University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The works of Sr William Davenant

... Consisting of Those which were formerly Printed, and Those which he design'd for the Press: Now published Out of the Authors Originall Copies
  

collapse section 
  
  
collapse section 
collapse section1. 
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
collapse section2. 
 1. 
Canto the First.
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
 7. 
 8. 
collapse section3. 
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 6. 
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
 1. 
 2. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
  
 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
collapse section 
  
  
  
collapse section 
 1. 
 2. 
 3-4. 
 5. 
 6. 
 7. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

Canto the First.

The ARGUMENT.

Verona by the Poet's Pencil drawn;
Where Hurgonil did meet the early dawn:
Her wealth shown by each Dwellers early'r care;
Which sown by others peace, she reap'd by warr.
The slain, whose life her safety was and pride,
Are now in death their Fun'ral Rites deny'd.

1

Neer to his Evening Region was the Sun,
When Hurgonil with his lamented Load,
And faithful Tybalt their sad march begun
To Fair Verona, where the Court aboad.

2

They slowly rode till Night's dominion ceast;
When Infant Morn (her scarce wak'd beames display'd)
With a scant face peep'd shylie through the East,
And seem'd as yet of the black world afraid.

3

But by increase of swift expansive light,
The lost Horizon was apparent grown,
And many Tow'rs salute at once their sight;
The distant glories of a Royal Town.

4

Verona, sprung from noble Vera's name;
Whom careless Time (still scatt'ring old Records
Where they are loosly gather'd up by Fame)
Proclaimes the chief of ancient Tuscan Lords.

5

Verona borders on that fatal Plaine,
VVhose barren thirst was quench'd with valiant blood,
When the rough Cymbrians by fierce Marius slain,
Left Hills of Bodies where their Ensignes stood.

6

So safely proud this Town did now appear;
As if it but immortal Dwellers lack'd;
As if Theodorick had ne'r been there,
Nor Attila her wealth and beauty sack'd.

79

7

Here Hurgonill might follow with his Eye
(As with deep streame it through the City pass't)
The fruitfull and the frighted Adice,
Which thence from Noise and Nets to sea does haste.

8

And on her peopled Bank they might behold
The Toyles of conquest paid with workes of pride;
The Pallace of King Agilulf the old,
Or Monument, for ere 'twas built he dy'd.

9

To it that Temple joynes, whose lofty Head
The prospect of a swelling Hill commands;
In whose coole wombe the City springs are bred:
On Dorique Pillers this tall Temple stands.

10

This to sooth Heav'n the bloody Clephes built;
As if Heav'ns King so soft and easie were,
So meanly hous'd in Heav'n, and kind to guilt,
That he would be a Tyrants Tenant here.

11

And now they might arrest their wandring sight
With that which makes all other Objects lost;
Makes Lombard greatness flat to Roman height,
And Modern Builders blush, that else would boast;

12

An Amphytheater which was controll'd
Unheeded conquests of advancing Age,
Windes which have made the trembling World look old,
And the fierce Tempests of the Gothick rage.

13

This great Flaminius did in youth erect,
Where Cities sat to see whole Armies play
Death's serious part: but this we may neglect
To mark the bus'ness which begins with day.

14

As Day new op'ning fills the Hemisphear,
And all at once; so quickly ev'ry street
Does by an instant op'ning full appear,
When from their Dwellings busy Dwellers meet.

15

From wider Gates Oppressors sally there;
Here creeps th' afflicted through a narrow Dore;
Groans under wrongs he has not strength to bear,
Yet seeks for wealth to injure others more.

16

And here the early Lawyer mends his pace;
For whom the earlier Cliant waited long;
Here greedy Creditors their Debtors chace,
Who scape by herding in th' indebted Throng.

17

Th' advent'rous Merchant whom a Storm did wake,
(His Ships on Adriatick Billowes tost)
Does hope of Eastern windes from Steeples take,
And hastens there a Currier to the Coast.

80

18

Here through a secret Posterne issues out
The skar'd Adult'rer, who out-slept his time;
Day, and the Husbands Spie alike does doubt,
And with a half hid face would hide his crime.

19

There from sick mirth neglected Feasters reel,
Who cares of want in Wine's false Lethe steep.
There anxious empty Gamsters homeward steal,
And fear to wake, ere they begin to sleep.

20

Here stooping Lab'rers slowly moving are;
Beasts to the Rich, whose strength grows rude with ease;
And would usurp, did not their Rulers care,
With toile and tax their furious strength appease.

21

There th' Aged walk, whose needless carefulness
Infects them past the Mindes best Med'cin, sleep;
There some to Temples early vows address,
And for th' ore busie world most wisely weep.

22

To this vast Inn, where Tydes of strangers flow,
The Morn and Hurgonil together came;
The Morn, whose Dewy wings appear'd but slow,
When Men the motion mark'd of swifter Fame.

23

For Fame (whose journeys are through wayes unknown,
Traceless and swift and changing as the Winde)
The Morne and Hurgonil had much out-gone,
Whilst Truth mov'd patiently within behinde.

24

For some the Combat (to a Battel grown)
Did apprehend in such prodigious shape,
As if their living to the Dead were gone,
And only Fame did by her Wings escape.

25

Some said this hunting falsely was design'd,
That by pretence both Factions might prepare
Their Armies to contest for Rhodalind;
The Crown's chief Jewel, and Reward of Warre,

26

And some report (so farr they range from Truth
Who for intelligence must follow Fame)
That then from Bergamo th'incamped Youth,
With Gondibert, to this dire hunting came.

27

And some, that Oswald had inlarg'd his Traine
With the old Troopes by his bold Father led;
And that of these the nobler half were slain;
The rest were to their Camp at Brescia fled.

28

And as dire Thunder rowling o're Heaven's vault,
By murmur threatens, ere it kills alloud;
So was this fatall newes in whisper brought,
Which menac'd ere it struck the list'ning Croud.

81

29

But Rumor soon to high extreames does move;
For first it Oswald nam'd with dreadful voice,
Then said that Death had widowd Truth and Love,
By making Gondibert the second choice.

30

And to all hearts so dear was Gondibert,
So much did Pity, Oswald's Valor prise,
That strait their early bus'ness they desert,
And fix on wounded Hurgonil their Eyes.

31

Him when by perfect day they sadly knew,
Through hidden wounds, whose blood his beauty stain'd,
Even from the Temples, Angels soon withdrew;
So sawcely th' afflicted there complain'd.

32

The People strait united clamor gave,
Shriek'd loud like Sea-men split on a strange Coast;
As if those Pow'rs were deaf who should them save,
And Pray'rs no louder then the windes were lost.

33

Now, with impatience urg'd, he does declare
Whom he so mournfully in Fun'ral brought;
The publick losses of a private Warr,
Who living, love, and dying, valor taught.

34

For he does Hugo and Arnoldo name;
To these (said he) Verona Cradles gave,
And since in forraign Fields they rais'd her Fame,
They challenge here, though much too soon, a Grave:

35

Bring sprinklings, Lamps, and th' Altar's precious breath;
All Rites which Priests have prudently devis'd;
Who gratefully a rev'rence teach to death;
Because they most by dying men are pris'd.

36

But though our loss we justly may complain;
Though even by Priests Authority we grieve;
Yet Heav'n's first bounty, Life, let none disdain,
Since Gondibert, our chief Delight, does live.

37

This heard, as Sea-men near a Shore unknown,
Who their North Guide lose in a Stormy night,
His absence with distracted silence moan,
And loudly wellcome his return to sight:

38

So when their great Conductor seem'd to be
Retir'd to endless shades amongst the slain,
With silent grief they seem'd as dead as he,
But with new life wellcom'd his life again.

39

And now that cold remainder Valor left
Of these whom Love had lost, and Fate forsook;
The Two that were of all but Fame bereft,
From Hurgonil the weeping People took.

82

40

Whilst of them both sad Hurgonil takes leave,
Till th' universal meeting Faith provides
The Day when all shall publickly receive
Those Bodies, Death does not destroy, but Hides.

41

Then to his Palace he retires by stealth;
His wounds from his lov'd Mistris to conceal;
On whose dear joys so much depends his health,
The wounds her Tears should touch would never heal.

42

To the chief Temple strait the People bear
The valiant Rivals, who for love were slain;
Whom all the peacefull Priests behold with fear,
And griev'd such Guests they durst not entertain.

43

For soon the Prior of their Brotherhood
(Who long serv'd Heav'n with praise, the world with prayer)
Cry'd out, this holy House is shut to blood,
To all that die in combat or dispair.

44

These by their bloody marks in Combat di'd;
Through anger, the disease of Beasts untam'd;
Whose wrath is hunger, but in Men 'tis pride,
Yet theirs is cruelty, ours courage nam'd.

45

Here the neglected Lord of peace does live;
Who taught the wrangling world the rules of love;
Should we his dwelling to the wrathfull give,
Our Sainted Dead would rise, and he remove.

46

Well by his precepts may we punish strife;
Whose pity knew that Famine, Plague, and Time,
Are Enemies enough to humane life;
None need o'er-charge Death's Quiver with a crime.

47

To unfrequented Fields bear then your slain;
Where neither Dirge nor Requiem shall be giv'n;
To those who by usurp'd Revenge disdain
To take from Men, neglects they put on Heav'n.

48

But now the People's passions run too farr;
Their untaught love, artless extremes does wed;
Of times they like the past, and since they are
Opprest still by the living, love the Dead:

49

And now resolve these Rivals shall not lose
The Rites of Sprinkling, Incense, Lights, and Song:
Then, as the voice of all their Minds, they chuse
An Orator, of rude, but ready Tongue:

50

Who at the Temple Gate thus pleads aloud!
VVe know, though Priests are Pensioners of Heav'n,
Your Flock which yields best rent, is this dull Croud;
The learn'd examine why their Fleece is giv'n.

83

51

Though by the Rich first shorn, to you they bear
A second tribute, and by zeal support
Temples, which Kings for glory raise, and where
The Rich for fame, the Learn'd as Spies resort.

52

Temples are yours, not God's lov'd Palaces;
Where Off'rings make not his, but your own Feasts;
Where you most wisely live, because at ease,
And entertain your Founders as your Guests:

53

With ease you take, what we provide with care;
And we (who your Legation must maintain)
Find all your Tribe in the Commission are;
And none but Heav'n could send so large a Train.

54

But being all Ambassadors from thence,
The growing charge will soon exceed our rent,
Unless you please to treat at his expence
VVho sent you; not at ours, where you are sent.

55

The ancient Laws liv'd in the Peoples voice;
Rites you from Custom, not from Canon draw;
They are but fashions of a graver choice,
VVhich yield to Laws, and now our voice is Law.

56

This Tybalt heard with sorrow and disdain,
(VVho here with Hurgonil a Mourner came)
And strait the peaceful Fathers strives to gain,
And thus the Peoples Orator reclaim.

57

Most usefull Fathers! some trace secret things
Even to his Closet, who is hid in Heav'n;
Vainly as Nilus to his hidden springs,
And not enjoy, but censure what is given.

58

You with such temper their intemp'rance bear,
To shew your solid science does rely
So on it self, as you no trial feare;
For Arts are weak that are of Scepticks shy.

59

Though in your Office humane safety lies,
Which op'ns that Hell the vicious vulgar feare,
Yet never can the People Priesthood prise;
As if from Heav'n your daily errands were.

60

Not that your message, Truth, they disesteem,
Or think it comes from any other way,
But that they Taxes hate, and Truth does seem
Brought as a Tax, when they the Bringers pay.

61

Thus we to Beasts fall from our noble kinde,
Making our Pastur'd Bodies all our care;
Allowing no subsistence to the Minde;
For Truth we grudg her as a costly fare.

84

62

But if they fear (since daily you renew
Disputes) your Oracles are doubtfull still
As those of old; yet more reward is due
To paines, where so uneasie is the skill.

63

Or if no skill they think it, but suppose
'Tis Faith (and Faith ne'r thinks Heav'n's height too high)
Yet Faiths so sev'ral be, that few are those
Can chuse right wings when they to Heav'n would fly.

64

Or if they think, Faith humane help transcends,
And to your science is so strict a bound
As Death to Valor is where daring ends;
And none are farthest in that Progress found;

65

Yet in our walk to our last home design'd,
'Tis safe by all the study'd Guides to goe;
Least we in death, too late, the knowledge find
Of what in life 'twas possible to know.

66

Your splendid Pomp, by which your Pow'r indures
Though costly, costs much less then Camps or Laws;
And more then both, Religion us secures;
Since Hell (your Prison) more then dying awes.

67

For though the plain Judge, Conscience, makes no showe,
But silently to her dark Session comes,
Not as red Law does to arraignment goe,
Or Warr to Execution with loud Drums;

68

Though she on Hills sets not her Gibbets high,
Where frightful Law sets hers; nor bloody seems
Like Warr in Colours spread, yet secretly
She does her work, and many Men condemns.

69

Chokes in the seed, what Law till ripe ne'r sees;
What Law would punish, Conscience can prevent;
And so the world from many Mischiefs frees;
Known by her Cures, as Law by punishment.

70

The weaker sighted ever look too nigh;
But their disputes have made your Charter good;
As doubted Tenures, which long pleadings trie,
Authentick grow by being much withstood.

71

These Chiefs, for whom we holy Rites desire,
By well fought Fields begot this Citties peace;
Oft with their blood have quench'd intestine fire;
And oft our Famines chang'd into excess.

72

Their Rites let not the people be deny'd,
Though by untutor'd kindness rudely sought;
Nor think they have in private Combate dyde,
Where Gondibert and mighty Oswald fought;

85

73

Both Princes of the Lombards royal blood;
For whom full Thrice Three Hunder'd number'd are,
Whose anger strove to make their anger good:
Number gives strife th' authentick name of War.

74

This said, Warrs cause these Priests no more debate;
They knew, Warr's Justice none could ere decide;
At that more specious name they open strait,
And sacred Rites of fun'ral they provide.

75

How vain is Custom, and how guilty Pow'r?
Slaughter is lawful made by the excess;
Earth's partial Laws, just Heav'n must needs abhor,
Which greater crimes allow, and damn the less.