love was not
decay'd) 500
I thought it folly longer to detain With doubtful Ifope^ lest Love should
die denay'd : I (seeming loath) granted all that
he crav'd. Mine honour and my reputation
sav'd.
LXXXV
Those who have felt the fits of
fervent Love, Which hath the strength decay'd,
and vigour wasted With strongest Passion, and in end
did move Their Saint to pity, and some
comfort tasted : Such and none else, can tell if he
were glad. When of my love, this overture I
made. 510
LXXXVI
My hands he kisses, doth not speak
a word, (Joy chaining fast the passage of his
speech) His gesture did more eloquence
afford By moving signs, than Rhetoric can
teach : Therewith o'ercome, I open laid
my heart, And all my loving-secrets did
impart.
Canto I]
Sheretine and Mariana
LXXXVII
I told him that I did no less affect His virtuous parts, than he admired
mine, How I delay'd not 'cause I did
neglect, Or joy'd to see him for my sake to
pine : 520
But only love's continuance did
doubt, The soonest kindled fire goes soonest
out.
LXXXVIII
No more we then on ceremony
stand. Each unto other firmly plighteth
troth, In sign whereof I took his, gave my
hand, Call'd God to witness with religious
oath : He unto me vow'd a ne'er-bating
love, I vow'd my fancy ne'er should
other prove.
LXXXIX
Our next care was, to gain our
friends' consent. Who heard no sooner we did other
like, 530
But they did yield, and are so well
content, They joy and thank the heavens,
that so did strike Our hearts with equal heat, they
hop'd to see Honour and joy of our wish'd-
progeny.
xc We sometimes after walk'd to take
the air. Sometimes to see them hunt the
fearful roe : Sometimes we to the Temple did
repair :
Sometimes to the Theatre we would
Thus did we banquet still with
fresh variety, Yet ne'er did cloy or surfeit with
satiety. 540
xci
Methinks the sweet remembrance
yet me glads, How in my father's flore-perfumM
garth. Where leafy tops chequer'd out
motley shades. And Florals minions diaper'd the
earth : How we have walk'd discoursing of
our love, With kindest appellations Dear
and Dove.
xcii
An arbour there, fenc'd from the
southern Sun With honeysuckle, thorn, and
smelling brier, Which intermix'd through others
quaintly run. Oft hath had hap our loving lays to
hear: 5 50
There hath he laid his head down
in my lap To hear me sing, feigning to steal
a nap.
XCIII
There sitting once, I told him how
I dream'd, And wish'd my dream were true !
he long'd to know it : And then most eager for to hear it,
seem'd ; *■
Yet shamefastness would never let
me show it Before our plighted-faith ; then I
it read, It was how I was first enamoured.
538 Theatre] Note the accent (of course in strictness justifiable, hke so many vulgar- isms) ' Thertjiter.' 542 flore-perfumed] ' flore-perfum^d garth ' is good, methinks. 557 read] = ' expounded.'
(657) UU
Patrick Hamtay
[Canto 1
XCIV
There have we talk'd, chaste kisses
interrupping Our kind discourse, which every word did point : 560
I from his Ups, he from mine nectar
supping. Mix'd tears of Pity oft our cheeks anoint : There have we spent long time in
such Hke sport, And that long time, we still thought very short, xcv Such happiness we had, we none
envied, We counted Keasars caitiffs match'd
with us. But permanent felicity 's denied To mortals here, none can enjoy that bliss : Our joy soon turns to sorrow, we
must part, Which with griefs sharpest prickles pierc'd each heart. 570
xcvi Now Ferdinand had everything
prepar'd Was necessary the war to maintain : Castalde who for conduct thereof
car'd. Was ready, and gave warning to his train To be in readiness him to attend To Hungary to make their valour ken'd.
XCVII
Young Sheretine prepareth for to go, Though all his friends persuade him
stay behind, Yet he will forward, though even I
say no : " Sweet," (saith he") '■''Love doth not
debase the mind. 580
What ! shall I now obscure my
former worth ? No, no, thy love doth no such fruit
bring forth.
XCVIII
Weep not," (for then the tears stood
in mine eye) " Life of my Life, for so my sorrow 's
doubled. Although thereby signs of thy love
I see Which it assureth, yet therewith I'm troubled : If thou wouldst have me to enjoy
content. Leave, dearest Love, with sorrow to lament."
xcix
The hapless day being come that
must us sunder, All such persuasions he pour'd out
m vam
590
That my heart broke not then it was
a wonder, Swift scalding tears out o'er my cheeks did rain, "What, wilt thou go? and meanst
thou thus to leave mc ? " (Said I) "And wilt thou of all bliss bereave me ? c Thou saidst thou wouldst my prisoner
abide. Is this thy craft thy keeper to
betray ? What, wilt thou, cruel now, my soul
divide ? I know thou wouldst not kill me, Dear, then stay; Ah, wilt thou go ? and must I stay
behind ? Oh ! Is this Love ? Is this it to be kind ? " (>oo
ci No more could Passion suffer me
produce. To whom my grieving Sheretine
replied. Each eye a tear-evacuating sluice ; | "My Heart, my All, my Star that doth me guide,
559 interrupping] This useful if not elegant form does not seem common. ( 658 )
Canto I]
Sheretine and Mariana
Leave now to grieve, my chiefest
care shall be Soon to return, then still to stay
with thee.
CII
Nor mean I now to leave thee
altogether, AVith its affection I leave thee my
Heart, Let Destiny or Fortune draw me
whither They will, yet from thee that shall
never part : 6io
In nought I'll joy deprived of thy
sight, Except the minding of thee breed
delight.
cm I3ear, let the hope of a soon joyful
meeting, Better to bear this separation move
thee, Think of the joys that will be at our
meeting. The Fates do force my absence but
to prove thee : Hence from my thoughts all else
shall be debarr'd : " (I said) My constancy may chance
be heard.
CIV
Passion no more permits, we did embrace,
Each other wringing in our winding
arms, 620
With mixed tears bedewing other's
face. One's heart the other's rous'd with love-alarms : Oh ! none but such as have felt like
distress. Can think how sorrowful this sever- ing was.
cv I think Ulysses (feigning to be
mad. Loath to depart from lov'd Penelope) No such distracting fits (through
fancy) had, As had my Sheretine going away ; Jjlysses had reaped the longed
crop, Sheretine in the blade had bloom- ing-hope. 630 cvi Thus did we part, he with Castalde
goes; Yet while in sight he still did look
behind him, I stay'd, steeping mine eyes in seas of
woes : Oft unawares I look'd about to find him : Imagination did delude my sense, I thought I saw him, who was far from thence.
Canto II
THE ARGUMENT
Turian Mariana loves,
She 's forced by her friends
To marry him : This luckless match With blood and sorrow ends.
I
Of all the Passions which perturb
the mind. Love is the strongest, and molests it
most ; Love never leayes it as it doth it
find ;
( 659 ) u
By it some goodness is or got, or lost : None yet ere lov'd, and liv'd in
like estate. But did to Virtue add, or from it bate.
II Sometimes it makes a wise man
weakly dote, And makes the wariest sometimes to
be wild. Sometimes it makes a wise man of a sot,
u 2
Patrick Hanjiay
[Canto II
Sometimes it makes a savage to be
mild : lo
It maketh Mirth to turn to sullen
Sadness, And settled brains it often cracks with Madness. Ill By cursed all-suspecting Jealousy, Faint doubtful Hope, and ever-shak- ing Fear, (Whom pale-fac'd Care still keepeth
company) It is attended: These companions are No minute's rest who let the lover
find, But with their several thoughts do rack his mind.
IV
So was't with me : I everything did
fear 19
That might unto xny Sheretine befall ; Sometimes I thought I clatt'ring
arms did hear. Sometimes for help I thought I heard
him call : Sometimes I fear'd newbeautyhim
allur'd. Sometimes my hope his honesty
assur'd.
V
Now (absent) I did love him more
intearely, It taught me deprivation was a hell. The parting pangs did touch my
heart but nearly ; But now in centre of the same they
dwell : I oftentimes lov'd to consult with
Hope, And of his swift return propos'd the
scope. 30
VI
But now the Fates with Fortune do
conspire, To cross the kind intendements of
Love ; And with salt tears to quench his
kindled fire,
25 intearely] I keep this form intact doubtless have justified himself from the Fr
( 660 )
Not satisfied with my dearfriend's re- move :
My Joys are in the wane, daily grow less,
My Sorrows waxing, daily do in- crease.
VII
To Vien back comes Maximilian, ( Kingof Bohemia) Ferdinand his son. With Mary daughter unto Charles of
Spain, In honour whereof divers sports are
done ; 40
Tilting and Turnay, Feasts to
entertain (With pomp) the coming stranger
they ordain.
VIII
'Mongst others who to Vien then
resorted, Nicholas Turian (a brave youth) was
one ; Most of his friends him from the
feast dehorted, Yet he from it will be detain'd by
none : Such warnings oft the unknown
Fate forerun. Yet misconceiv'd, by those must
be undone.
IX
His straying eyes which wander'd every way,
('Mongst the rare beauties that assem- bly bred) 50
Seeking fit subject their roving to stay.
At last unto my firing looks were led ; Which with one glance (that Cupid
fra them prest) Dazzl'd his sight, and did his eyes arrest.
X
He thinks he ne'er such fairness saw
beforn, It did eclipse the beauty that was by, As doth the fresh-forth-streaming
ruddy Morn
because of the rhyme." Hannay would , entier.
Canto II]
She7^eti7ie a?td Maria7ia
Put out the lesser-lights of nigh ted sky. He thinks there is not any of such
prize, If inward worth do outward
equalize. 60
XI
He longs to know, and presseth to
be near, The nearer he his courage did
abase : Approach'd he speaks not, seems to
quake for fear, He shames so to be daunted in that
place : Shame him encourag'd, prick'd
him on to prove. The more my mind was known,
it more did move.
XII
" I thought not, Lady " (said he) " if
in one The rarest beauties of the world had
been By Nature plac'd, that that one
could have shown 69
So great perfection as in you is seen :
Whose lustre doth exceed each
beauty else, As lively diamond dull glass
excels."
XIII
"The beauty which you speak of"
(I reply) "Is pale, but by reflex is fairer made : If it receiv'd not light by those are by, It should be veiled with an obscure
shade." Some time thus spent in talk he
doth depart. Leaving his freedom with a fettered
heart.
XIV
Then home he goes with new-bred
thoughts turmoiling The late-sweet quiet of his beating
brains : 80
His heaving heart with bitter anguish
boiling,
He Love with his effects now enter- tains ;
He' s pensive, musing, company absents,
^Vith frequent sighs his smoulder'd fire forth vents.
XV
One of my father's kindred very near,
(In whom much trust my parents did repose.)
True friendship did to Turian en- dear.
Secrets were common, he by grieving shows Perceives his friend's distress,
demands the cause : Turian tells all, compell'd by Friendship's laws. 90
XVI
My kinsman told him who, and how I was
To Sheretine by solemn oath con- tracted.
No sooner Turian heard but cries " Alas,"
(By loving frenzy well-nigh dis- tracted :) "Now see I" (said he) " that the
Fates pretend To bring my wretched life to wo- ful end."
XVII
My cousin was astonish'd that to hear, Knowing how hard the enterprise
would be To undo what was done, wills him
forbear, Instantly urges it, letting him see 100 The stopping lets, which would
his love disturb. Therefore whiles young, he wishes
it to curb.
XVIII
But he (whom no dissuasive argument From that resolve had force for to
withdraw) Unwilling hears, to go on still is
bent.
(661)
88 shows] Orig. 'shoes.'
Patrick Hannay
[Canto 1 1
Though likelihood of no good end he
saw : "In things difficult" (saith he)
"worth is shown, By light achievements courage is
not known."
XIX
His friend (whose oratory was in
vain) Doth condescend to aid him to his
power : no
He vows to lose his life, or to obtain Help for the ill that did his friend
devour : Hence my mishap, hence had my
grief first breeding, Hence my successive sorrows still
had feeding.
XX
No more I afterward in public go, (Loath to bewray my beauty to his
eyes :) I shun all that might trouble or
o'erthrow The order I propos'd to eternize My constant love, unto the Love
that hath My Hand, my Heart, Affection,
and my Faith. 120
XXI
He cannot brook delay, spurs on his friend
To know the issue, Danger'' s in deferring :
Though it prove bad, yet best to know the end.
Protraction is the worst of all love- erring : To know the worst of ill is some
relief Faint hope afid feverish fear are food for grief
XXII
The agent (that his cause had under- taken)
Doth first address himself unto my mother :
He thinks if that weak fortress were
shaken. He with assurance may assail an- other : 1.^0 With doubtful speeches he doth
try her mind. Meaning to prosecute, as she 's inclin'd.
XXIII
He him commends, with best praise
tongue affords, (Yet in no commendation did belie
him) He had Youth,beauty,virtue,wimiing-
words, Behaviour from detracting hate to
free him : So well he mov'd, my mother was
content, Turian (if 't pleas'd him) should
her house frequent.
XXIV
He seeks no more, goes, tells his
friend, who 's glad. So soon he looked not for free
access : 140
No more he can forbear ; he came,
did shade His deep Desire^ his Passion did
suppress : Acquainted, he comes more than
compliment Requir'd, but cunning Love did
cause invent.
XXV
He in my father's good opinion grows,
My mother 'gins him well for to affect :
As time permits his friend his worth out throws.
With poison'd words, he doth their ears infect : Himself to me imparteth still his
love, And languisheth 'cause it did no- thing move. 150
122-6 I keep the italics in such passages as this because, as noted above in regard to Philomela, they seem to represent a sort of proverbial aside va.iheT than part of the text.
( 663 )
Canto II]
S here tine and Mariana
XXVI
In his pale cheek the lily loseth white,
The red, the rosy livery off did cast :
His favour lately that did so de- light,
With ardour of his hot desire did waste. In inapparent fire he now con- sumes, His beauty fades, as forward frost- nipp'd blooms.
XXVII
I grieve because I cannot help his grieving,
His pain relenting pity in me bred :
I do accompt him worthy of reliev- ing,
That he deserv'd to speed if none
had sped. 160
I blame my beauty 'cause it breeds
his woe : I cherish it 'cause Sheretine would so.
XXVIII
His friend (perceiving what such
signs portend) Knows if he salve not suddenly his
sore, Protraction with a perfect cure must
end His woes in death : he doth provide
therefore. My mother now he plainly doth
assail. And by preferment thinks for to
prevail.
XXIX
Women by Nature are ambitious,
With Turiafi's titles tickles first her ear : 170
She of her daughter's state solicit- ous,
That honour is her aim, doth gladly hear. He tells to her his riches and his
land, And then for wealth she more than worth doth stand.
(663)
XXX
Ah, that base earth, and baser excre- ment
(Placed by Nature underfoot,) should move
The mind of greedy age with jnore cotitent
Than Love, the life of things that's from above I Wealth for their Summum bonum
oft is taken, Loving it most when it must be forsaken. iSo
XXXI
My serpent-seduc'd mother, Eva- like.
Tempts and entraps my pelf-affect- ing sire :
Judge ye what pensive pangs my soul did strike.
Seeing parents, friends, and furious love conspire To work my ruin, and their power
bend To prostitute my Faith, and wrong my friend.
XXXII
My Father with authority commands,
My Mother with enticing blandish- ment
Allures, for Turian my kinsman stands,
With kind persuasions, Turian doth
vent 190
With sobs and sighs his too
apparent love. All join my faith and fancy to remove.
XXXIII
Yet I resist : my Father 'gins to
rage: " How now, you minion, must you
have your will ? Becomes it you to cross us in our
age? It is thy due our pleasure to fulfil : Is this the way for to requite the
pain Which for thy education we have
ta'en ?
Patrick Ha7tnay
[Canto II
XXXIV
Thou canst ne'er that repay, thou'lt
still be debtor, Yet still we travail to have thee
preferr'd : 200
Wants Turian worth? deserves He
not thy better ? Reform thyself, acknowledge thou
hast err'd. The law divine (which you so
much pretend,) Commands thee to thy parents' will
to bend.
XXXV
What though that Sheretine be
gentle, free? Yet he hath left thee languishing
alone : Turian is no less courteous than
he. He flies not from thee, gives no cause of moan : Had Sheretine but half so dearly
lov'd, He had not from thy sight so far remov'd. 210
xxxvi Nor are their fortunes equal : near
our friends. Is Turian's state, fair lands and
signories : Sheretifie's most on doubtful war
depends, It is by others' ruins he must rise : Who would such Worth with
Certainty forgo, For Worth and Likelihood, with fairest show ?
xxxvii Then, foolish lass, leave off and con- descend. It is my will and I must have it so. " My mother follows on, as he doth
end, "Ah, daughter, I beseech thee by that woe, 220
By the sore throbs I did for thee
endure, Whilst (yet unborn) these sides did thee immure ;
( ^'64 )
XXXVIII
By these lank breasts at which thou oft hast hung.
And looked in mine eyes with child- ish toys.
Oft fallen asleep whilst I have to thee sung.
Do not now strive to stop our coming joys : Who now can be more tender,
wish thee better, Than she, whom Love to such kind work did set her ?
XXXIX
Shalt thou, the only pledge of ancient
Love, The sweet-expected comfort of mine
age,^ _ 230
That hoped happiness fra me remove, Which thy ne'er-disobeying did
presage ? I know thou wilt not, dear
child ; then incline. Scorn to be his that left for to be
thine."
XL
My kinsman urges, adds to what they said, j Turian extols, detracts my Sheretine, Lessens his means, affirms he is
unstaid, Hath wand'ring-thoughts : if his love had not been Quench'd — with my beauty if he
still had burn'd, He had not gone, or sooner had return'd. 240
XLI
Turian himself (with tears) doth tell his woes.
He needeth not protest to move belief.
Passion is soon perceiv'd, his out- ward shows
Did well bewray great was his inward grief, He doth not feigned (for the
fashion) mourn. As widows oft, and rich heirs at the urn.
Canto II]
Shereti72e and Mariana
XLII
" Children obedience to their parents
owe, I grant," (said I) "butinalawful thing; This is not, you me freely did
bestow, I did submit ; fra Sheretine to wring Me now were wrong, in me a foul offence : 251
To disobey here, is obedience.
XLIII
Parents give being, noble benefit,
If with 't content, if not, better un- born :
Yet even the best doth oft-times bring with it
A misery whereby the mind is torn. For making children capable of
woe. Must they free Choice, the best of bests, forgo.
XLIV
Our Minds must like, none by
attorney loveth. If Love decay, we cannot grieve by
friends : 260
From Marriage, Love Misery re-
moveth. On Love all wedlock's happiness
depends. ''Tivixt those ne^er Itk'd, what hope
is love will last. When ^twixt those dearliest lov'd
oft falls distaste ?
XLV
If Turianthan he is more noble were, More virtuous, more rich, of higher
degree : Sheretine more mean, more poor, less
worthy far. Yet he hath that, that more con-
tenteth me. It^s tiot in tis to love or to despise. They love by Fate, whose souls do
sympathize. 270
XLVI
I grant his worth is worthy of respect,
Tears for his grief, my cheeks have
often stain'd : Yet with that love I cannot him
affect. Wherewith a husband should be
entertain'd. ' Twixt those who wed, if wooing
love be cold, The married friendship can no long
time hold.
XLVII
Yet do suppose I could affect him
dearly, How might I with my plighted faith
dispense ? Oh, how my conscience is touched
nearly. Even with the thought of such a
foul offence. 280
Ho7v can that prosper, or have
happy end, Which sin begins, and still must
God offend ?
XLVIII
For I cannot be lawfully his wife, // 'j- not the act that ties the marriage
knot. It is the Will; then must I all my
life Be stained with Unchastitfs foul
blot. O grant me then my choice be
either free, Or an unstained Virgin let me
die. "
XLIX
All would not do, my father so austere
Commands, and must not, will not, be denay'd. 290
My mother and my kinsman will not hear ;
Turian still urgeth, they must be obey'd: "O Heaven, bear witness, since
you force me do it," (Say I) " my heart doth not con- sent unto it."
(665)
286 Unchasiitys] Orig. ' Inc/tasti/ie^ s.'
Patrick Hannay
[Canto II
Thus 'gainst my will I give myself
away, They (glad they gained) every thing
do haste : Fearing disturbance by the smallest
stay, They think them not secure till it be
past. I to my chamber go, on bed me
threw, Which my moist eyes do suddenly
bedew. 300
LI
With these complaints I entertain
the time .* "Ah, must I now my hoped joys
forgo ? Must pleasure perish with me in the
prime ? Must I be wedded to a lasting woe? Must I my settled fancy now
remove, And leave a lawful for an unjust
love ?
LH
Must I recall my promise freely
given> And falsify my faith unto my friend ? Is not my oath now register'd in
Heaven ? Is not my Promise to its power
ken'd ? 310
Ah, ah, it is, and therefore they
decree To tie my life to lasting misery.
LIII
Ah, Sheretine, if thou but now didst
know In what a case thy Mariana is : How she's surpds'd and taken by thy
foe, Left comfortless, debarred of all
bliss : Would not relenting pity make thy
heart To melt with sorrow for thy sweet
love's smart ?
LIV
Free from their forcing to thee shall
remain, Do what they can, my best, most
noble part, 320
Which they shall want power and
skill to gain, Reserv'd for thee shall be my Love,
my Heart, Farewell, dear love, and as much
joy possess, As doth thy Marian unhappiness."
LV
The day is come, we solemnly are wed.
That part displeasing I do over- pass :
You easily may think my heart was sad,
When forced thus against my will I was. Vain were their wishes, who did
bid us joy ; Sad grief my nuptial pleasure did destroy. 330
LVI
Castalde in Hungaria arriv'd ; Agria in haste commands to fortify, A town of great import, but yet
depriv'd Of natural strength, or artful industry. There was his Rendez-vous, his
men there met, For Transilvaniaiox\}i\\i^ Z;'5^they set.
LVII
They in battaillie march Tibiscus
past. Till they arrive at small, weak
Debrezen, While Castald with the Friar to
meet doth haste, A Diet's held at Egneth by the
Qiieen. 34°
The Friar with craft hinders her
enterprise. By fear or flattery makes the Lords
to rise.
337 battaillie] The form ' battaillie ' seems better kept. (666)
Canto II] Sherettm and Mariana
As she might have her movables
of worth From Albeiula safely brought her
forth.
LXII
The Friar at Egneth with Castalde
meets, Albehda Dalmas being ta'en : With joyful semblance one the
other greets, Yet craft and jealousies in heart
retain. 370
Ferdinand's letters George chief
guider made, Whereof th' ambitious Bishop 'i
very glad.
LXIII
To Sassebess they come to find the
Queen^ And there arise at third hour of the
night : Within two days the Lords they do
convene, They sit in counsel, Castald to their
sight Shows his Commission, wills the
Queen restore That Province as it was agreed
before.
LXIV
He many arg'ments to this end doth
urge. It was concluded by her late Lord
John : 380
The Tiirk (the Christian's common
foe and scourge) Could not be daunted with so weak
a one. She held it but with trouble and
unrest. At the Turk's pleasure might be
dispossest.
344 overthrown, vanisheth] Orig. ' overthrowne, vanisheth ' may be 'overthrown, evanisheth,' and so save the metre.
346-8] The poet, who, from his little doggrel mottoes downwards, shows various signs of acquaintance with Spenser, has taken an extreme Spenserian libertj' with 'shock' to get the rhyme, though Scotice it is fairly phonetic. ' Retrait ' is actually Spenser's, though he usually spells it ' retrrt^*?.'
372 Hannay does not often rise high : but he seldom sinks as low as this.
(667)
LVIII
The Diet thus dissolv'd, the Queen^s
design Is overthrown, vanisheth to smoke : To Albeiula with her son, in fine. She doth withdraw; there fearing
sieging shoake. And weakness of the place, to
Sassebess Makes her retrait, which more
strong sited was.
LIX
Albeiula George besiegeth strait. To take it fairly, or to throw it
down, 350
Is bent ; it kept the Queen^s jewels
and plate, The Gown, the Mantle, Sceptre,
Shoes and Crown. The cannon vomiting forth fiery
balls, In divers places shakes the
mould'ring walls.
LX
With braver courage than the Priest
expected. The valiant besieged did defend : To Castald letters George in haste
directed. Post after post with diligence doth
send. Wills him to speed, yet 'cause he
saw small haste, T' accord with Isabel he thinks it
best. 360
LXI
Ten thousand Spaniards thither to
his aid Were coming (and now nigh) Fame
did report : Whereby the Queen was troubled,
sore afraid. Accords with George to render in
such sort.
Patrick IIa72nay
[Canto II
LXV
Not only Hungary thereon depends, But the whole good of all the
Christian state, Her Power weak, she wanted help
of Friends, Unable his encroaching force to bate : A mighty Prince was meeter him
to curb, If he the common peace durst to
disturb. 390
LXVI
To the old offers, he now addeth more. Th' Infanta Joan to her young son
Stephen With crowns a hundred thousand
to her dower, By Ferdinand should faithfully be
given. All like this well, all willingly it
hear, And send to her this message by
the Friar.
LXVII
Whilst, unresolved, things thus doubt- ful hung,
She with Castald hath private con- ference :
Bitterly plaineth of the Prelate's wrong,
Wherewith her patience can no
more dispense. 400
Constrain'd by need, she yields
to Ferdina?id, George thereof knowing, seeks it to withstand.
LXVIII
He thinks ifsettled peace were surely
plac'd, And all the civil broils were fully
ceas't : His plumes were pluckbd, he should
be disgrac'd, Who now is most, should be regarded
least.
Often a gold-affecti^ig Prelate proud, For private ends hitiders a public good.
LXIX
The Queen unto Castalde him
accuseth,
(Inconstancy and cunning she did
doubt :) 410
To ratify th' agreement rather chuseth,
G7i'/'fl'/(!/e labours how to bring't about :
There is a Diet call'd at Colosvar,
The States from all sides to it do
repair.
LXX
The day come, and the regal orna- ments
Produc'd, the Priest desires the Crown in keeping :
With sobs and sighs her inward* sorrow vents ;
Scorn and Disdain detain her eyes from weeping : " What, shall I to a base Friar give
the Crown, Whereof I dispossessed myself and son?" 420
LXXI
She said. Then in her hand the
Cronni she took, In presence of Castalde and her Son, And all the Lords, her eyes tears
cannot brook ; In pearly torrents o'er her cheeks
they run. The tears which from her SofCs
eyes did distil, Show'd the surrender was against
his will.
LXXII
" Since froward Fortu7ie (that in
change delights, Wherewith her fickleness infects the
world, Hath us subverted loaded with
despights,
392 Joan] ' Jo-an,' as in ' Joanna.'
429 dcspightJTlie influence of Spenser, which is often strong in theearlierseventeenth century, appears again in this context with the present 'eye-rhyme-spelling,' the rhyme of ' entreat ' and ' estate ' below, and ' Mutability ' lower still. Each separately would prove nothing: but they are all Spenserian,
( 668 )
Canto II]
Sheretine a7id Mariana
And all her mischiefs on our heads have hurl'd :) 430
Makes me this woful resignation make,
My Mates, thy father's Kingdoms to forsake ;
LXXIII
Yet shall She not amidst all these
annoys Let us but that in this we'll take
content, Since we must leave them, that he
them enjoys Who is a Christian ; Here I them
present To thee, Castald, for Ferdinand,
tell we Not by constraint, but yield them
to thee free.
LXXIV
Now we submit ourselves unto his
Grace, With all our fortunes, humbly him
entreat 440
{Since sprung of princely blood and
royal race) To take some pity of our poor estate : Let not his bounty now deny
relief. Nor breach of promise add unto
our grief.
LXXV
And thou (sweet y<?^«) my dear and tender son,
Since now our fortune 's not sufficient
That to repair, that malice hath o'erthrown
Without the aid of others : be con- tent ; Midst of such miseries, I thought
it best With private loss to gain a public rest. 450
LXXVI
Like to a Prince (though not like to
a King) Yet thou mayst live with some good
certainty, When Destiny's disgrace on Kings
do bring, ( 669 )
There they govern with Mutability : Dear Child, of friends, of aid, of
hope forsaken. For thy repose this course is
undertaken.
LXXVII
Yet 'mongst these troubles let us not
despair, Nor doubt but thou art kept for
more command ; Think it not strange, nor be dismay'd
with care. Where thou didst first take breath
to leave that land, 460
Love Virtue, Virtue's dignity ^s so
great, Fortune canfiot debar it long from
state.
LXXVII I
I grant there's cause of grief, to give away
This Crown thy father's temples did adorn,
And if false Fortune had not put a stay,
Had now upon thy Kingly head been worn : But now with Patience we must be
content. Each state doth change, no king- dom 's permanent."
LXXIX
Thus spoke she with such penetra- ting words,
(And therewith did deliver up the Crown) 470
As they did pierce the hearts of all the Lords,
But chiefly George, in tears his eyes did drown. Castalde with kind words strives
to appease Her sorrow, and to 'swage her swelling seas.
LXXX
Within few days she doth from
thence depart, With painful travel and in habit poor. Dissembling not the anguish of her
heart,
Patrick Hannay
[Canto II
She manifests it to her utmost power ; Towards Cassovia she doth take
the way, Where a steep hill enforceth her
to stay. 480
LXXXI
The roughness hinders her in coach
to ride, She 's fain with labour on her foot to
Her tender child and ladies by her
side, The only now-copartners of her woe, Whilst they 're on foot, a sudden
storm doth rise, Black pitchy clouds enveloping the skies.
LXXXII
The wind and rain them boister- ously did beat. She blameth Fortune that is not
content
To be her opposite in matters great,
But even in trifles, thus her spite to
vent. 490
She attributes it to her Destiny,
That she is subject to such misery.
LXXXIII
Therefore a little for to ease her
mind. Under a tree for shelter she took
seat: Sic fata volunt carved in its rind, Regina Isabella under-wrait.
Ah, wretched Queen, no wonder
thou wast sorry To fall so low, from such a height
of glory.
LXXXIV
She to Cassovia comes, and bears it
out With patience, till Fortune's fury 's
past : 500
With Time, her rolling wheel doth
come about, And she is of her country repossest. God grant her soon her state, and
kingdom lost,
Who with more courage bears it, though more crost.
LXXXV
Castalde having what he would obtain'd,
Lord John Alphonse Castald with the Crown
He sends to Ferdinafid : my Lover pain'd,
With ling'ring-stay for Vien's ready boun. Castald (though unwilling) con- descends, Loath for to part at once with two such friends. 510
LXXXVI
In journeying every hour he thinketh
two. The nearer, he doth think the
leagues the longer : His love increases, and he knows
not how. The nearer to Me, his Desire is
stronger. Long-look'd-for Vien he beholds
at last, Spurr'd by Desire, he to it hasteth
fast.
LXXXVII
Thinks with himself, "■ O what a joy- ful greeting
Will't be when Marian sees her Sheretine !
How shall we bear ourselves at this wish'd meeting ?
Can the joy be express'd we shall be
in?" 520
Ah, Sheretine, how little didst thou
know. How far from joy thou wast, how near to woe.
LXXXVIII
No sooner he in Vien 's come, but
hears The sad news of the thing he least
suspected : He thinks them mandrake-sounds,
he stops his ears,
(670)
496 under-wrait] A little />/M5yMaw-Spenseriaift.
Canto II] Sheretim and Mariana
He trows each tongue with poison
is infected : He none believes, he thinks that
each tongue Ues, Longing to see me, to my home
he hies.
LXXXIX
He came, in Turiatis arms me
locked found, He could not trust his eyes (though still he gazed) : 530
No doubt his heart receiv'da deadly
wound, Long ere he spoke, he was so much amazed. At last, " Is this the constancy "
(he said) "Should be heard of?" that spoke, no longer staid. xc My heart was no less cut with Care
than his Because he staid not to hear my
excuse, I know he deem'd I willing did amiss. Which did more sorrow in my soul infuse : Taking no leave, he fair Vietma
leaves. Accompanied with care-increasing griefs. 540
xci All woe-begone, he wanders here
and there. Looks most for rest when furthest
from resort. Submits himself solely to %dA Despair, With cheering comfort he cannot comport : At last he came unto an obscure
shade. Where mirthless Melancholy man- sion had.
XCII
Low on the ground grew Hyssop,
Wormwood, Rue, The mourning mounting trees were
Cypress green,
Whose twining tops so close together
grew, They all seem'd as they but one bough had been : 550
Covering a spacious tomb where
cursed Care Herself had sepulchriz'd with dire Despair.
XCIII
No wanton bird there warbled loving
lays, There was no merry Merle, Gold- Finch, or Thrush ; No other hopping bird in higher
sprays. No mourning Nightingale in lower bush : The carcass-craving Raven, Night- Crow, Owl, In this dark grove their hateful notes did howl, xciv
This sullen seat doth suit well with
his soul. There throws himself down in the bitter weeds; 562
His heart did thrust out sighs, his
tongue condole. His wat'ring eyes with bitter moisture feeds These hapless herbs, there 'gins he
to lament, With interrupting sighs his woes to vent.
xcv
"Ah, cursed Time" (and there ^
sigh him staid) '
"That ere I saw " (that scarcely he
had spoken When that a groan his fainting speech
allay'd. With such abound as if his heart had
broken ; When sighs and groans had got
some little vent. He 'gins anew his sorrows to
lament.) 570
550 bough] Orig. ' Bow,' perhaps for 'bow^r.'
(671)
Patrick Haiinay
[Canto II
xcvi
"Ah, cursed Time^' (said he) "that
ere I saw The light, and that my Nurse did
not o'erlie me ; Ah, cursed Time, that first I breath
did draw, Ah, cursed Time, that did not Time
deny me : Ah, cursed Time ! Ah, cruel cursed
Time, That let me pass the springtide of
my prime.
XCVII
Was it for this I was so sung and
dandled Upon the knee, and watched when
I slept ? Was it for this I tenderly was
handled ? Was it for this I carefully was kept ? Was it for this I was so neatly
nurst, 5S1
That I of all should be the most
accurst ?
XCVIII
Did Fortune smile in my young
tender years, To make me better relish now my
pain? Then pour'd I out no bitter briny tears, That I should now have store my cheeks to stain ? Did Fortune and the Fates strive
to content me. That they might now with sorrow more torment me ? xcix Did cruel Love yield unto rrty Desif-e, To know his pain by being dis- possest ? 590
And did my Marian with Love
conspire. Did all agree to rob me of my rest ? Since it is Marianas will, welcome
Despair, Farewell all Joy, welcome Woe, Grief diXxd Care.
Welcome, since it's her will, now
wished Death, Long may she live, and happy with
her choice : I will wish that so long as I have breath, Nay, even in death I will therein
rejoice. Dear (though disloyal) Thou art
still to me. So once (if thou not fain'dst) I
was to thee. 600
CI
If that one spark of thy old love
remain. When thou shalt chance my timeless
death to hear ;
Let that so much favour for me obtain,
As offer at my hearse a sigh, and tear.
And if some chance be by when
them you spend. And ask the cause, say You have lost a friend. "
CII
Sorrow suffers no more, his tongue
there stays, Heart-killing Care prepares to stop
his breath : His strength and colour by degrees
decays, Grief seems to grieve, and for his help calls Death, 610
Who much displeased so to see
him languish, Soon with his surest cure doth help his anguish. cm No sooner heard I how my dear
Friend died, (Soon it was known, for his friends
had sought him :) And that his destiny was so descried. That to his timeless death my deeds had brought him : But that my ill-divining hapless
heart Was suddenly assail'd with unseen smart.
614 A syllable seems missing : perhaps another ' soon ' after ' for.' (67O
Canto II]
Sheretine and Mariana
CIV
Now Turiaii I will no more come
nigh, His flattering blandishments I now disdain : 620
He is despis'd, yet grieveth more to
see The mistress of his soul thus seiz'd with pain : He with my sadness such a con- sort bears, Sighs as I sigh, doth weep when I shed tears.
cv Sad discontent so wholly me possest, I seem'd not she that late I was be- fore : My woe that was by fits, is an unrest Which with a still increase grows ever more. From mirthful company I now
absent, And melancholy walks alone frequent. 630
cvi Thus many days only heart-killing
Grief Me still accompanied and did attend With black Despair, which told me
no relief On earth could my least discontent- ment end : The days I spent in heavy plaints
and moanings, In night I tire the answering walls with groanings. cvii Yet never could I sit, or walk, or lie, But still I thought I saw my
Sheretine, With pale and meagre face standing
me by, ^Vith wrathful look upbraiding me of sin, 640
Saying his soul could yet obtain
no rest Amongst the souls in sweet Elysium blest.
CVIII
Twixt Fear and Love my heavy heart
distract. Knew neither what to follow, what to
flee ; Love bids me for my Sheretine to act A part that might me ease and set him free ; Persuades me and affirms I shall
remain With my Love after in Elysian Plain.
cix Fear 'fore my face makes horrid
Death appear
In ugly shape seized with smarting
pain, 650
Making to tremble as hedrawethnear;
Yet I with scorn his terror do disdain :
Love doth prevail, I am resolv'd
to fly. By death to keep my Lover company.
cx Thus mourning, on my bed myself
I threw. Saying, "Sweet Sheretine, behold and
see, For thy sweet sake I bid the world
adieu ; And now, dear Love, I come to live with Thee : " Then out I drew this blood-
begored knife. Therewith to cut the fatal thread of life. 660
CXI
Thrice was my hand heav'd up to
give the stroke. Thrice down again my fearful hand
did fall; Still fear dissuades, and love doth
still provoke. Courage her forces to my heart did call ; Then gave this death's wound,
whilst my latest cry Was, Sheretine, behold thy Marian
die.
{^75)
665 death's wound] Cf. 'deathsman,' &c. X X
Patrick Hannay
[Canto II
CXII
My Mother (with my latest shriek
affrighted, Come in and finding me in such a
guise) "With sudden fright is lastingly
benighted ; Fear-forced Death seals up her aged
eyes : 670
My Father rages, his gray hairs he
tore, Turian (though still amazed),
grieved more.
CXIII
PuU'd out the blade, pans'd the
blood-weepirtg-wound, Findeth it mortal, saw my soul de- part ; A frantic fury did him clean
confound, He stroke himself on sudden to the heart ; Our blood doth mix in death, yet
mine would rtin From his ; what life dislik'd e'en death would shun. cxiv My Father now doth find (though all
too late,) The misery forc'd marriage doth ensue : 680
Unto the poor he gives his whole
estate, The world (with his delights) he bids adieu. He as a pilgrim from Vienna goes ; Where^ when, or how he died, yet no man knows.
667 shriek] Orig. 'scrike.'
CXV
Then to these fields my sad Soul did
descend, With my sweet S/ieretine, abode to
make : But when I came, I found my
faithful friend With Charon passing o'er this grisly Lake: For my Death had his wronged
Ghost appeas'd. So that He might pass over as he pleas'd. 690
cxvi I followed fast, thinking with Him
to go.
That I might still enjoy his company :
But I was stay'd as I before did show
Until thy Muse should pity taken on
me :
And now by thy sweet Caelia's
name once more I thee conjure, keep promise past before.'
cxvii Then back She brought me, and no
longer stay'd, But with more cheerful looks did
thence depart, With confidence she could not be
denay'd What she desir'd, for her sake, hath my heart : 700
For Caelia's sake my sole-adored
saint. The world with Marianas woes I thus acquaint.
Finis
673 pans'd] Another Gallicism.
(674)
A Happy Husband:
OR
DIRECTIONS FOR
A MAID TO CHVSE HER
MATE.
Together with
A WIVES BEH A V I O V R after Mariage. i
The fecond Edition. By Patrick Hannay Gent.
Proper. Exeniplo jtin^cE tibijint in amove cohunbce, Mq/adus <S^» totuin foimina conitigium.
LONDON,
Printed by lohn Haviland for Nathaniel Butter,
and are to be fold at his fliop at S. Anjiins
gate. 1622.
To the virtuous and noble lady, the Lady Margaret Home, eldest daughter to the Right Honourable Alexander Earl Home, Baron of Dunglas, &c.
Thinking with myself (Noble Lady) what I might present some way to express my love in remembrance of those not to be requited favours, which have wholly obliged me to your House: It came into my mind, that what is offered to Gods, or great ones, ought rather to be apt, than equal : and that it was held absurd in old time to offer an Hecatomb to the Muses, or an Ivy wreath to the God of War. I thought no offering could be more conformable to your virtues
than this Husband, which of due doth challenge a maiden-Maecenas : and none so fit as yourself, who even in these years by your budding virtues, do well bewray what fruit your riper years will produce. Accept it then (Madam) as an acknowledgement of what is due by me to your deservings, which have bound me to abide ever
yours
In all dutiful observance,
Patrick Hannay.
TO WOMEN IN GENERAL
In things of weight and moment, care and circumspection are to be used, with a truly grounded judgement before resolution. Now in human actions none is of more consequence than marriage, where error can be but once, and that never after remedied. Therefore in it is great caution re- quired before conclusion, the sequel of staid deliberation, or unadvised rashness, being a happy, or a wretched life. And therein is another's counsel most necessary (though through the whole course of man's life it be safer than the self-conceived) : for affection,
which in other affairs doth oft over- rule reason (even in the wise) doth in this ever hide the faults of the affected under the blinding veil of love. This hath caused me for the weal of your Sex to produce this Husband to the light, not gain, or glory ; knowing well the vulgar and critic censurers in this age do rather detract, than attribute : but I care not much for their opinion : who dislike, may freely abstain : if any give better, I shall willingly assent ; take it as it is meant, for your good, to displease none, and to content all.
P. Hannay.
To Overbury's Widow, wife of this Husband
Leave, worthy Wife, to wear your
mourning weed, Or bootless stain your cheeks for
him that 's dead ; But rather joy, and thank this Author's
pen.
Hath so well match'd thee with this matchless man : For Overbur/s Ghost is glad to see His widow such one's happy wife to be.
R. S.
Overbur^^'s Widow] Allusions to Overbury's poem of A IVt/c, complicated or not with others to his miserable fate, are abundant at the time.
( 677 )
Patrick Hannay
To his Friend the Author
Thy happy Husband shows thy high
ingine, Whose muse such method in her
measures can, The matter shows thy manners are
divine ; Thy practis'd virtues shows thou art
this Man : I half envy that highly blessed Maid, Whose happy lot shall be to link with
thee, And well-nigh wish that Nature had
me made
A woman ; so I such one's wife might
be: Detraction is distraught thy lines to
see, And swell'd with envy, can no words bring forth, lo
Her baseness cannot parallel thy
worth. Which still shall live unto eternity : For after Ages reading of thy verse, Shall deck with Laurel thy adored herse.
P. S.
To his Friend Mr. Patrick Hannay
Friend, I am glad that you have brought to life
A Husband fit for Overbiery's Wife ;
Whose chastity might else suspected be,
Wanting too long a Husband's com- pany :
But now being match'd so well by your
endeavour, She'll live a chaste Penelope for ever, And you brave Overbu?-y make to be Your brother-in-law by act of ingeny.
W. Jewell.
To the Author
W^HEN I behold the Author and his
book. With wonder and delight on both
I look ; Both are so like, and both deserve so
well, Were I not friend, I in their praise
would dwell, But since I should seem partial, I think
fit
To leave their praises to a better wit : Yet Husband like to this I wish God
send To those are chaste, and to me such a friend. Live each in other, be each other's
praise, Time shall not end your glory with your days. lo
Edward Leventhorpe.
The Argument
Marriage ordain'd ; the man made
head, That kind may be, like like doth
breed : God blest it ; youth it best befits : The Author will not try his wits To make one man of many parts, Painters do so to show their Arts : His birth and breeding first he shows, Equal, and good ; the wants of those W^hat ills they breed, yet self-gain'd
glore
He doth prefer both these before. lo His shape must not deformed be, Nature makes house and guest agree. His stature neither low, nor tall. The mean in each is best of all : Not curious to be counted fair. It 's womanish to take that care ; Free from affecting gifts of others, That self-weakness still discovers. Such one found, then next is shown What vice he s'd want, what virtue own: 20
20 he s'd] ' s'd ' for ' should ' The absence of ' h ' Scotice.
(678)
is, I think, one of the rarest of these contractions.
Comme?tdatory Toems
Wealth must be set aside to try, (It is a beam in judgement's eye.) What ill doth haunt her weds for gold, Is told : with the content of old. When virtue and simplicity Did choose : then he doth let her see The Worthies that the World brought
forth, Woo'd ne'er for wealth, but still for
worth. With virtue this man should be nurst, If't be deprav'd, he's worse than
first : 30
Drunkenness, gaming, he must want, He shows what ills such unthrifts
haunt ; He must not haunt another's sheets, With grace, foul whoredom never
meets :
He must have spent well his time
past, A wicked crime's bruit long doth
last : His humours must with hers agree, Or else true friendship cannot be ; He must fear God, for on that fear Wisdom doth her building rear, 40 It's that makes honest; Honesty In show, not deed, is policy. He must propose a certain end. Whereto his actions all must bend ; He must have unfeign'd piety. And serve in truth the Deity : The four chief virtues, in some mea- sure, Must hoard up in him their treasure. Whereon the lesser do depend : Age and behaviour do him end. 50
Another
To keep him good, his wife must be Obedient, mild, her huswifery Withindoors she must tend ; her charge Is that at home ; his that at large : She must be careful ; idle wives Vice works on, and to some ill drives : Not toying, fond, nor yet unkind. Not of a weak dejected mind, Nor yet insensible of loss,
Which doth with care her Husband cross: 10
Not jealous, but deserving well, Not gadding, news to know, or tell ; Her conversation with the best, In Husband's heart her thought must
rest : Thus if she choose, thus use her mate. He promiseth her happy state.
(679)
A HAPPY HUSBAND :
OR,
Directions for a Maid to choose her Mate
In Paradise God Marriage first
ordain'd, That lawfully kind might be so
maintain'd ; By it the Man is made the Woman's
head, And kind immortalized in their
seed: For like produces Hke, it so should
be, God blest it with Increase and
7mcltiply. Nature requires it, nothing is more
just. Who were begot, beget of duty must. It Youth becomes, Age is unapt to
breed, Old stocks are barren, yoiithful pla7its
have seed. lo
Then, virtuous Virgin, since such
blessing springs From wedlock (which earth's greatest
comfort brings ) Compell'd by love, which to thy
worth is due, How to choose well thy mate, I will
thee shew ; Whose sympathizing virtues may
combine Your hearts in love, till death life's
thread untwine. It 's not my mind the rarities to glean Of blest perfections I have heard or
seen ; And take the best, where bounty
doth abound. And make a Husband, (nowhere
to be found :) 20
The painter so from boys, and girls
did take
Best of their beauties, Helen fair to
make ; No, I will paint thy mate in such a
hew, As Care may find : Discretion must
allow. To choose aright, know from what
stock he 's grown ; The birth suits best, is nearest to
thine own : Dislike makes higher Birth deem
lower base, Lower will never by thy Birth take
place : In Man the fault is more to be
excus'd. Who of low birth (for beauty) hath
one chus'd ; 30
His lightness therein ever love is
deem'd. Yet as his place, his Wife shall be
esteem'd. But when a Woman of a noble race Doth match with Man of far inferior
place. She cannot him ennoble, he is still In place as .she first found him, good,
or ill : His breeding will his birth still to
thee tell. For as the Cask, the liquor still
doth smell. A crab, though digg'd and dung'd,
cannot bring forth A luscious fruit ; so hardly man of
worth 40
Doth from base stock proceed : still
like itself Nature produces ; force of golden
pelf
23 hew] In the general sense of ' character,' ' quality.' The rhyme of ' alloo ' is of course Scots.
( 680 )
A Happy Hiishand
To alter that 's not able, yet we know Oft Men of worth have come of
Parents low : For Parents' placeis not the Children's
merit, Yet it adds grace, if they their worth
inherit ; If not, it adds to shame : for from
high race Virtue 's expected due to such a
place : For undege?i€rate heroic minds They should possess^ are come of noble
kinds : 50
What man's own worth acquires with
virtuous ends. Is truly his, and not that which
descends. Cicero brags (and justly) that his
line He did in glorious virtue far out- shine. Which was his honour : They no
honour have, \Vho (idle) add not to what they
receive ; It is his own worth every Man doth
grace, Less or more eminent, as is his place : For Virtue (though aye clear) yet
clearest shines When she doth dart her hghts from
noble lines. 60
A glorious flame blazing in valley
low, Is soon barr'd sight, nor doth it far
way show, Obscur'd with neighbour objects :
but on high A little Beacon to both far and nigh Shows like a bearded Comet in the
air, Admir'd of some, of most accounted
rare. Choose thou a Husband equal to thy
race. Who's grac'd by virtue, and doth
virtue grace ;
Things different do never ivell agree. True liking lodges in equality : 70 Better than birth his Parents' virtues
know, Frotn poisoned springs no wholesome
waters flow. As for his shape, I would it should
be free From (Nature's note of spite) De- formity : Deformed shape is of so bad a nature, That it 's dislik'd even in a noble
creature ; Where comely shape with love at- tracts the eyes, By secret sympathy of all it sees. England's third Richard, and the wife
of Shore, The one deform'd, the other grac'd
with store 80
Of bounteous Nature's gifts, do show
th' effects Of Love and Hate, to good and bad
aspects ; She (when she bare-foot with a taper
Hght, Did open penance in the people's
sight) Went so demure, with such a lovely
face. That beauty seem'd apparell'd in dis- grace : But most when shame summon'd the
blood too high With native stains, her comely cheeks
to dye In scarlet tincture. She did so
exceed, That e'en disgrace in her delight did
breed ; 90
Firing beholders' hearts that came to
scorn her. So Beauty cloth'd in baseness did
adorn her, That e'en the good (who else the
vice did blame) Thought she deserved pity more than
shame :
85, 86 A couplet not quite unworthy of Dryden, yet unborn. ( 681 )
Patrick Hannay
Condemning cunning Richard's cruel
mind Who caus'd her shame, the multitude
to blind, Lest it his greater mischief should
behold, Which his ambition-plotters had in
mould : So in them was the force of feature
seen, Who, if less famous, had more happy
been. loo
Thus Nature makes each body with
the mind Some way to keep decorum : for we
find Mark'd bodies, manners cross accom- pany, Which in well-shap'd we seld, or
never see : For she doth, builder-like, a mansion
frame Fit for the guest should harbour in
the same. No stature choose too low, for so in
time Thy offspring may prove dwarfs ;
yet do not climb To one too tall -.for buildings mounted
high, Their upper rooms seldom well
furnisKd be : no
Herein observe the mean, it 's best
of all. Let him not be observ'd for low nor
tall. Fresh, lively colours, which fair
woman grace. Modest, effeminate, alluring face. Is not so much in Man to be
respected, As other graces are to be affected : The bloom of beauty is a fading
flower. Which Age and Care consumeth
every hour ;
It blasted once, is ever after lost, Like to a rose nipt with untimely frost. 1 20
A manly face in Man is more com- mended Than a fair face from sun and wind
defended. A Carpet Kfiight, who makes it his
chief care To trick him neatly up, and doth
not spare (Though sparing) precious time for
to devour, (Consulting with his glass) a tedious
hour Soon flees (spent so) whiles each
irregular hair His barber rectifies, and to seem
rare. His heat-lost locks to thicken closely
curls,
And curiously doth set his misplac'd
pearls. 130
Powders, perfumes, are then profusely
spent. To rectify his native nasty scent : This forenoon's task perform'd, his
way he takes, And chamber-practis'd craving curt- sies makes To each he meets ; with cringes, and
screw'd faces, (Which his too partial glass approv'd
for graces :) Then dines, and after courts some
courtly dame. Or idle busy 'bout misspending
game ; Then sups, then sleeps, then rises for
to spend Next day as that before, as t'were the end 14°
For which he came : so womaniz'd,
turn'd Dame, As place 'mongst Ovid's changelings he might claim.
130 pearls] Orig. ' purles ' = 'pearls'? Or is it in the sense of 'purling'? Cf. ' purling billow ' in ' On the Queen ' inf., and ' purling Zephyr ' in the second Elegy.
138] Orig. ' busy-bout.' But the subst. ' bout ' would make no sense, and my alteration seems pretty certain.
( 682 )
A Happy Husband
What ? Do not such discover their
weak mind (Unapt for active virtue) is inclined To superficial things, and can embrace But outward Habits for internal
Grace ? The niitid's gifts do the body's grace
adorn, Where that's defective, to affectis scorn. For Action 's hinder'd by too much
observing Of decency : but where a well-de- serving 150 And settled reputation is ; then there Each thing becomes, and is ac- counted, rare : Where that's defective, striving to
affect Another's worth, their weakness doth
detect. Let thy Mate be what such do strive
to seem, Thou must the substance, not the
shade esteem : When thou hastfoundthiswell-form'd
cabinet, Try what rich jewels are within it set : Set wealth apart, thou shalt more
clearly see His Virtues ( Riches dazzle fudgemenfs
Eye.) 160
Who weds for wealth, she only wealth
doth wed, Not Man which got, and in posses- sion had, Love languishes : yet till one's death
she 's forc'd To live with him ; though wealth fail,
yet divorced They cannot be ; so is she all his hfe His riches' Widow, though she be his
Wife. That golden Age when sullen Saturn
reigned, For Virtue's love, not gold's, the glory
gained ;
To be so styl'd, it was not then de- manded How rich in gold, or how that he
was landed : 170
When they did woo, simplicity had
wont Be first, which now is last, in least
account ; With Virtue leading Love, be Wed- lock's aim, And greatest wealth, apureunspotted
name : They liv'd and lov'd, then joying
each in other. Not fearing that their Mate should
love another, Seduc'd by tempting Gold ; their
time they spent Free from distrust, or open discon- tent. But the next Age, when as our
mother Earth (Fertile before in voluntary birth) Was sought into, and had her bowels
torn 181
For hidden wealth : then when the
keel was worn. Ploughing the Ocean for his hidden
store. The sweet Content did vanish was
before ; The silly Maid (then ignorant of ill) Having no Wealth might live a
Maiden still. And die (except seduc'd) so ; the
poor swain (Though virtuous) was straight held
in disdain. But yet the Worthies that the world
brought forth Since that blessed Age, postponed
wealth to worth. 190
Great Alexander did disdain the
offer Declining Darius with his Child did
proffer,
192 Darius] Hannay is guilty either of ' Darius' or of bad metre. * Declining' is of course to be taken with D., not A., and equals ' falling.' In the next line ' Maced's' is textual and short for ' Macedon's,' but I do not know whether the genitive with 'full' as a noun or the plural with 'full' as an adjective is the more likely.
(683)
Patrick Hannay
Nor Maced's full of Gold, nor Eu- phrates' brim, To bound his Empire, could inveigle
him : But he for that rather contemn'd
his foe, For thinking he could have been
conquer'd so. True worth doth wealth as an addi- tion take, Defective virtue's wants of iveight to
make : Virtue's best wealth wherewith he
should be nurst, That smell stays long, a vessel seasons first. 200
Yet build not there, for good natures
depraved. Are still the worst, so thou may'st
be deceived. See that he have so spent his fore- past time, That he be free from censure of a
crime. Youth's apt to slip : but a notorious
deed From Nature, not from Age, doth
still proceed ; And though that Fortune herein oft
hath part. Yet th' actions still are judged from
the heart. Adrastus thinking to revenge the
harms Of his dead Love, his naked weapon
warms 2 to
In his brother's bosom (too dear
blood to spill) Instead of his that did his Lady
kill: FleeingtoCroesus,hehimentertain'd, Where his behaviour so much credit
gain'd. As Lydia's hope, young Atis, Croesus'
heir. He got in charge; whom, hunting,
unaware His hapless hand unfortunately slew, "Whiles at a boar his dismal dart he
threw :
(O84)
Yet was it thought intention, and
not chance, Till being freely pardon'd the offence. Lest more disast'rous chances should
fall out, 221
His own self-slaughter clear'd them
of that doubt : Thus when opinion hath possessed
the mind, It leaves a deep impression long
behind ; A fid they must do much good, that
have done ill, Ere they be trusted, wer't by fate or
will. See Drunkenness (from which all
vices spring) Do no way stain him ; for that still
doth bring Contempt, disgrace, and shame : |
Circe made swine Of wise Ulysses' fellows, drunk with
wine. 230
The Macedonian Monarch (lately
nam'd) Is not for worth so prais'd, as for
that blam'd ; He in his drink destroy'd his dear- est friend. That did 'fore him his Father's deeds
commend : Nor could his after-tears wash off
that stain Which doth to blot his actions still
remain : For if one would his glorious actions
show, How strong, chaste, valiant, mild to
captiv'd foe ; With such brave deeds though he
the world hath fiU'd, Yet this still stays. He drunk^ dear
Clytus kill'd. 240
No Gamester let him be : for such
a Alan Shall still be loser, do the best he can ; His mind and money it frets, and
destroys And wastes the precious time he
here enjoys :
A Happy Husband
Some in less time unto some Art
attain^ Than others spend in play ; some's
pleasing vein Will seem so mild, in this dear
double loss, They outwardly not take it for a
cross : But when all's gone (for they but
then give over) Their smother'd anguish they at last
discover; 250
Whereof man's foe, the Fiend,
advantage takes, Whiles on self-slaughter'd rooks, he
gathers wrakes. Examples hereof we may daily see, How some by halter, some by poison
die ; And who go not so far yet their
last ends Contemned need, and misery attends : For this ill haunts them, who to play
are bent, They seldom leave till their estate be
spent. With other's sheets let him not be
acquainted, (They are still stained, tvhom once that
sin hath tainted) 260
And never hope to have him true to
thee. Who hath oft prey'd on chang'd
variety : Be sure who hath had choice, will
ne'er digest To feed on one dish, (though of sweet- est taste) And whoso strays, loves not, but
lusts ; in one Doth Love delight, when that leaves.
Love is gone ; For Grace and Lust ne'er harbour
in one Inn,
And where Z«^/ lodges, ever lodgeth
Sin : Which Sin when it is to a habit
grown. Not fear of God (but Man, lest it be
known) 270
Doth stay the execution : but be
sure Though the act be hinder'd, yet the
heart 's impure, Whose lusts will predomine in time
and place. Not over-rul'd by God's preventing
Grace. Besides, he will be still suspecting
thee. Though thou beest pure as spotless
Chastity : For vice is ever conversant iti ill, And guilty as itself thinks others still. Upon this Earth there is no greater
Hell, Than with suspecting Jealousy to
dwell. 280
See that his humours (as near as
may be) Do with each humour of thy mind
agree ; Or else contention, and dissension
still. Will bar your sweet content ; while
the one's will The other's doth resist, Love cannot
be, 'Twixt fire and water, they will ne'er
agree. True friendship must express 'twixt
man and wife. The comfort, stay, defence, and port
of life. Is perfect, when two souls are so
confus'd. And plung'd together (which free- will hath chus'd) 290
246 vein] Orig. ' vaine ' ; but this is a very usual spelling of v<?in,'and I do not think ' vflin ' makes sense.
252 rooks] 'pigeons' rather; but the birds often interchange parts. There is a complicated play on words in this line. ' Wrake ' is properly in Scots = ' wrack ' = 'sea-weed,' with which sense 'rook' has to suggest 'rock.' But it may also mean ' anger,' ' revenge ' : cf. wrmk.'
( 685 )
Patrick Hannay
As they can never sever'd be again, But still one compound must of both
remain : From which confused mixture, ne're
proceeds Words of good turns, requitals, helps
of needs ; For it is ever after but one soul, Which both their wills and actions
doth control ; And cannot thank itself for its
own deeds, (What is done to itself, no self-love
breeds :) But this holds not where humours
disagree. There 's no concorda7ice in disparity. See he fear God, then will he fear
to sin ; 301
Where Vice doth leave, there Virtue
doth begin : Sin is nipt in the bud, when we do
mind That God 's all light, and can in
darkness find What we can hide from Man ; the
reins and heart He searches through, and knows
each hidden part. And each thought long before ; we
cannot hide Our faults from Him, nor from His
censure slide. The Wiseman saith, it 's Wisdom's
first degree. To have a true fear of the Deity ; For that makes Honest : Honesty's
commended, 3"
Whether sincere, or for a cloak
pretended. The vulgar Honesty, servant to
Laws, Customs, Religions, Hope and Fear
it draws, Be more or less according to the
times.
It stillis wavering, difference of climes Makes it unequal, rather Policy I may call such respect, than
Honesty : Which still aspiring, quickly oft
mounts high, And in short time unto that mark
comes nigh 320
At which it aims : but builded on
false grounds, A sudden fall it unawares confounds. But Honesty doth always go upright, With settled pace ; not wavering for
the might Of winds, times, nor occasions : it
goes slow. But still attains the end, towards
which doth go. Now such an Honest man I wish
thee find As still is Honest, out of Honest
mind : That 's Wisdom's first ground : next
is to propose A certain form of life ; for ever
those 330
(Who divers in themselves) aim at
no end. But as occasion offers, each way tend, Never attain the mark. If Hawk
assay To truss two Birds, she doth on
neither prey : These grounds being laid, an un-
feign'd Piety Must build thereon, and though
that divers be Religions, Laws ; yet ours amongst
them all Is truest, purest, most authentical. Religion true, loves God, and quiets
us, 339
And rests in a soul free and generous : Where superstition is a frantic error, A weak mind's sickness, and the own
soul's terror :
293 ne're] Sic in orig. : but 'never,' which is the usual expansion of ' ne're,' does not seem to suit. ' There ' is possible ; and no doubt there are other possibihties.
313-6 This passage is a mere jam of eUipses, &c. — expansible, but perhaps not worth expanding.
( 686 )
A Happy Husband
Religious men do still fear God for
love, The superstitious, lest they torments
prove. Let thy Mate be a man, whose
settled faith In true Religion sure foundation hath: Yox 'twixt those bodies love doth
best reside, Whose souls no self-opinions do
divide : The four chief Virtues next in order
go, From which the rest as from four
fountains flow ; 3So
Frudence the first place hath, to see
and choose, Which is so needful, and of so great
use, That with it weighty things do seem
but light, AVithout it nothing can be done of
weight ; By it things even 'gainst Nature are
achieved, A wise mind gains what many hands
hath grieved. Just he must be himself first to
command, For sensual things at Reason^ s Law
must stand. The .S/''^'*^^'-^ power keeps "C^o. Passio7is
still in awe. And strictly bounds them with an
austere Law, 360
V^'iih Moderation it guides our desires (We must not all condemn Nature
requires) To love things neat and needful,
base things hate. It's wantonness to live too delicate : But it's mere madness to condemn
the things Which needful use, and common
custom brings. Next, to his Neighbour he that right
must do
Which he expects, (freely, not forc'd
thereto ;) Whom Law constrains, they falsify
all trust. It 's conscience, not constraint, that
makes men Just. 370
As just, so valiant would I have him
be, Not out of rashness or stupidity. It is a constant patient resolution Of bashless Courage 'gainst the
revolution Of times and fortunes : it regards
not pains. Where Honour is the Hire, Glory
the gains : It's sensible careful man's self to save, Not daring offer wrong, more than
receive. As Prudent, Just, and Valiant, so he
must Be Temperate, this virtue hath foul
lust, 380
And pleasure for its object : it
commands, Laps, and reforms our sensual
thoughts ; it stands 'Twixt a desire, and dullness of our
nature. And is the spurrer on, or the abater Of ill or good, shamefast in refusing Things filthy, honest in things
comely choosing. Though with perfection these no
one man fits, -Yet let him be free from their
opposites : He must be sober, not given to excess, It cures, and keeps in health, mind
it doth dress ; 3Q0
Making it pure, and capable of good.
Mother, and good counsel is
the Brood : Excess doth dull the spirits, and
breeds disease. So after punish'd by what first did
please.
362 I have shifted the bracket from ' condemn ' to ' requires.' 385 One might suggest 'is' before ' shamefast,'
(687)
Patrick Haitnay
Learn'd let him be, his learning
general, Profound in none, yet have some
skill in all ; Who 's deeply learn'd,' his Book is
most his Wife, Conversing still with it, so of his Life His Wife not half enjoys, for most
is spent In study, so what should yield most
content, 400
Society 's debarr'd ; I do wish then Who are mere Scholars, may live
single men : Learning besots the weak and feeble
mind ; But polishes the strong, and well
inclin'd : The one Vain-glory puffs with self- conceit, The other's brain is settled Judge- ment's seat. Then so learn'd let him be, as he
may choose Flowers of best Books, whose sweet
scent he may use To rectify his knowledge, and distil From thence life-blessing precepts,
which so will 410
Temper his understanding, that the
frown Of fickle Fortune never shall cast
down. Not bold in speech, no man of many
words Choose thou a Husband, leafy tree
affords The smallest store of fruit : Both
words and deeds Seldom or never from one fnan
proceeds. Who guides his words, he in a word
is wise : Yet let him not be sullenly precise, But gentle, pleasing, not crabbed, or
tart. The wise man's tongue is ever in his
heart ; 420
The fool's heart 's in his tongue : //
is great gain
( 688)
For to be silent, and one's self contain ;
And see with whomsoever he converse,
(Lest he be thought ill-nurtur'd, or perverse)
That he be kind, obsequious, affable ;
To fit himself unto their humours, able
To change condition with the time, and place,
Is wisdom, and such levity doth grace :
So Aristippus each face, each behaviour
Did still become, and was a gracing favour. 430
Choose thou a Husband older by some years
Then thou thyself art, Man age better bears
Then Women : for bearing of child- ren makes
Their strength decay, soon beauty them forsakes :
Many crops make a field soon to be bare.
Where that that bears not long con- tinues fair.
Now, Lady, such a man I wish you find,
As here I have describ'd, with whom to bind
Yourself, is to be blest, leading a life
Full of content, free from conten- tious strife. 440
A Wife's behaviour.
But to find good, is not enough to
show. But having found him, how to keep
him so ; Then since I have advis'd you how
to choose him, I will give some advice how you
should use him. Obedience first thy will to his must
fit. (He is the pilot that must govern it)
It man condemns of inability,
A Happy Husband
When women rule, that are born to
obey : Nor is it honour to her, but a
shame To be match'd with one only man
in name : 450
But if imperious he should more
desire Than due respect doth of a Wife
require, Think not harsh stubbornness will
e'er procure him To be more mild (it rather will
obdure him) ; The ivhip and lash the angry horse
enrages, Mild voice and gentle stroke his ire
assuages : From steel-struck flint we see the
lightning flies, But struck 'gainst wool, the flashing
flame none spies ; Nor is the clangour heard : the one's
soft nature Is to the other's hardness an aba-
ture. 460
Win thou thy mate with mildness :
for each cross Answer'd with anger, is to both
a loss : Like as the sea which 'gainst a
churlish rock Breaks braving billows with a bois-
t'rous stroke. Seeking by raging force to throw
on sands The stiff" resisting rock, which
unmov'd stands, Repelling his bold billows with like
scorn, As th' others' bravery had bounced
them beforne ; Thus both still strive, and striving
are o'ercome, The rock is worn, the billow 'scrush'd
in foam : 470
Whereas the sea calmly the sand
embraces, And with smooth forehead lovingly
it graces :
( 689 ) Y
Being content that it should bound
his shore, Yielding to mildness where force
fail'd before. So let thy mildness win thy Husband
to it. If that do not, then nothing else will
do it : Beware you (willing) to no anger
move him. If he perceive't, he cannot think you
love him : If anger once begin twixt man and wife, If soon not reconcil'd, it turns to
strife : 480
Which still will stir on every light
occasion. What might have ceas'd in silence ;
then persuasion Of friends will hardly end : for every
Jar Is ominous presaging life-long war : And where two join'd do jar, their
state decays. They go ?iot forward, who draw
divers ways, Being yoked together : your first care
must be, That with your husband you in love
agree. As far from fondness be, as from
neglect. Mixing affection with a staid re- spect : 490 If toying fondness were man's only
aim, Not reason,but hislustshould choose
his dame ; Where whores lascivious, that can
ways invent. Should equalize thee, nay, give more
content : No, these are not the joys he hopes
to find. The body not so much he weds, as
mind. Be never fond, nor without cause
unkind. These are the fruits of an inconstant
mind :
Patrick Hannay
Thou must not if his fortunes do
dedine, Be discontented, or seem to repine, But bear a constant countenance,
not dismayed, 501
As if you were of misery afraid : His fortunes you must good or bad
abide, With chains of mutual love, together
tied. The loss of that which blindfold
chance doth give, Cannot a worthy generous mind
aggrieve : For it will never take it for a cross. Which cannot make one wicked by its
loss, Nor by the gaining good. Both fool
and knave Are often rich : if such afflictions
have, pio
They drive them to despair ; but
draw the wise, With elevated thoughts, such things
despise. Seneca saith, the gods did take
delight To see grave Cato with his fate to
fight: O ! what should we, whose hopes
do higher rise, If heathens thus could worldly things
despise ? Affliction oft doth mount the wiser
high, Joseph and Job rose by adversity : It's sign of a weak mind to be
dejected For worldly loss (such never are
respected). 520
If thou wouldst not be irksome
to thy mate, Be cheerful, not succumbing with
his fate : Yet if that anguish doth afiiict his
mind, You must not seem so from the
world refin'd As to disdain what human cross
brings forth,
(690)
Pride to be singular, that is not
worth : Nay, thou must be a mirror, to
reflect Thy husband's mind : for as is his
aspect, So should be thine. Pale Phoebe
yields no light. When th' interpos'd earth bars her
Phoebus' sight : 5,30
But when no object intercepts his
streams. She decks herself with light-rebat- ing beams. Even so as is thy husband's joy, or
pain. So must thy joy and sorrow wax
or wane : Be not too curious in his ways to
Suspicion still makes the suspected
try Jealousy's fear : for why should she
suspect That knows herself guilty of no
defect ? If he perceive thee of thyself de- spair, He will think sweeter joys are other- where, 540 Which thou dost want ; so thou
thyself shalt give The first occasion to what may
thee grieve : Thy own desert must him unto tliee
bind, Desert d.oth ?nake a savage to be
kind : It is an adamantine chain to
knit Two souls so fast, nought can them
disunite ; Where that most sweet communion
of the minds Save each in other, no contentment
finds ; And whatsoever the one touches
near. Jealous, the other ne'er conceals
for fear. 550
A Happy Husband
Brutus his honour (dearer priz'd
than hfe) Concredited to Portia his wife ; What fear from dearest friends
caus'd him conceal, Worth and desert made him to her
reveal. Great Caesar's death, and who his
consorts were, With their designs, he did impart
to her ; Nor is their birth, or beauty of such
might, To alienate their hearts, or give
delight : AVho had more beauty than that
captiv'd Queen, The fair Statira, when in grief was
seen 560
The pearly hail blasting her beauty- fields, Which seemliness even cloth'd in
. sorrow yields ? Being grac'd with modesty, and
unstain'd faith, More force still fairness with such
fellows hath : Yet could not her fair beauty move
the thought Of Alexander (though less fair have
brought Oft captains to be captives), nor her
state (She being married) did affection
bate : For then her virgin daughter yet
unstain'd, (Whose beauty all comparison dis-
dain'd, 570
Going her lovely mother so before, As she did all the rest of Asia's
store) Should quickly have entangled his
desire. Whose heart all one, Roxane's love
did fire :
For if proportion, colour, wealth, or
birth. Could have captiv'd the Monarch of
the Earth ; These should have won : but he
did her prefer, Whose only merits pleaded love for
her. Deserve then not in show, but from
the heart, Zove is perpetuated by desert. 580 As it befits not man for to embrace Domestic charge, so it 's not woman's
place For to be busied with affairs abroad : For that weak sex it is too great
a load, Atid it's unseemly^ and doth both
disgrace. When either doth usurp the other's
place : Leave his to him, and of thine own
take charge. Care thou at home, and let him
care at large : Thou hast enough thyself for to
employ Within doors, 'bout thy house and
huswifery : 590
Remember that it 's said of Lucrece
chaste. When some dames wantoniz'd,
others took rest, She with her maidens first her task
would end, E're she would sleep : she did not idle
spend Swift-running Time, nor gave allur- ing pleasure The least advantage, to make any
seizure On her rare virtues. A soul vacant still Is soon seduced to do good or ill : For like perpetual motion is the mind, In action still, while to this flesh
confined ; 600
552 Concredited] This rare English derivation from the not unclassical concredo might have been made common with advantage, for it expresses in one word what requires a long periphrasis without it.
590 huswifery] I keep this as well as ' housewifery.'
( 691) Y y 2
Patrick Hamiay
(From which soul-prison it takes
often stains, For absolutely good no man remains.) Employ'd if not 'bout good, about
some ill, Producing fruits which do discover
still How it is labour'd like a fertile field, Which fruit, or weeds abundantly
doth yield, As it is manur'd ; be not idle then^ Nor give vice time to work upon
thy brain Imagined ill : for what it there
conceives, It oft brings out, and in dishonour
leaves : 6io
The purest things are easiest to be
stained, And it's soon lost which carefully
was gained. Penelope did wheel and distaff
handle. And her day's work undid at night
by candle ; Nor labour-forcing need compell'd
that task. Which toiling days, and tedious
nights did ask : (For she was Queen of Ithacke)
'twas her name. Which virtuous care kept spotless,
free from blame ; One of so many suitors of each sort. As for her love did to her Court
resort, 620
Not speeding, would have spoke
that might her stain, (The greatest hate, when love, turns
to disdain.) If colour could have made their
knavery stronger. But Envy could not find a way to
wrong her. Be thou as these, careful of house- wifery, With Providence what 's needful still
supply ; Look thy Maids be not idle, nor yet
spend
(692)
Things wastingly : for they so oft
offend. When careless is the Mistress ; yet
with need Ne'er pinch them, nor yet let them
e'er exceed : 630
The one doth force them seek thee
to betray. The other makes them wanton, and
. too gay ; It is no shame to look to every
thing, The Mistress' eye doth ever profit
bring. Salomon saith, the good Wife seeks
for flax And ivool, wherewith her hands glad
travail takes : She '5 like a ship that bringeth bread
fro7n far, She rises ere appear the morning
Star ; Victuals her household, gives her
maidens food. Surveys, and buys a field, plants
vines, tvith good 640
Gained by her hands : what merchan- dise is best She can discern, nor doth she go to
rest When Phoebus hides his head, and
bars his sight. But by her lamp, her hands do take
delight I
To touch the wheel and spindle ; she ^
doth stretch Her hand to help the poor and needy
7vretch : Her words are wisdom, she dersees
her train That idle none do eat their bread in
vain ; Her children rise and bless her, siveet
delight Her husband takes still in her happy
sight. 650
Be thou this careful goodwife, for to
lend Thy lielping hand, thy husband's
means to mend.
A Happy Husha7td
Last, let thy conversation be with
such, As foul-mouth'd maUce can with no
crime touch : I cannot but condemn such as
delight Still to be sad and sullen in the sight Of their own husbands, as they were
in fear, ^ySure guilty ofsomecrime such women
are) But when they gossip it with other
wives Of their own cut, then they have
merry lives, 660
Spending, and plotting how they
may deceive Their husbands, rule themselves,
and mastery have ; O let such women (for they make- bates be 'Twixt man and wife) never consort
with thee : But shun them, as thou dost see one
that 's fair Flee the small pox ; both like infec- tious are. The grave, staid, blameless, and
religious dames. Whose carriage hath procur'd them
honest names. Are fit companions ; let such be thy
mates,
670
vet
When wearied with affairs, thou
recreates Thyself with harmless mirth :
do not walk Often abroad, that will occasion talk ; Though thou hast store of friends,
yet let none be (Saving thy husband) counsellor to
thee : He 's nearest to thee, and it will
endear him. He is thyself, thou needest not to
fear him : Be free with him, and tell him all
thy thought. It's he must help, when thou hast
need of ought ; And constantly believe he'll love
thee best. When he sees thou preferr'st him
'fore the rest. 680
Thus, lady, have I show'd you how
to chuse A worthy mate, and how you should
him use ; So choose, so use, so shall you all
your life Be in a Husband blest, he in a Wife ; And when death here shall end your
happy days. Your souls shall reign in heaven, on
earth your praise.
FINIS
654 touch] Orig. 'tutch.'
(693)
ELEGIES
ON THE
DEATH OF OUR LATE SOVEREIGN
QUEEN ANNE
WITH
EPITAPHS
To the most Noble Prince Charles
Disdain not, Sir, this offering which
I make. Although the incense s}noke doth tower
so black J Nor think my fires faint, 'cause they
darkly shine^ Tapers burn dim, are set before a
shrine. Sotne better hap to have their first
fruit glad. This Common woe masques mine in
mourning shade : And's st?-ange, You {solely left for our
relief) For salve, do prove a cor'sive to our
grief: Weigh what is it to add to those
opprest.
Then by Your woe, otirs shall not be
increast : i o
/ grant, nor Son nor Subject good,
can sfnother Grief for so great, and good, a Queen
and Mother. Yet moderate this sorrow; as you're seen To use in joy, so use in grief a mean. Overmatch thy matchless self that all
fnay see Her courage, worth and love, do live
in Thee : Then may this pen, which with tears
draws my plaint. In gold Thy glorious actions after
paint. Your Highness' most humble servant, Patrick Hannay.
The First Elegy ^
As doth a Mother, who before her
eyes, Her age's hope, her only Son espies Butcher'd,and bathing still in bloody
strands, Ravish'd with sudden grief amazed
stands ; Nor weeps, nor sighs, nor lets one
tear distil, But (withfix'd eye) still gazeth on her
ill: But when with time her smothered
grief forth vents, She wastes her eyes in tears, her
breath in plaints : So we astonish'd could not tell our
woe ; Who do grieve most, least signs of
grief do show, lo
' This poem, in the original (as well as its companion) is a sort of debauch of italics, which the poet or his printer has showered on every Hne, for the most part with no discoverable excuse of emphasis or anything else. They have been most trouble- some to alter : but unaltered they would have been still more troublesome to read.
( 697 )
Yet time to those, in time, a time
affords. To weep and wail, and show their woe
in words. Time grant us now in time, lest of
her praise Our offspring hearing, and when
her swift days Had run their course, they hear none
of our plaints. Do either think some Poet's pen her
paints, Or that they are of the same stones
all sprung, Which backward Pyrrha and Deuca- lion flung. So that will seem no fable, but a story. If we do leave no witness that we're
sorry.
20
Patrick Hannay
Each senseless thing shall us upbraid I Of soul, wants vigour ? this Queen
to them, And as less sensible (than they)
condemn : Since in each object offer'd to the
eye. Signs of sad sorrow settled there we
see : The Heavens (tho' grac'd with her)
for us are griev'd, And weep in showers for that we
are bereav'd Of her : in, and for whom the World
was blest, In whom her kind's perfection did
consist. Aquarius seems to have a solemn
feast, And that each other sign 's his house- hold guest. 30 Not one of them now influence down- pours, But what distils in liquid weeping
showers. The Skies of Clouds now make
them mourning weeds, And general darkness all the world
o'erspreads : What? hath the Sun for a new
Phaeton Abandoned the Heavens, and
beamy throne ? Is the cause theirs ? or doth it touch
us nigh ? (Since with their sorrow we so
sympathy :) No, it 's because our Cynthia left
this sphere. The world wears black, because she
moves not here : 40
Her influence that made it freshly
flourish. Leaves it to fade, and will no more
it nourish. Leaves it ? hath left. How can it
then subsist ? Can that be said to be, which,
dispossest
38] Note 'sympathy' as a verb, the second person. Cf. A Happy Husband, I. 670,
(698)
was the soul, Whose faculties world's frailties did
control ; Corrected the ill humours, and
maintain'd In it a wholesome concord, while
she reign'd : But now (she gone) the world seems
out of frame, Subord'nate passions now as Princes
claim 50
Seignory o'er the soul, which do
torment The whole with anguish ; make the
heart to faint, Whose sad infection generally 's so
spread, Grief's character on every brow is
read. Our eyes so drop (wer't not God
frees those fears) The world might dread a new deluge
of tears. Dread ? (thus distress'd) we rather
should desire With the world's dissolution to
expire Our latest woes, 'twere better have
no being, Than live in \\T)e, so as we are still
dying. 60
Leave foolish passion, dares thou
thus repine 'Gainst what's enacted by the powers
divine ? Humbly submit, yet passion were a
word. Useless, a nothing's name, speech
should afford No place for it, if it should not now
show It's being by our grieving in this
woe : Yet the woe's short, which on each
soul hath seiz'd. It and the cause can ne'er be
equaliz'd : 61 darts] Hannay often uses this form for
The First Elegy
I will not blaze her birth, descent or
State, Her princely progeny, her royal
mate : 70
They are known best, and greatest,
yet these are But accidental honours : but this
star With proper beams was so resplen- dent here. Others (though bright) yet when she
did appear, Did lose their lustre : she honour'd
her place, Her place not her : she Queen, was
Queen's sole grace. 'Twas she the Antique Poets so
admir'd, ^Vhen with prophetic fury they
inspir'd. Did feign the heavenly powers they
did see, (As in a dream) that such a one
should be : 80
And for each several grace, she
should contain. One Deity they did for that ordain^ Not one for all, for that too much
had been. To feign her like, whose like was
never seen. Nor is their number equal to her
merits. For she afar off was show'd to those
spirits ; Now had they liv'd her virtues to
have seen, The Goddesses sure numberless had
been, But's well they did not, for then she
should be (Though guiltless) yet cause of
Idolatry, 90
P'or they who honoured her shade
before, Seeing her substance needs must it
adore. The Moralists did all of her divine. When they made every virtue
feminine ;
(699)
And but they knew that such a one
should be. Doubtless with them virtue should
have been He. Peruse all stories are compil'd by
Man, Or Poets' fictions since the world
began, You shall not find (true or imaginary) Like worth in one, whose all in
nought doth vary. 100
Nay, take the abjects in these books
revil'd For basest parts, so vicious and
defil'd, As they seem Nature's monsters,
made in scorn. As foils, her other fair works to
adorn, ( Cofitrar's opposed do others best set
forth) They serve not all, to parallel her
worth. They are deceiv'd, who say the world
decays. And still grows worse and worse, as
old with days : For then this Age could never that
have shown Which was long since to Salomon
unknown, no
A woman : but had he lived in our
times. He might have found one so devoid
of crimes, That her own merits (if merits could
save) Might justly (as of due) salvation
crave. I rather think the world's first
infancy Growing more perfect with antiquity, (As younglings do) travail'd till now
at height. Big of perfection brought this birth
to light : This second to that Maiden-Mother- Daughter, She only was before, this only
after: 120
Patrick Hannay
For on this Grace and Nature spent
such store, As after her we need expect none
more. And those who read her praise
when we are gone, Would think we but describ'd a
worthy one, Not that there was one such, but
that she here Left part of her, which and its seed
shall bear Successive witness to all doubtful
ages. Of her rare virtues^ which in those
dear pledges Still live : they'll say our praise came
short, we dull, With speech defective, could not to
the full 130
Set forth her worth; which she at death
did give : Others may goods, not goodness' off- spring, leave. But she bequeath'd her goodness,
for her merit Obtain'd her issue should that
wealth inherit. Which we possess in them, while
they do prease (As usurers) that stock still to
increase : Onlyambitioustoaugment that store, Robbing the world, which either is
but poor. Or seems so, set by them, beggars
may boast, But they alone have all that wealth
ingrossed : 140
And though that God the world's
gold hath refined. And took the tried, He left this vein
behind, Pitying the dross the lustre should
obscure, Of her bright soul, while flesh did it
immure.
Yet did He not with it of all bereave
us. But with her offspring, happiness
did leave us. For her preferment, why then should
we toss Our souls with torment ? or grieve
that our loss Hath Heaven enrich'd? or 'cause
we held her dear, Wish we her punished, to be living
here? 150
We rather should rejoice she thus
did leave us, And nought but Heaven alone of
her could reave us. O ! since that Cedar fell so right at
last, Which way it standing lean'd, may
well be guessed. And since the End doth crown the
actions still. How lived she, who dying, died so
well ! For asked, if she did willing hence
depart. Said (rapt with heavenly joy) With
All My Heart. Though flesh be frail, yet hers so
void of fear (For Death did not in his own shape
appear) 160
Did entertain so kindly its own foe, (Who came to Court, but un'wares
killed her so) As she esteem'd it only one hard
thrust At that strait gate by which to life we
must : Faiih, Hope, and Love possess'd her
heart and mind. Leaving no place for fearful thoughts
to find : Troops of white Angels did her bed
impale, To tend the soul's flight from the
fleshly jail,
135 ' prease '=' press.'
167 impale] Orig. 'impailc,' in the sense apparently of 'surround like a paling.'
168 jail] Orig. -gaile.'
( 700 )
The First Elegy
It to conduct unto that heavenly
throne, '\^^lich Christ prepared, with glore
to crown her on. 170
O ! how my flesh-clogg'd soul would
scale the sky, And leave that dear companion here
to lie. To see her entertain'd, with glory
crown'd, While troops of Angels her arrival
sound To that new kingdom : they all God
do praise For her translation, and their voices
raise. In sign of joy, but yet that joy
comes short Of what they make for most to them
resort. For, for the greater sinner, Christ
hath said. That doth repent, the greater joy is
made : iSo
Yet that's made up in glore, for she
so far Doth those exceed, as one another
star: What may we think unto her soul is
shown. When from her baser part such
virtues flown As a sad reverent fear their senses
pierce, Who sighing see her sorrow-suited
hearse : What would they do, if their veil'd
soul could spy Her sitting crown'd above the starry
sky ? Sure they would do (nay in their
hearts they do) Even at the thought thereof with
reverence bow. 190
But leave to speak, nay, not so much
as think. Least of those joys which ne'er in
heart could sink. Let's not envy her, but inveigh 'gainst
our Fate,
( 701)
That we behind her are staid here
so late : And let 's not mourn for her, that
she 's gone hence, But for ourselves, that we are kept
from thence Whither she 's gone : yet let no tear
o'erflow, {Sorrow soon ceaseth thaV s disburd' ned
so) Let them strain inward, if they'll
needs distil. And with their drops thy heart's sad
centre fill, 200
And when it's full, it can no more
contain. Let the cask break, and drown thee
in that main.
On the Queen
The World 's a Sea of errors, all must
pass, Where shelves and sands the purling
billo7ii bli7ids : Men's bodies are frail barks of brittle
glass. Which still are toss'd with adverse
tides and winds, Reason 's the Pilot that the course
directs, Which jnakes the vessel {as it 's hight)
hold out. Passio7is are partners, a still-Jarring
rout : Succumbifig thoughts are life-invading
leaks. How built her body ! such a voyage
made ; How great her reason I which so
rightly stvay'd ; 10
How pliafit passions f which so well
obeyed ; How dauntless thoughts, vain doubts
durst ne'er itivade. Her body, reason, passions, thoughts
did 'gree. To fnake her life the Art to sail
this Sea.
Patrick Hannay
The Second Elegy
Each Country now contributes to the
Thames, Which a support of every current
claims : Why dost thou so, sweet Thames ?
Is not thy sorrow Sufficient for thyself, but thou must
borrow ? Or wants thy waters worth for such
a charge, As to conduct Great Anne's last
body'd barge ? Or is it 'cause so just and kind thou
art, Thou'lt not encroach that, wherein
each hath part ? Sure that 's the cause ; the loss is
general. And that last Office must be help'd
by all. lo
Yet wonder not they come not now
so sweet, As they do use, when they to solace
meet : They're not themselves, they are com- pounded things. For every one his latest off'ring
brings. And sends it by these brooks, unto
Her Shrine, Whose waters with their tears are
turned brine : Each subject's cheek such falling
drops distain, As if to dew, sighs had dissolv'd
the brain : Which from their eyes still in abun- dance pour, Like a moist hail, or liquid pearly
shower : 20
Which in such haste, each one an- other chases. Making swift torrents in late torrid
places. Disgorging in these brooks, making
them rise,
(70a )
So's sovereign Thames almost fear
a surprise : Fear not (fair Queen) it is not their
ambition. But swelling sorrow, that breeds thy
suspicion : Its sorrow feeds those currents and
those rills. Which thy vast channel with an
ocean fills. Which eye-bred humour so hath
chang'd thy nature, Thy fishes think they live not in thy
water : 30
It or their taste is alter'd, for they
think For thy sweet streams they briny
liquor drink : How wearied is thy Sister, famous
Forth, Bringing sad Scotland's sorrows
from the North ; Who comes not out of duty, as the
rest Who unto Thames their careful
course addrest ; She comes, her equal will not yield
in tears. In subject's sorrows nor in country's
cares. Great Neptune's self doth fear
invasive wrong, Seeing her strange waves through his
waters throng ; 40
And causeth Triton to found an
alarm To warn the Sea-Gods in all haste to
arm ; Who bringing billows in brave battle-
'ray. Do mean FortKs fury with their force
to stay : But when they see her thus all wrapt
in woe. And the sad cause of her just sorrow
know ; They lay not their defensive arms
aside, But as a guard, her through their
gulfs do guide ;
The Second Elegy
Striving with all the pleasures of the
Main, This grieving s,irdingtx- Queen to enter- tain, 50 Out through their bowers of clear
transparent waves, Crystalline-wainscot pearl the bottom
paves : Her they conduct, and to abate her
woe, Their Sea-delights and riches all they
show, Which Neptiaie (now in love) would
gladly give her For love, yet dares not offer lest he
grieve her ; Who loves and zvould not have his
love unkind, Must woo a pleasant humour, vacant
mind : This makes him stay his suit, and
strive to please With all the love-allurements of the
Seas. 60
Yet all do not so much as move one
smile. An anxious sorrow sooti discover' th
guile ; Yet he will guide and guard her
grieving streams. Whom at her entry in the wished
Thames He leaves, and vows in discontent
to mourn ; Till fairest Forth back to the Sea
return. Her sister her receives with kind
embrace. Their liquid arms clasping, they in- terlace In love so straight, they cannot be
untwined, They seem both one, in body and in mind. 70
O happy union ! labour'd long in vain, Reserv'd by God to James his joy- ful reign, And Acme's ; O blessed couple, so esteem'd
By all fore-knowing Jove, that He them deem'd
Worthy each other, and to wear that Gem,
Blest Britain's now united-Diadem.
He esteem'd none worthy to wear't before them.
But kept it still in store, for to decore them.
How did He suffer those two King- doms try
All open power and private policy, 80
Yet still increased discord, other's force
Made separation greater, sued di- vorce.
How did one tear the other, spare no toil.
To bathfe] in blood the neighbour's fertile soil ;
Wrath, discord, malice, envy, rapine, strife,
Thefts, rapes, and murderous mis- chiefs were so rife,
None liv'd secure, while each King did protect
The other's fugitives, (for his respect)
Thus looking for no rest, or end of hate.
But with the ruin of the adverse State. 90
God, He effects it (that to Him alone
We might ascribe the honour ; and being one.
We might love better : ' Twixt u?iited foes.
And separated friends, love and hate
groivs
To greatest heights :) And for this end doth raise,
(Using the means) the honour of his days.
GreatjAMES, the joy-presaging North- ern Star,
Whose radiant light illuminates so far,
As it doth warm with its all-quick'ning beams
The frozen love betwixt the Tay and Thames ; 100
59, 60] A couplet nearly as early as Waller's earliest of the same style. ( 703)
Patrick Hannay
With wonder and delight, drawing
all hearts And eyes, to love and see his Princely
parts. And (what is strange) who hated
most before, With admiration, most his worth
adore. Wishing they were his subjects : He
is King Already of their hearts ; the poison'd
sting Of rancour is remov'd, for love they
call him, And with their Kingdom's ornaments
instal him. Great confidence his virtuous life
must bring. Whom, such old foes, Iqve forces
make their King. no
Where was e'er heard, of emulating
foes, (Rooted in hate with others, over- throws Such and so long) that did their
wrath appease. And yield (won but by love) to right,
as these ? Yet do they not repent, they find
report Sometime is wrong'd, and may in- deed come short In commendations ; yet it 's rare (as
here) For she 's a woman, and (by kind)
will bear More than she should : but his last
subjects find Themselves with Saba^s Queen of
self-same mind, 120
That fame (though saying by belief)
had wrong'd Two Kings, not telling half to each
that long'd. For Engla7id heard not, nor could
it have thought, That Scotlatid's king such wonders
could have wrought. Long may he live, and die well, full
of years,
{ ?C4)
And when his death shall draw us
dry with tears, On Britain's throne may his seed
ever reign, Till Christ do come (to judge the
world) again. Who would have thought from the
Scot-hated Dane, Whom vanquish'd England so much
did disdain, 130
(Oppress'd with base subjection) they
did turn, (Being freed) Lord-dane to liirdane
for a scorn ; Whowouldhave thought (I say)from
Dane should spring One, who from Scots and English
eyes should wring Such hearty tears ; must not her
worth be much, Since we do find itslove-eff"ects prove
such, How great that worth (in such, such
love could breed)? O let it live for ever in her seed : And let that love in our hearts never die, But ever live to her Posterity : 140 And those sweet streams her mate
and she combined In love, O let their arms be ne'er
untwined From kind embraces, and though
now their greetings Be not so joyful as at other meetings ; Yet is their love all one, they take
one part. The one joys not, the other sad at
heart : They surfeit now in sorrow, then in
pleasure ; Joy then exceeds, grief now is above
measure. To honour Charles (our hope) when
they met last. How did they rob each meadow as
they past, 150
Of sweets, each bank a posy did be- stow. Of fairest flowers, that on his brim
did grow :
The Seco7id Elegy
These and such like, they brought
from every part, And gratulations from each subject's
heart : They swell'd with pride, rising in
lofty waves. And all the neighbour bord'ring
banks outbraves : Their fishes frolick'd, showing joy by
gesture, The waters (wantonizing) woo'd their
Master ; So fast their billows 'bout his blest
barge throng'd, They hurt themselves oft, oft their
fellows wrong'd : 160
Each would be first, on others' backs
some ride. Some under others' slipp'ry shoulders
slide. Though beat with oars, yet will they
not turn back, For they their humble prostrate
homage make : The Sun then gilt each glistring glassy
coat Those marine masquers wore,danc'd
'bout his boat. Who by the music measur'd not
their paces ; Deafd with a confus'd cry from
divers places, Of maidens, matrons, aged men and
boys, Which from each quarter made a
confus'd noise 170
Of hearty Aves, welcoming their
Prince, Echo (with answering tir'd) was mute
still since. The City with the suburbs did
appear Like a large Theatre when he came
near : Each window, wall, each turret-top
and steeple, Was fill'd with every age, sex, sort
of people :
So as some thought (who erst had
never seen Such numbers) that the buildings
all had been Of Imag'ry contriv'd, by cunning
Art: For on the ground, the brewer in
his cart, 180
The sculler, carman, and the baser
sort, Seem'd strong and rudely carv'd
clowns, to support The stately frame : maids, prentices
and grooms. Made shop-door, window-stale, and
lower rooms : The battlements, house-coverings
and the leads. As tiles or slates, young boys and
girls o'erspreads. The middle rooms all round about
the Thames, Which ladies held, and choicer city
dames, Such took for spaces, which fair
statues held, Where carver and the painter both
excell'd ; 190
So pure complexions these seem'd
made by Art, As Nature never did the like im- part To lovely youth; the large, low,
open breast. Full, white, round, swelling, azure-
vein'd, increast The error, for they thought none
living would Lay out such parts, for all eyes to
behold : So curious were the colours which
were shown. As Nature hardly could from Art
be known : So that they could adjudge them due
to neither. But participles, taking part of either ; 200
184 stale] in the sense of 'sill.' It occurs dialectically as 'stool,' &c., and is of course a form of ' stall.'
(705 )
z z
Patrick Hannay
Yet all by voice and gesture seemed
glad, Wonder it was to see a thing look sad. Now it 's not so, the offrings are but
tears, The sighs and groans of Britain's
blest-reft sheres Are now the acclamations ; these
two streams, Compounded waters of mix'd sorrow
seems ; Yet walk they hand in hand with
equal pace, T'wards that late pleasant, but now
pensive place Where sorrow suited in a sable
weed, Doth with a mourning veil each heart
o'erspread, 210
And Phoebus for to make the world
and mind To wear one livery all his beams
confined, Dimming each eye in darkness of
the night, Either asham'd to mourn in open
sight, Or loath to alter with his brighter
streams. Our late obscured Cynthia's lesser
gleams ; For her fled soul which doth with
glory shine. Left with its lodging something that's
divine, Which with reflection smileth on
these rays, Which her bright soul now from the
skies displays. 220
And these light orbs which with such
swiftness roll About the Heavens, acquainted with
her soul
To light her corpse do set in every
porch Of the damantine Heaven, a starry
torch. Which dark'ned with the weeping
Earth's moist vapours, Are her last lamps and never-dying
tapers. Thames trembles, Forth6.oth. feverize
for fear. Both roar to see their sovereign thus
appear : Their billows break their hearts
against the shore. Their fishes faint (yet cannot tell
wherefore), 2 30
But when they float upon the water
crop. And see the tears from eyes and
oars which drop. They think them all too few, and add
their own And swim in proper waters (erst
unknown) ; The water-Nymphs now round about
her boat, Cloth'd in sad sable mourning habits
float. The Hamadryads, and the Silvans all To bear a part in this complaint they
callj Who since her death had practis'd in
their tears, Streams deep enough ; none now
the water fears. 240
They brought with them sweet camo- mile and rue. Mint, spikenard, marjoram, her way
they strew, With flowers of choicest colour and
of scent. Which from the slender weeping
stalk was rent.
204 ' blest-reft '='bh55-reft' ? Of 'shere' for 'shore' I do not know any other in- stance ; but it is etymologicaily defensible, and the form ' shear ' is actually used in senses very close. Of course it may be for 'shire,' not ' shore.'
224 'damantine' for 'adamantine,' if H. wrote it, is a particularly agreeable instance of the almost insane terror of hiatus or trisyllabic foot — for it happens to reverse the meaning.
231 ' crop ' for ' top ' is quite conceivable.
(706)
The Second Elegy
Her Exequies these Nymphs together
sing, Till with this consort, Heaven and
Earth doth ring : Heaven's envyifig our waters, walks,
and woods, Hath 'reft our joy, and plac'd her
'mongst the Gods. No more our wand'ring waves shall
wantonize, No more shall swelling billows brave
the skies, 250
No more shall purling Zephyr curl
our head, No more we'll foamy powders there- on spread, No more shall now Medndrian walks
delight us. No more Despair with Death shall
now affright us, Since Heaven envying our late happy
floods. Hath 'reft our joy, and plac'd her
'mongst the Gods. We'll take no sport now to pursue
the fawn, We'll no more tread light measures
on the lawn, We'll deck our heads no more with
Flora's flowers, We'll woo no more our woody para- mours, a 60
We'll bear no part hereafter with
the birds. We'll weep for woe, and teach them
wail in words ; Since Heaven envying our late happy
woods. Hath 'reft our joy, and plac'd her
'mongst the Gods. We'll hide our heads within our
shores and shelves, We'll dwell in darkest cypress groves
with elves. No more we'll solace in great
Neptune's halls. No more we'll dance at Sylvan's
festivals. Because she 's gone, whose glory grac'd
our floods. Because she 's gone, who honoured
walks and woods. 2 70
Thus sung they her along, but
come to shore, Where she must leave them, they
ne'er see her more ; They sink to bottom, either in a
swoon. Or else themselves (now loathing life)
to drown ; The Forth and Thames losing their
so lov'd sight, Vow, yearly to renew their woes,
that night.
An Epitaph
Power to do ill, and practise only
good. Humblest in heart, highest in place and
blood. Fairest, and freest from loose desires
in thought. Pleasures to tempt, yet not disdai?i'd
in aught :
With anxious care, tn courage ne'er
dejected ; Though cause of joy with no vain joy affected, Knoiv Reader, whensoe'er these
lines you scan. Such {and none such but she) was our Queen Anne.
247, 248] The italics here and later are kept because they seem to indicate not merely the poet's usual asides, but a sort of stanza-burden to the unitalicized couplet-blocks behind them.
( 707)
Z Z 2
Patrick Hannay
An Epitaph
A Wife, a Daughter, Sister to a King,
Mother to those, whose hopes do higher spring,
Chaste, fair,wise,ki?id ; first, Crown- United tvore,
We knew her such, and held her for
no 7nore. That she was inore, God's daughter
and Heaven^ s heir. We know, since parted hence He
crotvn'd her there.
(708)
SONGS AND SONNETS
To the Right Honourable Sir Andrew Gray, Knight, Colonel of a foot regiment, and General of the Artillery to the high and mighty Prince Frederick, King of Bohemia
If of these labours I did none direct, Brave sir, to you for offering or for
shield, Since you so fatherly did me affect, When first you did conduct me to the field : I justly might be taxM as ingrate. Deservedly your love might turn to hate.
Let shriller Musket, Cannon, Culvering,
(Part of thy charge) with the sky- tearing balls,
Which treble, base, mean, tenor rudely sing
To bloody Mars, forcing the dancmg walls, lo
Give place a space, while I do enter- tain Your ears with Music of a milder strain.
Stern Mars himself hath ofttimes
danc'd a measure, (Arms laid aside) his Minions most dear Have woo'd the Muses, and have
taken pleasure To tune their own, and others* notes
to hear : Thou art a proof hereof thyself most
plain, Who in their Art hast had so sweet
a vein.
To none more aptly can I then direct These lines than thee, who both hast
skill to prove, 20
And worth (more than their errors) to
protect, To none I'm so indebted for such love. Accept them as they're sent with
love sincere, With kind construction read them
whilst you're here.
I knowthy haughty spirit muchdisdains Thisloath'ddetention,forIhavebeenby When thy hot courage well-nigh crack'd
the reins Of strict command, (when the fierce
foe drew nigh)
37 * earn '
(7^0
That to thy valour freedom was not
given. Those Popish hirelings might by
thee be shriven. 30
Nor was it wage or want that spurr'd thee on.
No hope of spoil nor thirsting after blood :
But worth-bred love of that rare Para- gon,
Thy dear King's daughter, whose cause doubtful stood. Had doubted Mansfelt led, you had
your will, Pylsen prevented had this hap'nedill.
Yet shrinks He not, nor thou, you
both earn more, (That cross your courage rather doth
inflame) With sharp revenge the lost state to
restore To that most worthy, best deserving
Dame, 40
Whom even her enemies so much
do honour. As women's rarest praises they
throw on her.
There are nineWorthies hitherto of men, But of all women, I not read of any : I know not then, whether she makes
them ten. Or of her sex first number unto many : In spirit, courage, valour, to those nine She 's equal ; Women none yet so divine.
Go in Her cause, success crown thy
desires, Soon may I change this softly tuned song, 50
Inflam'd with new and unacquainted
fires. To sing the Enemies' revengM wrong : Oh how I long in high heroic verse, Their ruin and Her risingto rehearse. Ever yours most affectionate in all humble duty, Patrick Hannay.
= 'yearn.'
Patrick Hannay
Song- I
Sad Sheretine was seiz'd,
And wounded so with woe, Fra he fair Mariana's faith
Was falsified did know. Fra time he knew that her
Another did possess, Whom in his heart he had propos'd
His height of happiness : His tongue was sorrow-tied,
His passion inward pent, lo His woes no passage could procure,
Forth from his heart to vent. He scarce believes it so,
Although himself it sees : To free her of so foul a fault.
He blames his blameless eyes : But when he found her false.
Her vows and oaths untrue. As after he could joy in nought.
He bids the world adieu. 20 His woes to aggravate,
He causes doth invent. Though cause of care he had enough.
How he might more lament, A woful banishment
He willing undertakes : And comfort-causing company
He utterly forsakes. In a care-clothed shade,
From eye and ear removed, 30 He thus with woe begins to wail
The loss of his beloved. ' Ah, Mariana, ah !
Is thus my love repaid ? Do my fires still so freshly burn :
And are thy flames decayed ! How constant have I proved !
Though many baits there were Where I have been, yet none had force
My fancy to ensnare. 40
Nor since thy favour first
Kindled my quenchless fire. Did I see beauty that could breed
A dram of dear desire ; Or if 'mongst fairest fairs
I thought one did excel : My love was jealous of that thought,
And straight did it repel : Wherein then did I fail ?
My heart doth hold it strange, That seeing I have lov'd so well, 51
I should find such a change. No doubt the gods were griev'd,
That I did thee adore ; 'Cause therein I idolatriz'd.
Have plagued me therefore. Yet should not that in thee.
Least alteration mov'd : It rather should thy love endear
To be so dearly lov'd : 60
Hadst thou with proud disdain
My favour first refus'd, I might have blam'd my hapless fate.
But not thy crime accus'd. My love with time had died :
Or if it still had liv'd, My care this comfort yet had had.
That I for worth had griev'd. But thou by granting love.
Didst bring me to such height Of hoped joys, to such a low 71
Hast cast me with despight, That the sad souvenance
Of such a love so lost. Is now my greatest cause of grief,
And doth molest me most. For if I ne'er had gain'd,
My grief had not been such, The once- rich poor man grieijeih more
Thafi he that ?ie'er was rich. 80 Whom Nature with her gifts
'Bove others did indue ;
3 'Fra' = 'from' as usual: but, as shown by 1. 5, in sense of 'from the time when.' It may be worth observing that in the Songs and Sonnets the pitiless rain of italics ceases. These are quite rare and generally justifiable. In the First Song the keeping of the old ' Poulter's Measure' (Alexandrine and Fourteener,divided or not into a quatrain of 6, 6, 8, 6), which had given so much dreary work in the middle of the sixteenth century, may be worth noticing.
73 souvenance] Again a Gallicism.
79, 80 The, &c.] A somewhat vulgarized variant of Nessun tnaggior, but to be noted with others.
So7tgs and Sonnets
O ! that adds woe unto my woe,
That she should prove untrue. If whilst on bloody Mars
I boldly did attend, By some brave hand had I exhal'd,
Before thy crime was kend, Then had my wronged Ghost
(Not conscious of this) 90
With joy expected thy approach,
To thy Elysiafi bliss. Or if it there had griev'd,
The sole cause of its moan Had been lest that thou shouldst ■ have griev'd
To hear that I was gone. But now methinks I hear
Thy Turian with scorn Upbraid thy crime as my disgrace ;
Fond Sheretin^s forlorn. 100 Methinks thou seconds him,
Not sensible thereof ; And thy true loving Sheretitie
Rememberest with a scoff. Another being wrong'd
By such a deep disdain, Enrag'd might count it greater good
To lose such than obtain. But that the world may see, 1C9
My first fires were not feign'd, They shall not therefore be extinct,
'Cause I am thus disdain'd. No, Turiati whom I most
Do hate and least respect, 'Cause thou dost love and honour him,
I'll honour and affect. By that (still dear !) thou'lt know
By leaving me what's lost, If love disdain'd can do so much.
What had it ne'er been crost ? But now since it's thy will
That I do suffer woe, I do endeavour for thy sake
The greatest grief to know. Bear witness with me, woods, Weeds watered with tears,
121
How I do live devoid of joy,
But you there's none me hears : Nor e'er shall more content
Seize on my heavy heart, 130 Witness with me while from this clay
My sad soul do depart. And Mariana fair,
My first and latest love, My last words shall be that the heavens
May bless thee from above : That thou may'st still enjoy
The best of sweet content ; And let my death (since love could not)
Move thee this fault repent. 140 That when from hence thou fleet'st,
Thy unafiflicted spirit May with of like fault guiltless souls
A joyful peace inherit.' That said he and no more,
But on the bitter weeds His flesh-forsaken feeble limbs
He languishingly spreads. His weary soul removes, 149
Death seiz'd him by degrees ; So true Love's Martyr (not so wrong'd
As he deem'd) thus he dies.
Sonnet I
Eve, beauty, admiration, love, desire. Did join in one to set my heart on
fire. My eye did see that beauty did sur- pass, That boundless beauty made me
much admire : With admiration love conceived was. And love brought forth andnourish'd my desire ; Which now is grown unto so great
perfection. It sees, admires, conceives, feeds sans direction.
Sonnet I] That this is not strictly a sonnet at all is an almost unnecessary observa- tion. It is less so that the printing illustrates the wholly unprincipled character of this typography. Italics, or at least initial capitals, would have been quite in place here : and there is not one in the original.
(713)
Patrick Hajtnay
Sonnet II
Experienc'd nature in this latter age, Willing her masterpiece should then
be wrought, Such my fair Coelia set on earth's
large stage. As all the Gods in emulation
brought ; For they did think, if Nature only
might Brag of her worth, she should insult
o'er them. Wherefore they 'preed to have an
equal right. That they of her perfection part
might claim. Pallas gave Wisdiom, Jtino stateliness, And the mild Morning gave her
modesty : ip
The Graces carriage, Venus loveli- ness. And chaste Diana choicest chastity : Thus heaven and earth their
powers did combine To make her perfect ; kind Love !
make her mine.
Sonnet III
Whilst wand'ring thoughts unsettled
in desire. Did rove at random in the fields of
love. Where fancy found fair objects fit
to fire Frozen affection, choice did choice
remove : Cupid contemn'd taking it much at
heart, For spite his dame's loose darling
made delight me ; She, leaving Venus, taking Juno's
part, With new chaste thoughts and fires
'gins to requite me. Proud C)'/'//^r<'a angry with her wench. Seeks in my heart a hate of her to
breed, lo
(7m)
So blaz'd her faults, which soon my
fires did quench. But Malice still lights on the oivner's head : For this the ill that all her envy
wrought ; It made her chaste, me author of that thought.
Sonnet IV
Once early as the ruddy bashful
Morn Did leave Dan Phoebus' purple- streaming bed. And did with scarlet streams East-
heav'n adorn, I to my fairest Ctiij/Za'^ chamber sped : She Goddess-like stood combing of
her hair. Which like a sable veil did clothe
her round. Her ivory comb was white, her hand
more fair ! She straight and tall, her tresses
trail'd to ground ; Amaz'd I stood, thinking my dear
had been Turn'd Goddess, every sense to sight
was gone. lo
With bashful blush my bliss fled, I
once seen. Left me transformed (as it were) in
stone. Yet did I wish so ever t' have re-
main'd. Had she but stay'd, and I my
sight retain'd.
Sonnet V
While I do hope my thoughts do
high aspire. In deep Despair these hopes are
quickly drown'd ; Sometimes I burn with an Etnean
fire : Sometimes I freeze : I swim, straight
sink to ground.
Songs a?id Sonnets
0 since such changes in my love I find,
Death change my Hfe; or Love my Coelia's mind.
Sonnet VI Alluding to Hope
Hope makes the Sea be plough'd in furrows white,
That in the end sweet gain may thence arise ;
Hope makes the toiUng tradesman take dehght
To labour ear' and late with watch- ful eyes.
Hope makes the shepherd in the ^\'inter care
To tend his flock, and lodge them from the cold.
Hope makes the Soldier fight, sense- less of Fear
'Mongst hot alarms, both watch and ward to hold.
The seaman's hope rich merchandise repays ;
The tradesman's hope is answer'd with his hire, lo
Young lambs and wool, the shep- herd's charge defrays^.
The soldier's wage is that he doth require.
1 do for Hope more than all these sustain.
Yet Hope with no reward repays my pain.
Sono^ II
Amantium irae amoris redintegratio est. I Coelia jealous (lest I did
In my heart affect another) Me her company forbid,
JVof/ien cannot passion smother.
VI. 4 ear'] This abbreviation must be very rare : yet it is etymologically defensible without the apostrophe.
VIII. 4. This line in the original is another interesting example of the elision- and apostrophe-mania of the time. It is printed 'Th'one th'other,' thereby quite falsifying the metre.
(715)
II
The dearer love the more disdain, When truth is with distrust re- quited ;
I vow'd (in anger) to abstain,
She found her fault and me invited.
HI
I came with intent to chide her ('Cause she had true love abus'd),
Resolv'd never to abide her, u
Yet her fault she so excus'd,
IV
As it did me more entangle.
Telling, True love must have fears ;
They ne'er lov'd that ne'er did wrangle, Lovers' jars but love endears.
Sonnet VII
When as I wake I dream oft of my
dear, And oft am serious with her in my
sleep ; I am oft absent when I am most near, And near whenas I greatest distance
keep : These wonders love doth work,
but yet I find That love wants power to make
my Mistress kind.
Sonnet VIII
I lov'd, was lovbd, and joy'd in con- tent.
Our souls did surfeit on the sweets of love ;
While equal heat our hearts affec- tions lent,
The one the other to content did prove.
Thus 'bove the pitch of other hap- less wights,
Whose sweets are sunk still in a sea of sours,
Patrick Hannay
Our hearts swam in the depth of
dear delights, Pleasures seem pains, not equalizing
ours.
But love 's not love, wherein are no
disasters. Time tried my trust was by my love
betray'd, lo
And she (for state) had got for me
some tasters, Which lovers like not, so our love
decay'd.
Though she lov'd others; hereof
I may boast, I lov'd, was loved chastely first and
most.
Sonnet IX Lover, Mistress
L. Hence loose alluring looks, no
more of Love, No more thy seeming virtues shall
deceive me. M. Come, come my dearest, speak
not thus to prove How well I love ; thou think'st it
doth not grieve me.
Thy beauty was a bait to draw mine eye.
And with thy blink my heart was set on fire. L. I thought to find a suiting soul
in thee. M. Thy love 's the limit that bounds my desire.
L. Thy looseness makes my love's
date now expire. M. Where then thy vows ? Z. Gone
with thy seeming worth. lo
M. And made to me ? L. No, virtue
brought them forth. Which failing now no fuel feeds my
fire.
M. My heart 's the harbour where
thy hopes must stay. Z. Where ground 's not good, an
anchor drags away.
Song
III
I CAN love, and love entirely,
And can prove a constant friend : But I must be lov'd as dearly, And as truly to the end :
For her love no sooner slaketh, But my fancy farewell taketh.
Z
M.
II
I cannot endure delaying,
I must have her quickly won : Be she nice (though not denaying) By her leave I then have done : For I am not yet at leisure, ii To dwine for a doubtful pleasure.
Ill My eyes shall not still be wailing.
Where I'm answered with neglect ; My hurt is not at her hailing. Who my pain doth not respect : He 's a fool that seeks relieving, From her glories in his grieving.
IV
With beauty I will not be blinded,
Yet I will none foul affect : 20 With wealth I will not be winded, If in behaviour be defect ;
Beafity stained such love dieth, Wealth decayed such love flieth.
V
Gifts do good, yet he is silly
That therein expendeth store, If he win not, tell me, will he
Not be meetly mock'd therefore ? It is better to be keeping Than to sow not sure of reaping.
VI
As I would not words be waring 31 Where there 's no assurance had ;
VIII. 10 Time tried] Orig. 'try'd.' The construction is ambiguous: 'time-tried with ' trust ' would be, perhaps, most poetical ; but I think ' Time tried my trust [and it] was ' more Hannayish.
Song III. 31 waring] = 'spending,' Scotice.
(716)
Songs and Sonnets
So I would not gifts be sparing, Where I woo and know shall wed. Giving so is no decreasing, I have hers in her possessing.
VII
Be she rich, and fair, and gained ;
If I fickleness do find, My desires are quickly waned, I can steer with other wind. 40 For Virtue, I have vow'd to
chuse her, When that fails I will refuse her.
Song
IV
Now do the Birds in their warbling words Welcome the year ; While sugared notes they chirrup thro' their throats, To win a fere : Sweetly they breathe the wanton love
That Nature in them warms : And each to gain a mate doth prove, With sweet enchanting charms. II He sweetly sings, and stays the nimble wings Of her in th' air, to
She hovering stays, to hear his loving lays Which woo her there : She becomes willing, hears him woo,
Gives ear unto his song : And doth as Nature taught her do, Yields, sued unto not long. Ill But Coelia stays, she feeds me with delay. Hears not my moan : She knows the smart in time will kill my heart To live alone : 2c
Learn of the birds to choose theea fere,
But not like them to range : They have their mate but for a year, But sweet, let 's never change.
IV
The Turtle-dove let's imitate in love.
That still loves one : Dear, do not stay, youth quickly flies away.
Then desire 's gone. Love is kindest, and hath most length.
The kisses are most sweet, 30 When it 's enjoy'd in heat of strength,
Where like affections meet.
Sonnet X
As doXh. Solsequhwt, lover of the light.
When Sol is absent lock her golden leaves.
And sealed mourns, till it regain his sight.
Whose flaming rays soon counter- vail its griefs —
Far more thy absence me of rest
bereaves. The hopbd-morn the Marigold doth
cherish : But when my Sun this blest horizon
leaves, Hopeless of light my joys in darkness
perish.
Stay then, my Sun ! make this thy
Zodiac And move, but make my arms to be
the sphere : 10
Make me thy West, with me thy
lodging take. Move to my breast, and make thy
setting there.
So shall I be more glad of thy decline.
Than Fhoebus-^owQx when he be- gins to shine.
Song V
I Servant, farewell ; is this my hire, Do my deserts no more require ?
' There is some music in this.
(717)
Patrick Hannay
No, do not think to cheat me so, I will have more yet ere yoti go.
II Thy lov'd Idea I'll arrest, And it imprison in my breast : In sad conceit it there shall lie, My jealous love shall keep the key.
Ill The drops my wounded heart shall bleed, 9
Shall be food whereon it shall feed : The tears are shed when I do think On thee, shall be its only drink.
IV
My restless thoughts shall range
about, My cares shall care it come not out : And when these fail their watch to
keep, I'll chain it fast in leaden sleep.
V
Nor think it ever shall part thence, Or that I will with it dispense : Thy love alone can me avail, Thyself alone I'll take for bail. 20
Sonnet XI
Sweet is the Rose and fair, yet who
the same Would pluck, may wound his finger
with the briar. So sweet, so fair is my beloved
Dame : Her darting eye wounds those that
come her near.
They both are fair, both sweet, they both make smart ;
The rose the finger; Coelia the heart.
Sonnet XII
My love is such as I can ne'er obtain, Nor can I think which way to ease
my pain : If I conceal 't, there 's no hope of
relief,
( 718)
If I bewray 't, scorn will increase my
grief; Grief hid brings soonest death, there
help remains, Reveal'd life lingers, languishing in
pains : Since my love 's hopeless, arid with- out relief, I scorn her scorn should add unto
my grief. Therefore my thoughts I'll bury as
they rise. And smother in my soul my infant
cries : 10
So hasten death : then if she chance
to hear I died for love of her I held too
dear. And say 'twas pity with her heavenly
breath, That shall requite me well even after
death.
Sonnet XIII
When I do love, let me a mistress find.
Whose hard repulse doth me small hope procure.
Not yielding yielding-no : the con- stant mind
Is long in gaining, but obtain'd is sure: The diamond is cut with care and
pains, But being cut, it still one form retains.
That which is lightly got is valued least,
' The memory of care sweetens con- tent ' :
Most feelingly we do those pleasures taste.
That are procur'd with pain, made known by want : 10
It's better never any comfort taste. Than relish sorrows by the plea- sures past.
Songs aiid Sonnets
Song VI 1
A MAID me lov'd, her love I not
respected, She mourn'd, she sigh'd, nay sued,
yet I neglected : Too late, too late, alas, I now repent, For Cupid with her love hath me
infected.
II As erst He hers, so love my heart
now burneth. As I at her, she laughs at me that
mourneth : Too late, too late, alas, I now repent. Since her disdained love to hatred
turneth.
Hi On her alone doth health and hope
rely. Yet still she scorns and doth me love
deny : lo
Too late, too late, alas, I now repent, Since she joys in my death, I for her
die.
Sonnet XIV
The loving Lizard takes so much
delight To look upon the face of living man. As it seems for to feed even by the
sight. And lives by looks which it enjoyeth
than.
But when that pleasing object leaves
the place, (As wanting that which only did it
cherish) It fainting dies, deprival of that face The only cause is why it so doth
perish.
Even so my Coelid's love hath lately proved,
It joy'd, it liv'd to me, while I was eyed lo
It vigorous was, but I from sight removed,
It fainted, soon grew weak, and quickly died.
My Coelia's loVe thus prov'd a
lizard right, I seen, it lived ; it died I out of
sight.
A Paradox
I LOVE my Love the better she doth change,
(Which some may chance hold a position strange)
Women's extreme, if '^ love were still at height.
Like ever-shining sun 't could not delight.
A still-fruition dulls ; respite relieves :
An intermission still new relish gives.
A changing faVour puffs not up with pride.
Because uncertain how long 't shall abide ;
It lets not languish with a long dis- dain,
No sooner ebb'd but it doth flow again.
Then in my turn I shall be well re- spected, 1 1
Late favourites as much shall be neg- lected.
I love her 'cause she 's woman (if her mind
Not wavering were, she were none of that kind) ;
The more she's woman I the more do love her.
The more inconstant, I more woman prove her.
The more a woman 's of a woman's mind.
The better, (best degener least from kind :)
^ Did Hannay know Rohene and Makyne ? (719)
^ * If women's extreme ' ?
Patrick Uanitay
The most inconstant they degener
least, The most inconstant therefore are the best. 20
The best I vow'd to love, therefore
none else I'll love but whose inconstancy excels.
Sonnet XV
Whilst Fortune's fondlings dandled
in her lap, Swim in the depth of undeserv'd
desires. Careless of cross, unmindful of mis-
hap. Still floating higher than their hope
aspires :
Poor hapless I, whose hopes soar'd lately higher,
(With promise-pens plum'd which ne'er fail in flight)
Deferr'd, disdain'd, heartless dare(s) not draw nigh her,
My wearied wand'ring wing can no- where light.
And Fortune, still the more to show
her spite, The nearer that my hope seems to
obtain, 10
With unexpected crosses curbs them
quite, Which nigh gain'd good makes me
but taste my pain.
Yet, fickle Fortune, I disdain thy
frown : ' Base minds thou may'st, but never
brave cast down.'
Sonnet XVI
They Fortune much do wrong that
call her blind ; And that she knows not how to give
her gifts 3
That she 's inconstant, wavering as
the wind, Which in a minute many corners
shifts.
That she delights in nought but
turning states, The misers raising, mighty ones o'er-
throwing ; She loves not long, and long she
never hates, At random (as it lights) her gifts
bestowing.
If she were blind, some gift I might
have got By chance : if loving chance, I had
rise higher, 10
If long to love or hate inclining not, I once had found her friend ; but I
will free her.
She sees, can give, is constant,
long can hate. Too well I know 't, she still hath
cross'd my state.
Sonnet XVII
When I consider well how Cupid kind
First did inflame my heart with lov- ing fires,
And did remove the quiet of my mind.
And for it plac'd wakerife (yet dear) desires :
And how the friend I truly did affect With like sincerity repaid my love : How we did strive each other to
respect. And no contention else did ever
prove :
How that our souls so nearly sym-
pathiz'd. We oft did think and oft did dream
the same, 10
XV. 7. If dares is what H. wrote, he had either forgotten ' I ' or, more probably, was thinking of hopes,' and gave them a singular verb — as he and his contemporaries so often do.
XVI. I. ' Say ' must be understood from ' call.' 10 rise] ' rose ' for ' risen,' or * ris'n ' itself?
( 720 )
Songs a?ici So7t?jets
What one approv'd the other highly
priz'd, What one dislik'd the other's heart
did blame.
O how thy envy, Fortune, makes
me wonder, Whom Love so join'd, thou
shouldst have kept asunder.
Song VII
Horac. Car. lib. 3, Ode 9. ad Lydiani.
Ho. Whilst I was welcome, and thy chief delight, And no youth else more wishedly did bring His arms about thy neck so lovely
white, I liv'd more happy than the Persian King.
II Ly. Whilst thou didst not burn with the love of other, And Lydia no less grace than Che found : Lydia was famouser than any other ; Liv'd more than Roman Llia re- nown'd.
Ill LIo. But Thracian Cloe now com- mandeth me. Skilled in sweet Music^ cunning on the Lute : 10
For whom I would not be afeard to die, To save her life, so that my death could do 't.
IV
Ly. Calais OrnitKs son with loving fire Burns me, and I affect him with like strife : For whom I willingly would twice expire. If so the fates would spare my youngling's life.
(721) 3 A
LIo. What if our ancient love should come about, And join us jarring with a lasting chain : ^Vere fair-hair'd Cloe fra my heart cast out. And cast-off Lydia receiv'd again.
VI
Ly. Though Calais fairer than a blaz- ing star, 21 Lighter than fleeting cork although you be : And than the Adrian sea more testy far, With thee I'd love to live and willing die.
Sonnet XVIII
Why dost thou doubt (dear Coelia)
that my love, (Which beauty bred, and virtue still
doth nourish) That any other object can remove, Or faint with time? but still more
freshly flourish.
No, know thy beauty is of such
a force, The fancy cannot flit that 's with it
taken : Thy virtue's such my heart doth
hate divorce From thy sweet love, wiiich ne'er
shall be forsaken.
So settled is my soul in this re- solve,
That first the stars from crystal sky shall fall : 10
The heavens shall lose their influence, dissolve,
To the old Chaos shall be turn'd this all,
Ere I from thee (dear Coelia)
remove, My true, my constant, and my
sincere love.
Patrick Hannay
Song VIII I
When curious Nature did her
cunning try, In framing of this fair terrestrial
round : Her workmanship the more to
beautify Withchang'd variety made it abound, And oft did place a plot of fertile
ground Fraught with delights, nigh to
a barren soil. To make the best seem better by
a foil.
II Thus first were made by Thames
the motley meads, Wearing the livery of the Summer's
Queen : Whose flowery robe o'er them she
freely spreads, lo
With colours more than are in Iris
seen. And all the ground and hem of
grassy green. Whereon the silly sheep do fear- less feed. While on a bank the shepherd
tunes his reed. Ill Next shady groves where Delia
hunteth oft, And light-foot Fairies tripping still
do haunt : There mirthful Muses raise sweet
notes aloft, And wanton birds their chaste loves
cheer'ly chant :
Where on fit object every sense may
feed ; And fill'd with dainties that do
thence arise, Of superfluity help others' need ; Yet no satiety that store doth breed. For when the sense nigh surfeits
on delight, New objects the dull'd appetite
do whet.
V
This place, I say, doth border on
a plain, Which step-dame Nature seems
t' have made in scorn, 30
Where hungry husbandmen have
toil'd in vain, And with the share the barren soil
have torn ; Nor did they rest till rise of ruddy
morn : Yet when was come the harvest
of their hopes. They for their gain do gather
grainless crops.
VI
It seems of starv'd Sterility the seat.
Where barren downs do it environ round :
AVhose parched tops in Summer are not wet,
And only are with snow in winter crown'd.
Only with bareness they do still abound ; 40
Or if on some of them we rough- ness find. It 's tawny heath, badge of the barren rind.
VII
There no delightful pleasure e'er j In midst of these stands Croydon doth want ; cloth'd in black.
There Sylvian with his Satyrs In a low bottom sink of all these
doth remain,
30
hills
There Nymphs do love and are And is receipt of all the dirty wrack
belov'd again. Which from their tops still in abun- IV dance trills.
This place doth seem an earthly t The unpav'd lanes with muddy mire
Paradise,
it fills.
2o5)7riVn/]Notethe unnecessary ». It is probabl j' a misprint,as the form iscorrect below.
Songs a7id Son?tets
If one shower fall, or if that bless- ing stay,
You may well smell, but never see your way.
VIII
For never doth the flower-perfumed
_ Air, 50
Which steals choice sweets from
other blessed fields, AVith panting breast take any resting
there, Nor of that prey a portion to it
yields : For those harsh hills his coming either shields, Or else his breath infected with
their kisses. Cannot enrich it with his fragrant
blisses.
IX
And those who there inhabit, suiting
well ^\'ith such a place, do either negroes
seem. Or harbingers for Pluto, Prince of
hell, Or his fire-beaters one might rightly
deem, 60
Their sight would make a soul of
hell to dream, Besmear'd with soot, and breath- ing pitchy smoke, Which (save themselves) a living
wight would choke.
X
These with the demi-gods still
disagreeing, (As vice with virtue ever is at jar) AVith all who in the pleasant woods
have being Do undertake an everlasting war. Cuts down their groves, and often
do them scare. And in a close-pent fire their
arbours burn, AVhile as the Muses can do nought
but mourn. 70
XI
The other Syivans with their sight
affrighted, Do flee the place whereas these elves
resort. Shunning the pleasures which them
erst delighted, A\'hen they behold these grooms of
Flu to' s court, While they do take their spoils and
count it sport To spoil these dainties that them
so delighted. And see them with their ugly
shapes affrighted.
XII
To all proud dames I wish no
greater hell. Who do disdain of chastely proffered
love, Than to that place confin'd there
ever dwell ; 80
That place their pride's dear price
might justly prove : For if (which God forbid) my dear
should move Me not come nigh her for to pass
my troth, Place her but there : and I shall
keep mine oath ^
Sonnet XIX
Fond doubtful Hope, Reason de- prav'd, false fires.
Deceiving thoughts and plaints prov- ing but wind :
Ill-grounded grief, springing from vain desires.
Have led me in a maze of error blind.
But Thou whose eye surveys this
earthly ball. And sees our actions ere they be
begun : High and Eternal Mover of this all, AA'hose mercy doth man's misery
fore-run :
58 negroes] Orig. ' Nigro's.' ' The Collier ^charcoal-burner * ()/'C;q)rfo;/ illustrates this song.
( 733 ) 3 A 2
Patrick Hannay
Now in the right way turn my
wand'ring heart, Teach me to bid farewell to fond
desire. lo
Deceiving Error and Vain-joy de-
With Thy all-quick'ning spirit my soul inspire.
Grant, Lord, I may redeem my
mis-spent time, And (if I sing) to Thee I praise
may chime.
Song IX
I
O HOW my sin-clogged soul would
soar aloft, And scale the crystal sky to seek
remeed But that foul Sin (wherewith I stain
it oft) Makes it to sink through doubt of
my misdeed : In scroll of guilty conscience I
read The rueful legend of my passed
life, The thought whereof maketh my
heart to bleed. Finding my foul offences are so rife.
II Fear makes me faint to find such,
and so many As there are ranked in that ragged
roll : TO
Despair doth say there was ne'er
such in any, Weeping cannot them wash nor
heart condole. God 'j- Wrath and Justice showeth to
my soul, For every sin that must be satis- fied: What will become of me with such
a scroll. Since Death the wage of Sin is sure
decreed ?
( 724 )
III
Never to blooming virgin truest
mirror. Did represent beauty with more
delight Than subtil Satan with affrighting
terror. My guiltiness doth show me with
despight. 20
What erst as trifles seemed to my
sight Now are death-worthy ; my late- liking sin Is now displeasing ; and would bar
me quite All hope of help, since such 1
wallowed in.
IV
Hope to my heart my Saviour doth
present, With all His Passions prov'd for
sinners' sake. Yet none but he that doth from
heart repent. Can use of that great satisfaction
make : I hold of Him by a firm faith must take, And all His sufferings to myself
apply : 30
If penitence want not, nor Faith be
weak, Of Heaven I know He cannot me
deny.
V
But where 's Repentance for so foul
a stain ? Why stint you, eyes, continually to
shower ? The humid liquor of your moist'ning-
rain Doth make to sprout the fair Repent-
ing-flo7ver. Give tears no respite, nor no truce
an hour, And since with wand'ring looks you
did offend : With still-distilling drops your can- ker scour, \\'ith coming-care your passed 'scapes
amend. 40
Songs and So7inets
VI
Ah, hapless heart, why rend'st not
with remorse ? For quick conceiving what the flesh
hath wrought : Hast thou (depraved) bent to ill thy
force ? And knows thy Maker thy most
secret thought? And wilt thou yet be negligent in
aught Thee may reclaim, or with contrition
wound ? Bleed, bleed to think that who so
dear thee bought. Thou 'st crucifi'd again, with thorns
hast crown'd.
VII
And thou, frail Flesh, shame not now
to begin. Thee to submit to the reforming
spirit : 50
Think of the by-ways thou hast
wander'd in, Which lead to Hell, and Death- deserved merit. ^^'hy art thou proud ? Thou canst
not heaven inherit ; Lie down in dust, do no works of
thine own ; But what the soul commands, oh !
willing hear it, By thy obedience let its rule be
known.
VIII
But, Lord.' without Thy sweet assist- ing grace, I can do nought, all my attempts
are vain : I cannot come without Thou call, alas ! Grant me this grace, and bring me
home again ; 60
Let Thy blest Spirit, Faith, Hope,
and Love remain Still in my soul : the Flesh, the World
and Devil, Deprive of power ; let them no more
reign. Or if they tempt, deliver mc from
evil.
(725)
IX
Thou 'rt not desirous that a sinner
die. But that he may repent his sins and
live : Thou bidst the heavy laden come to
Thee, And Thou \filt ease the weight that
doth him grieve. Thou bidst him knock, and Thou
wilt ope the leave Of that strict gate that leadeth unto
bliss ; 70
Grant I repent, do come, do knock,
receive Life, lightning, entrance where no
anguish is.
X
Lord ! grant me grace my coming
days to number. To wisdom then I shall my heart
apply : Roll me out of this lethargy and
slumber, Of sin and sloth wherein I now do
lie. Sinners (that seeing) soon shall
draw Thee nigh, Shunning base thoughts, their souls
to Thee shall raise. And with a sweet consort shall
pierce the skies, Of Thy great mercy, and eternal
praise. 80
Sonnet XX
O Father- God, who by Thy word
didst make The Azured-vault, and all the host
of heaven. The hills, vales, plains, fresh streams,
and briny lake. And unto each inhabitants hast
given :
O Word which (for our sakes) didst
flesh become, AVith sinners to purge sin hadst
habitation ;
Patrick Hannay
Crimeless accus'd, condemn'd, the
Cross Thy doom, Suff'redst Death, Burial, rose for
our salvation.
O Holy Ghost, which dost from Both
proceed, Sweet soul-inspiring Spirit, with
peace and love, lo
Comfort to all, cast down for sinful
deed, Lessening their woes with hopes of
Heaven above.
O Trlnal-one, one God and Persons
three, Reform my ways, and draw me unto
Thee.
FINIS
To his singular friend Mr. William Lithgow ^
The double travail {Lithgoiv) thou
hast ta'en, One of thy feet, the other of thy brain. Thee, with thyself do make for to
contend, Whether the Earth thou 'st better
pac'd or penn'd : Would Malaga's sweet liquor had
thee crown'd, And not its treachery ; made thy
joints unsound, For Christ, King, Country, what
thou there endur'd, Not them alone, but therein all
injur'd :
Their tort'ring rack, arresting of thy
pace, Hath barr'd our hope of the world's
other face : i o
Who is it sees this side so well
express'd. That with desire, doth not long for
the rest ? Thy travail'd countries so described
be, As readers think they do each
region see: Thy well-compacted matter, ornate
style, Doth them oft, in quick-sliding
Time beguile. Like as a maid, wand'ring in Flora's
bowers, Confin'd to small time, of few
flitting hours. Rapt with delight, of her eye-pleas- ing treasure, Now culling this, now that flower,
takes such pleasure, 20
Tliat the strict time whereto she
was confin'd Ls all expir'd : whiles she thought
half behind, Or more remain'd. So each attract- ing line Makes them forget the time, they
do not tine : But since sweet future travail is cut
short, Yet lose no time, now with the
Muses sport ; That reading of thee, aftertimes may
tell, In Travel, Prose, and Verse, thou
didst excel.
Patrick Hannay.
^ Printed by Laing, in his Introduction, from the third edition of Lithgow's Travels, 1623. The torture referred to in the poem is rather well known from the passage describing it in these Travels^ which has found its way into books of * Selections. ' ' To his singular friend ' seems not to occur till the fourth edition of 1632 : but it would be unsafe to infer that the writer was still alive.
(726)
OXFORD PRINTED AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
BY HORACE HART, M.A. PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY
i
Date
AA 000 624 637 5
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