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 |  |
Diuine Verse, if with ease thou flow not as to fore
Frō out my weary quil, but make me toyle the more:
The sacred crown of Bay, that wont my fore-head shade,
If now decheueled, it wither, dwindle, fade:
So that my Muse be falne into these earthly hels
From that twypointed Mount where thine Vranie dwels,
Accuse the deadly fewds of this vnthankfull Age,
My many suits in Law, mine often gardianage,
My houshold care, my griefe at late and sundry losses,
And bodies crasie state: these and such other crosses,
They downward force my thoughts aspiring heretofore,
And damp my Muses wings that erst so high did soare.
This haile beats downe my corne, these bushes & these weeds
Before my haruest comes choak-vp those heau'nly seeds
That in my soule shot-out. O rid me of all these lets,
My God and Father deere! kindle in me th'emberets
Of Faith so nie put out: and, least mans wit deceiue me,
Be pleas'd, ô Lord, and ô let not thy spirit leaue me!
Paint, varnish, guild my Verse, now better then before,
And grant I be not like the winde that in a rore
Sends all his hurring force vpon the first he meets
And proudest hils of all, rooting trees, scouring streets;
That driuing o're the plaine, makes with his angry blast
The stones to bound-againe and firie sparkles cast;
But fainteth more and more, as though his winged sway
Did scatter here and there her feathers by the way.
O rather make me like the streame that drop by drop
At first beginning fals from some rocks barren top;
But farther from the Spring and nar to Thetis flowing,
Encreaseth in his waues and gets more strength by going;
And then enbyllowed-high doth in his pride disdaine
With fome and roaring din all hugenesse of the Maine.
It came to passe at length, as our fore-sire foretold
And hausned long before, that angry heau'n enrould
And toomb'd the world in flood, t'auenge (as well it can)
The many plighted sinne of stubborne harted man.
Ne'r had the birds againe in coueys checky-pide
The windy-whirled ayre with hardy flight defide;
Nor beast nor man had beene: but on the land in vaine
Had sprung all kinde of fruit, of tree, of hearbe, of graine:
Had not the godly sonne of Lamech learn'd the skill,
And tooke the paine to build, that Arche huge as an hill,
Which of all breathing kinds safe from so great deluge
Aspaire of breeders held in sakersaint refuge.
When all were once i'th' Arche, Th'almighty bindeth fast
In Eols closest caue the cleering Northen blast,
And lets the South goe loose; he flyes with my slie wing:
From each bristle of his berd there trickleth downe a spring:
A cloggy night of myst embowdleth round his braine,
His haire all bushy-shagd is turned into raine.
Frō out my weary quil, but make me toyle the more:
The sacred crown of Bay, that wont my fore-head shade,
If now decheueled, it wither, dwindle, fade:
So that my Muse be falne into these earthly hels
From that twypointed Mount where thine Vranie dwels,
Accuse the deadly fewds of this vnthankfull Age,
My many suits in Law, mine often gardianage,
My houshold care, my griefe at late and sundry losses,
And bodies crasie state: these and such other crosses,
They downward force my thoughts aspiring heretofore,
And damp my Muses wings that erst so high did soare.
This haile beats downe my corne, these bushes & these weeds
Before my haruest comes choak-vp those heau'nly seeds
That in my soule shot-out. O rid me of all these lets,
My God and Father deere! kindle in me th'emberets
Of Faith so nie put out: and, least mans wit deceiue me,
Be pleas'd, ô Lord, and ô let not thy spirit leaue me!
Paint, varnish, guild my Verse, now better then before,
And grant I be not like the winde that in a rore
Sends all his hurring force vpon the first he meets
And proudest hils of all, rooting trees, scouring streets;
That driuing o're the plaine, makes with his angry blast
10
But fainteth more and more, as though his winged sway
Did scatter here and there her feathers by the way.
O rather make me like the streame that drop by drop
At first beginning fals from some rocks barren top;
But farther from the Spring and nar to Thetis flowing,
Encreaseth in his waues and gets more strength by going;
And then enbyllowed-high doth in his pride disdaine
With fome and roaring din all hugenesse of the Maine.
It came to passe at length, as our fore-sire foretold
And hausned long before, that angry heau'n enrould
And toomb'd the world in flood, t'auenge (as well it can)
The many plighted sinne of stubborne harted man.
Ne'r had the birds againe in coueys checky-pide
The windy-whirled ayre with hardy flight defide;
Nor beast nor man had beene: but on the land in vaine
Had sprung all kinde of fruit, of tree, of hearbe, of graine:
Had not the godly sonne of Lamech learn'd the skill,
And tooke the paine to build, that Arche huge as an hill,
Which of all breathing kinds safe from so great deluge
Aspaire of breeders held in sakersaint refuge.
When all were once i'th' Arche, Th'almighty bindeth fast
In Eols closest caue the cleering Northen blast,
And lets the South goe loose; he flyes with my slie wing:
From each bristle of his berd there trickleth downe a spring:
A cloggy night of myst embowdleth round his braine,
His haire all bushy-shagd is turned into raine.
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