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Full text of "Minor poets of the Caroline period .."

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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 N © 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. 

(23) 



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 

( 25 ) 



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 

(^9) 



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. 

(30) 



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 

(31) 



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. 

(33) 



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. 

(36) 



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. 

(37) 



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, 

(39) 



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. 

(41) 



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. 

(44) 



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. 

(45) 



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. 

(48) 



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, 

( 51 ) E 2 



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. 

(53) 



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. 

(54) 



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.' 

(56) 



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. 

(57) 



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. 

(58) 



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 

(59) 



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 

(61) 



Willia^n Chamber layne [book i 

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. 

(63) 



William Chamber lay 72e [book i 

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.' 

('54) 



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. 

( 65 ) . F 



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. 

(66) 



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/.' 

( 67 ) F 2 



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 

(68) 



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 

(70) 



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 

(7x) 



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 

(73) 



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. 

(74) 



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.' 

(75) 



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,' 

(77) 



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.' 

(79) 



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,' 

(80) 



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. 

(84) 



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. 

(85) 



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, 

(87) 



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. 



(89) 



William Chamber layjte [book ii 



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 

(90) 



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. 

(91) 



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, 

(9O 



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 

(93) 



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 

(94) 



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. 

(96) 



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. 

(98) 



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 

( 99 ) H 2 



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. 

( lOI ) 

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. 



(103 ) 



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. 

(103) 



William Chamherlayne [book ii 

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 

( i°4 ) 



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 

{105) 



William Chamber lay ?ie [bookii 

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. 

(.06) 



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.' 

( 107 ) 



William Chamber lay ne [book ii 

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 

(108) 



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.' 

( 109) 



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 

(110) 



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. 

(hi) 



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, 

("3) I 



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 

( 153 ) 



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.' 

(J70 



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.' 

(181) 



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, 

(183) 



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. 

(189) 



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. 

( 193 ) 



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 ) 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 

( 239 ) 



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, 

( 241 ) R 



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, 

(245) 



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. 



(246) 



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 

(247) 



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. 

( 249 ) 



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, 

(267) 



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.' 

(^70 



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 

(283) 



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.' 

(^85) 



William Cha7nberlayne [book v 

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. 

(287) 



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. 

( 289 ) U 



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 

( 390 ) 



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 ' ? 

( 291 ) U 2 



William Chamberlayne [bookv 

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 

( 293 ) 



JVilliam Chamber lay72e [book v 

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. 

(313) 



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. 

(314) 



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. 



(315) 



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, 

(3'6) 



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 

(3.7) 



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 

(318) 



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 

(319) 



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 

(320) 



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. 

(342 ) 



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. 

( 343 ) 



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. 



(345) 



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 : 

(346) 



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. 

(347) 



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. 

(348) 



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. 

(349 ) 



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 ! 

( 350 ) 



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. 

(351) 



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 

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,