University of Virginia Library

An Ecloge Spoken by Amintas and Strephon.

AMINTAS.
And why, my Strephon, are thy Thoughts soe wed
To the dull Country? whose free Lustie-hed
Might challenge higher place to raise thy Name;
Leave it, for shame; and wanton on the Thame.

STREPHON.
'Tis well, Amintas; wherein were I more
Or good, or happie, then I was before?
I doe admire your Thames; but let my mind
And bodie to the Countrie be confin'd.
Here safelie can I sitt vnder a Hill,
Tending my flocke, and take my Pipe, at will;
My Pipe, which pleases me, and gives to none
Matter of grudge or Emulation.

AMINTAS.
Alas! that matters not; what thing can be
(If it deserve soe much) from Envie free?
Envie (Selfe-poison) hurts the brest from whence
It doth proceed; Wee gaine fresh Courage thence.
What best, but Envy strikes it? Envy brings
Her Bodie,—Toade; but Eagle, Eye and Wings;
Aymes at the highest, fixeth on the Sun:
Give me a Verse, for Emulation.

STREPHON.
'Tis true; but yet it better pleaseth Mee
To sing in Shades, from Spight and Envy free;
Not that I feare the Monster; I despise
Her Spurious Bratts, Slander and Calumnies;
But (my Amintas) I desire to rest
Private at Home, in a poor Qviet blest.

AMINTAS.
Ah, doe not say soe; thou art then ingrate
Not more to Nature then thou art to fate.
Why should not what Heaven gives (a gift devine;
And given to vse) in a full glorie shine?
See to the City once againe, and trye
(If a meere doltishnes not bleare thy Eye,)
What odds!—Oh, heaven! let me be patient,
In all things but this Madnes—if Content
Be in abundant Pleasures; if the Springe
Want Sweet in Yours, to what our Autumnes bring;
If to All this, and All wee can Adde more,
(If there may be Addition to that Store
Which Nature, prodigall, hath here layed out,)
You put your Iudgment; let me never doubt,
You can forsake the Citye to Converse
With Earth and Iuments.—

STREPHON.
—Be not yet too feirce,
My deare Amintas; though I doe admire
To what you say, the Cittie, perhaps higher
Then you have meant to; yet, I must be free
To my owne private; for, felicitie
Wee bound to our Conceptions; this you call
Pleasure or Happines; which I doe fall
To see our owne securitie; I more
Value my want then what you 'count your Store;
For I am rich, not you; though Gemms or Coyne
I doe not boast; I need 'em not; all mine
A narrow Roome contains—

AMINTAS.
—Narrow, indeed;
I almost blush to feare my freind should reade
Some punie Stoicism's; dear Strephon, give
Thy nobler Nature wing to flye; and Live
To that Intention. Wee converse with Men,
Which setts new Edge on witt; the richest Pen
Of fancie here finds Inke; the glorious Names
Of Ionson, Beaumont, Fletcher, live with Thames,
And shall outlive his waters. Had they crept
In mudled remote Streams, their worth had slept;
And those great Fancies which all men Admire
Had flowen, but in the Smoake of their owne fire.
'Tis Fame gives Life; Iudgment gives Life to Fame;
Iudgment moves here; then be noe longer Shame
Vnto thy Genius; wast noe more thy witt
With Hinds, whose palats cannot relish it.

STREPHON.
Had I what you are pleas'd to say; could I
Flatter my Selfe into a facultie
I love but have not; could I truelie boast
A flame attendant to those names I most
Admire; I should not seeke beyond the Sphere,
I move in now. Are there noe Iudges here?
'Tis true, wee doe not stretch Hyperbolees
To Crowne our Names, but give a modest praise.
Modest is Iust; and if noe praise it gaine,
Wee rest contented well, to Entertaine
Our Selves with our owne Thoughts. Who writes to please
Or get a Name, flyes lowe; yet some of these,
Wee see how forc'd, are thrust vpon the Stage
Of your great Theatre, where witts engage.
Write what I will or where, 'tis but my owne,
Perhaps my Shame, not worthy to be knowne;
If more it merit, Fame and Time are Iust;
Soe some are dead, Alive; Some Live in Dust.
Must only names live with the nobler Streames?
Are wee All tyed to the ingrossing Thames?
Swans Sing in shallow waters. Avon, Trent,
And Medway have bene heard. One Eminent
To cope with its devourer, and, perchance,
Poor Devia, fameles now, may yet Advance
Something to memorie, and create some new
Glorie vnto her Current; knowne by fewe.
Soe to his native Mincius, Maro vowed
His Qvill, though by Imperiall Tiber wooed.

AMINTAS.
Too much to blame; yet rather I'le perswade,
Then chide from Error. Reason may invade
Where Passion moves not. Doe you thinke the low
Water which slides into the more fam'd Po,
Or Po it Selfe, had bene enough to reare
That verse which pleas'd the greatest Cæsar's Eare?
That verse which Tiber claimes, more glorious
Then Po, constellated Eridanus.
Verses are Insects, which the common Sun
Makes craule or flutter; but to move and run
On steddie feet, needs a particular
Influence: for such, our severall Poems are;
Like nobler Creatures, from the Imperiall Eye
Witt takes a growth, and getts full wings to flye;
Whilst grosser heads bring forth their dunghill brood,
Vnform'd, to dye againe, in Earth and mud.
I wonder, Strephon, you, (who have a Mind
Able to manage all you have design'd;
Who know Great Things, and may arrive at more
Then narrow Soules can fathome:) thus should Soare.
With Kites and lazie Puttocks; when wee know
You have a wing of Strength, might toure into
The purest Region fancie breaths, and Scorne
These Shamble-seeking birds. Wee can but mourne,
Perswade, and pittye you. A man may speake
Stronge Reason to himselfe, which seemes but weake
Where it should worke; and sometimes it may fall,
Where wee intend not wee move most of All.
If what I spoke have moved! if, what I meant
(For freinds, may often see a freind's intent,)
Were Love and Zeale, (to have my Strephon live
Worthy himselfe, and his Endeavours give
A Sacrifise to Honour, or his Name
Stand to all Time, in an vnblemisht Fame,)
Hee will not blame Mee; let me read Consent
To my perswasion, and thy owne Content.

STREPHON.
Doe you ioyne these as one? which I can never,
But like the Poles, at vtmost distance Sever.
If you perswade to see the Court, the Towne;
Feast me with nothing, garnisht with my owne
Content; you say A word, and perhaps All
Your Selfe has found yet. Oh! why should I fall
From the bright Region where I move and Live,
To any lower flight? Court-glasses give
False Light, and take the foolish bird (that dares
At painted Shadowes,) often vnawares.
The nobler Larke flyes high, himselfe to veiwe
In the Celestiall Mirror, where all true
Reflections are. Amintas, 'twere as good
From fier, heat to sever, Life from blood,
As ioy to mee, from what my selfe propose;
A private Countrie Life. I blame not those
Who (more Ambitious) Citties doe frequent;
Bee it their Ioy; it were my punishment.
I rather here with Silvia chuse to sitt,
And Sing of harmles Love and Sober witt;
Of Innocence, of Truth, of Peace, or what
Calme fancie moves; then chatter to the rate
Of my Lord's bountie; wildlie ramping downe
Hideous Chimara's, to affright the moone.
Did not, of old, Great Orpheus and the rest
Of Citie-builders love the Countrie best?
Soe through all Times; what is't they All admire?
A mind and bodie sound, in safe retire.
'Tis true, there is noe ioy but to the Mind;
You, yours in Citties; I, mine here doe find.

AMINTAS.
You are too bent, and I but pitty can
The Losse of such a Mind, of such a Man;
When happie Names shall fill the mouth of fame,
Noe breath shall move to thee; but in thy name
Dye, like a thing vnborne; thy verse may creepe
To Chimneyes, or watch-women till they sleepe;
Or please, when drinkings' done, the Countrie Squire;
Who least can Iudge, though happilie Admire.
This be thy fate, though farre below thy verse,
Meriting better Author, better Ears.
I could be Angry, but our freindship shall
Not breake vpon the Circumstantiall
Ayre of opinion. Cast yet backe an Eye
Vnto the Cities full varietie;
I pitty thy retire, and doubly greive,
That thou wilt here, and I must from thee Live.
I cannot move, fetteréd in the Eye
Of bright Vrbanae's powerfull Maiestie.
Vrbana, She whose glories may envite
Monarchs to wooe, and everie muse to write.

STREPHON.
Such Splendor might Astonish my weake Sence;
My Silvia pleases me; her Innocence
Is all her praise. Alas! She singlie sitts
Vpon some humble Hillocke, and there fitts
Grasse to her Strephon's browes; and, to make fine,
Puts in a Dasie or an Eglantine;
A Sprig of Mirtle, or, perhaps, a Rose,
On festivalls; for wee observe still those:
Though daies with you are Equall. These, though poore,
Are high enough for him who seeks noe more.
My deare Amintas, doe not thinke the bright
Zenith of London carries onlye Light.
Let Yorkshire have some ray from the great flame,
Which warmes you there. What doe wee want to name,
That you abound with, needfull? Perhaps more
And better wee might bring, accounted poore.

AMINTAS.
Noe longer, Strephon: I have heard too much,
And blame thee, partiall, to Compare or touch
Our Southerne Ayre with Yorkshire clouds. What heat,
But moves from vs to you? How weather-beat
Your meadowes are! Your feilds halfe bare appeare;
Your fruit-trees scarcelie bloome, when ours ripe here;
Noe winter chills our Earth, when you lye bound
Vnder the frozen Circle, or else drown'd
In Swelling waters; such as might perswade
A Second Deluge, 'gainst the promise made.

STREPHON.
Well, 'tis enough; yet looke vpon our feilds,
As faire as yours; indeed our Season yeilds
To you somewhat in Time; our loadned trees
Beare equall Burthens; but noe more of these;
These, the full hand of Providence has spred
Largelie to all the Ile. Yet, if I did
Waver in Choice, and tooke the whole Survay
Of North and South, noe Countrie everie way
More pleases me; and I am glad you fall
To allow the Countrie pleasant is at all.
Amintas, 'tis; (if humane nature can
Arrive at what may make a happie man)
The Summe of All; to enioy, without feare,
What heaven layes out to blesse vs every yeare;
In such abundance, such varietie,
That were wee Blind to it, the Motts would see
To praise the giver; were wee mute, the Stones
Would sing to him; and All the Hills at once
Leape like yonge Kidds. What need wee witt or Skill,
When these informe our brains, and leade our Qvill,
Beyond all Conversation? Men and Bookes
But trouble Him who at the Creature lookes.

AMINTAS.
'Tis a new doctrine, and perhaps may sound
Well to your Selfe; but shall wee then be bound
To frustrate Providence? Who made man fitt,
Communicative; not like owles, to sitt
And pore out day-light, in a silent Muse;
They see the Creature, and their organs vse
To praise this maker; and they know the end
Of Nature, in themselves; and may extend
Further then our Philosophie allowes,
In Contemplation; for, Alas! who knowes?
The Age is full of new; and to contend,
In this, what boot, when Strephon is my freind?
And being fix'd, I will not now dehort
Thy setled Mind; but must be sorrie for't.
Mayest thou enioy thy Thoughts; secure and free,
Silvia; and if noe trouble, thinke of mee.
Soe freinds may Live together, whilest I beare
Thy memorie, and Muses equall Deare.

STREPHON.
Dearest Amintas, be thou happie in
Vrbanae's Love, whilst Silvia is mine;
And when Vrbana shines in all her State,
Prize not my Silvia at an vnder-rate
Oh doe not thinke but She may be as faire,
In nature's bounties, with vnborrowed haire;
As wise, as happie, in an innocent Heart,
As thine with all the Complements of Art.
Wee, in our Selves, are Happie; Fate shall be
Emulous of our Ioy; and when you see,
From the scorch't South, our pleasures; then yow'l say
Noe Life to this, noe Paire soe blest as They.

AMINTAS.
May it be soe; whilest in Vrbanae's Lap
I sing of thee; and let no hower escape
To gratulate thy Ioye; which to my owne
I shall prefer. Farewell: let me be knowne
Worthy thy Verse; and sometimes daigne a Line
To thy Amintas: Farewell.—

STREPHON.
What of mine
Is worthy to record a Freind soe Deare?
Soe much himselfe, yet to his Freind soe neare.
Wee will not be devided; once again,
Let me hope, oft weele meet; and entertaine
Our Selves with what wee fancy, to the full
Of all our Thought. Farewell: if I be dull
'Tis to leave thee. To thy Vrbana goe,
Whilst I, with Silvia, my Time bestow.
Maiest thou be happie ever; may what all
Good wishes tend to, in thy bosome fall:
At thy loved London, may thy Ashes lye;
In Yorkeshire may I Live, in Yorkshire Dye.