 | The Poems of James VI. of Scotland |  |
39
A pairt of du Bartas first day
This largeness and this breadth so long, / this highnes so profounde,
This bounded infinite, the masse / confused of all this rounde;
This Chaos lourde, I saye, which in / it selfe suche wproares wroght,
And sawe it in one moment borne / in nothing made of noght,
The brooddie bodie was wherof / the essence pure diuine,
And foure contending brethren ought / there birth to borrowe sine,
Now as to these foure elements, / these twinne sonnes ment by here,
Towitt, the subtle aire, the fire, / the earthe, and waters cleere,
Composed they are not, bot of them / is all composed and made,
That can into our senses fall, / or may be thought or saide:
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Eache part of euerie bodie mixed, / and so to worke beginne;
Or whether that on euerie part / there beings they confounde
And so of beings double twaine / one bodie doe compounde;
Euen as within the bottome deepe / of christall glasses cleene,
The wine with the Acheloian sucke / for to be mix'd is seene:
Or euen as meate which wholesome is / and subtle liquour fine
Doe mixe them selfs within ws for / to change in chilus sine.
This by experience may we see / into the stick that burnes,
Vnto the heauen his natiue house / his fire full swift returnes,
His aire it flies in wanished smocke, / his earth in cendres falls,
His water crackes into his knotts, / and as for succour calls.
Like warre dothe holde our bod' in peace, / whose earth her fleshe it bene,
Who does into her vitall spirits / her fire and aire contene,
Her water in her humours lies: / yet thou can see no part
In all our humaine bodie, where / eache one by naturall art
Hath not his mightie vertues mix'd, / allthogh we plainlie see
That ather one or other of them / the cheefe commander be.
Into the masse of seething bloode / this clayie dregg and thicke,
Is blacke melancholie which sadd / does to the bottome sticke,
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Which pure into the mids doe swimme; / the humour in the sides
It is the colde and wattrie phlegme; / this foame that light does flote
And holds the selfe aloft, it is / the burning cholere hote.
I meane not that eache element / into his hands retaines
The sceptre of one bodie aye, / his tyme about he raignes
The subiect making for to stoupe / vnto his law and will,
And als oft as his King is changed, / he changeth nature still:
Euen as without respect of wealth, / of bloode or noble race,
Eache worthie citizen commandes / a certaine tyme and space,
In citties Democratick free, / that suddainlie appeare,
Through changing of there magistrate / a changing face to beare:
For people lightlie agitate / with diuers humours strange,
Chameleon like with manners of / there rulers doe they change,
Euen so the element that in / the wine as cheefe doeth raigne,
Whiles makes it drie, whiles wacke, / whiles hoate and colde againe
By there commixtions imperfect / or perfect in it plac'd
Enforcing it to change as well / of vertue as of taste:
So as by processe of the tyme / the veriusse bitter greene,
Sweete winne becummes, then stronger wine, / sine winaigre it bene.
Now euen as when a Prince or King / does ouer ws so commande,
As vnderneath the yoake of law / he gars his greatnes stande;
He rules without suspicion, and / the common wealth enioyes
Most happilie a quiet state / without tyrannique toyes:
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With his good subiects saickles bloode, / and if his sworde doe flie
To bloodie sharpe the scabert still, / his rage it will not spare
In end to turne his ciuill land / in deserts wilde and bare.
The like falls out when as one of / the elements empires,
Ouer his three fellowes modestlie, / and not there wracke requires;
And when as a proportion / affeirand ioynes we see
The subiect humours with the cheefe, / though they vnequall be:
The bod' in being then abides / and als it doth retaine,
The speciall draughts of all his forme / which outwardlie remaine.
Bot if that like vnto that King / who barb'rous did desire
That all the citizens of his / most mightie great empire,
Boore bot one craige that by that meanes / (ô crueltie) he might;
By one greate blowe bereaue the liues / of all the Romans quitt.
| The Poems of James VI. of Scotland | |