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 |  |
Gone art thou? art thou gone vnto the starrie blew?
Adieu my sonne Enoch, adieu my sonne, adieu.
Liue happie there on high, thy body now a sprite,
Or changed wondrously to shape of Angell bright,
Puts-on eternitie; thine eyes now no more eyes,
But newly-flaming starres, do beautifie the skies.
Thou drinkest now thy fill of Nectar wine, thy day
Of Saboth neuer ends; the vaile now draw'n away,
Thou seest God face to face, and holily vnite
Vnto the Good Three-one thou liu'st i'th infinite
An Angell new: but lo thou leauest here behind
Men of vnbounded lust, their hands rake all they find,
Their bellie like a gulfe is euer gluttonous,
Their tongue malitious, their bodie incestuous.
Yea (would a man beleeu't?) the very chosen race,
And holy peopl' of God, th'adopted sonnes of grace,
They are (alas) the men most impudent of all;
They gallop after sinne with bit in teeth, and fall
T'embrace in lustfull heat mans daughters lewd and vaine,
Profanely tempering the blood of Seth and Cain:
So with a shamelesse eye they choose the gawdy face
Before the godly mind: From these foule beds a race
Of Gyants (God knowes what) spring vp with bloodie minde,
Strong, fierce, plagues of the world, and whips of humane kind.
Then God who sees that sinne more by the long delay
Of his reuenging hand encreaseth day by day,
Is angrie and now no more will plead the reason why;
But man an all for man will sodainly destroy:
At least what ere with wing doth clip the yeelding aire,
Or haunt in mortall state the land so richly-faire.
With one hand sets he ope the windowes of the skie,
Whence on mens rebell heads there falleth from on hie
A thousand showrie seas; he gripes i'th' other hand
The soaken spongie globe of th'all defiled land,
And sets it hard in presse, and makes it cast anon
What flouds it euer dronke sen first the world began.
From euery vaulted rocke great riuers gin to flow,
And downe-hill so encrease with flouds of moulten snow,
That Firre and Cedar trees scarce any bow do show,
The water swol'n so hie, and bankes are sunke so low.
O what posteritie for want of skill to swimme,
Loose I within these gulfes, yet some full brauely climme
The craggie peakes of hills, t'escape the raging deepes,
And grapple about the rockes, but (ah) the wat'r vp creeps,
And lesning all these hills makes all the world a meere.
My children whither now? O whither can you steere
From God, but vnto God? whose anger hath shooke the world
Quite cut-off all your legs, in flood your bodies horld.
Now grows ye flood so high that th'erth is more then drownd
The riuers and the sea haue all one onely bound,
To wit, a clowdy skie, a heau'n still full of raine,
As trauelling with child of many another maine,
To make me childerlesse. O father miserable!
O too-to fruitfull reines! O children dammageable!
O gulphes reuealed for me that were before vnknown!
O end of all! O world enwrackt and ouerflow'n!
O Heau'n! O mightie sea! O land now no more land!
O flesh and blood! but here his voice began to stand;
For sorrow stopt the pipe, and ny of life bereft him:
So fall'n a swoond with griefe the Prophet Spirit left him.
Adieu my sonne Enoch, adieu my sonne, adieu.
Liue happie there on high, thy body now a sprite,
Or changed wondrously to shape of Angell bright,
Puts-on eternitie; thine eyes now no more eyes,
But newly-flaming starres, do beautifie the skies.
Thou drinkest now thy fill of Nectar wine, thy day
Of Saboth neuer ends; the vaile now draw'n away,
Thou seest God face to face, and holily vnite
Vnto the Good Three-one thou liu'st i'th infinite
An Angell new: but lo thou leauest here behind
Men of vnbounded lust, their hands rake all they find,
Their bellie like a gulfe is euer gluttonous,
Their tongue malitious, their bodie incestuous.
Yea (would a man beleeu't?) the very chosen race,
And holy peopl' of God, th'adopted sonnes of grace,
They are (alas) the men most impudent of all;
They gallop after sinne with bit in teeth, and fall
T'embrace in lustfull heat mans daughters lewd and vaine,
Profanely tempering the blood of Seth and Cain:
So with a shamelesse eye they choose the gawdy face
Before the godly mind: From these foule beds a race
Of Gyants (God knowes what) spring vp with bloodie minde,
4
Then God who sees that sinne more by the long delay
Of his reuenging hand encreaseth day by day,
Is angrie and now no more will plead the reason why;
But man an all for man will sodainly destroy:
At least what ere with wing doth clip the yeelding aire,
Or haunt in mortall state the land so richly-faire.
With one hand sets he ope the windowes of the skie,
Whence on mens rebell heads there falleth from on hie
A thousand showrie seas; he gripes i'th' other hand
The soaken spongie globe of th'all defiled land,
And sets it hard in presse, and makes it cast anon
What flouds it euer dronke sen first the world began.
From euery vaulted rocke great riuers gin to flow,
And downe-hill so encrease with flouds of moulten snow,
That Firre and Cedar trees scarce any bow do show,
The water swol'n so hie, and bankes are sunke so low.
O what posteritie for want of skill to swimme,
Loose I within these gulfes, yet some full brauely climme
The craggie peakes of hills, t'escape the raging deepes,
And grapple about the rockes, but (ah) the wat'r vp creeps,
And lesning all these hills makes all the world a meere.
My children whither now? O whither can you steere
From God, but vnto God? whose anger hath shooke the world
Quite cut-off all your legs, in flood your bodies horld.
Now grows ye flood so high that th'erth is more then drownd
The riuers and the sea haue all one onely bound,
To wit, a clowdy skie, a heau'n still full of raine,
As trauelling with child of many another maine,
To make me childerlesse. O father miserable!
O too-to fruitfull reines! O children dammageable!
O gulphes reuealed for me that were before vnknown!
O end of all! O world enwrackt and ouerflow'n!
O Heau'n! O mightie sea! O land now no more land!
O flesh and blood! but here his voice began to stand;
For sorrow stopt the pipe, and ny of life bereft him:
So fall'n a swoond with griefe the Prophet Spirit left him.
| Fovre bookes of Du Bartas | |