Fovre bookes of Du Bartas I. The Arke, II. Babylon, III. The Colonnyes, IIII. The Columues or Pyllars: In French and English, for the Instrvction and Pleasvre of Svch as Delight in Both Langvages. By William Lisle ... Together with a large Commentary by S. G. S |
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 | Fovre bookes of Du Bartas |  |
For you (ô heauenly wits) my fairest painting quill
Should on these folded sheets her hony-dew distill,
Still would I write of you: but with her daintie sweets
The last sist'r of the foure me calls and louely greets.
For I this Phaleg heare with sonly-meeke language
His fath'r entreat to tell the name of th'oth'r Image;
And Heb'r him answer thus: Deere sonne, this painted girle
By that her wanton foot seems still to daunce and tirle,
By glauncing of her eye, the Cornets, Guytterns, Flutes,
Shawmes, Suckbuts, Vyols, Harps, Bandoraes, Organs, Lutes,
Which all-about her lye vpon the table and ground,
Appeares to be that Art which rules the voice and sound.
Which guides the gentle breath and mistresse-like appoints
How on the tuned string we trull our nimble ioynts.
The sacred harmonie, the discordant accord,
Law numbred, number law'd, which waited on the Lord,
When his creating Word spring of All-euerie
Made th'earth to stand so fast, and heau'n so fast to flie.
Sith euery Sphere (they say) hath some Intelligent,
Or Angell musicall, for Lady president,
Appointed by the Word: to th'end of those aboue
These lower things may learne the perfect cord of loue;
And that with Angell-queers a dauncing Set be seene
To reuell on his praise in temple fyrie-sheene.
Or as from bellow-loongs a breath one and the same
In skilfull wise put-out straies through the secret frame
Of curious handyworke, quits euery stop and list,
That opens when the keyes are tickt by th Organist;
And mounting here and there from out the channell scored
Into th'esparsed pipes o'th'Sommier thorow-bored,
Alliues, all in a trice, Recorders sweetly-still
And Regals eager-tun'd, and Cymballs sounding shrill:
So of Gods mouth the breath and Spirit all-aliuing
Stirres of the tuned heau'n these wheeles all louely striuing,
And as their wonted way eternally they trace,
Some of them trill the Trebl', and some bomb-out the Base.
Now all these counter-notes, so charmy-sweet, appeere
Yet not so plainly in heau'n as eu'n among vs heere.
Th'humour Melancholike, the Wint'r, and cold-dry ground,
They beare the Bases part, and soft and slowly sound.
The white phleame, th'Autom-time, the water cold and wet,
They all aleauell run, and are for Tenor set.
The Blood the prime of yere, the moist and luke-warme Aire,
Play Descant florisher, deuider, painter, strayer.
The Choller, Summer, Fire, that are so hot and dry,
Resembl' a strained chord that soundeth eu'r on high.
See then the cause (my son) why song doth oftē win them
That are most fierce by kinde; there are inclos'd within them
The seeds of numb'r and time: nor can their life hold-out
But by the Spirits helpe, that whirleth heau'n about.
Sweet harmony it makes the fiercest Army stay
Their deadly fewd and force; the griefe it doth allay
Of eu'ry pained soule; and with a gentle charme
Withdraweth by degrees the Foole from trickes of harme;
It bridleth hot desire, and putteth-out the flame
That makes a louers heart Idolatrize a dame;
It heales a man that's hurt with fly Phalangy's sting,
That eu'n at point of death will madly daunce and fling:
The Swan delights therein, deceiu'd thereby we finde
The shye discoullard fowle, and fearefull starting hinde.
The Dolphin loues the Leere, th'vnhiued swarme of Bees
With tinkling sound of brasse, are clustred on the trees.
O what's to Musick hard? which wont so much to merit,
Which wont so to preuaile eu'n with th'enspiring Spirit,
As bring him downe on Saul, and in Elisha wed
The Spirit rauisher vnto the rauished?
Yea when th'eternall God, to sharpest anger bent,
Smoakes, thunders, lightens, hailes, with all his pow'rs assent,
And with his heau'd-vp arme, and with his backe enfoul't,
Is ready to discharge his sorest blasting-boult;
Th'armonyons accord that hearts deuout shall weepe
His sinnowes albenombes, and brings his ang'r asleepe:
Then sweet-ey'd mercy steales (as well shee wont and can)
From vnd'r his hand the rod deseru'd by rebell man.
But now as Heb'r had thought t'haue further gon & told
The practise and the skill of all the Musicke old;
See, Canan searching-out his Iordans fatall walke,
Vnto the Pillernies and breakes-off all the talke.
Should on these folded sheets her hony-dew distill,
Still would I write of you: but with her daintie sweets
The last sist'r of the foure me calls and louely greets.
For I this Phaleg heare with sonly-meeke language
His fath'r entreat to tell the name of th'oth'r Image;
And Heb'r him answer thus: Deere sonne, this painted girle
By that her wanton foot seems still to daunce and tirle,
By glauncing of her eye, the Cornets, Guytterns, Flutes,
181
Which all-about her lye vpon the table and ground,
Appeares to be that Art which rules the voice and sound.
Which guides the gentle breath and mistresse-like appoints
How on the tuned string we trull our nimble ioynts.
The sacred harmonie, the discordant accord,
Law numbred, number law'd, which waited on the Lord,
When his creating Word spring of All-euerie
Made th'earth to stand so fast, and heau'n so fast to flie.
Sith euery Sphere (they say) hath some Intelligent,
Or Angell musicall, for Lady president,
Appointed by the Word: to th'end of those aboue
These lower things may learne the perfect cord of loue;
And that with Angell-queers a dauncing Set be seene
To reuell on his praise in temple fyrie-sheene.
Or as from bellow-loongs a breath one and the same
In skilfull wise put-out straies through the secret frame
Of curious handyworke, quits euery stop and list,
That opens when the keyes are tickt by th Organist;
And mounting here and there from out the channell scored
Into th'esparsed pipes o'th'Sommier thorow-bored,
Alliues, all in a trice, Recorders sweetly-still
And Regals eager-tun'd, and Cymballs sounding shrill:
So of Gods mouth the breath and Spirit all-aliuing
Stirres of the tuned heau'n these wheeles all louely striuing,
And as their wonted way eternally they trace,
Some of them trill the Trebl', and some bomb-out the Base.
Now all these counter-notes, so charmy-sweet, appeere
Yet not so plainly in heau'n as eu'n among vs heere.
Th'humour Melancholike, the Wint'r, and cold-dry ground,
They beare the Bases part, and soft and slowly sound.
The white phleame, th'Autom-time, the water cold and wet,
They all aleauell run, and are for Tenor set.
The Blood the prime of yere, the moist and luke-warme Aire,
Play Descant florisher, deuider, painter, strayer.
The Choller, Summer, Fire, that are so hot and dry,
Resembl' a strained chord that soundeth eu'r on high.
179
That are most fierce by kinde; there are inclos'd within them
The seeds of numb'r and time: nor can their life hold-out
But by the Spirits helpe, that whirleth heau'n about.
Sweet harmony it makes the fiercest Army stay
Their deadly fewd and force; the griefe it doth allay
Of eu'ry pained soule; and with a gentle charme
Withdraweth by degrees the Foole from trickes of harme;
It bridleth hot desire, and putteth-out the flame
That makes a louers heart Idolatrize a dame;
It heales a man that's hurt with fly Phalangy's sting,
That eu'n at point of death will madly daunce and fling:
The Swan delights therein, deceiu'd thereby we finde
The shye discoullard fowle, and fearefull starting hinde.
The Dolphin loues the Leere, th'vnhiued swarme of Bees
With tinkling sound of brasse, are clustred on the trees.
O what's to Musick hard? which wont so much to merit,
Which wont so to preuaile eu'n with th'enspiring Spirit,
As bring him downe on Saul, and in Elisha wed
The Spirit rauisher vnto the rauished?
Yea when th'eternall God, to sharpest anger bent,
Smoakes, thunders, lightens, hailes, with all his pow'rs assent,
And with his heau'd-vp arme, and with his backe enfoul't,
Is ready to discharge his sorest blasting-boult;
Th'armonyons accord that hearts deuout shall weepe
His sinnowes albenombes, and brings his ang'r asleepe:
Then sweet-ey'd mercy steales (as well shee wont and can)
From vnd'r his hand the rod deseru'd by rebell man.
But now as Heb'r had thought t'haue further gon & told
The practise and the skill of all the Musicke old;
See, Canan searching-out his Iordans fatall walke,
Vnto the Pillernies and breakes-off all the talke.
| Fovre bookes of Du Bartas | |