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THE PURPLE ISLAND, OR THE ISLE OF MAN.
CANT. I.
1
The warmer Sun the golden Bull outran,And with the Twins made haste to inne and play:
Scatt'ring ten thousand flowres, he new began
To paint the world, and piece the length'ning day:
(The world more aged by new youths accrewing)
Ah wretched man this wretched world pursuing,
Which still grows worse by age, & older by renewing!
2
The shepherd-boyes, who with the Muses dwell,Met in the plain their May-lords new to chuse,
(For two they yearely chuse) to order well
Their rurall sports, and yeare that next ensues:
Now were they sat, where by the orchyard walls
The learned Chame with stealing water crawls,
And lowly down before that royall temple falls.
3
Among the rout they take two gentle swains,Whose sprouting youth did now but greenly bud:
Well could they pipe and sing; but yet their strains
Were onely known unto the silent wood:
Their nearest bloud from self-same fountains flow,
Their souls self-same in nearer love did grow:
So seem'd two joyn'd in one, or one disjoyn'd in two.
4
Now when the shepherd-lads with common voiceTheir first consent had firmly ratifi'd,
A gentle boy thus 'gan to wave their choice;
Thirsil, (said he) though yet thy Muse untri'd
Hath onely learn'd in private shades to feigne
Soft sighs of love unto a looser strain,
Or thy poore Thelgons wrong in mournfull verse to plain;
5
Yet since the shepherd-swains do all consentTo make thee lord of them, and of their art;
And that choice lad (to give a full content)
Hath joyn'd with thee in office, as in heart;
Wake, wake thy long- (thy too long) sleeping Muse,
And thank them with a song, as is the use:
Such honour thus conferr'd thou mayst not well refuse.
6
Sing what thou list, be it of Cupids spite,(Ah lovely spite, and spitefull lovelinesse!)
Or Gemma's grief, if sadder be thy sprite:
Begin, thou loved swain, with good successe.
Ah, (said the bashfull boy) such wanton toyes
A better minde and sacred vow destroyes,
Since in a higher love I setled all my joyes.
7
New light new love, new love new life hath bred;A life that lives by love, and loves by light:
A love to him, to whom all loves are wed;
A light, to whom the Sunne is darkest night:
Eyes light, hearts love, souls onely life he is:
Life, soul, love, heart, light, eye, and all are his:
He eye, light, heart, love, soul; he all my joy, & blisse.
8
But if you deigne my ruder pipe to heare,(Rude pipe, unus'd, untun'd, unworthy hearing)
These infantine beginnings gently bear,
Whose best desert and hope must be your bearing.
(Your daintie songs unto his murmures fitting,
Which bears the under-song unto your chearfull dittying;)
9
Tell me, ye Muses, what our father-agesHave left succeeding times to play upon:
What now remains unthought on by those Sages,
Where a new Muse may trie her pineon?
What lightning Heroes, like great Peleus heir,
(Darting his beams through our hard-frozen aire)
May stirre up gentle heat, and vertues wane repair?
10
Who knows not Jason? or bold Tiphys hand,That durst unite what Natures self would part?
He makes Isles continent, and all one land;
O're seas, as earth, he march'd with dangerous art:
He rides the white-mouth'd waves, and scorneth all
Those thousand deaths wide gaping for his fall:
He death defies, fenc't with a thin, low, wooden wall.
11
Who ha's not often read Troyes twice-sung fires,And at the second time twice better sung?
Who ha's not heard th' Arcadian shepherds quires,
Which now have gladly chang'd their native tongue;
And sitting by slow Mincius, sport their fill,
With sweeter voice and never-equall'd skill,
Chaunting their amorous layes unto a Romane quill?
12
And thou, choice wit, Loves scholar, and Loves master,Art known to all, where Love himself is known:
Whether thou bidd'st Ulysses hie him faster,
Or dost thy fault and distant exile moan.
Who ha's not seen upon the mourning stage
Dire Atreus feast, and wrong'd Medea's rage,
Marching in tragick state, and buskin'd equipage?
13
And now of late th' Italian fisher-swainSits on the shore to watch his trembling line;
There teaches rocks and prouder seas to plain
By Nesis fair, and fairer Mergiline:
While his thinne net, upon his oars twin'd,
With wanton strife catches the Sunne, and winde,
Which still do slip away, and still remain behinde.
14
And that French Muses eagle eye and wingHath soar'd to heav'n, and there hath learn'd the art
To frame Angelick strains, and canzons sing
Too high and deep for every shallow heart.
Ah blessed soul! in those celestiall rayes,
Which gave thee light these lower works to blaze,
Thou sitt'st emparadis'd, and chaunt'st eternall layes.
15
Thrice happy wits, which in your springing May(Warm'd with the Sunne of well deserved favours)
Disclose your buds, and your fair blooms display,
Perfume the aire with your rich fragrant savours!
Nor may, nor ever shall those honour'd flowers
Be spoil'd by summers heat, or winters showers;
But last when eating time shal gnaw the proudest towers.
16
Happy, thrice happy times in silver age!When generous plants advanc't their lofty crest;
When honour stoopt to be learn'd wisdomes page;
When baser weeds starv'd in their frozen nest;
When th' highest flying Muse still highest climbes;
And vertues rise keeps down all rising crimes.
Happy, thrice happy age! happy, thrice happy times!
17
But wretched we, to whom these iron daies(Hard daies) afford nor matter, nor reward!
Sings Maro? men deride high Maro's layes;
Their hearts with lead, with steel their sense is barr'd:
Our Midas eares their well tun'd verse refuses.
What cares an asse for arts? he brayes at sacred Muses.
18
But if fond Bavius vent his clowted song,Or Mævius chaunt his thoughts in brothell charm;
The witlesse vulgar, in a numerous throng,
Like summer flies about their dunghills swarm:
They sneer, they grinne. Like to his like will move.
Yet never let them greater mischief prove
Then this, Who hates not one, may he the other love.
19
Witnesse our Colin; whom though all the Graces,And all the Muses nurst; whose well taught song
Parnassus self, and Glorian embraces,
And all the learn'd, and all the shepherds throng;
Yet all his hopes were crost, all suits deni'd;
Discourag'd, scorn'd, his writings vilifi'd:
Poorly (poore man) he liv'd; poorly (poore man) he di'd.
20
And had not that great Hart, (whose honour'd headAh lies full low) piti'd thy wofull plight;
There hadst thou lien unwept, unburied,
Unblest, nor grac't with any common rite:
Yet shalt thou live, when thy great foe shall sink
Beneath his mountain tombe, whose fame shall stink;
And time his blacker name shall blurre with blackest ink.
21
O let th'Iambick Muse revenge that wrong,Which cannot slumber in thy sheets of lead:
Let thy abused honour crie as long
As there be quills to write, or eyes to reade:
On his rank name let thine own votes be turn'd,
Oh may that man that hath the Muses scorn'd,
Alive, nor dead, be ever of a Muse adorn'd!
22
Oft therefore have I chid my tender Muse;Oft my chill breast beats off her fluttering wing:
Yet when new spring her gentle rayes infuse,
All storms are laid, I 'gin to chirp and sing:
At length soft fires disperst in every vein,
Yeeld open passage to the thronging train,
And swelling numbers tide rolls like the surging main.
23
So where fair Thames, and crooked Isis sonnePayes tribute to his King, the mantling stream
Encounter'd by the tides (now rushing on
With equall force) of's way doth doubtfull seem;
At length the full-grown sea, and waters King
Chide the bold waves with hollow murmuring:
Back flie the streams to shroud them in their mother spring.
24
Yet thou sweet numerous Muse, why should'st thou droopThat every vulgar eare thy musick scorns?
Nor can they rise, nor thou so low canst stoop;
No seed of heav'n takes root in mud or thorns.
When owls or crows, imping their flaggy wing
With thy stoln plumes, their notes through th' ayer fling;
Oh shame! They howl & croke, while fond they strain to sing.
25
Enough for thee in heav'n to build thy nest;(Farre be dull thoughts of winning dunghill praise)
Enough, if Kings enthrone thee in their breast,
And crown their golden crowns with higher baies:
Enough that those who weare the crown of Kings
(Great Israels Princes) strike thy sweetest strings:
Heav'ns Dove when high'st he flies, flies with thy heav'nly wings.
26
Let others trust the seas, dare death and hell,Search either Inde, vaunt of their scarres and wounds;
Let others their deare breath (nay silence) sell
To fools, and (swoln, not rich) stretch out their bounds
That they may drink in pearl, and couch their head
In soft, but sleeplesse down; in rich, but restlesse bed.
27
Oh let them in their gold quaffe dropsies down;Oh let them surfets feast in silver bright:
While sugar hires the taste the brain to drown,
And bribes of sauce corrupt false appetite,
His masters rest, health, heart, life, soul to sell.
Thus plentie, fulnesse, sicknesse, ring their knell:
Death weds and beds them; first in grave, and then in hell.
28
But (ah!) let me under some Kentish hillNeare rowling Medway 'mong my shepherd peers,
With fearlesse merrie-make, and piping still,
Securely passe my few and slow-pac'd yeares:
While yet the great Augustus of our nation
Shuts up old Janus in this long cessation,
Strength'ning our pleasing ease, and gives us sure vacation.
29
There may I, master of a little flock,Feed my poore lambes, and often change their fare:
My lovely mate shall tend my sparing stock,
And nurse my little ones with pleasing care;
Whose love and look shall speak their father plain.
Health be my feast, heav'n hope, content my gain:
So in my little house my lesser heart shall reigne.
30
The beech shall yeeld a cool safe canopie,While down I sit, and chaunt to th' echoing wood:
Ah singing might I live, and singing die!
So by fair Thames, or silver Medwayes floud,
The dying swan, when yeares her temples pierce,
In musick strains breathes out her life and verse;
And chaunting her own dirge tides on her watry herse.
31
What shall I then need seek a patron out,Or begge a favour from a mistris eyes,
To fence my song against the vulgar rout,
Or shine upon me with her Geminies?
What care I, if they praise my slender song?
Or reck I, if they do me right, or wrong?
A shepherds blisse nor stands nor falls to ev'ry tongue.
32
Great prince of shepherds, then thy heav'ns more high,Low as our earth, here serving, ruling there;
Who taught'st our death to live, thy life to die;
Who when we broke thy bonds, our bonds would'st bear;
Who reignedst in thy heav'n, yet felt'st our hell;
Who (God) bought'st man, whom man (though God) did sell;
Who in our flesh, our graves, (and worse) our hearts would'st dwell:
33
Great Prince of shepherds, thou who late didst deigneTo lodge thy self within this wretched breast,
(Most wretched breast such guest to entertain,
Yet oh most happy lodge in such a guest!)
Thou first and last, inspire thy sacred skill;
Guide thou my hand, grace thou my artlesse quill:
So shall I first begin, so last shall end thy will.
34
Heark then, ah heark, you gentle shepheard-crue;An Isle I fain would sing, an Island fair;
A place too seldome view'd, yet still in view;
Neare as our selves, yet farthest from our care;
Which we by leaving finde, by seeking lost;
A forrain home, a strange, though native coast;
Most obvious to all, yet most unknown to most:
35
Coëvall with the world in her nativitie:Which though it now hath pass'd through many ages,
To ruine, compast with a thousand rages
Of foe-mens spite, which still this Island tosses;
Yet ever grows more prosp'rous by her crosses;
By with'ring springing fresh, and rich by often losses.
36
Vain men, too fondly wise, who plough the seas,With dangerous pains another earth to finde;
Adding new worlds to th' old, and scorning ease,
The earths vast limits dayly more unbinde!
The aged world, though now it falling shows,
And hastes to set, yet still in dying grows.
Whole lives are spent to win, what one deaths houre must lose.
37
How like's the world unto a tragick stage!Where every changing scene the actours change;
Some subject crouch and fawn; some reigne and rage:
And new strange plots brings scenes as new & strange,
Till most are slain; the rest their parts have done:
So here; some laugh and play; some weep and grone;
Till all put of their robes, and stage and actours gone.
38
Yet this fair Isle, sited so nearely neare,That from our sides nor place nor time may sever;
Though to your selves your selves are not more deare,
Yet with strange carelesnesse you travell never:
Thus while your selves and native home forgetting,
You search farre distant worlds with needlesse sweating,
You never finde your selves; so lose ye more by getting.
39
When that great Power, that All, farre more then all,(When now his fore-set time was fully come)
Brought into act this undigested Ball,
Which in himself till then had onely room;
He labour'd not, nor suffer'd pain, or ill;
But bid each kinde their severall places fill:
He bid, and they obey'd; their action was his will.
40
First stepp'd the Light, and spread his chearfull rayesThrough all the Chaos; darknesse headlong fell,
Frighted with suddain beams, and new-born dayes;
And plung'd her ougly head in deepest hell:
Not that he meant to help his feeble sight
To frame the rest, he made the day of night:
All els but darknesse; he the true, the onely Light.
41
Fire, Water, Earth, and Aire (that fiercely strove)His soveraigne hand in strong alliance ti'd,
Binding their deadly hate in constant love:
So that great Wisdome temper'd all their pride,
(Commanding strife and love should never cease)
That by their peacefull fight, and fighting peace,
The world might die to live, and lessen to increase.
42
Thus Earths cold arm cold Water friendly holds,But with his drie the others wet defies:
Warm Aire with mutuall love hot Fire infolds;
As moist, his dryth abhorres: drie Earth allies
With Fire, but heats with cold new warres prepare:
Yet Earth drencht Water proves, which boil'd turns Aire;
Hot Aire makes Fire: condenst all change, and home repair.
43
Now when the first weeks life was almost spent,And this world built, and richly furnished;
To store heav'ns courts, and steer earths regiment,
He cast to frame an Isle, the heart and head
Of all his works, compos'd with curious art;
Which like an Index briefly should impart
The summe of all; the whole, yet of the whole a part
44
That Trine-one with himself in councell sits,And purple dust takes from the new-born earth;
Part circular, and part triang'lar fits,
Endows it largely at the unborn birth,
With aptnesse thereunto, as seem'd him best;
And lov'd it more then all, and more then all it blest.
45
Then plac't it in the calm pacifick seas,And bid nor waves, nor troublous windes offend it;
Then peopled it with subjects apt to please
So wise a Prince, made able to defend it
Against all outward force, or inward spite;
Him framing like himself, all shining bright;
A little living Sunne, Sonne of the living Light.
46
Nor made he this like other Isles; but gave itVigour, sence, reason, and a perfect motion,
To move it self whither it self would have it,
And know what falls within the verge of notion:
No time might change it, but as ages went,
So still return'd; still spending, never spent;
More rising in their fall, more rich in detriment.
47
So once the Cradle of that double light,Whereof one rules the night, the other day,
(Till sad Latona flying Juno's spite,
Her double burthen there did safely lay)
Not rooted yet, in every sea was roving,
With every wave, and every winde removing;
But since to those fair Twins hath left her ever moving.
48
Look as a scholar, who doth closely gatherMany large volumes in a narrow place;
So that great Wisdome all this All together
Confin'd into this Islands little space;
And being one, soon into two he fram'd it;
And now made two, to one again reclaim'd it;
The little Isle of Man, or Purple Island nam'd it.
49
Thrice happy was the worlds first infancie,Nor knowing yet, nor curious ill to know:
Joy without grief, love without jealousie:
None felt hard labour, or the sweating plough:
The willing earth brought tribute to her King;
Bacchus unborn lay hidden in the cling
Of big-swoln grapes; their drink was every silver spring.
50
Of all the windes there was no difference:None knew mild Zephyres from cold Eurus mouth;
Nor Orithyia's lovers violence
Distinguisht from the ever-dropping South:
But either gentle West-winds reign'd alone,
Or else no winde, or harmfull winde was none:
But one winde was in all, and all the windes in one.
51
None knew the sea; (oh blessed ignorance!)None nam'd the stars, the North carres constant race,
Taurus bright horns, or Fishes happy chance:
Astræa yet chang'd not her name or place;
Her ev'n-pois'd ballance heav'n yet never tri'd:
None sought new coasts, nor forrain lands descri'd;
But in their own they liv'd, and in their own they di'd.
52
But (ah!) what liveth long in happinesse?Grief, of an heavy nature, steddy lies,
And cannot be remov'd for weightinesse;
But joy, of lighter presence, eas'ly flies,
And seldome comes, and soon away will goe:
Some secret power here all things orders so,
That for a sun-shine day follows an age of woe.
53
Witnesse this glorious Isle, which not contentTo be confin'd in bounds of happinesse,
Would trie what e're is in the continent;
And seek out ill, and search for wretchednesse.
That needs no curious search; 'tis next us still.
'Tis grief to know of grief, and ill to know of ill.
54
That old slie Serpent, (slie, but spitefull more)Vext with the glory of this happy Isle,
Allures it subt'ly from the peacefull shore,
And with fair painted lies, & colour'd guile
Drench'd in dead seas; whose dark streams, full of fright,
Emptie their sulphur waves in endlesse night;
Where thousand deaths and hells torment the damned sprite.
55
So when a fisher-swain by chance hath spi'dA big-grown Pike pursue the lesser frie,
He sets a withy Labyrinth beside,
And with fair baits allures his nimble eye;
Which he invading with out-stretched finne,
All suddainly is compast with the ginne,
Where there is no way out, but easie passage in.
56
That deathfull lake hath these three properties;No turning path, or issue thence is found:
The captive never dead, yet ever dies;
It endlesse sinks, yet never comes to ground:
Hells self is pictur'd in that brimstone wave;
For what retiring from that hellish grave?
Or who can end in death, where deaths no ending have?
57
For ever had this Isle in that foul ditchWith curelesse grief and endlesse errour strai'd,
Boyling in sulphur, and hot-bubbling pitch;
Had not the King, whose laws he (fool) betrai'd,
Unsnarl'd that chain, then from that lake secur'd;
For which ten thousand tortures he endur'd:
So hard was this lost Isle, so hard to be recur'd.
58
O thou deep well of life, wide stream of love,(More deep, more wide then widest deepest seas)
Who dying Death to endlesse death didst prove,
To work this wilfull-rebell Islands ease;
Thy love no time began, no time decaies;
But still increaseth with decreasing daies:
Where then may we begin, where may we end thy praise?
59
My callow wing, that newly left the nest,How can it make so high a towring flight?
O depth without a depth! in humble breast
With praises I admire so wondrous height.
But thou, my sister Muse, mayst well go higher,
And end thy flight; ne're may thy pineons tire:
Thereto may he his grace and gentle heat aspire.
60
Then let me end my easier taken storie,And sing this Islands new recover'd seat.
But see, the eye of noon, in brightest glorie,
(Teaching great men) is ne're so little great:
Our panting flocks retire into the glade;
They crouch, and close to th' earth their horns have laid:
Vail we our scorched heads in that thick beeches shade.
CANT. II.
1
Declining Phœbus, as he larger grows,(Taxing proud folly) gentler waxeth still;
Never lesse fierce, then when he greatest shows;
When Thirsil on a gentle rising hill
(Where all his flock he round might feeding view)
Sits down, and circled with a lovely crue
Of Nymphs & shepherd-boyes, thus 'gan his song renew:
2
Now was this Isle pull'd from that horrid main,Which bears the fearfull looks and name of death;
And setled new with bloud and dreadfull pain,
By him who twice had giv'n (once forfeit) breath:
A baser state then what was first assign'd;
Wherein (to curb the too aspiring minde)
The better things were lost, the worst were left behinde.
3
That glorious image of himself was raz'd;Ah! scarce the place of that best part we finde:
And that bright Sun-like knowledge much defac'd,
Onely some twinkling starres remain behinde:
Then mortall made; yet as one fainting dies,
Two other in its place succeeding rise;
And drooping stock with branches fresh immortalize.
4
So that 'lone bird in fruitfull Arabie,When now her strength and waning life decaies,
Upon some airie rock, or mountain high,
In spiced bed (fir'd by neare Phœbus rayes)
Her self and all her crooked age consumes:
Straight from the ashes and those rich perfumes
A new-born Phœnix flies, & widow'd place resumes.
5
It grounded lies upon a sure foundation,Compact, and hard; whose matter (cold and drie)
To marble turns in strongest congelation;
Fram'd of fat earth, which fires together tie:
Through all the Isle, and every part extent,
To give just form to every regiment;
Imparting to each part due strength and stablishment.
6
Whose looser ends are glu'd with brother earth,Of nature like, and of a neare relation;
Of self-same parents both, at self-same birth;
That oft it self stands for a good foundation:
Both these a third doth soulder fast, and binde;
Softer then both, yet of the self-same kinde;
All instruments of motion, in one league combin'd.
7
Upon this base a curious work is rais'd,Like undivided brick, entire and one;
Though soft, yet lasting, with just balance pais'd;
Distributed with due proportion:
And that the rougher frame might lurk unseen,
All fair is hung with coverings slight and thinne;
Which partly hide it all, yet all is partly seen:
8
As when a virgin her snow-circled breastDisplaying hides, and hiding sweet displaies;
The greater segments cover'd, and the rest
The vail transparent willingly betraies;
Thus takes and gives, thus lends and borrows light:
Lest eyes should surfet with too greedy sight,
Transparent lawns withhold, more to increase delight.
9
Nor is there any part in all this land,But is a little Isle: for thousand brooks
In azure chanels glide on silver sand;
Their serpent windings, and deceiving crooks
Emptie themselves into th' all-drinking main;
And creeping forward slide, but never turn again.
10
Three diff'ring streams from fountains different,Neither in nature nor in shape agreeing,
(Yet each with other friendly ever went)
Give to this Isle his fruitfulnesse and being:
The first in single chanels skie-like blue,
With luke-warm waters di'd in porphyr hue,
Sprinkle this crimson Isle with purple-colour'd dew.
11
The next, though from the same springs first it rise,Yet passing through another greater fountain,
Doth lose his former name and qualities:
Through many a dale it flows, and many a mountain;
More firie light, and needfull more then all;
And therefore fenced with a double wall,
All froths his yellow streams with many a sudding fall.
12
The last, in all things diff'ring from the other,Fall from an hill, and close together go,
Embracing as they runne, each with his brother;
Guarded with double trenches sure they flow:
The coldest spring, yet nature best they have;
And like the lacteall stones which heaven pave,
Slide down to every part with their thick milky wave.
13
These with a thousand streams through th' Island roving,Bring tribute in; the first gives nourishment,
Next life, last sense and arbitrarie moving:
For when the Prince hath now his mandate sent,
The nimble poasts quick down the river runne,
And end their journey, though but now begunne;
But now the mandate came, & now the mandate's done.
14
The whole body may be parted into three regions: the lowest, or belly; the middle, or breast; the highest, or head. In the lowest the liver is sovereigne, whose regiment is the widest, but meanest. In the middle the heart reignes, most necessarie. The brain obtains the highest place, and is as the least in compasse, so the greatest in dignitie.
By three Metropolies is joyntly sway'd;
Ord'ring in peace and warre their governments
With loving concord, and with mutuall aid:
The lowest hath the worst, but largest See;
The middle lesse, of greater dignitie:
The highest least, but holds the greatest soveraigntie.
15
Deep in a vale doth that first province lie,With many a citie grac't, and fairly town'd;
And for a fence from forrain enmitie,
With five strong-builded walls encompast round;
Which my rude pencil will in limming stain;
A work more curious, then which poets feigne
Neptune and Phœbus built, and pulled down again.
16
The first of these is that round spreading fence,Which like a sea girts th' Isle in every part;
Of fairest building, quick and nimble sense,
Of common matter fram'd with speciall art;
Of middle temper, outwardest of all,
To warn of every chance that may befall:
The same a fence, and spie; a watchman, and a wall.
17
His native beautie is a lilie white,Which still some other colour'd stream infecteth;
Least like it self, with divers stainings dight,
The inward disposition detecteth:
If white, it argues wet; if purple, fire;
If black, a heavie cheer, and fixt desire;
Youthfull and blithe, if suited in a rosie tire.
18
It cover'd stands with silken flourishing,Which as it oft decaies, renews again,
Which els would feel, but with unusuall pain:
Whose pleasing sweetnesse, and resplendent shine,
Softning the wanton touch, and wandring ey'n,
Doth oft the Prince himself with witch'ries undermine.
19
The second rampier of a softer matter,Cast up by th' purple rivers overflowing:
Whose airy wave, and swelling waters, fatter
For want of heat congeal'd, and thicker growing,
The wandring heat (which quiet ne're subsisteth)
Sends back again to what confine it listeth;
And outward enemies by yeelding most resisteth.
20
The third more inward, firmer then the best,May seem at first but thinly built, and slight;
But yet of more defence then all the rest;
Of thick and stubborn substance, strongly dight.
These three (three common fences) round impile
This regiment, and all the other Isle;
And saving inward friends, their outward foes beguile.
21
Beside these three, two more appropriate guardsWith constant watch compasse this government:
The first eight companies in severall wards,
(To each his station in this regiment)
On each side foure, continuall watch observe,
And under one great Captain joyntly serve;
Two fore-right stand, two crosse, and foure obliquely swerve.
22
Peritonæum (which we call the rimme of the belly) is a thinne membrane taking his name from compassing the bowels; round, but longer: every where double, yet so thinne, that it may seem but single. It hath many holes, that the veins, arteries, and other needfull vessels might have passage both in, & out.
This lower region girts with strong defence;
More long then round, with double-builded wall,
Though single often seems to slighter sense;
With many gates, whose strangest properties
Protect this coast from all conspiracies;
Admitting welcome friends, excluding enemies.
23
The double tunicle of the rimme is plainly parted into a large space, that with a double wall it might fence the bladder, where the vessels of the navil are contained. These are foure: first, the nurse; which is a vein nourishing the infant in the wombe: 2, two arteries in which the infant breaths: the fourth, the Ourachos, a pipe whereby (while the childe is in the wombe) the urine is carried into the Allantoid, or rather Amnion; which is a membrane receiving the sweat and urine.
Foure slender brooks run creeping o're the lea;
The first is call'd the Nurse, and rising slides
From this low regions Metropolie:
Two from th' Heart-citie bend their silent pace;
The last from Urine-lake with waters base
In th' Allantoïd sea empties his flowing race.
24
Down in a vale, where these two parted wallsDiffer from each with wide distending space,
Into a lake the Urine-river falls,
Which at the Nephros hill beginnes his race:
Crooking his banks he often runs astray,
Lest his ill streams might backward finde a way:
Thereto, some say, was built a curious framed bay.
25
The Urine-lake drinking his colour'd brook,By little swells, and fills his stretching sides:
But when the stream the brink 'gins over-look,
A sturdy groom empties the swelling tides;
Sphincter some call; who if he loosed be,
Or stiffe with cold, out flows the senselesse sea,
And rushing unawares covers the drowned lea.
26
From thence with blinder passage, (flying name)These noysome streams a secret pipe conveys;
Which though we tearm the hidden parts of shame,
Yet for the skill deserve no lesser praise
Then they, to which we honour'd names impart.
Oh powerfull Wisdome, with what wondrous art
Mad'st thou the best, who thus hast fram'd the vilest part!
27
Six goodly Cities, built with suburbs round,Do fair adorn this lower region:
On this side border'd by the Splenion,
On that by soveraigne Hepars large commands:
The merry Diazome above it stands,
To both these joyn'd in league & never failing bands.
28
The form (as when with breath our bag-pipes rise,And swell) round-wise, and long, yet long-wise more;
Fram'd to the most capacious figures guise:
For 'tis the Islands garner; here its store
Lies treasur'd up, which well prepar'd it sends
By secret path that to th' Arch-citie bends;
Which making it more fit, to all the Isle dispends.
29
Farre hence at foot of rocky Cephals hillsThis Cities Steward dwells in vaulted stone;
And twice a day Koilia's store-house fills
With certain rent, and due provision:
Aloft he fitly dwells in arched cave;
Which to describe I better time shall have,
When that fair mount I sing, & his white curdy wave.
30
At that caves mouth twice sixteen Porters stand,Receivers of the customarie rent;
Of each side foure, (the formost of the band)
Whose office to divide what in is sent:
Straight other foure break it in peices small;
And at each hand twice five, which grinding all,
Fit it for convoy, and this cities Arsenall.
31
From thence a Groom with wondrous volubilitieDelivers all unto neare officers,
Of nature like himself, and like agilitie;
At each side foure, that are the governours
To see the vict'als shipt at fittest tide;
Which straight from thence with prosp'rous chanel slide,
And in Koilia's port with nimble oars glide.
32
The haven, fram'd with wondrous sense and art,Opens it self to all that entrance seek;
Yet if ought back would turn, and thence depart,
With thousand wrinkles shuts the ready creek:
But when the rent is slack, it rages rife,
And mutines in it self with civil strife:
Thereto a little groom egges it with sharpest knife.
33
Below dwells in this Cities market-placeThe Islands common Cook, Concoction;
Common to all; therefore in middle space
Is quarter'd fit in just proportion;
Whence never from his labour he retires;
No rest he asks, or better change requires:
Both night and day he works, ne're sleeps, nor sleep desires.
34
The concoction of meats in the stomack is perfected, as by an innate propertie, and speciall vertue, so also by the outward heat of parts adjoyning. For it is on every side compassed with hotter parts, which as fire to a caldron helps to seethe, and concoct; and the hot steams within it do not a little further digestion
Is nothing like to our hot parching fire;
Which all consuming, self at length consumeth;
But moistning flames a gentle heat inspire,
Which sure some in-born neighbour to him lendeth;
And oft the bord'ring coast fit fuell sendeth,
And oft the rising fume, which down again descendeth.
35
Like to a pot, where under hoveringDivided flames, the iron sides entwining,
Above is stopt with close-laid covering,
Exhaling fumes to narrow straits confining;
So doubling heat, his dutie doubly speedeth:
Such is the fire Concoctions vessel needeth,
Who daily all the Isle with fit provision feedeth.
36
There many a groom the busie Cook attendsIn under offices, and severall place:
This gathers up the scumme, and thence it sends
To be cast out; another liquours base,
And divers filth, whose sent the place annoyes,
By divers secret waies in under-sinks convoyes.
37
The lower orifice, or mouth of the stomack, is not placed at the very bottome, but at the side, and is called the (Janitor or) Porter, as sending out the food now concocted through the entrails, which are knotty, and full of windings, lest the meat too suddenly passing through the body should make it too subject to appetite and greedinesse.
To let out what unsavorie there remains:
There sits a needfull groom, the Porter nam'd,
Which soon the full-grown kitchin cleanly drains
By divers pipes, with hundred turnings giring;
Lest that the food too speedily retiring,
Should whet the appetite, still cloy'd, & still desiring.
38
So Erisicthon once fir'd (as men say)With hungry rage, fed never, ever feeding;
Ten thousand dishes serv'd in every day,
Yet in ten thousand, thousand dishes needing,
In vain his daughter hundred shapes assum'd:
A whole camps meat he in his gorge inhum'd;
And all consum'd, his hunger yet was unconsum'd.
39
Such would the state of this whole Island be,If those pipes windings (passage quick delaying)
Should not refrain too much edacitie,
With longer stay fierce appetite allaying.
These pipes are seven-fold longer then the Isle,
Yet all are folded in a little pile,
Whereof three noble are, and thinne; three thick, & vile.
40
The first is straight without any winding, that the chyle might not return; and most narrow, that it might not finde too hasty a passage. It takes in a little passage from the gall, which there purges his choler, to provoke the entrails (when they are slow) to cast out the excrements. This is called Duodenum (or twelve finger) from his length.
Lest that his charge discharg'd might back retire;
And by the way takes in a bitter brook,
That when the chanel's stopt with stifeling mire,
Through th' idle pipe with piercing waters soking,
His tender sides with sharpest stream provoking,
Thrusts out the muddy parts, & rids the miry choking.
41
The second lean and lank, still pill'd, and harri'dBy mighty bord'rers oft his barns invading:
Away his food and new-inn'd store is carri'd;
Therefore an angry colour, never fading,
Purples his cheek: the third for length exceeds,
And down his stream in hundred turnings leads:
These three most noble are, adorn'd with silken threads.
42
The formost of the base half blinde appeares;And where his broad way in an Isthmos ends,
There he examines all his passengers,
And those who ought not scape, he backward sends:
The second Æols court, where tempests raging
Shut close within a cave the windes encaging,
With earthquakes shakes the Island, thunders sad presaging.
43
The last down-right falls to port Esquiline,More strait above, beneath still broader growing;
Soon as the gate opes by the Kings assigne,
Empties it self, farre thence the filth out-throwing:
This gate endow'd with many properties,
Yet for his office sight and naming flies;
Therefore between two hills, in darkest valley lies.
44
To that Arch-citie of this governmentThe three first pipes the ready feast convoy:
The other three, in baser office spent,
Fling out the dregs, which else the kitchin cloy.
In every one the Hepar keeps his spies;
Who if ought good with evil blended lies,
Thence bring it back again to Hepars treasuries.
45
Two severall covers fence these twice three pipes:The first from over-swimming takes his name,
Like cobweb-lawn woven with hundred stripes:
The second, strength'ned with a double frame,
From forein enmitie the pipes maintains:
Close by the Pancreas stands, who ne're complains;
Though prest by all his neighbours, he their state sustains.
46
Next Hepar, chief of all these lower parts,One of the three, yet of the three the least.
But see, the Sunne, like to undaunted hearts,
Enlarges in his fall his ample breast:
Now hie we home; the pearled dew ere long
Will wet the mothers, and their tender young:
To morrow with the day we may renew our song.
CANT. III.
1
The Morning fresh, dappling her horse with roses,(Vext at the lingring shades, that long had left her
In Tithons freezing arms) the light discloses;
And chasing Night, of rule and heav'n bereft her:
The Sunne with gentle beams his rage disguises,
And like aspiring tyrants, temporises;
Never to be endur'd, but when he falls, or rises.
2
Thirsil from withy prison, as he uses,Lets out his flock, and on an hill stood heeding
Which bites the grasse, and which his meat refuses;
So his glad eyes fed with their greedy feeding:
Straight flock a shoal of Nymphs & shepherd-swains
While all their lambes rang'd on the flowry plains;
Then thus the boy began, crown'd with their circling trains.
3
You gentle shepherds, and you snowie fires,That sit around, my rugged rimes attending;
How may I hope to quit your strong desires,
In verse uncomb'd such wonders comprehending?
Too well I know my rudenesse all unfit
To frame this curious Isle, whose framing yet
Was never throughly known to any humane wit.
4
Thou Shepherd-God, who onely know'st it right,And hid'st that art from all the world beside;
Shed in my mistie breast thy sparkling light,
And in this fogge my erring footsteps guide;
Thou who first mad'st, and never wilt forsake it:
Else how shall my weak hand dare undertake it,
When thou thy self ask'st counsel of thy self to make it?
5
Next to Koilia, on the right side stands,Fairly dispread in large dominion,
Th' Arch-citie Hepar, stretching her commands
To all within this lower region;
Fenc't with sure barres, and strongest situation;
So never fearing foreiners invasion:
Hence are the walls slight, thinne; built but for sight & fashion.
6
To th' Heart and to th' Head-citie surely ti'dWith firmest league, and mutuall reference:
His liegers there, theirs ever here abide,
To take up strife, and casuall difference:
Built all alike, seeming like rubies sheen,
Of some peculiar matter; such I ween,
As over all the world may no where else be seen.
7
Much like a mount it easily ascendeth;The upper part's all smooth as slipperie glasse:
But on the lower many a cragge dependeth;
Like to the hangings of some rockie masse:
Here first the purple fountain making vent,
By thousand rivers through the Isle dispent,
Gives every part fit growth and daily nourishment.
8
In this fair town the Isles great Steward dwells;His porphyre house glitters in purple die;
In purple clad himself: from hence he deals
His store to all the Isles necessitie:
And though the rent he daily duly pay,
Yet doth his flowing substance ne're decay;
All day he rent receives, returns it all the day.
9
And like that golden starre, which cuts his wayThrough Saturns ice, and Mars his firy ball;
Temp'ring their strife with his more kindely ray:
So 'tween the Splenions frost and th' angry Gall
Cheering the Isle by his sweet influence;
So slakes their envious rage and endlesse difference.
10
Within, some say,Here Plato disposed the seat of love. And certainly though lust (which some perversly call love) be otherwhere seated, yet that affection whereby we wish, and do well to others, may seem to be better fitted in the liver, then in the heart, (where most do place it) because this moderate heat appeares more apt for this affection; and fires of the heart where (as a Salamander) anger lives, seem not so fit to entertain it.
Not Cupids self, but Cupids better brother:
For Cupids self dwells with a lower nation,
But this more sure, much chaster then the other;
By whose command we either love our kinde,
Or with most perfect love affect the minde;
With such a diamond knot he often souls can binde.
11
Two purple streams here raise their boiling heads;The first and least in th' hollow cavern breeding,
His waves on divers neighbour grounds dispreads:
The next fair river all the rest exceeding,
Topping the hill, breaks forth in fierce evasion,
And sheds abroad his Nile-like inundation;
So gives to all the Isle their food and vegetation.
12
Yet these from other streams much different;For others, as they longer, broader grow;
These as they runne in narrow banks impent,
Are then at least, when in the main they flow:
Much like a tree, which all his roots so guides,
That all the trunk in his full body hides;
Which straight his stemme to thousand branches subdivides.
13
The chyle, or juice of meats concocted in the stomack could not all be turned into sweet bloud by reason of the divers kindes of humours in it: Therefore there are three kinds of excrementall liquors suckt away by little vessels, and carried to their appointed places: one too light, and fiery; an other too earthy, and heavy; a third wheyish and watery.
With other liquours in the well abounding;
Before their flowing chanels are detected,
Some lesser delfs, the fountains bottome sounding,
Suck out the baser streams, the springs annoying,
An hundred pipes unto that end employing;
Thence run to fitter place their noisome load convoying.
14
Such is fair Hepar; which with great dissensionOf all the rest pleads most antiquitie;
But yet th' Heart-citie with no lesse contention,
And justest challenge, claims prioritie:
But sure the Hepar was the elder bore;
For that small river, call'd the Nurse, of yore
Laid boths foundation, yet Hepar built afore.
15
Three pois'nous liquours from this purple wellRise with the native streams; the first like fire,
All flaming hot, red, furious, and fell,
The spring of dire debate, and civile ire;
Which wer't not surely held with strong retention,
Would stirre domestick strife, and fierce contention,
And waste the weary Isle with never ceas'd dissension.
16
Therefore close by a little conduit stands,Choledochus or the Gall, is of a membranous substance, having but one, yet that a strong tunicle. It hath two passages, one drawing the humour from the liver, another conveying the overplus into the first gut, and so emptying the gall. And this fence hath a double gate to keep the liquour from returning.
And safely locks it up in prison bands;
Thence gently drains it through a narrow fence;
A needfull fence, attended with a guard,
That watches in the straits all closely barr'd,
Lest some might back escape, and break the prison ward.
17
The next ill stream the wholesome fount offending,All dreery black and frightfull, hence convay'd
By divers drains unto the Splenion tending,
The Splenion o're against the Hepar laid,
Built long, and square: some say that laughter here
Keeps residence; but laughter fits not there,
Where darknesse ever dwells, and melancholy fear.
18
And should these waies, stopt by ill accident,To th' Hepar streams turn back their muddie humours;
The cloudie Isle with hellish dreeriment
Would soon be fill'd, and thousand fearfull rumours:
Fear hides him here, lockt deep in earthy cell;
Dark, dolefull, deadly-dull, a little hell;
Where with him fright, despair, and thousand horrours dwell.
19
If this black town in over-growth increases,With too much strength his neighbours over-bearing;
The Hepar daily, and whole Isle decreases,
Like ghastly shade, or ashie ghost appearing:
But when it pines, th' Isle thrives; its curse, his blessing:
So when a tyrant raves, his subjects pressing,
His gaining is their losse, his treasure their distressing.
20
The third bad water, bubbling from this fountain,Is wheyish cold, which with good liquours meint,
Is drawn into the double Nephros mountain;
Which suck the best for growth, and nourishment:
The worst, as through a little pap, distilling
To divers pipes, the pale cold humour swilling,
Runs down to th' Urine-lake, his banks thrice daily filling.
21
These mountains differ but in situation;In form and matter like: the left is higher,
Lest even height might slack their operation:
Both like the Moon which now wants half her fire;
Yet into two obtuser angles bended,
Both strongly with a double wall defended;
And both have walls of mudde before those walls extended.
22
The sixt and last town in this region,With largest stretcht precincts, and compasse wide,
Is that, where Venus and her wanton sonne
(Her wanton Cupid) will in youth reside:
On other hills he frankly does bestow,
Yet here he hides the fire with which each heart doth glow.
23
For that great Providence, their course foreseeingToo eas'ly led into the sea of death;
After this first, gave them a second being,
Which in their off-spring newly flourisheth:
He therefore made the fire of generation
To burn in Venus courts without cessation,
Out of whose ashes comes another Island nation.
24
For from the first a fellow Isle he fram'd,(For what alone can live, or fruitfull be?)
Arren the first, the second Thelu nam'd;
Weaker the last, yet fairer much to see:
Alike in all the rest, here disagreeing,
Where Venus and her wanton have their being:
For nothing is produc't of two in all agreeing.
25
But though some few in these hid parts would seeTheir Makers glory, and their justest shame;
Yet for the most would turn to luxurie,
And what they should lament, would make their game:
Flie then those parts, which best are undescri'd;
Forbear, my maiden song, to blazon wide
What th' Isle and Natures self doth ever strive to hide.
26
These two fair Isles distinct in their creation,Yet one extracted from the others side,
Are oft made one by Loves firm combination,
And from this unitie are multipli'd:
Strange may it seem; such their condition,
That they are more dispread by union;
And two are twenty made, by being made in one.
27
For from these two in Loves delight agreeing,Another little Isle is soon proceeding;
At first of unlike frame and matter being,
In Venus temple takes it form and breeding;
Till at full time the tedious prison flying,
It breaks all lets its ready way denying;
And shakes the trembling Isle with often painfull dying.
28
So by the Bosphor straits in Euxine seas,Not farre from old Byzantum, closely stand
Two neighbour Islands, call'd Symplegades,
Which sometime seem but one combined land:
For often meeting on the watrie plain,
And parting oft, tost by the boist'rous main,
They now are joyn'd in one, and now disjoyn'd again.
29
Here oft not Lust, but sweetest Chastitie,Coupled sometimes, and sometimes single, dwells;
Now linkt with Love, to quench Lusts tyrannie,
Now Phœnix-like alone in narrow cells:
Such Phœnix one, but one at once may be:
In Albions hills thee, Basilissa, thee,
Such onely have I seen, such shall I never see.
30
What Nymph was this, (said fairest Rosaleen)Whom thou admirest thus above so many?
She, while she was, (ah!) was the shepherds Queen;
Sure such a shepherds Queen was never any:
But (ah!) no joy her dying heart contented,
Since she a deare Deers side unwilling rented;
Whose death she all too late, too soon, too much, repented.
31
Ah royall maid! why should'st thou thus lament thee?Thy little fault was but too much beleeving:
It is too much so much thou should'st repent thee;
His joyous soul at rest desires no grieving.
But (ah!) no words, no prayers might ever bend her
To give an end to grief, till endlesse grief did end her.
32
But how should I those sorrows dare display?Or how limme forth her vertues wonderment?
She was (ay me! she was) the sweetest May
That ever flowr'd in Albions regiment.
Few eyes fall'n lights adore: yet fame shall keep
Her name awake, when others silent sleep;
While men have eares to heare, eyes to look back, and weep.
33
And though the curres (which whelpt & nurst in Spain,Learn of fell Geryon to snarle and brawl)
Have vow'd and strove her Virgin tombe to stain;
And grinne, and fome, and rage, and yelp, and bawl:
Yet shall our Cynthia's high-triumphing light
Deride their houling throats, and toothlesse spight;
And sail through heav'n, while they sink down in endlesse night.
34
So is this Islands lower region:Yet ah much better is it sure then so.
But my poore reeds, like my condition,
(Low is the shepherds state, my song as low)
Marre what they make: but now in yonder shade
Rest we, while Sunnes have longer shadows made:
See how our panting flocks runne to the cooler glade.
CANT. IIII.
1
The shepherds in the shade their hunger feastedWith simple cates, such as the countrey yeelds;
And while from scorching beams secure they rested,
The Nymphs disperst along the woody fields,
Pull'd from their stalks the blushing strawberries,
Which lurk close shrouded from high-looking eyes;
Shewing that sweetnesse oft both low and hidden lies.
2
But when the day had his meridian runneBetween his highest throne, and low declining;
Thirsil again his forced task begunne,
His wonted audience his sides entwining.
The middle Province next this lower stands,
Where th' Isles Heart-city spreads his large cōmands,
Leagu'd to the neighbour towns with sure and friendly bands.
3
Such as that starre, which sets his glorious chairIn midst of heav'n, and to dead darknesse here
Gives light and life; such is this citie fair:
Their ends, place, office, state, so nearely neare,
That those wise ancients from their natures sight,
And likenesse, turn'd their names, and call'd aright
The sunne the great worlds heart, the heart the lesse worlds light.
4
This middle coast to all the Isle dispendsAll heat and life: hence it another Guard
(Beside those common to the first) defends;
Built whole of massie stone, cold, drie, and hard:
Which stretching round about his circling arms,
Warrants these parts from all exteriour harms;
Repelling angry force, securing all alar'ms.
5
But in the front two fair twin-bulwarks rise,In th' Arren built for strength, and ornament;
In Thelu of more use, and larger size;
For hence the young Isle draws his nourishment:
Here lurking Cupid hides his bended bow;
Here milkie springs in sugred rivers flow;
Which first gave th' infant Isle to be, and then to grow.
6
For when the lesser Island (still increasingIn Venus temple) to some greatnesse swells,
Now larger rooms and bigger spaces seizing,
It stops the Hepar rivers; backward reels
The stream, and to these hills bears up his flight,
And in these founts (by some strange hidden might)
Dies his fair rosie waves into a lily white.
7
So where fair Medway, down the Kentish dalesTo many towns her plenteous waters dealing,
Lading her banks, into wide Thamis falls;
The big-grown main with fomie billows swelling,
Stops there the sudding stream; her steddy race
Staggers awhile, at length flies back apace,
And to the parent fount returns its fearfull pace.
8
These two fair mounts are like two hemispheres,Endow'd with goodly gifts and qualities;
Whose top two little purple hillocks reares,
Most like the Poles in heavens Axletrees:
And round about two circling altars gire,
In blushing red; the rest in snowy tire
Like Thracian Hæmus looks, which ne're feels Phœbus fire.
9
That mighty hand in these dissected wreathes,(Where moves our Sunne) his thrones fair picture gives;
The pattern breathlesse, but the picture breathes;
His highest heav'n is dead, our low heav'n lives:
Here his best starres he sets, and glorious cell;
And fills with saintly spirits, so turns to heav'n from hell.
10
About this Region round in compasse standsA Guard, both for defence, and respiration,
Of sixtie foure, parted in severall bands;
Half to let out the smokie exhalation,
The other half to draw in fresher windes:
Beside both these, a third of both their kindes,
That lets both out, & in; which no enforcement bindes.
11
This third the merrie Diazome we call,A border-citie these two coasts removing;
Which like a balk, with his crosse-builded wall,
Disparts the terms of anger, and of loving;
Keeps from th' Heart-citie fuming kitchin fires,
And to his neighbours gentle windes inspires;
Loose when he sucks in aire, contract when he expires.
12
The Diazome of severall matter's fram'd:The first moist, soft; harder the next, and drier:
His fashion like the fish a Raia nam'd;
Fenc'd with two walls, one low, the other higher;
By eight streams water'd; two from Hepar low,
And from th' Heart-town as many higher go;
But two twice told down from the Cephal mountain flow.
13
Here sportfull Laughter dwells, here ever sitting,Defies all lumpish griefs, and wrinkled care;
And twentie merrie-mates mirth causes fitting,
And smiles, which Laughters sonnes, yet infants are.
But if this town be fir'd with burnings nigh,
With selfsame flames high Cephals towers fry;
Such is their feeling love, and loving sympathie.
14
This coast stands girt with a peculiar wall,The whole precinct, and every part defending:
The chiefest Citie, and Imperiall,
Is fair Kerdia, farre his bounds extending;
Which full to know were knowledge infinite:
How then should my rude pen this wonder write,
Which thou, who onely mad'st it, onely know'st aright?
15
In middle of this middle RegimentKerdia seated lies, the centre deem'd
Of this whole Isle, and of this government:
If not the chiefest this, yet needfull'st seem'd,
Therfore obtain'd an equall distant seat,
More fitly hence to shed his life and heat,
And with his yellow streams the fruitfull Island wet.
16
Flankt with two severall walls (for more defence)Betwixt them ever flows a wheyish moat;
In whose soft waves, and circling profluence
This Citie, like an Isle, might safely float:
In motion still (a motion fixt, not roving)
Most like to heav'n in his most constant moving:
Hence most here plant the seat of sure and active loving.
17
Built of a substance like smooth porphyrie;His matter hid, and (like it self) unknown:
Two rivers of his own; another by,
That from the Hepar rises, like a crown,
Infold the narrow part: for that great All
This his works glory made pyramicall;
Then crown'd with triple wreath, & cloath'd in scarlet pall.
18
The Cities self in two partitions rest;That on the right, this on the other side:
The right (made tributarie to the left)
Brings in his pension at his certain tide,
Which first by Hepars streams are hither brought,
And here distill'd with art, beyond or words or thought.
19
The grosser waves of these life-streams (which hereWith much, yet much lesse labour is prepar'd)
A doubtfull chanel doth to Pneumon bear:
But to the left those labour'd extracts shar'd,
As through a wall, with hidden passage slide;
Where many secret gates (gates hardly spi'd)
With safe convoy give passage to the other side.
20
At each hand of the left two streets stand by,Of severall stuffe, and severall working fram'd,
With hundred crooks, and deep-wrought cavitie:
Both like the eares in form, and so are nam'd.
I'th' right hand street the tribute liquour sitteth:
The left forc't aire into his concave getteth;
Which subtile wrought, & thinne, for future workmen fitteth.
21
The Cities left side, (by some hid direction)Of this thinne aire, and of that right sides rent,
(Compound together) makes a strange confection;
And in one vessel both together meynt,
Stills them with equall never-quenched firing:
Then in small streams (through all the Island wiring)
Sends it to every part, both heat and life inspiring.
22
In this Heart-citie foure main streams appeare;One from the Hepar, where the tribute landeth,
Largely poures out his purple river here;
At whose wide mouth a band of Tritons standeth,
(Three Tritons stand) who with their three-forkt mace
Drive on, and speed the rivers flowing race,
But strongly stop the wave, if once it back repace.
23
The second is that doubtfull chanel, lendingSome of this tribute to the Pneumon nigh;
Whose springs by carefull guards are watcht, that sending
From thence the waters, all regresse denie:
The third unlike to this, from Pneumon flowing,
And his due ayer-tribute here bestowing,
Is kept by gates and barres, which stop all backward going.
24
The last full spring out of this left side rises,Where three fair Nymphs, like Cynthia's self appearing,
Draw down the stream which all the Isle suffices;
But stop back-waies, some ill revolture fearing.
This river still it self to lesse dividing,
At length with thousand little brooks runnes sliding,
His fellow course along with Hepar chanels guiding.
25
Within this Citie is the palace fram'd,
Where life, and lifes companion, heat, abideth;
And their attendants, passions untam'd:
(Oft very hell in this strait room resideth)
And did not neighbouring hills, cold aires inspiring,
Allay their rage and mutinous conspiring,
Heat all (it self and all) would burn with quenchlesse firing.
26
Yea that great Light, by whom all heaven shinesWith borrow'd beams, oft leaves his loftie skies,
And to this lowly seat himself confines.
Fall then again, proud heart, now fall to rise:
Cease earth, ah cease, proud Babel earth, to swell:
Heav'n blasts high towers, stoops to a low-rooft cell;
First heav'n must dwell in man, then man in heav'n shall dwell.
27
Close to Kerdia Pneumon takes his seat,Built of a lighter frame, and spungie mold:
Hence rise fresh aires to fanne Kerdia's heat;
Temp'ring those burning fumes with moderate cold:
In divers streets and out-wayes multipli'd:
Yet in one Corporation all are joyntly ti'd.
28
Fitly 't is cloath'd with hangings thinne and light,Lest too much weight might hinder motion:
His chiefest use to frame the voice aright;
(The voice which publishes each hidden notion)
And for that end a long pipe down descends,
(Which here it self in many lesser spends)
Untill low at the foot of Cephal mount it ends.
29
This pipe was built for th' aiers safe purveiance,To fit each severall voice with perfect sound;
Therefore of divers matter the conveiance
Is finely fram'd; the first in circles round,
In hundred circles bended, hard and drie,
(For watrie softnesse is sounds enemie)
Not altogether close, yet meeting very nigh.
30
The seconds drith and hardnesse somewhat lesse,But smooth and pliable made for extending,
Fills up the distant circles emptinesse;
All in one bodie joyntly comprehending:
The last most soft, which where the circles scanted
Not fully met, supplies what they have wanted,
Not hurting tender parts, which next to this are planted.
31
Upon the top there stands the pipes safe covering,
Made for the voices better modulation:
Above it foureteen carefull warders hovering,
Which shut and open it at all occasion:
The cover in foure parts it self dividing,
Of substance hard, fit for the voices guiding;
One still unmov'd (in Thelu double oft) residing.
32
Close by this pipe runnes that great chanel down,
Which from high Cephals mount twice every day
Brings to Koilia due provision:
Straight at whose mouth a floud-gate stops the way,
Made like an Ivie leaf, broad-angle-fashion;
Of matter hard, fitting his operation,
For swallowing soon to fall, and rise for inspiration.
33
But see, the smoak mounting in village nigh,With folded wreaths steals through the quiet aire;
And mixt with duskie shades in Eastern skie,
Begins the night, and warns us home repair:
Bright Vesper now hath chang'd his name and place,
And twinkles in the heav'n with doubtfull face:
Home then my full-fed lambes; the night comes, home apace.
CANT. V.
1
By this the old nights head (grown hoary gray)Foretold that her approaching end was neare;
And gladsome birth of young succeeding day
Lent a new glory to our Hemispheare:
The early swains salute the infant ray;
Then drove the dammes to feed, the lambes to play:
And Thirsil with nights death revives his morning lay.
2
The highest region in this little IsleIs both the Islands and Creatours glorie:
Ah then, my creeping Muse, and rugged style,
How dare you pencill out this wondrous storie?
Oh thou that mad'st this goodly regiment,
So heav'nly fair, of basest element,
Make this inglorious verse thy glories instrument.
3
So shall my flagging Muse to heav'n aspire,Where with thy self thy fellow-shepherd sits;
And warm her pineons at that heav'nly fire;
But (ah!) such height no earthly shepherd fits:
Content we here low in this humble vale
On slender reeds to sing a slender tale.
A little boat will need as little sail and gale.
4
The third precinct, the best and chief of all,Though least in compasse, and of narrow space,
Was therefore fram'd like heaven, sphericall,
Of largest figure, and of loveliest grace:
Though shap'd at first the least of all the three;
Yet highest set in place, as in degree,
And over all the rest bore rule and soveraigntie.
5
So of three parts fair Europe is the least,In which this earthly Ball was first divided;
Yet stronger farre, and nobler then the rest,
Where victorie and learned arts resided,
And by the Greek and Romane monarchie
Swaid both the rest; now prest by slaverie
Of Mosco, and the big-swoln Turkish tyrannie.
6
Here all the senses dwell, and all the arts;Here learned Muses by their silver spring:
The Citie sever'd in two divers parts,
Within the walls, and Suburbs neighbouring;
The Suburbs girt but with the common fence,
Founded with wondrous skill, and great expence;
And therefore beautie here keeps her chief residence.
7
And sure for ornament and buildings rare,Lovely aspect, and ravishing delight,
Not all the Isle or world with this compare;
But in the Thelu is the fairer sight:
These Suburbs many call the Islands face;
Whose charming beautie, and bewitching grace
Ofttimes the Prince himself enthralls in fetters base.
8
For as this Isle is a short summarieOf all that in this All is wide dispread;
So th' Islands face is th' Isles Epitomie,
Where ev'n the Princes thoughts are often read:
For when that All had finisht every kinde,
And all his works would in lesse volume binde,
Fair on the face he wrote the Index of the minde.
9
Fair are the Suburbs; yet to clearer sightThe Cities self more fair and excellent:
A thick-grown wood, not pierc'd with any light,
Yeelds it some fence, and much more ornament:
Much grace the town, but most the Thelu gay:
Yet all in winter turn to snow, and soon decay.
10
Like to some stately work, whose queint devices,And glitt'ring turrets with brave cunning dight,
The gazers eye still more and more entices
Of th' inner rooms to get a fuller sight;
Whose beautie much more winnes his ravisht heart,
That now he onely thinks the outward part
To be a worthie cov'ring of so fair an art.
11
Foure severall walls, beside the common guard,For more defence the citie round embrace:
The first thick, soft; the second drie and hard;
As when soft earth before hard stone we place.
The second all the Citie round enlaces,
And like a rock with thicker sides embraces;
For here the Prince his court & standing palace places.
12
The other two of matter thinne and light;And yet the first much harder then the other;
Both cherish all the Citie: therefore right
They call that th' hard, and this the tender mother.
The first with divers crooks and turnings wries,
Cutting the town in foure quaternities;
But both joyn to resist invading enemies.
13
Next these, the buildings yeeld themselves to sight;The outward soft, and pale, like ashes look;
The inward parts more hard, and curdy white:
Their matter both from th' Isles first matter took;
Nor cold, nor hot: heats needfull sleeps infest,
Cold nummes the workmen; middle temper's best;
When kindely warmth speeds work, & cool gives timely rest.
14
Within the centre (as a market place)Two caverns stand, made like the Moon half spent;
Of speciall use, for in their hollow space
All odours to their Judge themselves present:
Here first are born the spirits animall,
Whose matter, almost immateriall,
Resembles heavens matter quintessentiall.
15
Hard by, an hundred nimble workmen stand,These noble spirits readily preparing;
Lab'ring to make them thinne, and fit to hand,
With never ended work, and sleeplesse caring:
Hereby two little hillocks joyntly rise,
Where sit two Judges clad in seemly guise,
That cite all odours here, as to their just assise.
16
Next these, a wall built all of saphires shining,As fair, more precious; hence it takes his name;
By which the third cave lies, his sides combining
To th' other two, and from them hath his frame;
(A meeting of those former cavities)
Vaulted by three fair arches safe it lies,
And no oppression fears, or falling tyrannies.
17
By this third cave the humid citie drainsBase noisome streams the milkie streets annoying;
And through a wide-mouth'd tunnel duely strains,
Unto a bibbing substance down convoying;
Which these foul dropping humours largely swills,
Till all his swelling spunge he greedy fills,
And then through other sinks by little soft distills.
18
Between this and the fourth cave, lies a vale,(The fourth, the first in worth, in rank the last)
Where two round hills shut in this pleasant dale,
Through which the spirits thither safe are past;
And therefore close by this fourth wondrous cave
Rises that silver well, scatt'ring his milkie wave.
19
Not that bright spring, where fair HermaphroditeGrew into one with wanton Salmacis,
Nor that where Biblis dropt, too fondly light,
Her tears and self, may dare compare with this;
Which here beginning down a lake descends,
Whose rockie chanel these fair streams defends,
Till it the precious wave through all the Isle dispends.
20
Many fair rivers take their heads from either,(Both from the lake, and from the milkie well)
Which still in loving chanels runne together,
Each to his mate a neighbour parallel:
Thus widely spread with friendly combination,
They fling about their wondrous operation,
And give to every part both motion and sensation.
21
This silver lake, first from th' Head-citie springing,To that bright fount foure little chanels sends;
Through which it thither plenteous water bringing,
Straight all again to every place dispends:
Such is th' Head-citie, such the Princes Hall;
Such, and much more, which strangely liberall,
Though sense it never had, yet gives all sense to all.
22
Of other stuffe the Suburbs have their framing;May seem soft marble, spotted red and white:
First stands an Arch, pale Cynthia's brightnes shaming,
The Cities forefront, cast in silver bright:
At whose proud base are built two watching towers,
Whence hate and love skirmish with equall powers;
Whence smiling gladnesse shines, and sullen sorrow showers.
23
Here sits retir'd the silent reverence;And when the Prince, incens'd with angers fire,
Thunders aloud, he darts his lightning hence;
Here dusky-reddish clouds foretell his ire:
Of nothing can this Isle more boast aright:
A twin-born Sunne, a double seeing light;
With much delight they see, are seen with much delight.
24
That Thracian shepherd call'd them Natures glasse;Yet then a glasse in this much worthier being:
Blinde glasses represent some neare-set face;
But this a living glasse, both seen and seeing:
Like heav'n in moving, like in heav'nly firing;
Sweet heat and light, no burning flame inspiring:
Yet (ah!) too oft we find they scorch with hot desiring.
25
They mounted high, sit on a loftie hill;(For they the Princes best intelligence,
And quickly warn of future good, or ill)
Here stands the palace of the noblest sense;
Here Visus keeps, whose Court then crystall smoother,
And clearer seems; he, though a younger brother,
Yet farre more noble is, farre fairer then the other.
26
Six bands are set to stirre the moving tower:The first the proud band call'd, that lifts it highter;
The next the humble band, that shoves it lower;
The bibbing third draws it together nigher;
The fourth disdainfull, oft away is moving:
The other two, helping the compasse roving,
Are call'd the circling trains, & wanton bands of loving.
27
Above, two compasse groves, (Loves bended bows)Which fence the towers from flouds of higher place:
Before, a wall, deluding rushing foes,
That shuts and opens in a moments space:
Upon whose tops spearmen their pikes intending,
Watch there both night and day, the castles port defending.
28
Three divers lakes within these bulwarks lie,The noblest parts and instruments of sight:
The first, receiving forms of bodies nigh,
Conveys them to the next, and breaks the light,
Danting his rash and forcible invasion;
And with a clear and whitish inundation,
Restrains the nimble spirits from their too quick evasion.
29
In midst of both is plac't the Crystall pond;Whose living water thick, and brightly shining,
Like Saphires, or the sparkling Diamond,
His inward beams with outward light combining,
Alt'ring it self to every shapes aspect,
The divers forms doth further still direct,
Till by the nimble poast th' are brought to th' Intellect.
30
The third, like molten glasse, all cleare and white:Both round embrace the noble Crystalline.
Six inward walls fence in this Tower of sight:
The first, most thick, doth all the frame inshrine,
And girts the Castle with a close embrace,
Save in the midst is left a circles space,
Where light and hundred shapes flock out & in apace.
31
The second not so massie as the other,Yet thicker then the rest, and tougher fram'd,
Takes his beginning from that harder mother:
The outward part like horn, and thence is nam'd;
Through whose translucent sides much light is born
Into the Tower, and much kept out by th' horn,
Makes it a pleasant light, much like the ruddie morn.
32
The third, of softer mold, is like a grape,Which all entwines with his encircling side:
In midst a window lets in every shape;
Which with a thought is narrow made, or wide:
His inmost side more black then starrelesse night;
But outward part (how like an hypocrite!)
As painted Iris looks, with various colours dight.
33
The fourth of finest work, more slight, and thinne,Then or Arachne, (which in silken twine
With Pallas strove) or Pallas self could spinne:
This round enwraps the fountain Crystalline.
The next is made out of that milkie spring,
That from the Cephal mount his waves doth fling,
Like to a curious net his substance scattering.
34
His substance as the Head-spring, perfect white;Here thousand nimble spies are round dispread:
The forms caught in this net, are brought to sight,
And to his eye are lively pourtrayed.
The last the glassie wall (that round encasing
The moat of glasse, is nam'd from that enlacing)
The white & glassy wells parts with his strict embracing.
35
Thus then is fram'd the noble Visus bower;The outward light by th' first walls circle sending
His beams and hundred forms into the tower,
The wall of horn, and that black gate transcending,
Is lightned by the brightest Crystalline,
And fully view'd in that white nettie shine,
From thence with speedy haste is poasted to the minde.
36
Much as an one-ey'd room, hung all with night,(Onely that side, which adverse to his eye
Gives but one narrow passage to the light,
Is spread with some white shining tapestrie)
Shove boldly in, crouding that narrow way,
And on that bright-fac'd wall obscurely dancing play.
37
Two pair of rivers from the Head-spring flowTo these two Towers: the first in their mid-race
(The spies conveying) twisted joyntly go,
Strength'ning each other with a firm embrace.
The other pair these walking Towers are moving;
At first but one, then in two chanels roving:
And therefore both agree in standing, or removing.
38
Auditus, second of the Pemptarchie,Is next, not all so noble as his brother;
Yet of more need, and more commoditie:
His seat is plac'd somewhat below the other:
Of each side of the mount a double cave;
Both which a goodly Portall doth embrave,
And winding entrance, like Mæanders erring wave.
39
The Portall hard and drie, all hung aroundWith silken, thinne, carnatian tapestrie:
Whose open gate drags in each voice and sound,
That through the shaken ayer passes by:
The entrance winding; lest some violence
Might fright the Judge with sudden influence,
Or some unwelcome guest might vex the busie sense.
40
This caves first part fram'd with a steep ascent(For in foure parts 'tis fitly severed)
Makes th' entrance hard, but easie the descent:
Where stands a braced drumme, whose sounding head
(Obliquely plac'd) strook by the circling aire,
Gives instant warning of each sounds repair,
Which soon is thence convey'd unto the Judgement chair.
41
The drumme is made of substance hard and thinne;Which if some falling moisture chance to wet,
The loudest sound is hardly heard within:
But if it once grows thick, with stubborn let
It barres all passage to the inner room;
No sounding voice unto his seat may come:
The lazie sense still sleeps, unsummon'd with his drum.
42
This drumme divides the first and second part,In which three hearing instruments reside;
Three instruments compact by wondrous art,
With slender string knit to th' drummes inner side:
Their native temper being hard and drie,
Fitting the sound with their firm qualitie,
Continue still the same in age and infancie.
43
The first an Hammer call'd, whose out-grown sidesLie on the drumme; but with his swelling end
Fixt in the hollow Stithe, there fast abides:
The Stithes short foot doth on the drumme depend,
His longer in the Stirrup surely plac't;
The Stirrups sharp side by the Stithe embrac't,
But his broad base ti'd to a little window fast.
44
Two little windows ever open lie,The sound unto the caves third part convaying;
And slender pipe, whose narrow cavitie
Doth purge the in-born aire, that idle staying
Would els corrupt, and still supplies the spending:
The caves third part in twentie by-wayes bending,
Is call'd the Labyrinth, in hundred crooks ascending.
45
Such whilome was that eye-deceiving frame,Which crafty Dædal with a cunning hand
Built to empound the Cretan Princes shame:
Such was that Woodstock cave, where Rosamand,
Whom late a shepherd taught to weep so sore,
That woods and hardest rocks her harder fate deplore.
46
The third part with his narrow rockie straitsPerfects the sound, and gives more sharp accenting;
Then sends it to the fourth; where ready waits
A nimble poast, who ne're his haste relenting,
Flings to the judgement-seat with speedy flight:
There th' equall Judge attending day and night,
Receives the entring sounds, & dooms each voice aright.
47
As when a stone, troubling the quiet waters,Prints in the angry stream a wrinkle round,
Which soon another and another scatters,
Till all the lake with circles now is crown'd:
All so the aire struck with some violence nigh,
Begets a world of circles in the skie;
All which infected move with sounding qualitie.
48
These at Auditus palace soon arriving,Enter the gate, and strike the warning drumme;
To those three instruments fit motion giving,
Which every voice discern: then that third room
Sharpens each sound, and quick conveys it thence;
Till by the flying poast 'tis hurri'd hence,
And in an instant brought unto the judging sense.
49
This sense is made the Master of request,Prefers petitions to the Princes eare;
Admits what best he likes, shuts out the rest;
And sometimes cannot, sometimes will not heare:
Ofttimes he lets in anger-stirring lies,
Oft melts the Prince with oylie flatteries.
Ill mought he thrive, that loves his Masters enemies!
50
'Twixt Visus double court a Tower stands,Plac't in the Suburbs centre; whose high top,
And loftie raised ridge the rest commands:
Low at his foot a double doore stands ope,
Admitting passage to the aires ascending;
And divers odours to the Citie sending,
Revives the heavie town, his liberall sweets dispending.
51
This vaulted Tower's half built of massie stone,The other half of stuffe lesse hard and drie,
Fit for distending, or compression:
The outward wall may seem all porphyrie.
Olfactus dwells within this lofty fort;
But in the citie is his chief resort,
Where 'twixt two little hils he keeps his judging court.
52
By two great caves are plac't these little hills,Most like the nipples of a virgins breast;
By which the aire that th' hollow Tower fills,
Into the Citie passeth: with the rest
The odours pressing in are here all staid;
Till by the sense impartially weigh'd,
Unto the common Judge they are with speed conveyd.
53
At each side of that Tower stand two fair plains,More fair then that which in rich Thessalie
Was once frequented by the Muses trains:
Here ever sits sweet-blushing Modestie;
Here in two colours Beautie shining bright,
Dressing her white with red, her red with white,
With pleasing chain enthralls, & bindes loose wandring sight.
54
Below, a cave rooft with an heav'n-like plaister,And under strew'd with purple tapestrie,
Where Gustus dwells, the Isles and Princes Taster,
Koilia's Steward, one of th' Pemptarchie;
For by their nearest likenesse one to th' other,
Tactus may eas'ly seem his father, and his brother.
55
Tactus the last, but yet the eldest brother;(Whose office meanest, yet of all the race
The first and last, more needfull then the other)
Hath his abode in none, yet every place:
Through all the Isle distended is his dwelling;
He rules the streams that from the Cephal swelling
Runne all along the Isle, both sence & motion dealing.
56
With Gustus Lingua dwells, his pratling wife,Indu'd with strange and adverse qualities;
The nurse of hate and love, of peace and strife,
Mother of fairest truth, and foulest lies:
Or best, or worst; no mean: made all of fire,
Which sometimes hell, & sometimes heav'ns inspire;
By whom oft Truth self speaks, oft that first murth'ring liar.
57
The idle Sunne stood still at her command,Breathing his firie steeds in Gibeon:
And pale-fac'd Cynthia at her word made stand,
Resting her coach in vales of Aialon.
Her voice oft open breaks the stubborn skies,
And holds th' Almighties hands with suppliant cries:
Her voice tears open hell with horrid blasphemies.
58
Therefore that great Creatour, well foreseeingTo what a monster she would soon be changing,
(Though lovely once, perfect and glorious being)
Curb'd her with iron bit, and held from ranging;
And with strong bonds her looser steps enchaining,
Bridled her course, too many words refraining,
And doubled all his guards, bold libertie restraining.
59
For close within he sets twice sixteen guarders,Whose hardned temper could not soon be mov'd:
Without the gate he plac'd two other warders,
To shut and ope the doore, as it behov'd:
But such strange force hath her enchanting art,
That she hath made her keepers of her part,
And they to all her slights all furtherance impart.
60
Thus (with their help) by her the sacred MusesRefresh the Prince dull'd with much businesse;
By her the Prince unto his Prince oft uses
In heav'[n]ly throne from hell to finde accesse.
She heav'n to earth in musick often brings,
And earth to heaven: but oh how sweet she sings,
When in rich graces key she tunes poor natures strings!
61
Thus Orpheus wanne his lost Eurydice;Whom some deaf snake, that could no musick heare,
Or some blinde neut, that could no beautie see,
Thinking to kisse, kill'd with his forked spear:
He, when his plaints on earth were vainly spent,
Down to Avernus river boldly went,
And charm'd the meager ghosts with mournfull blandishment.
62
There what his mother, fair Calliope,From Phœbus harp and Muses spring had brought him,
What sharpest grief for his Eurydice,
And love redoubling grief had newly taught him,
He lavisht out, and with his potent spell
Bent all the rigorous powers of stubborn hell:
He first brought pitie down with rigid ghosts to dwell.
63
Th' amazed shades came flocking round about,Nor car'd they now to passe the Stygian ford:
All hell came running there, (an hideous rout)
And dropt a silent tear for every word:
But that without his help did thither float;
And having ta'ne him in, came dancing on the moat.
64
The hungry Tantal might have fill'd him now,And with large draughts swill'd in the standing pool:
The fruit hung listning on the wondring bough,
Forgetting hells command; but he (ah fool!)
Forgot his starved taste, his eares to fill.
Ixions turning wheel unmov'd stood still;
But he was rapt as much with powerfull musicks skill.
65
Tir'd Sisyphus sat on his resting stone,And hop'd at length his labour done for ever:
The vulture feeding on his pleasing mone,
Glutted with musick, scorn'd grown Tityus liver:
The Furies flung their snakie whips away,
And molt in tears at his enchanting lay,
No shrieches now were heard; all hell kept holy-day.
66
That treble Dog, whose voice ne're quiet fearsAll that in endlesse nights sad kingdome dwell,
Stood pricking up his thrice two listning eares,
With greedy joy drinking the sacred spell;
And softly whining, piti'd much his wrongs;
And now first silent at those dainty songs,
Oft wisht himself more ears, & fewer mouths & tongues.
67
At length return'd with his Eurydice,But with this law, not to return his eyes,
Till he was past the laws of Tartarie;
(Alas! who gives love laws in miseries?
Love is loves law; love but to love is ti'd)
Now when the dawns of neighbour day he spi'd,
Ah wretch! Eurydice he saw, and lost, and di'd.
68
All so who strives from grave of hellish nightTo bring his dead soul to the joyfull skie;
If when he comes in view of heav'nly light,
He turns again to hell his yeelding eye,
And longs to see what he had left; his sore
Grows desp'rate, deeper, deadlier then afore:
His helps and hopes much lesse, his crime & judgement more.
69
But why do I enlarge my tedious song,And tire my flagging Muse with wearie flight?
Ah! much I fear I hold you much too long.
The outward parts be plain to every sight:
But to describe the people of this Isle,
And that great Prince, these reeds are all too vile:
Some higher verse may fit, and some more loftie style.
70
See, Phlegon drenched in the hizzing main,Allayes his thirst, and cools the flaming carre;
Vesper fair Cynthia ushers, and her train:
See, th' apish earth hath lighted many a starre,
Sparkling in dewie globes: all home invite:
Home then my flocks, home shepherds, home; 'tis night:
My song with day is done; my Muse is set with light.
71
By this the gentle boyes had framed wellA myrtle garland mixt with conqu'ring bay,
From whose fit match issu'd a pleasing smell,
And all enamel'd it with roses gay;
With which they crown their honour'd Thirsils head:
Ah blessed shepherd-swain! ah happy meed!
While all his fellows chaunt on slender pipes of reed.
CANT. VI.
When fair Aurora leaves her frosty bed,
Hasting with youthfull Cephalus to play,
Unmaskt her face, and rosie beauties spread:
Tithonus silver age was much despis'd.
Ah! who in love that cruel law devis'd,
That old love's little worth, and new too highly priz'd?
2
The gentle shepherds on an hillock plac'd,(Whose shadie head a beechie garland crown'd)
View'd all their flocks that on the pastures graz'd:
Then down they sit, while Thenot 'gins the round;
Thenot! was never fairer boy among
The gentle lads, that in the Muses throng
By Chamus yellow streams learn tune their pipe & song.
3
See, Thirsil, see the shepherds expectation;Why then, (ah!) why sitt'st thou so silent there?
We long to know that Islands happy nation:
Oh! do not leave thy Isle unpeopled here.
Tell us who brought, and whence these colonies;
Who is their King, what foes, and what allies;
What laws maintain their peace, what warres & victories.
4
Thenot, my deare, that simple fisher-swain,Whose little boat in some small river strayes;
Yet fondly lanches in the swelling main,
Soon, yet too late, repents his foolish playes.
How dare I then forsake my well-set bounds,
Whose new-cut pipe as yet but harshly sounds?
A narrow compasse best my ungrown Muse impounds.
5
Two shepherds most I love with just adoring;That Mantuan swain, who chang'd his slender reed
To trumpets martiall voice, and warres loud roaring,
From Corydon to Turnus derring-deed;
And next our home-bred Colins sweetest firing;
Their steps not following close, but farre admiring:
To lackey one of these is all my prides aspiring.
6
Then you my peers, whose quiet expectationSeemeth my backward tale would fain invite;
Deigne gently heare this purple Islands nation,
A people never seen, yet still in sight;
Our daily guests, and natives, yet unknown;
Our servants born, but now commanders grown;
Our friends, and enemies; aliens, yet still our own.
7
Not like those Heroes, who in better timesThis happy Island first inhabited
In joy and peace; when no rebellious crimes
That God-like nation yet dispeop'led:
Those claim'd their birth from that eternal Light,
Held th' Isle, and rul'd it in their fathers right,
And in their faces bore their parents image bright.
8
For when the Isle that main would fond forsake,In which at first it found a happy place,
And deep was plung'd in that dead hellish lake;
Back to their father flew this heav'nly race,
And left the Isle forlorn, and desolate;
That now with fear, and wishes all too late,
Sought in that blackest wave to hide his blacker fate.
9
How shall a worm, on dust that crawls and feeds,Climbe to th' empyreall court, where these states reign,
And there take view of what heav'ns self exceeds?
The Sunne lesse starres, these lights the Sunne distain:
What here on earth, in aire, or heav'n do dwell:
Such never eye yet saw, such never tongue can tell.
10
Soon as these Saints the treach'rous Isle forsook,Rusht in a false, foul, fiend-like companie,
And every fort, and every castle took;
All to this rabble yeeld the soveraigntie:
The goodly temples which those Heroes plac't,
By this foul rout were utterly defac't,
And all their fences strong, and all their bulwarks raz'd.
11
So where the neatest Badger most abides,Deep in the earth she frames her prettie cell,
And into halls and closulets divides:
But when the stinking fox with loathsome smell
Infects her pleasant cave, the cleanly beast
So hates her inmate and rank-smelling guest,
That farre away she flies, and leaves her loathed nest.
12
But when those Graces (at their fathers throneArriv'd) in heav'ns high Court to Justice plain'd,
How they were wrong'd, and forced from their own,
And what foul people in their dwellings reign'd;
How th' earth much waxt in ill, much wan'd in good,
So full-ripe vice, how blasted vertues bud,
Begging such vicious weeds might sink in vengefull floud:
13
Forth stept the just Dicæa, full of rage;(The first-born daughter of th' Almighty King)
Ah sacred maid, thy kindled ire asswage;
Who dare abide thy dreadfull thundering?
Soon as her voice but Father onely spake,
The faultlesse heav'ns, like leaves in Autumne, shake;
And all that glorious throng with horrid palsies quake.
14
Heard you not late, with what loud trumpet soundHer breath awak'd her fathers sleeping ire?
The heav'nly armies flam'd, earth shook, heav'n frown'd,
And heav'ns dread King call'd for his three-forkt fire.
Heark how the powerfull words strike through the eare;
The frighted sense shoots up the staring hair,
And shakes the trembling soul with fright & shudd'ring fear.
15
So have I seen the earth strong windes detainingIn prison close; they scorning to be under
Her dull subjection, and her power disdaining,
With horrid struglings tear their bonds in sunder:
Mean while the wounded earth, that forc'd their stay,
With terrour reels, the hils runne farre away;
And frighted world fears hell breaks out upon the day.
16
But see how 'twixt her sister and her sire,Soft-hearted Mercy sweetly interposing,
Settles her panting breast against his fire,
Pleading for grace, and chains of death unloosing:
Heark, from her lips the melting hony flowes;
The striking Thunderer recals his blowes,
And every armed souldier down his weapon throwes.
17
So when the day, wrapt in a cloudie night,Puts out the Sunne, anon the rattling hail
On earth poures down his shot with fell despight:
His powder spent, the Sunne puts off his vail,
And fair his flaming beauties now unsteeps;
The plough-man from his bushes gladly peeps,
And hidden traveller out of his covert creeps.
18
Ah fairest maid, best essence of thy father,Equall unto thy never equall'd sire;
How in low verse shall thy poore shepherd gather,
What all the world can ne're enough admire?
The brightest day grows pale as leaden night,
And heav'ns bright burning eye loses his blinded sight.
19
Who then those sugred strains can understand,Which calm'd thy father, and our desp'rate fears;
And charm'd the nimble lighthing in his hand,
That all unwares it dropt in melting tears?
Then thou deare swain, thy heav'nly load unfraught;
For she her self hath thee her speeches taught;
So neare her heav'n they be, so farre from humane thought.
20
But let my lighter skiffe return againUnto that little Isle which late it left,
Nor dare to enter in that boundlesse main,
Or tell the nation from this Island reft;
But sing that civil strife, and home dissension
'Twixt two strong factions with like fierce contention;
Where never peace is heard, nor ever peaces mention.
21
For that foul rout, which from the Stygian brook(Where first they dwelt in midst of death and night)
By force the left and emptie Island took,
Claim hence full conquest, and possessions right:
But that fair band, which Mercie sent anew,
The ashes of that first heroick crue,
From their forefathers claim their right, & Islands due.
22
In their fair look their parents grace appeares,Yet their renowned sires were much more glorious;
For what decaies not with decaying yeares?
All night, and all the day, with toil laborious,
(In losse and conquest angrie) fresh they fight:
Nor can the other cease or day or night,
While th' Isle is doubly rent with endlesse warre and fright.
23
As when the Britain and Iberian fleetWith resolute and fearlesse expectation
On trembling seas with equall fury meet,
The shore resounds with diverse acclamation;
Till now at length Spains firie Dons 'gin shrink:
Down with their ships, hope, life, and courage sink:
Courage, life, hope, and ships the gaping surges drink.
24
But who (alas!) shall teach my ruder breastThe names and deeds of these heroick Kings?
Or downy Muse, which now but left the nest,
Mount from her bush to heav'n with new-born wings?
Thou sacred maid, which from fair Palestine
Through all the world hast spread thy brightest shine
Kindle thy shepherd-swain with thy light flaming eyn.
25
Sacred Thespio, which in Sinaies groveFirst took'st thy being and immortall breath,
And vaunt'st thy off-spring from the highest Fove,
Yet deign'dst to dwell with mortalls here beneath,
With vilest earth, and men more vile residing;
Come holy Virgin in my bosome sliding,
With thy glad Angel light my blindfold footsteps guiding.
26
And thou dread Spirit, which at first didst spreadOn those dark waters thy all-opening light;
Thou who of late (of thy great bounty head)
This nest of hellish fogges and Stygian night
With thy bright orient Sunne hast fair renew'd,
And with unwonted day hast it endu'd,
Which late both day & thee, and most it self eschew'd:
27
Dread Spirit, do thou those severall bands unfold,Both which thou sent'st a needfull supplement
To this lost Isle, and which with courage bold
Hourely assail thy rightfull regiment;
Raise now my humble vein to lofty thunder,
That heav'n and earth may sound, resound thy praises wonder.
28
The Islands Prince, of frame more then celestiall,Is rightly call'd th' all-seeing Intellect;
All glorious bright, such nothing is terrestriall;
Whose Sun-like face, and most divine aspect
No humane sight may ever hope descrie:
For when himself on's self reflects his eye,
Dull and amaz'd he stands at so bright majestie.
29
Look as the Sunne, whose ray and searching lightHere, there, and every where it self displayes,
No nook or corner flies his piercing sight;
Yet on himself when he reflects his rayes,
Soon back he flings the too bold vent'ring gleam;
Down to the earth the flames all broken stream:
Such is this famous Prince, such his unpierced beam.
30
His strangest body is not bodily,But matter without matter; never fill'd,
Nor filling; though within his compasse high
All heav'n and earth, and all in both are held;
Yet thousand thousand heav'ns he could contain,
And still as empty as at first remain;
And when he takes in most, readi'st to take again.
31
Though travelling all places, changing none:Bid him soar up to heav'n, and thence down throwing
The centre search, and Dis dark realm; he's gone,
Returns, arrives, before thou saw'st him going:
And while his weary kingdome safely sleeps,
All restlesse night he watch and warding keeps,
Never his carefull head on resting pillow steeps.
32
In every quarter of this blessed IsleHimself both present is, and President;
Nor once retires, (ah happy realm the while,
That by no Officers lewd lavishment,
With greedie lust, and wrong consumed art!)
He all in all, and all in every part,
Does share to each his due, and equall dole impart.
33
He knows nor death, nor yeares, nor feeble age;But as his time, his strength and vigour grows:
And when his kingdome by intestine rage
Lies broke and wasted, open to his foes,
And batter'd sconce now flat and even lies;
Sooner then thought to that great Judge he flies,
Who weighs him just reward of good, or injuries.
34
For he the Judges Viceroy here is plac't;Where if he live, as knowing he may die,
He never dies, but with fresh pleasures grac't,
Bathes his crown'd head in soft eternitie;
Where thousand joyes, and pleasures ever new,
And blessings thicker then the morning dew,
With endlesse sweets rain down on that immortall crue.
35
There golden starres set in the crystall snow;There daintie joyes laugh at white-headed caring:
There day no night, delight no end shall know;
Sweets without surfet, fulnesse without sparing,
And by its spending growing happinesse:
There God himself in glories lavishnesse
Diffus'd in all, to all, is all full blessednesse.
36
But if he here neglect his Masters law,And with those traitours 'gainst his Lord rebells;
Down to the deeps ten thousand fiends him draw,
Deeps, where night, death, despair and horrour dwells;
Where fell despite for spite his bowels tears,
And still increasing grief, and torment never wears.
37
Prayers there are idle, death is woo'd in vain;In midst of death poore wretches long to die:
Night without day or rest, still doubling pain;
Woes spending still, yet still their end lesse nigh:
The soul there restlesse, helplesse, hopelesse lies;
The body frying roars, and roaring fries:
There's life that never lives, there's death that never dies.
38
Hence while unsetled here he fighting reignes,Shut in a Tower where thousand enemies
Assault the fort, with wary care and pains
He guards all entrance, and by divers spies
Searches into his foes and friends designes:
For most he fears his subjects wavering mindes.
This Tower then onely falls, when treason undermines.
39
Therefore while yet he lurks in earthly tent,Disguis'd in worthlesse robes and poore attire,
Trie we to view his glories wonderment,
And get a sight of what we so admire:
For when away from this sad place he flies,
And in the skies abides, more bright then skies,
Too glorious is his sight for our dimme mortall eyes.
40
So curl'd-head Thetis, waters feared Queen,But bound in cauls of sand, yeelds not to sight;
And planets glorious King may best be seen,
When some thinne cloud dimmes his too piercing light,
And neither none, nor all his face discloses:
For when his bright eye full our eye opposes,
None gains his glorious sight, but his own sight he loses.
41
Within the Castle sit eight Counsellers,That help him in this tent to govern well:
Each in his room a severall office bears;
Three of his inmost private counsell deal
In great affairs: five of lesse dignitie
Have outward Courts, and in all actions prie,
But still referre the doom to Courts more fit and high.
42
Those five fair brethren which I sung of late,For their just number call'd the Pemptarchie;
The other three, three pillars of the state:
The first in midst of that high Tower doth lie,
(The chiefest mansion of this glorious King)
The Judge and Arbiter of every thing,
Which those five brethrens poasts in to his office bring.
43
Of middle yeares, and seemly personage,Father of laws, the rule of wrong and right;
Fountain of judgement, therefore wondrous sage,
Discreet, and wise, of quick and nimble sight:
Not those seven Sages might him parallell,
Nor he whom Pythian Maid did whilome tell
To be the wisest man that then on earth did dwell.
44
As Neptunes cestern sucks in tribute tides(Yet never full) which every chanel brings,
And thirstie drinks, and drinking thirstie bides;
For by some hidden way back to the springs
It sends the streams in erring conduits spread,
Which with a circling dutie still are led;
So ever feeding them, is by them ever fed:
45
Ev'n so the first of these three CounsellersGives to the five the power of all-descrying;
Which back to him with mutuall dutie bears
All their informings, and the causes trying:
Unto his hall; there up his message sends,
Which to the next well scann'd he straightway recommends.
46
The next that in the Castles front is plac't,Phantastes hight; his yeares are fresh and green,
His visage old, his face too much defac't
With ashes pale, his eyes deep sunken been
With often thoughts, and never slackt intention:
Yet he the fount of speedy apprehension,
Father of wit, the well of arts, and quick invention.
47
But in his private thoughts and busy brainThousand thinne forms, and idle fancies flit;
The three-shap't Sphinx, and direfull Harpyes train,
Which in the world had never being yet:
Oft dreams of fire and water, loose delight;
And oft arrested by some ghastly sprite,
Nor can he think, nor speak, nor move for great affright.
48
Phantastes from the first all shapes deriving,In new abiliments can quickly dight;
Of all materiall and grosse parts depriving,
Fits them unto the noble Princes sight;
Which soon as he hath view'd with searching eye,
He straight commits them to his Treasurie,
Which old Eumnestes keeps, Father of memorie.
49
Eumnestes old, who in his living screen(His mindefull breast) the rolls and records bears
Of all the deeds, and men, which he hath seen,
And keeps lockt up in faithfull Registers:
Well he recalls Nimrods first tyrannie,
And Babels pride daring the lofty skie;
Well he recalls the earths twice-growing infancie.
50
Therefore his body weak, his eyes halfblinde,But minde more fresh, and strong; (ah better fate!)
And as his carcase, so his house declin'd;
Yet were the walls of firm and able state:
Onely on him a nimble Page attends,
Who when for ought the aged Grandsire sends,
With swift, yet backward steps, his helping aidance lends.
51
But let my song passe from these worthy SagesUnto this Islands highest Soveraigne,
And those hard warres which all the yeare he wages:
For these three late a gentle shepherd-swain
Most sweetly sung, as he before had seen
In Alma's house: his memorie yet green
Lives in his well-tun'd songs, whose leaves immortall been.
52
Nor can I guesse, whether his Muse divineOr gives to those, or takes from them his grace;
Therefore Eumnestes in his lasting shrine
Hath justly him enroll'd in second place:
Next to our Mantuan poet doth he rest;
There shall our Colin live for ever blest,
Spite of those thousand spites, which living him opprest.
53
The Prince his time in double office spends:For first those forms and fancies he admits,
Which to his Court busie Phantastes sends,
And for the easier discerning fits:
For shedding round about his sparkling light,
He cleares their duskie shades, and cloudy night,
Producing like himself their shapes all shining bright.
54
As when the Sunne restores the glitt'ring day,The world late cloath'd in nights black livery,
Doth now a thousand colours fair display,
And paints it self in choice varietie,
All so this Prince those shapes obscure receiving,
With his suffused light makes ready to conceiving.
55
This first is call'd the Active Facultie,Which to an higher power the object leaves:
That takes it in it self, and cunningly
Changing it self, the object soon perceives:
For straight it self in self same shape adorning,
Becomes the same with quick & strange transforming;
So is all things it self, to all it self conforming.
56
Thus when the eye through Visus jettie portsLets in the wandring shapes, the crystall strange
Quickly it self to every sort consorts,
So is what e're it sees by wondrous change:
Thrice happy then, when on that mirrour bright
He ever fastens his unmoved sight,
So is what there he views; divine, full, glorious light.
57
Soon as the Prince these forms hath clearely seen,Parting the false from true, the wrong from right,
He straight presents them to his beauteous Queen,
Whose Courts are lower, yet of equall might;
Voletta fair, who with him lives, and reignes;
Whom neither man, nor fiend, nor God constrains:
Oft good, oft ill, oft both; yet ever free remains.
58
Not that great Soveraigne of the Fayrie land,Whom late our Colin hath eternized,
(Though Graces decking her with plenteous hand,
Themselves of grace have all unfurnished;
Though in her breast she Vertues temple bare,
The fairest temple of a guest so fair)
Not that great Glorians self with this might e're compare.
59
Her radiant beautie, daz'ling mortall eye,Strikes blinde the daring sense; her sparkling face
Her husbands self now cannot well descrie:
With such strange brightnesse, such immortall grace,
Hath that great parent in her cradle made,
That Cynthia's silver cheek would quickly fade,
And light it self to her would seem a painted shade.
60
But (ah!) entic't by her own worth and pride,She stain'd her beautie with most loathsome spot;
Her Lords fixt law, and spouses light deni'd,
So fill'd her spouse and self with leprous blot:
And now all dark is their first morning ray.
What verse might then their former light display,
When yet their darkest night outshines the brightest day?
61
On her a royall damsell still attends,And faithfull Counseller, Synteresis:
For though Voletta ever good intends,
Yet by fair ills she oft deceived is;
By ills so fairly drest with cunning slight,
That Vertues self they well may seem to sight,
But that bright Vertues self oft seems not half so bright.
62
Therefore Synteresis of nimble sight,Oft helps her doubtfull hand, and erring eye;
Els mought she ever stumbling in this night
Fall down as deep as deepest Tartarie:
Nay thence a sad-fair maid, Repentance, rears,
And in her arms her fainting Lady bears,
Washing her often stains with ever-falling tears.
63
Thereto she addes a water soveraigne,Of wondrous force, and skilfull composition:
For first she pricks the heart in tender vein,
Then from those precious drops, and deep contrition,
Still'd in a broken spirit, sad vapours rise,
Exhal'd by sacred fires, and drop through melting eyes.
64
These cordiall drops, these spirit-healing balmsCure all her sinfull bruises, cleare her eyes,
Unlock her ears, recover fainting qualms:
And now grown fresh and strong, she makes her rise,
And glasse of unmaskt sinne she bright displaies,
Whereby she sees, loathes, mends her former waies;
So soon repairs her light, trebling her new-born raies.
65
But (ah!) why do we (simple as we been)With curious labour, dimme and vailed sight,
Prie in the nature of this King and Queen,
Groping in darknesse for so cleare a light?
A light which once could not be thought or told,
But now with blackest clouds is thick enroll'd,
Prest down in captive chains, and pent in earthly mold.
66
Rather lament we this their wretched fate,(Ah wretched fate, and fatal wretchednesse!)
Unlike those former dayes, and first estate,
When he espous'd with melting happinesse
To fair Voletta, both their lights conspiring,
He saw what e're was fit for her requiring,
And she to his cleare sight would temper her desiring.
67
When both replenisht with celestiall light,All coming evils could foresee and flie;
When both with clearest eye, and perfect sight
Could every natures difference descrie:
Whose pictures now they scarcely see with pain,
Obscure and dark, like to those shadows vain,
Which thinne and emptie glide along Avernus plain.
68
The flowres that frighted with sharp winters dread,Retire into their mother Tellus wombe,
Yet in the Spring in troups new mustered
Peep out again from their unfrozen tombe:
The early Violet will fresh arise,
And spreading his flour'd purple to the skies,
Boldly the little elf the winters spite defies.
69
The hedge green Sattin pinkt and cut arayes,The Heliotrope to cloth of gold aspires;
In hundred-colour'd silks the Tulip playes,
Th' Imperiall flower his neck with pearl attires,
The Lily high her silver Grogram reares,
The Pansie her wrought Velvet garment bears;
The red Rose Scarlet, and the Provence Damask wears.
70
How falls it then that such an heav'nly light,As this great Kings, should sink so wondrous low,
That scarce he can suspect his former height?
Can one eclipse so dark his shining brow,
And steal away his beautie glittering fair?
One onely blot so great a light empair,
That never could he hope his waning to repair?
71
Ah! never could he hope once to repairSo great a wane, should not that new-born Sun
Adopt him both his brother and his heir;
Who through base life, and death, and hell would run,
To seat him in his lost, now surer cell.
That he may mount to heav'n, he sunk to hell;
That he might live, he di'd; that he might rise, he fell.
72
A perfect Virgin breeds and bears a Sonne,Th' immortall father of his mortall mother;
Earth, heav'n, flesh, spirit, man, God, are met in one:
His younger brothers childe, his childrens brother,
His own creatour, earths scorn, heavens pride;
Who th' deitie inflesht, and mans flesh deifi'd.
73
Thou uncreated Sunne, heav'ns glory bright,Whom we with knees and hearts low bent adore;
At rising, perfect, and now falling, light;
Ah what reward, what thanks shall we restore?
Thou wretched wast, that we might happy be:
Oh all the good we hope, and all we see,
That we thee know and love, comes from thy love, and thee.
74
Receive, which we can onely back return,(Yet that we may return, thou first must give)
A heart, which fain would smoke, which fain would burn
In praise; for thee, to thee would onely live:
And thou (who sat'st in night to give us day)
Light and enflame us with thy glorious ray,
That we may back reflect, and borrow'd light repay.
75
So we beholding with immortall eyeThe glorious picture of thy heav'nly face,
In his first beautie and true Majestie,
May shake from our dull souls these fetters base;
And mounting up to that bright crystal sphere,
Whence thou strik'st all the world with shudd'ring fear,
May not be held by earth, nor hold vile earth so deare.
76
Then should thy shepherd (poorest shepherd) singA thousand Canto's in thy heav'nly praise,
And rouze his flagging Muse, and flutt'ring wing,
To chant thy wonders in immortall laies,
(Which once thou wrought'st, when Nilus slimie shore,
Or Fordans banks thy mighty hand adore)
Thy judgements, & thy mercies; but thy mercies more.
77
But see, the stealing night with softly pace,To flie the Western Sunne, creeps up the East;
Cold Hesper 'gins unmask his evening face,
And calls the winking starres from drouzie rest:
Home then my lambes; the falling drops eschew:
To morrow shall ye feast in pastures new,
And with the rising Sunne banquet on pearled dew.
CANT. VII.
1
The rising morn lifts up his orient head,And spangled heav'ns in golden robes invests;
Thirsil up starting from his fearlesse bed,
Where uselesse nights he safe and quiet rests,
Unhous'd his bleating flock, and quickly thence
Hasting to his expecting audience,
Thus with sad verse began their grieved mindes incense:
2
Fond man, that looks on earth for happinesse,And here long seeks what here is never found!
For all our good we hold from heav'n by lease,
With many forfeits and conditions bound;
Nor can we pay the fine and rentage due:
Though now but writ, and seal'd, and giv'n anew,
Yet daily we it break, then daily must renew.
3
Why should'st thou here look for perpetuall good,At every losse against heav'ns face repining?
Do but behold where glorious Cities stood,
With gilded tops, and silver turrets shining;
There now the Hart fearlesse of greyhound feeds,
And loving Pelican in safety breeds;
There shrieching Satyres fill the peoples emptie steads.
4
Where is th' Assyrian Lions golden hide,That all the East once graspt in lordly paw?
Where that great Persian Beare, whose swelling pride
The Lions self tore out with ravenous jaw?
Or he which 'twixt a Lion, and a Pard,
Through all the world with nimble pineons far'd,
And to his greedy whelps his conquer'd kingdomes shar'd?
5
Hardly the place of such antiquitie,Or note of these great monarchies we finde:
Onely a fading verball memorie,
And empty name in writ is left behinde:
But when this second life, and glory fades,
And sinks at length in times obscurer shades,
A second fall succeeds, and double death invades.
6
That monstrous beast, which nurst in Tibers fenne,Did all the world with hideous shape affray;
That fill'd with costly spoil his gaping denne,
And trode down all the rest to dust and clay:
His batt'ring horns pull'd out by civil hands,
And iron teeth lie scatter'd on the sands;
Backt, bridled by a Monk, with sev'n heads yoked stands.
7
And that black Vulture, which with deathfull wingO're-shadows half the earth, whose dismall sight
Frighted the Muses from their native spring,
Already stoops, and flagges with weary flight.
Who then shall look for happines beneath;
Where each new day proclaims chance, change, and death,
And life it self's as flit as is the aire we breathe?
8
Ne mought this Prince escape, though he as farreAll these excells in worth and heav'nly grace,
As brightest Phœbus does the dimmest starre:
The deepest falls are from the highest place.
To his base bonds, and loathsome prison thrall,
Whom thousand foes besiege, fenc'd with frail yeelding wall.
9
Tell me, oh tell me then, thou holy Muse,Sacred Thespio, what the cause may be
Of such despite, so many foemen use
To persecute unpiti'd miserie:
Or if these cankred foes (as most men say)
So mighty be, that gird this wall of clay;
What makes it hold so long, and threatned ruine stay?
10
When that great Lord his standing Court would build,The outward walls with gemmes and glorious lights,
But inward rooms with nobler Courtiers fill'd;
Pure, living flames, swift, mighty, blessed sprites:
But some his royall service (fools!) disdain;
So down were flung: (oft blisse is double pain)
In heav'n they scorn'd to serve, so now in hell they reigne.
11
There turn'd to serpents, swoln with pride and hate,Their Prince a Dragon fell, who burst with spight
To see this Kings and Queens yet happy state,
Tempts them to lust and pride, prevails by slight:
To make them wise, and gods he undertakes.
Thus while the snake they heare, they turn to snakes;
To make them gods he boasts, but beasts, and devils makes.
12
But that great Lion who in Fudahs plainsThe awfull beasts holds down in due subjection,
The Dragons craft, and base-got spoil disdains,
And folds this captive Prince in his protection;
Breaks ope the jayl, & brings the prisoners thence,
Yet plac't them in this castles weak defence,
Where they might trust and seek an higher providence.
13
So now spread round about this little hold,With armies infinite encamped lie
Th' enraged Dragon and his Serpents bold:
And knowing well his time grows short and nigh,
He swells with venom'd gore and poys'nous heat;
His tail unfolded heav'n it self doth beat,
And sweeps the mighty starres from their transcendent seat.
14
With him goes Caro, cursed damme of sinne,Foul filthie damme of fouler progenie;
Yet seems (skin-deep) most fair by witching gin
To weaker sight; but to a purged eye
Looks like (nay worse then) hells infernall hagges:
Her empty breasts hang like lank hollow bagges,
And Iris ulcer'd skin is patcht with leprous ragges.
15
Therefore her loathsome shade in steel arayd,All rust within, the outside polisht bright:
And on her shield a Mermaid sung and playd;
Whose humane beauties 'lure the wandring sight,
But slimy scales hid in their waters lie:
She chants, she smiles, so draws the eare, the eye,
And whom she winnes, she kills: the word, Heare, gaze, & die.
16
And after march her fruitfull serpent frie,Whom she of divers lechers divers bore;
Marshall'd in severall ranks their colours flie: Foure to Anagnus, foure this painted whore
To loathsome Asebie brought forth to light;
Twice foure got Adicus, a hatefull wight;
But swoln Acrates two, born in one bed, and night.
17
Mœchus the first, of blushlesse bold aspect;Yet with him Doubt and Fear still trembling go:
Oft lookt he back, as if he did suspect
Th' approach of some unwisht, unwelcome foe:
And sure Revenge, with dart that never swerv'd:
Ten thousand griefs and plagues he felt, but more deserv'd.
18
His armour black as hell, or starlesse night;And in his shield he lively pourtray'd bare
Mars fast impound in arms of Venus light,
And ti'd as fast in Vulcans subtil snare:
She feign'd to blush for shame now all too late;
But his red colour seem'd to sparkle hate:
Sweet are stoln waters, round about the marge he wrate.
19
Porneius next him pac't, a meager wight;Whose leaden eyes sunk deep in swimming head,
And joylesse look, like some pale ashie spright,
Seem'd as he now were dying, or now dead:
And with him Wastefulnesse, that all expended,
And Want, that still in theft and prison ended:
A hundred foul diseases close at's back attended.
20
His shining helm might seem a sparkling flame,Yet sooth nought was it but a foolish fire:
And all his arms were of that burning frame,
That flesh and bones were gnawn with hot desire:
About his wrist his blazing shield did frie
With sweltring hearts in flame of luxurie:
His word, In fire I live, in fire I burn and die.
21
With him Acatharus in Tuscan guise;A thing, that neither man will owne, nor beast:
Upon a boy he lean'd in wanton wise,
On whose fair limbes his eyes still greedie feast;
He sports, he toyes, kisses his shining face:
Behinde, reproach and thousand devils pace;
Before, bold Impudence, that cannot change her grace.
22
His armour seem'd to laugh with idle boyes,Which all about their wanton sportings playd;
Al's would himself help out their childish toyes,
And like a boy lend them unmanly aid:
In his broad targe the bird her wings dispread,
Which trussing wafts the Trojan Ganymed:
And round was writ, Like with his like is coupeled.
23
Aselges follow'd next, the boldest boy,That ever play'd in Venus wanton court:
He little cares who notes his lavish joy;
Broad were his jests, wilde his uncivil sport;
His fashion too too fond, and loosly light:
A long love-lock on his left shoulder plight,
Like to a womans hair, well shew'd a womans sprite.
24
Lust in strange nests this Cuckoe egge conceiv'd;Which nurst with surfets, drest with fond disguises,
In fancies school his breeding first receiv'd:
So this brave spark to wilder flame arises;
And now to court preferr'd, high blouds he fires,
There blows up pride, vain mirths and loose desires;
And heav'nly souls (oh grief!) with hellish flame inspires.
25
There oft to rivalls lends the gentle Dor,Oft takes (his mistresse by) the bitter Bob:
There learns her each daies change of Gules, Verd, Or,
(His sampler) if she pouts, her slave must sob:
Her face his sphere, her hair his circling skie;
Her love his heav'n, her sight eternitie:
Of her he dreams, with her he lives, for her he'l die.
26
Upon his arm a tinsell scarf he wore,Forsooth his Madams favour, spangled fair:
Light as himself, a fanne his helmet bore,
With ribbons drest, begg'd from his Mistresse hair:
His folded eyes willing and wilfull blinde:
The word was wrought with gold, Such is a lovers minde.
27
These foure, Anagnus and foul Caro's sonnes,Who led a diff'rent, and disorder'd rout;
Fancie, a lad that all in feathers wons,
And loose desire, and danger linkt with doubt;
And thousand wanton thoughts still budding new:
But lazie ease usher'd the idle crue;
And lame disease shuts up their troops with torments due.
28
Next band by Asebie was boldly led,And his foure sonnes, begot in Stygian night:
First Idololatros, whose monstrous head
Was like an ugly fiend, his flaming sight
Like blazing starres; the rest all different:
For to his shape some part each creature lent,
But to the great Creatour all adversly bent.
29
Upon his breast a bloudie Crosse he scor'd,Which oft he worshipt; but the Christ that di'd
Thereon, he seldome but in paint ador'd;
Yet wood, stone, beasts, wealth, lusts, fiends deifi'd:
He makes meer pageants of the saving Rock,
Puppet-like trimming his Almightie stock:
Which then, his god or he, which is the verier block?
30
Of Giant shape, and strength thereto agreeing,Wherewith he whilome all the world opprest;
And yet the greater part his vassals being,
Slumbring in ignorance, securely rest:
A golden calf (himself more beast) he bore;
Which brutes with dancings, gifts, and songs adore:
Idols are lay-mens books, he round had wrote in Ore.
31
Next Pharmacus, of gashly wilde aspect;Whom hell with seeming fear, and fiends obey:
Full eas'ly would he know each past effect,
And things to come with double guesse foresay,
By slain beasts entrails, and fowls marked flight:
Thereto he tempests rais'd by many a spright,
And charm'd the Sunne and Moon, & chang'd the day and night.
32
So when the South (dipping his sablest wingsIn humid Ocean) sweeps with 's dropping beard
Th' aire, earth, and seas; his lips loud thunderings
And flashing eyes make all the world afeard:
Light with dark clouds, waters with fires are met:
The Sunne but now is rising, now is set;
And findes west-shades in East, and seas in ayers wet.
33
By birth, and hand, he jugling fortunes tells;Oft brings from shades his grandsires damned ghost;
Oft stoln goods forces out by wicked spells:
His frightfull shield with thousand fiends embost,
Which seem'd without a circles ring to play:
In midst himself dampens the smiling day,
And prints sad characters, which none may write, or say.
34
The third Hæreticus, a wrangling carle,Who in the way to heav'n would wilfull erre;
And oft convicted, still would snatch and snarle:
His Crambe oft repeats; all tongue, no eare.
Him Obstinacie, Pride, and Scorn attended:
On's shield with Truth Errour disguis'd contended:
His Motto this, Rather thus erre, then be amended.
35
Last marcht Hypocrisie, false form of grace,That vaunts the show of all, ha's truth of none:
A rotten heart he masks with painted face;
Among the beasts a mule, 'mong bees a drone,
Nor good, nor bad, nor heav'n, nor earth affects him:
The earth for glaring forms, for bare forms heav'n rejects him.
36
His wanton heart he vails with dewy eyes,So oft the world, and oft himself deceives:
His tongue his heart, his hands his tongue belies:
In's path (as snails) silver, but slime he leaves:
He Babels glory is, but Sions taint;
Religions blot, but Irreligions paint:
A Saint abroad, at home a Fiend; and worst a Saint.
37
So tallow lights live glitt'ring, stinking die;Their gleams aggrate the sight, steams wound the smell:
So Sodom apples please the ravisht eye,
But sulphure taste proclaims their root's in hell:
So airy flames to heav'nly seem alli'd;
But when their oyl is spent, they swiftly glide,
And into jelly'd mire melt all their gilded pride.
38
So rushes green, smooth, full, are spungie light;So their ragg'd stones in velvet peaches gown:
So rotten sticks seem starres in cheating night;
So quagmires false their mire with emeralds crown:
Such is Hypocrisies deceitfull frame;
A stinking light, a sulphure fruit, false flame,
Smooth rush, hard peach, sere wood, false mire, a voice, a name.
39
Such were his arms, false gold, true alchymie;Glitt'ring with glassie stones, and fine deceit:
His sword a flatt'ring steel, which gull'd the eye,
And pierc't the heart with pride and self-conceit:
On's shield a tombe, where death had drest his bed
With curious art, and crown'd his loathsome head
With gold, & gems: his word, More gorgeous when dead.
40
Before them went their nurse, bold Ignorance;A loathsome monster, light, sight, 'mendment scorning:
Born deaf and blinde, fitter to lead the dance
To such a rout; her silver heads adorning
(Her dotage index) much she bragg'd, yet feign'd:
For by false tallies many yeares she gain'd.
Wise youth is honour'd age; fond's age with dotage stain'd.
41
Her failing legges with erring footsteps reel'd;(Lame guide to blisse!) her daughters on each side
Much pain'd themselves her stumbling feet to weeld;
Both like their mother, dull and beetle-ey'd:
The first was Errour false, who multiplies
Her num'rous race in endlesse progenies:
For but one truth there is, ten thousand thousand lies.
42
Her brood o're-spread her round with sinne and bloud,With envie, malice, mischiefs infinite;
While she to see her self amazed stood,
So often got with childe and bigge with spite:
Her off-spring flie about & spread their seed;
Straight hate, pride, schisme, warres & seditions breed,
Get up, grow ripe. How soon prospers the vicious weed!
43
The other Owl-ey'd Superstition,Deform'd, distorted, blinde in shining light;
Yet styles her self holy Devotion,
And so is call'd, and seems in shadie night:
Fearfull, as is the hare, or hunted hinde;
Her face and breast she oft with crosses sign'd:
No custome would she break, or change her setled minde.
44
If hare or snake her way, herself she crosses,And stops her 'mazed steps; sad fears affright her,
When falling salt points out some fatall losses,
Till Bacchus grapes with holy sprinkle quite her:
Her antidote are hallow'd wax and water:
I' th' dark all lights are sprites, all noises chains that clatter.
45
With them marcht (sunk in deep securitie)Profanenesse, to be fear'd for never fearing;
And by him, new-oaths-coyning Blasphemie,
Who names not God, but in a curse, or swearing:
And thousand other fiends in diverse fashion,
Dispos'd in severall ward, and certain station:
Under, Hell widely yawn'd; and over, flew Damnation.
46
Next Adicus his sonnes; first Ecthros slie,Whose prickt-up eares kept open house for lies;
And [f]leering eyes still watch and wait to spie
When to return still-living injuries:
Fair weather smil'd upon his painted face,
And eyes spoke peace, till he had time and place;
Then poures down showers of rage, and streams of rancour base.
47
So when a sable cloud with swelling sailComes swimming through calm skies, the silent aire
(While fierce windes sleep in Æols rockie jayl)
With spangled beams embroid'red, glitters fair;
But soon 'gins lowr: straight clatt'ring hail is bred,
Scatt'ring cold shot; light hides his golden head,
And with untimely winter earth's o're-silvered.
48
His arms well suit his minde, where smiling skiesBreed thund'ring tempests: on his loftie crest
Asleep the spotted Panther couching lies,
And by sweet sents and skinne so quaintly drest,
Draws on her prey: upon his shield he bears
The dreadfull monster which great Nilus fears;
(The weeping Crocadile) his word, I kill with tears.
49
With him Dissemblance went, his Paramour,Whose painted face might hardly be detected:
Arms of offence he seld' or never wore,
Lest thence his close designes might be suspected;
But clasping close his foe, as loth to part,
He steals his dagger with false smiling art,
And sheaths the trait'rous steel in his own masters heart.
50
Two Fewish Captains, close themselves enlacingIn loves sweet twines, his target broad display'd;
One th' others beard with his left hand embracing,
But in his right a shining sword he sway'd,
Which unawares through th' others ribs he smites;
There lay the wretch without all buriall rites:
His word, He deepest wounds, that in his fawning bites.
51
Eris the next, of sex unfit for warre:Her arms were bitter words from flaming tongue,
Which never quiet, wrangle, fight, and jarre;
Ne would she weigh report with right, or wrong:
What once she held, that would she ever hold,
And Non-obstantes force with courage bold:
The last word must she have, or never leave to scold.
52
She is the trumpet to this angrie train,And whets their furie with loud-railing spite:
But when no open foes did more remain,
Against themselves themselves she would incite.
Her clacking mill, driv'n by her flowing gall,
Could never stand, but chide, rail, bark, and bawl:
Her shield no word could finde; her tongue engrost them all.
53
Zelos the third, whose spitefull emulationCould not endure a fellow in excelling;
Yet slow in any vertues imitation,
At easie rate that fair possession selling:
Till to a mighty flame they sudden grew,
And like fierce lightning all in quick destruction drew.
54
Upon his shield lay that Tirinthian Swain,Sweltring in fierie gore and pois'nous flame;
His wives sad gift venom'd with bloudie stain:
Well could he bulls, snake[s,] hell, all monsters tame;
Well could he heav'n support and prop alone;
But by fell Jealousie soon overthrown,
Without a foe, or sword: his motto, First, or none.
55
Thumos the fourth, a dire, revengefull swain;Whose soul was made of flames, whose flesh of fire:
Wrath in his heart, hate, rage and furie reigne;
Fierce was his look, when clad in sparkling tire;
But when dead palenesse in his cheek took seisure,
And all the bloud in's boyling heart did treasure,
Then in his wilde revenge kept he nor mean, nor measure.
56
Look as when waters wall'd with brazen wreathAre sieg'd with crackling flames, their common foe;
The angrie seas 'gin foam and hotly breathe,
Then swell, rise, rave, and still more furious grow;
Nor can be held, but forc't with fires below,
Tossing their waves, break out and all o'reflow:
So boyl'd his rising bloud, and dasht his angry brow.
57
For in his face red heat, and ashie coldStrove which should paint revenge in proper colours:
That, like consuming fire, most dreadfull roll'd;
This, liker death, threatens all deadly dolours:
His trembling hand a dagger still embrac't,
Which in his friend he rashly oft encas't:
His shields devise fresh bloud with foulest stain defac't.
58
Next him Erithius, most unquiet swain,That all in law and fond contention spent;
Not one was found in all this numerous train,
With whom in any thing he would consent:
His Will his Law, he weigh'd not wrong or right;
Much scorn'd to bear, much more forgive a spight:
Patience he th' asses load, and cowards Vertue hight.
59
His weapons all were fram'd of shining gold,Wherewith he subt'ly fought close under hand:
Thus would he right from right by force withhold,
Nor suits, nor friends, nor laws his slights withstand:
Ah powerfull weapon! how dost thou bewitch
Great, but base mindes, & spott'st with leprous itch,
That never are in thought, nor ever can be rich!
60
Upon his belt (fastned with leather laces)Black boxes hung, sheaths of his paper-swords;
Fill'd up with Writs, Sub-pœna's, Triall-cases;
This trespast him in cattel, that in words:
Fit his device, and well his shield became,
A Salamander drawn in lively frame:
His word was this, I live, I breathe, I feed in flame.
61
Next after him marcht proud Dichostasis,That wont but in the factious court to dwell;
But now to shepherd-swains close linked is;
And taught them (fools!) to change their humble cell,
And lowly weed for courts, and purple gay,
To sit aloft, and States and Princes sway:
A hook, no scepter needs our erring sheep to stay.
62
A Miter trebly crown'd th' Impostour wore;For heav'n, earth, hell he claims with loftie pride.
Not in his lips, but hands, two keyes he bore,
Heav'ns doores and hells to shut, and open wide:
For hell he cannot shut, but opens light;
Nor heav'n can ope, but shut; nor buyes, but sells by slight.
63
Two heads, oft three, he in one body had,Nor with the body, nor themselves agreeing:
What this commanded, th' other soon forbad;
As different in rule, as nature being:
The body to them both, and neither prone,
Was like a double-hearted dealer grown;
Endeavouring to please both parties, pleasing none.
64
As when the powerfull winde and adverse tideStrive which should most command the subject main;
The scornfull waves, swelling with angrie pride,
Yeelding to neither, all their force disdain:
Mean time the shaken vessel doubtfull playes,
And on the stagg'ring billow trembling stayes,
And would obey them both, and none of both obeyes.
65
A subtil craftsman fram'd him seemly arms,Forg'd in the shop of wrangling sophistrie;
And wrought with curious arts, and mightie charms,
Temper'd with lies, and false philosophie:
Millions of heedlesse souls thus had he slain.
His sev'n-fold targe a field of Gules did stain;
In which two swords he bore: his word, Divide, and reigne.
66
Envie the next, Envie with squinted eyes;Sick of a strange disease, his neighbours health:
Best lives he then, when any better dies;
Is never poore, but in anothers wealth:
On best mens harms and griefs he feeds his fill;
Else his own maw doth eat with spitefull will.
Ill must the temper be, where diet is so ill.
67
Each eye through divers opticks slily leers,Which both his sight, and object self belie;
So greatest vertue as a mote appeares,
And molehill faults to mountains multiplie.
When needs he must, yet faintly, then he praises;
Somewhat the deed, much more the means he raises:
So marreth what he makes, & praising most dispraises.
68
Upon his shield that cruell Herd-groom play'd,Fit instrument of Funo's jealous spight;
His hundred eyes stood fixed on the maid;
He pip't, she sigh'd: his word, Her day my night.
His missile weapon was a lying tongue,
Which he farre off like swiftest lightning flung,
That all the world with noise & foul blaspheming rung.
69
Last of this rout the savage Phonos went,Whom his dire mother nurst with humane bloud;
And when more age and strength more fiercenesse lent,
She taught him in a dark and desert wood
With force and guile poore passengers to slay,
And on their flesh his barking stomack stay,
And with their wretched bloud his firy thirst allay.
70
So when the never-setled ScythianRemoves his dwelling in an empty wain;
When now the Sunne hath half his journey ranne,
His horse he blouds, and pricks a trembling vein,
So from the wound quenches his thirstie heat:
Yet worse, this fiend makes his own flesh his meat.
Monster! the ravenous beare his kinde will never eat.
71
Ten thousand Furies on his steps awaited;Some sear'd his hardned soul with Stygian brand:
Some with black terrours his faint conscience baited,
That wide he star'd, and starched hair did stand:
Foully aray'd in guiltlesse brothers gore,
Which for revenge to heav'n from earth did loudly roar.
72
His arms offensive all, to spill, not spare;Swords, pistols, poisons, instruments of hell:
A shield he wore (not that the wretch did care
To save his flesh, oft he himself would quell)
For shew, not use: on it a viper swilling
The dammes spilt gore, his emptie bowels filling
With flesh that gave him life: his word, I live by killing.
73
And last his brutish sonnes Acrates sent,Whom Caro bore both in one birth and bed; Methos the first, whose panch his feet out-went,
As if it usher'd his unsetled head:
His soul quite sowced lay in grapie bloud;
In all his parts the idle dropsie stood;
Which, though alreadie drown'd, still thirsted for the floud.
74
This thing, nor man, nor beast, tunnes all his wealthIn drink; his dayes, his yeares in liquour drenching:
So quaffes he sicknesse down by quaffing health,
Firing his cheeks with quenching, strangely quenching
His eyes with firing; dull and faint they roll'd:
But nimble lips known things, and hid unfold;
Belchings, oft-sips, large spits point the long tale he told.
75
His armour green might seem a fruitfull vine;The clusters prison'd in the close-set leaves,
Yet oft between the bloudie grape did shine;
And peeping forth, his jaylers spite deceives:
Among the boughs did swilling Bacchus ride,
Whom wilde-grown M[æ]nads bore, and every stride
Bacche, Iô Bacche, loud with madding voice they cri'd.
76
On's shield the goatish Satyres dance around,(Their heads much lighter then their nimble heels)
Silenus old, in wine (as ever) drown'd,
Clos'd with the ring, in midst (though sitting) reels:
Under his arm a bag-pipe swoln he held,
(Yet wine-swoln cheeks the windie bag out-swell'd)
So loudly pipes: his word, But full, no mirth I yeeld.
77
Insatiate sink, how with so generall stainThy spu'd-out puddles court, town, fields entice!
Ay me! the shepherds selves thee entertain,
And to thy Curtian gulph do sacrifice:
All drink to spue, and spue again to drink.
Sowre swil-tub sinne, of all the rest the sink,
How canst thou thus bewitch with thy abhorred stink?
78
The eye thou wrong'st with vomits reeking streams,The eare with belching; touch thou drown'st in wine;
The taste thou surfet'st; smell with spuing steams
Thou woundest: foh! thou loathsome putrid swine,
Still thou increasest thirst, when thirst thou slakest;
The minde and will thou (wits bane) captive takest:
Senseles thy hoggish filth, & sense thou senseles makest.
79
Thy fellow sinnes, and all the rest of vicesWith seeming good are fairly cloath'd to sight;
Their feigned sweet the bleare-ey'd will entices,
Coz'ning the daz'led sense with borrow'd light:
Thee neither true, nor yet false good commends;
Profit nor pleasure on thy steps attends:
Folly begins thy sinne, which still with madnesse ends.
80
With Methos, Gluttonie, his gutling brother,Twinne parallels, drawn from the self-same line;
So foully like was either to the other,
And both most like a monstrous-panched swine:
Whose surfets upon surfets him opprest;
Or heavie sleep, that helps so great a load digest.
81
Mean time his soul, weigh'd down with muddie chains,Can neither work, nor move in captive bands;
But dull'd in vaprous fogges, all carelesse reignes,
Or rather serves strong appetites commands:
That when he now was gorg'd with cramm'd-down store,
And porter wanting room had shut the doore,
The glutton sigh'd that he could gurmandize no more.
82
His crane-like neck was long unlac'd; his breast,His gowtie limbes, like to a circle round,
As broad as long; and for his spear in rest
Oft with his staffe he beats the yeelding ground;
Wherewith his hands did help his feet to bear,
Els would they ill so huge a burthen stear:
His clothes were all of leaves, no armour could he wear.
83
Onely a target light upon his armHe carelesse bore, on which old Gryll was drawn,
Transform'd into a hog with cunning charm;
In head, and paunch, and soul it self a brawn:
Half drown'd within, without, yet still did hunt
In his deep trough for swill, as he was wont;
Cas'd all in loathsome mire: no word; Gryll could but grunt.
84
Him serv'd sweet-seeming lusts, self-pleasing lies;But bitter death flow'd from those sweets of sinne:
And at the Rear of these in secret guise
Crept Theeverie, and Detraction, neare akinne;
No twinnes more like: they seem'd almost the same;
One stole the goods, the other the good name:
The latter lives in scorn, the former dies in shame.
85
Their boon companions in their joviall feastingWere new-shapt oaths, and damning perjuries:
Their cates, fit for their taste, profanest jesting,
Sauc'd with the salt of hell, dire blasphemies.
But till th' ambitious Sunne, yet still aspiring,
Allayes his flaming gold with gentler firing,
We'l rest our wearie song in that thick groves retiring.
CANT. VIII.
1
The Sunne began to slack his bended bow,And more obliquely dart his milder ray;
When cooler ayers gently 'gan to blow,
And fanne the fields parcht with the scorching day:
The shepherds to their wonted seats repair;
Thirsil, refresht with this soft-breathing aire,
Thus 'gan renew his task, and broken song repair:
2
What watchfull care must fence that weary state,Which deadly foes begirt with cruell siege;
And frailest wall of glasse, and trait'rous gate
Strive which should first yeeld up their wofull leige?
By enemies assail'd, by friends betray'd;
When others hurt, himself refuses aid:
By weaknesse self his strength is foil'd and overlay'd.
3
How comes it then that in so neare decayWe deadly sleep in deep securitie,
When every houre is ready to betray
Our lives to that still-watching enemie?
Wake then thy soul that deadly slumbereth:
For when thy foe hath seiz'd thy captive breath,
Too late to wish past life, too late to wish for death.
4
Caro the Vantguard with the Dragon led, Cosmos the battell guides, with loud alarms;Cosmos, the first sonne to the Dragon red,
Shining in seeming gold, and glitt'ring arms:
Well might he seem a strong and gentle Knight,
As e're was clad in steel and armour bright;
But was a recreant base, a foul, false, cheating sprite.
5
And as himself, such were his arms; appearingBright burnisht gold, indeed base alchymie,
Dimme beetle eyes, and greedy worldlings blearing:
His shield was drest in nights sad liverie,
Where man-like Apes a Gloworm compasse round,
Glad that in wintrie night they fire had found;
Busie they puffe & blow: the word, Mistake the ground.
6
Mistake points all his darts; his sunshines bright(Mistaken) light appeare, sad lightning prove:
His clouds (mistook) seem lightnings, turn to light;
His love true hatred is, his hatred love;
His shop, a Pedlers pack of apish fashion;
His honours, pleasures, joyes are all vexation:
His wages, glorious care, sweet surfets, woo'd damnation.
7
His lib'rall favours, complementall arts;His high advancements, Alpine slipp'ry straits;
His smiling glances, deaths most pleasing darts;
And (what he vaunts) his gifts are gilded baits:
Indeed he nothing is, yet all appeares.
Haplesse earths happy fools, that know no tears!
Who bathes in worldly joyes, swimmes in a world of fears.
8
Pure Essence, who hast made a stone descrie'Twixt natures hid, and check that metals pride
That dares aspire to golds high soveraigntie;
Ah leave some touch-stone erring eyes to guide,
Sinne with fair glosse our mole-ey'd sight entises,
That vices vertues seem to most; and vertues, vices.
9
Strip thou their meretricious seemlinesse,And tinfold glitt'ring bare to every sight,
That we may loath their inward uglinesse;
Or else uncloud the soul, whose shadie light
Addes a fair lustre to false earthly blisse:
Thine and their beauty differs but in this;
Theirs what it is not, seems; thine seems not what it is.
10
Next to the Captain coward Deilos far'd;Him right before he as his shield projected,
And following troops to back him as his guard;
Yet both his shield and guard (faint heart) suspected:
And sending often back his doubtfull eye,
By fearing taught unthought of treacherie;
So made him enemies, by fearing enmitie.
11
Still did he look for some ensuing crosse,Fearing such hap as never man befell:
No mean he knows, but dreads each little losse
(With tyrannie of fear distraught) as hell.
His sense he dare not trust, (nor eyes, nor eares)
And when no other cause of fright appeares,
Himself he much suspects, and fears his causelesse fears.
12
Harnest with massie steel, for fence, not fight;His sword unseemly long he ready drew:
At sudden shine of his own armour bright
He started oft, and star'd with ghastly hue:
He shrieks at every danger that appeares,
Shaming the knightly arms he goodly bears:
His word, Safer that all, then he that nothing fears.
13
With him went Doubt, stagg'ring with steps unsure,That every way, and neither way enclin'd;
And fond Distrust, whom nothing could secure;
Suspicion lean, as if he never din'd:
He keeps intelligence by thousand spies;
Argus to him bequeath'd his hundred eyes:
So waking still he sleeps, and sleeping wakefull lies.
14
Fond Deilos all, Tolmetes nothing fears;Just frights he laughs, all terrours counteth base;
And when of danger, or sad news he heares,
He meets the thund'ring fortune face to face:
Yet oft in words he spends his boistrous threat;
That his hot bloud, driv'n from the native seat,
Leaves his faint coward heart empty of lively heat.
15
Himself (weak help!) was all his confidence;He scorns low ebs, but swimmes in highest rises:
His limbes with arms or shield he would not fence;
Such coward fashion (fool!) he much despises:
Ev'n for his single sword the world seems scant;
For hundred worlds his conqu'ring arm could dant:
Much would he boldly do, but much more boldly vant.
16
With him went self-admiring Arrogance,And Bragge, his deeds without an helper praising:
Blinde Carelesnesse before would lead the dance;
Fear stole behinde, those vaunts in balance peysing,
Which farre their deeds outweigh'd; their violence,
'Fore danger spent with lavish diffluence,
Was none, or weak in time of greatest exigence.
17
As when a fierie courser readie bent,Puts forth himself at first with swiftest pace;
Till with too sudden flash his spirits spent,
Alreadie fails now in the middle race:
No longer now obeyes his angrie guide;
Rivers of sweat and bloud flow from his gored side:
18
Thus ran the rash Tolmetes, never viewingThe fearfull fiends that duly him attended;
Destruction close his steps in poast pursuing,
And certain ruines heavie weights depended
Over his cursed head, and smooth-fac'd guile,
That with him oft would loosly play and smile;
Till in his snare he lockt his feet with treach'rous wile.
19
Next marcht Asotus, carelesse-spending Swain;Who with a fork went spreading all around,
Which his old sire with sweating toil and pain
Long time was raking from his racked ground:
In giving he observ'd nor form, nor matter,
But best reward he got, that best could flatter;
Thus what he thought to give, he did not give, but scatter.
20
Before aray'd in sumptuous braverie,Deckt court-like in the choice and newest guise;
But all behinde like drudging slaverie,
With ragged patches, rent, and bared thighs:
His shamefull parts, that shunne the hated light,
Were naked left; (ah foul unhonest sight!)
Yet neither could he see, nor feel his wretched plight.
21
His shield presents to life deaths latest rites,A sad black herse born up with sable swains;
Which many idle grooms with hundred lights
(Tapers, lamps, torches) usher through the plains
To endlesse darknesse; while the Sunnes bright brow
With fierie beams quenches their smoaking tow,
And wastes their idle cost: the word, Not need, but show.
22
A vagrant rout (a shoal of tatling daws)Strow him with vain-spent prayers, and idle layes;
And flatt'rie to his sinne close curtains draws,
Clawing his itching eare with tickling praise:
Behinde, fond pitie much his fall lamented,
And miserie, that former waste repented:
The usurer for his goods, jayl for his bones indented.
23
His steward was his kinsman, Vain-expence,Who proudly strove in matters light to shew
Heroick minde in braggard affluence;
So lost his treasure, getting nought in liew,
But ostentation of a foolish pride;
While women fond, and boyes stood gaping wide;
But wise men all his waste and needlesse cost deride.
24
Next Pleonectes went, his gold admiring,His servants drudge, slave to his basest slave;
Never enough, and still too much desiring:
His gold his god, yet in an iron grave
Himself protects his god from noysome rusting;
Much fears to keep, much more to loose his lusting;
Himself, and golden god, and every god mistrusting.
25
Age on his hairs the winter snow had spread;That silver badge his neare end plainly proves:
Yet as to earth he nearer bowes his head,
So loves it more; for Like his like still loves.
Deep from the ground he digs his sweetest gain,
And deep into the earth digs back with pain:
From hell his gold he brings, and hoords in hell again.
26
His clothes all patcht with more then honest thrift,And clouted shoon were nail'd for fear of wasting;
Fasting he prais'd, but sparing was his drift;
And when he eats, his food is worse then fasting:
Thus wallowing on his god, his heap of Mine,
He feeds his famisht soul with that deceiving shine.
27
Oh hungrie metall, false deceitfull ray,Well laid'st thou dark, prest in th' earths hidden wombe;
Yet through our mothers entrails cutting way,
We dragge thy buried coarse from hellish tombe:
The merchant from his wife and home departs,
Nor at the swelling ocean ever starts;
While death & life a wall of thinne planks onely parts.
28
Who was it first, that from thy deepest cell,With so much costly toil and painfull sweat
Durst rob thy palace, bord'ring next to hell?
Well mayst thou come from that infernall seat;
Thou all the world with hell-black deeps dost fill.
Fond men, that with such pain do wooe your ill!
Needlesse to send for grief, for he is next us still.
29
His arms were light, and cheap, as made to saveHis purse, not limbes; the money, not the man:
Rather he dies, then spends: his helmet brave,
An old brasse pot; breast-plate a dripping-pan:
His spear a spit, a pot-lid broad his shield,
Whose smokie plain a chalkt Impresa fill'd,
A bagge sure seal'd: his word, Much better sav'd, then spill'd.
30
By Pleonectes shamelesse Sparing went,Who whines and weeps to beg a longer day,
Yet with a thundring voice claims tardie rent;
Quick to receive, but hard and slow to pay:
His care's to lessen cost with cunning base;
But when he's forc't beyond his bounded space,
Loud would he crie, & howl, while others laugh apace.
31
Long after went Pusillus, weakest heart,Able to serve, and able to command,
But thought himself unfit for either part;
And now full loth, amidst the warlike band
Was hither drawn by force from quiet cell:
Lonenesse his heav'n, and bus'nesse was his hell.
A weak distrustfull heart is vertues aguish spell.
32
His goodly arms, eaten with shamefull rust,Bewray'd their masters ease, and want of using;
Such was his minde, tainted with idle must,
His goodly gifts with little use abusing:
Upon his shield was drawn that noble Swain
That loth to change his love and quiet reigne
For glorious warlike deeds, did craftie madnesse feigne.
33
Finely the workman fram'd the toilsome ploughDrawn with an ox and asse, unequall pair;
While he with busie hand his salt did sow,
And at the furrows end his dearest heir
Did helplesse lie, and Greek lords watching still
Observ'd his hand guided with carefull will:
About was wrote, Who nothing doth, doth nothing ill.
34
By him went Idlenesse, his loved friend,And Shame with both; with all, ragg'd Povertie:
Behinde sure Punishment did close attend,
Waiting a while fit opportunitie;
And taking count of houres mispent in vain,
And graces lent without returning gain,
Pour'd on his guiltie corse late grief, & helplesse pain.
35
This dull cold earth with standing water froze;At ease he lies to coyn pretence for ease;
His soul like Ahaz diall, while it goes
Not forward, poasteth backward ten degrees:
He never sweats, but in his bed, or meal:
He'd rather steal then work, and beg then strive to steal.
36
All opposite, though he his brother were,Was Chaunus, that too high himself esteem'd:
All things he undertook, nor could he fear
His power too weak, or boasted strength misdeem'd,
With his own praise like windie bladder blown:
His eyes too little, or too much his own;
For known to all men weak, was to himself unknown.
37
Fondly himself with praising he disprais'd,Vaunting his deeds and worth with idle breath;
So raz'd himself, what he himself had rais'd:
On's shield a boy threatens high Phœbus death,
Aiming his arrow at his purest light;
But soon the thinne reed, fir'd with lightning bright,
Fell idlely on the strond: his word, Yet high, and right.
38
Next brave Philotimus in poast did ride:Like rising ladders was his climbing minde;
His high-flown thoughts had wings of courtly pride,
Which by foul rise to greatest height enclin'd;
His heart aspiring swell'd untill it burst:
But when he gain'd the top, with spite accurst
Down would he fling the steps by which he clamb'red first.
39
His head's a shop furnisht with looms of state:His brain the weaver, thoughts are shuttles light,
With which in spite of heav'n he weaves his fate;
Honour his web: thus works he day and night,
Till fates cut off his threed; so heapeth sinnes
And plagues, nor once enjoyes the place he winnes;
But where his old race ends, there his new race begins.
40
Ah silly man, who dream'st that honour standsIn ruling others, not thy self! thy slaves
Serve thee, and thou thy slaves: in iron bands
Thy servile spirit prest with wilde passions raves.
Would'st thou live honour'd? clip ambitions wing;
To reasons yoke thy furious passions bring.
Thrice noble is the man, who of himself is King.
41
Upon his shield was fram'd that vent'rous lad,That durst assay the Sunnes bright-flaming team;
Spite of his feeble hands, the horses mad
Fling down on burning earth the scorching beam;
So made the flame in which himself was fir'd;
The world the bonefire was, where he expir'd:
His motto written thus, Yet had what he desir'd.
42
But Atimus, a carelesse idle swain,Though Glory off'red him her sweet embrace,
And fair Occasion with little pain
Reacht him her ivory hand, yet (lozel base!)
Rather his way, and her fair self declin'd;
Well did he thence prove his degenerous minde:
Base were his restie thoughts, base was his dunghill kinde.
43
And now by force dragg'd from the monkish cell,(Where teeth he onely us'd, nor hands, nor brains,
But in smooth streams swam down through ease to hell;
His work to eat, drink, sleep, and purge his reins)
He left his heart behinde him with his feast:
His target with a flying dart was drest,
Poasting unto his mark: the word, I move to rest.
44
Next Colax all his words with sugar spices;His servile tongue, base slave to greatnesse name,
Runnes nimble descant on the plainest vices;
He lets his tongue to sinne, takes rent of shame:
Like Indian apple, which with painted sides,
More dangerous within his lurking poyson hides.
45
So Echo, to the voice her voice conforming,From hollow breast for one will two repay;
So, like the rock it holds, it self transforming,
That subtil fish hunts for her heedlesse prey:
So crafty fowlers with their fair deceits
Allure the hungrie bird; so fisher waits
To bait himself with fish, his hook and fish with baits.
46
His art is but to hide, not heal a sore,To nourish pride, to strangle conscience;
To drain the rich, his own drie pits to store,
To spoil the precious soul, to please vile sense:
A carrion crow he is, a gaping grave,
The rich coats moth, the courts bane, trenchers slave;
Sinnes & hells winning baud, the devils fact'ring knave.
47
A mist he casts before his patrons sight,That blackest vices never once appeare;
But greater then it is, seems vertues light;
His Lords displeasure is his onely fear:
His clawing lies, tickling the senses frail
To death, make open way where force would fail.
Lesse hurts the lions paw, then foxes softest tail.
48
His arms with hundred tongues were poud'red gay,(The mint of lies) gilt, fil'd, the sense to please;
His sword which in his mouth close sheathed lay,
Sharper then death, and fram'd to kill with ease.
Ah cursed weapon, life with pleasure spilling!
The Sardoin herb with many branches filling
His shield, was his device: the word, I please in killing.
49
Base slave! how crawl'st thou from thy dunghill nest,Where thou wast hatcht by shame and beggerie,
And pearchest in the learn'd and noble breast?
Nobles of thee their courtship learn, of thee
Arts learn new art their learning to adorn:
(Ah wretched mindes!) He is not nobly born,
Nor learn'd, that doth not thy ignoble learning scorn.
50
Close to him Pleasing went, with painted face,And Honour, by some hidden cunning made;
Not Honours self, but Honours semblance base,
For soon it vanisht like an emptie shade:
Behinde, his parents duely him attend;
With them he forced is his age to spend:
Shame his beginning was, and shame must be his end.
51
Next follow'd Dyscolus, a froward wight;His lips all swoln, and eyebrows ever bent,
With sootie locks, swart looks, and scouling sight,
His face a tell-tale to his foul intent:
He nothing lik't, or prais'd; but reprehended
What every one beside himself commended.
Humours of tongues impostum'd, purg'd with shame, are mended.
52
His mouth a pois'nous quiver, where he hidesSharp venom'd arrows, which his bitter tongue
With squibs, carps, jests, unto their object guides;
Nor fears he gods on earth, or heav'n to wrong:
Upon his shield was fairly drawn to sight
A raging dog, foaming out wrath and spite:
The word to his device, Impartiall all I bite.
53
Geloios next ensu'd, a merrie Greek,Whose life was laughter vain, and mirth misplac't;
His speeches broad, to shame the modest cheek;
Ne car'd he whom, or when, or how disgrac't.
If in his way his friend or father stand,
His father & his friend he spreads with carelesse hand.
54
His foul jests steep'd and drown'd in laughter vain,And rotten speech, (ah!) was not mirth, but madnesse:
His armour crackling thorns all flaming stain
With golden fires, (embleme of foppish gladnesse)
Upon his shield two laughing fools you see,
(In number he the third, first in degree)
At which himself would laugh, and fleer: his word, We three.
55
And after, Agrios, a sullen swain,All mirth that in himself and others hated;
Dull, dead, and leaden was his cheerlesse vein:
His weary sense he never recreated;
And now he marcht as if he somewhat dream'd:
All honest joy but madnesse he esteem'd,
Refreshings idlenesse, but sport he folly deem'd.
56
In's arms his minde the workman fit exprest,Which all with quenched lamps, but smoking yet,
And foully stinking, were full queintly drest;
To blinde, not light the eyes, to choke, not heat:
Upon his shield an heap of fennie mire
In flagges and turfs (with sunnes yet never drier)
Did smoth'ring lie, not burn: his word, Smoke without fire.
57
Last Impudence, whose never-changing faceKnew but one colour; with some brasse-brow'd lie,
And laughing loud she drowns her just disgrace:
About her all the fiends in armies flie:
Her feather'd beaver sidelong cockt, in guise
Of roaring boyes; set look with fixed eyes
Out-looks all shamefac't forms, all modestie defies.
58
And as her thoughts, so arms all black as hell:Her brasen shield two sable dogs adorn,
Who each at other stare, and snarle, and swell:
Beneath the word was set, All change I scorn.
But if I all this rout and foul aray
Should muster up, and place in battell ray,
Too long your selves & flocks my tedious song would stay.
59
The aged day growes dimme, and-homeward calls:The parting Sunne (mans state describing well)
Falls when he rises, rises when he falls:
So we by falling rose, by rising fell.
The shadie cloud of night 'gins softly creep,
And all our world with sable tincture steep:
Home now ye shepherd-swains; home now my loved sheep.
CANT. IX.
1
The Bridegroom Sunne, who late the Earth had spous'd,Leaves his star-chamber; early in the East
He shook his sparkling locks, head lively rouz'd,
While Morn his couch with blushing roses drest;
His shines the Earth soon latcht to gild her flowers:
Phosphor his gold-fleec't drove folds in their bowers,
Which all the night had graz'd about th' Olympick towers.
2
The cheerfull Lark, mounting from early bed,With sweet salutes awakes the drowsie light;
The earth she left, and up to heav'n is fled;
There chants her Makers praises out of sight:
Earth seems a molehill, men but ants to be;
Teaching proud men, that soar to high degree,
The farther up they climbe, the lesse they seem, and see:
3
The shepherds met, and Thomalin began;Young Thomalin, whose notes and silver string
Silence the rising Lark, and falling Swan:
Come Thirsil, end thy lay, and cheerly sing:
Hear'st how the Larks give welcome to the day,
Temp'ring their sweetest notes unto thy lay?
Up then, thou loved swain; why dost thou longer stay?
4
Well sett'st thou (friend) the Lark before mine eyes,Much easier to heare then imitate:
Her wings lift up her notes to loftie skies;
But me a leaden sleep, and earthly state
Down to the centre ties with captive string:
Well might I follow here her note and wing;
Singing she loftie mounts: ah! mounting should I sing.
5
Oh thou dread King of that heroick band,Which by thy power beats back these hellish sprites,
Rescuing this State from death and base command;
Tell me, (dread King) what are those warlike Knights?
What force? what arms? where lies their strengths increase,
That though so few in number, never cease
To keep this sieged town 'gainst numbers numberlesse?
6
The first Commanders in this holy train,Leaders to all the rest, an ancient pair;
Long since sure linkt in wedlocks sweetest chain;
His name Spiritto, she Urania fair:
Fair had she been, and full of heav'nly grace,
And he in youth a mightie warrier was,
Both now more fair, & strong; which prov'd their heav'nly race.
7
His arms with flaming tongues all sparkled bright,Bright flaming tongues, in divers sections parted;
His piercing sword, edg'd with their firy light,
'Twixt bones and marrow, soul and spirit disparted:
Upon his shield was drawn a glorious Dove,
'Gainst whom the proudest Eagle dares not move;
Glitt'ring in beams: his word, Conqu'ring by peace and love.
8
But she Amazon-like in azure arms,Silver'd with starres, and gilt with sunnie rayes,
Her mighty Spouse in fight and fierce alarms
Attends, and equals in these bloudie frayes;
And on her shield an heav'nly globe (displaying
The constellations lower bodies swaying,
Sway'd by the higher) she bore: her word, I rule obeying.
9
About them swarm'd their fruitfull progenie;An heav'nly off-spring of an heav'nly bed:
Well mought you in their looks his stoutnesse see
With her sweet graces lovely tempered.
(But ah long since they thence were banisht all)
Or shine in glitt'ring arms, when need fierce warre doth call.
10
The first in order (nor in worth the last)Is Knowledge, drawn from peace and Muses spring;
Where shaded in fair Sinaies groves, his taste
He feasts with words and works of heav'nly King;
But now to bloudy field is fully bent:
Yet still he seem'd to study as he went:
His arms cut all in books; strong shield slight papers lent.
11
His glitt'ring armour shin'd like burning day,Garnisht with golden Sunnes, and radiant flowers;
Which turn their bending heads to Phœbus ray,
And when he falls, shut up their leavie bowers:
Upon his shield the silver Moon did bend
Her horned bow, and round her arrows spend:
His word in silver wrote, I borrow what I lend.
12
All that he saw, all that he heard, were books,In which he read and learn'd his Makers will:
Most on his word, but much on heav'n he looks,
And thence admires with praise the workmans skill.
Close to him went still-musing Contemplation,
That made good use of ills by meditation;
So to him ill it self was good by strange mutation.
13
And Care, who never from his sides would part,Of knowledge oft the waies and means enquiring,
To practise what he learnt from holy art;
And oft with tears, and oft with sighs desiring
Aid from that Soveraigne Guide, whose wayes so steep,
Though fain he would, yet weak he could not keep:
But when he could not go, yet forward would he creep.
14
Next Tapinus, whose sweet, though lowly graceAll other higher then himself esteem'd;
He in himself priz'd things as mean and base,
Which yet in others great and glorious seem'd:
All ill due debt, good undeserv'd he thought;
His heart a low-rooft house, but sweetly wrought,
Where God himself would dwell, though he it dearly bought.
15
Honour he shunnes, yet is the way unto him;As hell, he hates advancement wonne with bribes;
But publick place and charge are forc't to wooe him;
He good to grace, ill to desert ascribes:
Him (as his Lord) contents a lowly room,
Whose first house was the blessed Virgins wombe,
The next a cratch, the third a crosse, the fourth a tombe.
16
So choicest drugs in meanest shrubs are found;So precious gold in deepest centre dwells:
So sweetest violets trail on lowly ground;
So richest pearls ly clos'd in vilest shells:
So lowest dales we let at highest rates;
So creeping strawberries yeeld daintiest cates.
The Highest highly loves the low, the loftie hates.
17
Upon his shield was drawn that Shepherd lad,Who with a sling threw down faint Israels fears;
And in his hand his spoils, and trophies glad,
The Monsters sword and head, he bravely bears:
Plain in his lovely face you might behold
A blushing meeknesse met with courage bold:
Little, not little worth, was fairly wrote in gold.
18
With him his kinsman both in birth and name,Obedience, taught by many bitter showers
In humble bonds his passions proud to tame,
And low submit unto the higher powers:
For ti'd in such an holy service bands,
In this obedience rules, and serving thus commands.
19
By them went Fido, Marshal of the field:Weak was his mother, when she gave him day;
And he at first a sick and weakly childe,
As e're with tears welcom'd the sunnie ray:
Yet when more yeares afford more growth, & might,
A champion stout he was, and puissant Knight,
As ever came in field, or shone in armour bright.
20
So may we see a little lionet,When newly whelpt, a weak and tender thing,
Despis'd by every beast; but waxen great,
When fuller times full strength and courage bring,
The beasts all crouching low, their King adore,
And dare not see what they contemn'd before:
The trembling forrest quakes at his affrighting roar.
21
Mountains he flings in seas with mighty hand;Stops, and turns back the Sunnes impetuous course;
Nature breaks natures laws at his command;
No force of hell or heav'n withstands his force:
Events to come yet many ages hence
He present makes, by wondrous prescience;
Proving the senses blinde, by being blinde to sense.
22
His sky-like arms, di'd all in blue and white,And set with golden starres that flamed wide;
His shield invisible to mortall sight,
Yet he upon it easily descri'd
The lively semblance of his dying Lord;
Whose bleeding side with wicked steel was gor'd,
Which to his fainting spirits new courage would afford.
23
Strange was the force of that enchanted shield,Which highest powers to it from heav'n impart;
For who could bear it well, and rightly wield,
It sav'd from sword, and spear, and poison'd dart:
Well might he slip, but yet not wholly fall:
No finall losse his courage might appall;
Growing more sound by wounds, and rising by his fall.
24
So some have feign'd that Tellus giant sonneDrew many new-born lives from his dead mother;
Another rose as soon as one was done,
And twentie lost, yet still remain'd another:
For when he fell, and kist the barren heath,
His parent straight inspir'd successive breath;
And though her self was dead, yet ransom'd him from death.
25
With him his Nurse went, carefull Acoë;Whose hands first from his mothers wombe did take him,
And ever since have foster'd tenderly:
She never might, she never would forsake him;
And he her lov'd again with mutuall band:
For by her needfull help he oft did stand,
When else he soon would fail, and fall in foemens hand.
26
With both sweet Meditation ever pac't,His Nurses daughter, and his Foster-sister:
Deare as his soul he in his soul her plac't,
And oft embrac't, and oft by stealth he kist her:
For she had taught him by her silent talk
To tread the safe, and dangerous wayes to balk;
And brought his God with him, him with his God to walk.
27
Behinde him Penitence did sadly go,Whose cloudie dropping eyes were ever raining;
Her swelling tears, which ev'n in ebbing flow,
Furrow her cheek, the sinfull puddles draining:
And much the mocking world her soul infested;
More she the hatefull world, and most her self detested.
28
She was the object of lewd mens disgrace,The squint-ey'd, wrie-mouth'd scoffe of carnall hearts;
Yet smiling heav'n delights to kisse her face,
And with his bloud God bathes her painfull smarts:
Afflictions iron flail her soul had thrasht;
Sharp Circumcisions knife her heart had slasht;
Yet was it angels wine, which in her eyes was masht.
29
With her a troop of mournfull grooms abiding,Help with their sullen blacks their Mistresse wo;
Amendment still (but still his own faults) chiding,
And Penance arm'd with smarting whips did go:
Then sad Remorse came sighing all the way;
Last Satisfaction, giving all away:
Much surely did he owe, much more he would repay.
30
Next went Elpinus, clad in skie-like blue;And through his arms few starres did seem to peep,
Which there the workmans hand so finely drew,
That rockt in clouds they softly seem'd to sleep:
His rugged shield was like a rockie mold,
On which an anchour bit with surest hold:
I hold by being held, was written round in gold.
31
Nothing so cheerfull was his thoughtfull face,As was his brother Fido's: Fear seem'd dwell
Close by his heart; his colour chang'd apace,
And went, and came, that sure all was not well:
Therefore a comely Maid did oft sustain
His fainting steps, and fleeting life maintain:
Pollicita she hight, which ne're could lie or feigne.
32
Next to Elpinus marcht his brother Love;Not that great Love which cloth'd his Godhead bright
With rags of flesh, and now again above
Hath drest his flesh in heav'ns eternall light;
Much lesse the brat of that false Cyprian dame,
Begot by froth, and fire in bed of shame,
And now burns idle hearts swelt'ring in lustfull flame:
33
But this from heav'n brings his immortall race,And nurst by Gratitude; whose carefull arms
Long held, and hold him still in kinde embrace:
But train'd to daily warres, and fierce alarms,
He grew to wondrous strength, and beautie rare:
Next that God-Love, from whom his off-springs are,
No match in earth or heav'n may with this Love compare.
34
His Page, who from his side might never move,Remembrance, on him waits; in books reciting
The famous passions of that highest Love,
His burning zeal to greater flames exciting:
Deep would he sigh, and seem empassion'd sore,
And oft with tears his backward heart deplore,
That loving all he could, he lov'd that Love no more.
35
Yet sure he truely lov'd, and honour'd deareThat glorious name; for when, or where he spi'd
Wrong'd, or in hellish speech blasphem'd did heare,
Boldly the rash blasphemer he defi'd,
And forc't him eat the words he foully spake:
But if for him he grief or death did take,
That grief he counted joy, and death life for his sake.
36
His glitt'ring arms, drest all with firie hearts,Seem'd burn in chaste desire, and heav'nly flame:
And on his shield kinde Jonathan imparts
To his souls friend his robes, and princely name,
And round about was writ in golden ore,
Well might he give him all, that gave his life before.
37
These led the Vantguard; and an hundred moeFill'd up the emptie ranks with ord'red train:
But first in middle ward did justly go
In goodly arms a fresh and lovely Swain,
Vaunting himself Loves twin, but younger brother:
Well mought it be; for ev'n their very mother
With pleasing errour oft mistook the one for th' other.
38
As when fair Paris gave that golden ball,A thousand doubts ranne in his stagg'ring breast:
All lik'd him well, fain would he give it all;
Each better seems, and still the last seems best:
Doubts ever new his reaching hand deferr'd;
The more he looks, the more his judgement err'd:
So she first this, then that, then none, then both preferr'd.
39
Like them, their armour seem'd full neare of kinne:In this they onely differ; th' elder bent
His higher soul to heav'n, the younger Twinne
'Mong mortals here his love and kindenesse spent;
Teaching strange alchymie, to get a living
By selling land, and to grow rich by giving;
By emptying filling bags, so heav'n by earth atchieving.
40
About him troop the poore with num'rous trains,Whom he with tender care, and large expence,
With kindest words, and succour entertains;
Ne looks for thanks, or thinks of recompence:
His wardrobe serves to cloath the naked side,
And shamefull parts of bared bodies hide;
If other cloaths he lackt, his own he would divide.
41
To rogues his gate was shut; but open lay,Kindely the weary traveller inviting:
Oft therefore Angels, hid in mortall clay,
And God himself in his free roofs delighting,
Lowly to visit him would not disdain,
And in his narrow cabin oft remain,
Whom heav'n, & earth, & all the world cannot contain.
42
His table still was fill'd with wholesome meat,Not to provoke, but quiet appetite;
And round about the hungry freely eat,
With plenteous cates cheering their feeble sprite:
Their earnest vows broke open heav'ns wide doore,
That not in vain sweet Plentie evermore
With gracious eye looks down upon his blessed store.
43
Behinde attend him in an uncouth wiseA troop with little caps, and shaved head;
Such whilome was infranched bondmens guise,
New freed from cruell masters servile dread:
These had he lately bought from captive chain;
Hence they his triumph sing with joyfull strain,
And on his head due praise and thousand blessings rain.
44
He was a father to the fatherlesse,To widows he suppli'd an husbands care;
Nor would he heap up woe to their distresse,
Or by a Guardians name their state impair;
But rescue them from strong oppressours might:
Nor doth he weigh the great mans heavie spight.
Who fears the highest Judge, needs fear no mortall wight.
45
Once every week he on his progresse went,The sick to visit, and those meager swains,
Which all their weary life in darknesse spent,
Clogg'd with cold iron, prest with heavy chains:
But with a willing hand doth well expend it.
Good then is onely good, when to our God we lend it.
46
And when the dead by cruell tyrants spightLie out to rav'nous birds and beasts expos'd,
His yearnfull heart pitying that wretched sight,
In seemly graves their weary flesh enclos'd,
And strew'd with dainty flowers the lowly herse;
Then all alone the last words did rehearse,
Bidding them softly sleep in his sad sighing verse.
47
So once that royall Maid fierce Thebes beguil'd,Though wilfull Creon proudly did forbid her;
Her brother, from his home and tombe exil'd,
(While willing night in darknesse safely hid her)
She lowly laid in earths all-covering shade:
Her dainty hands (not us'd to such a trade)
She with a mattock toils, and with a weary spade.
48
Yet feels she neither sweat, nor irksome pain,Till now his grave was fully finished;
Then on his wounds her cloudy eyes 'gin rain,
To wash the guilt painted in bloudy red:
And falling down upon his gored side,
With hundred varied plaints she often cri'd,
Oh had I di'd for thee, or with thee might have di'd!
49
Ay me! my ever wrong'd, and banisht brother,How can I fitly thy hard fate deplore,
Or in my breast so just complainings smother?
To thy sad chance what can be added more?
Exile thy home, thy home a tombe thee gave:
Oh no; such little room thou must not have,
But for thy banisht bones I (wretch) must steal a grave.
50
But whither, wofull Maid, have thy complaintsWith fellow passion drawn my feeling mone?
But thus this Love deals with those murd'red Saints;
Weeps with the sad, and sighs with those that grone.
But now in that beech grove we'l safely play,
And in those shadows mock the boyling ray;
Which yet increases more with the decreasing day.
CANT. X.
Where th' hillock seats, shades yeeld a canopie;
Whose tops with violets di'd all in blue
Might seem to make a little azure skie:
And that round hill, which their weak heads maintain'd,
A lesser Atlas seem'd, whose neck sustain'd
The weight of all the heav'ns, which sore his shoulders pain'd.
2
And here and there sweet Primrose scattered,Spangling the blue, fit constellations make:
Some broadly flaming their fair colours spread;
Some other winkt, as yet but half awake:
Fit were they plac't, and set in order due:
Nature seem'd work by art, so lively true
A little heav'n on earth in narrow space she drew.
3
Upon this earthly heav'n the shepherds play,The time beguiling, and the parching light;
Till the declining Sunne, and elder day
Abate their flaming heat, and youthfull might:
The sheep had left the shades, to minde their meat;
Then all returning to their former seat,
Thirsil again began his wearie song repeat.
4
Great power of Love! with what commanding fireDost thou enflame the worlds wide Regiment,
And kindely heat in every heart inspire!
Nothing is free from thy sweet government:
Fish burn in seas; beasts, birds thy weapons prove;
By thee dead elements and heavens move,
Which void of sense it self, yet are not void of love.
5
But those twinne Loves, which from thy seas of lightTo us on earth derive their lesser streams,
Though in their force they shew thy wondrous might,
On thee reflecting back their glorious beams,
Yet here encountred with so mightie foe,
Had need both arm'd and surely guarded go:
But most thy help they need; do not thy help foreslow.
6
Next to the younger Love Irenus went,Whose frostie head proclaim'd his winter age:
His spring in many battels had he spent,
But now all weapons chang'd for counsell sage.
His heavie sword (the witnesse of his might)
Upon a lopped tree he idlely pight;
There hid in quiet sheath, sleeps it in endlesse night.
7
Patience his shield had lent to ward his breast,Whose golden plain three Olive-branches dresse:
The word in letters large was fair exprest,
Thrice happy authour of a happie peace.
Rich plenty yeelds him power, power stores his will;
Will ends in works, good works his treasures fill:
Earths slave, heav'ns heir he is; as God, payes good for ill.
8
By him Andreos pac't, of middle age,His minde as farre from rashnesse, as from fears;
Hating base thoughts as much as desperate rage:
The worlds loud thund'rings he unshaken heares;
Readie for both. He is as cowardly
That longer fears to live, as he that fears to die.
9
Worst was his civil warre, where deadly foughtHe with himself, till Passion yeelds, or dies:
All heart and hand, no tongue; not grimme, but stout:
His flame had counsell in't, his furie eyes;
His rage well temper'd is: no fear can dant
His reason; but cold bloud is valiant:
Well may he strength in death, but never courage want.
10
But like a mighty rock, whose unmov'd sidesThe hostile sea assaults with furious wave,
And 'gainst his head the boist'rous North-winde rides;
Both fight, and storm, and swell, and roar, and rave;
Hoarse surges drum, loud blasts their trumpets strain:
Th' heroick cliffe laughs at their frustrate pain:
Waves scatter'd drop in tears, windes broken whining plain:
11
Such was this Knights undanted constancie;No mischief weakens his resolved minde:
None fiercer to a stubborn enemie,
But to the yeelding none more sweetly kinde.
His shield an even-ballast ship embraves,
Which dances light, while Neptune wildely raves:
His word was this, I fear but heav'n, nor windes, nor waves.
12
And next, Macrothumus, whose quiet faceNo cloud of passion ever shadowed;
Nor could hot anger Reasons rule displace,
Purpling the scarlet cheek with firie red:
Nor could revenge, clad in a deadly white,
With hidden malice eat his vexed sprite:
For ill he good repay'd, and love exchang'd for spite.
13
Was never yet a more undanted spirit;Yet most him deem'd a base and tim'rous swain:
But he well weighing his own strength and merit,
The greatest wrong could wisely entertain.
Nothing resisted his commanding spear:
Yeelding it self to him a winning were;
And though he di'd, yet dead he rose a conquerer.
14
His naturall force beyond all nature stretched:Most strong he is, because he will be weak;
And happie most, because he can be wretched.
Then whole and sound, when he himself doth break;
Rejoycing most when most he is tormented:
In greatest discontents he rests contented:
By conquering himself all conquests he prevented.
15
His rockie arms of massie adamantSafely could back rebutt the hardest blade:
His skinne it self could any weapon dant,
Of such strange mold and temper was he made:
Upon his shield a Palm-tree still increased,
Though many weights his rising arms depressed:
His word was, Rising most, by being most oppressed.
16
Next him Androphilus, whose sweetest minde'Twixt mildenesse temper'd, and low courtesie,
Could leave as soon to be, as not be kinde:
Churlish despite ne're lookt from his calm eye,
Much lesse commanded in his gentle heart:
To baser men fair looks he would impart;
Nor could he cloak ill thoughts in complementall art.
17
His enemies knew not how to discommend him,All others dearely lov'd; fell ranc'rous Spite,
And vile Detraction fain would reprehend him;
And oft in vain his name they closely bite,
But he such slavish office much refusing,
Can eas'ly quit his name from their false tongues abusing.
18
His arms were fram'd into a glitt'ring night,Whose sable gown with starres all spangled wide
Affords the weary traveller cheerfull light,
And to his home his erring footsteps guide:
Upon his ancient shield the workman fine
Had drawn the Sunne, whose eye did ne're repine
To look on good, and ill: his word, To all I shine.
19
Fair Vertue, where stay'st thou in poore exile,Leaving the Court from whence thou took'st thy name?
While in thy place is stept Disdaining vile,
And Flatterie, base sonne of Need and Shame;
And with them surly Scorn, and hatefull Pride;
Whose artificiall face false colours di'd,
Which more display her shame, then loathsome foulnesse hide.
20
Late there thou livedst with a gentle Swain,(As gentle Swain as ever lived there)
Who lodg'd thee in his heart, and all thy train,
Where hundred other Graces quarter'd were:
But he (alas!) untimely dead and gone,
Leaves us to rue his death, and thee to mone,
That few were ever such, & now those few are none.
21
By him the stout Encrates boldly went,Assailed oft by mightie enemies,
Which all on him alone their spite misspent;
For he whole armies single bold defies:
With him nor might, nor cunning slights prevail;
All force on him they trie, all forces fail:
Yet still assail him fresh, yet vainly still assail.
22
His body full of vigour, full of health;His table feeds not lust, but strength, and need:
Full stor'd with plenty, not by heaping wealth,
But topping rank desires, which vain exceed:
On's shield an hand from heav'n an orchyard dressing,
Pruning superfluous boughs the trees oppressing,
So adding fruit: his word, By lessening increasing.
23
His setled minde was written in his face:For on his forehead cheerfull gravitie
False joyes and apish vanities doth chase;
And watchfull care did wake in either eye:
His heritance he would not lavish sell,
Nor yet his treasure hide by neighbouring hell:
But well he ever spent, what he had gotten well.
24
A lovely pair of twins clos'd either side:Not those in heav'n, the flowrie Geminies,
Are half so lovely bright; the one his Bride,
Agnia chaste, was joyn'd in Hymens ties,
And love, as pure as heav'ns conjunction:
Thus she was his, and he her flesh and bone:
So were they two in sight, in truth entirely one.
25
Upon her arched brow unarmed LoveTriumphing sat in peacefull victorie;
And in her eyes thousand chaste Graces move,
Checking vain thoughts with awfull majestie:
Ten thousand moe her fairer breast contains;
Where quiet meeknesse every ill restrains,
And humbly subject spirit by willing service reignes.
26
Her skie-like arms glitter'd in golden beams,And brightly seem'd to flame with burning hearts:
The scalding ray with his reflected streams
Fire to their flames, but heav'nly fire, imparts:
A loving pair, still coupled, ne're alone:
Her word, Though one when two, yet either two, or none.
27
With her, her sister went, a warlike Maid,Parthenia, all in steel, and gilded arms;
In needles stead a mighty spear she swayd,
With which in bloudy fields and fierce alarms
The boldest champion she down would bear,
And like a thunderbolt wide passage tear,
Flinging all to the earth with her enchanted spear.
28
Her goodly armour seem'd a garden green,Where thousand spotlesse lilies freshly blew;
And on her shield the 'lone bird might be seen,
Th' Arabian bird, shining in colours new:
It self unto it self was onely mate;
Ever the same, but new in newer date:
And underneath was writ, Such is chaste single state.
29
Thus hid in arms, she seem'd a goodly Knight,And fit for any warlike exercise:
But when she list lay down her armour bright,
And back resume her peacefull Maidens guise;
The fairest Maid she was, that ever yet
Prison'd her locks within a golden net,
Or let them waving hang, with roses fair beset.
30
Choice Nymph, the crown of chaste Diana's train,Thou beauties lilie, set in heav'nly earth;
Thy fairs unpattern'd all perfections stain:
Sure heav'n with curious pencil, at thy birth,
In thy rare face her own full picture drew:
It is a strong verse here to write but true:
Hyperboles in others are but half thy due.
31
Upon her forehead Love his trophies fits,A thousand spoils in silver arch displaying;
And in the midst himself full proudly sits,
Himself in awfull majestie araying:
Upon her brows lies his bent Ebon bow,
And ready shafts: deadly those weapons show;
Yet sweet that death appear'd, lovely that deadly blow.
32
And at the foot of this celestiall frameTwo radiant starres, then starres yet better being,
Endu'd with living fire, and seeing flame;
Yet with heav'ns starres in this too neare agreeing;
They timely warmth, themselves not warm, inspire;
These kindle thousand hearts with hot desire,
And burning all they see, feel in themselves no fire.
33
Ye matchlesse starres, (yet each the others match)Heav'ns richest diamonds, set on Ammel white,
From whose bright spheres all grace the Graces catch,
And will not move but by your load-starres bright;
How have you stoln, and stor'd your armourie
With Loves and deaths strong shafts, and from your skie
Poure down thick showers of darts to force whole armies flie?
34
Above those Sunnes two Rainbows high aspire,Not in light shews, but sadder liveries drest;
Fair Iris seem'd to mourn in sable tire;
Yet thus more sweet the greedie eye they feast:
And but that wondrous face it well allow'd,
Wondrous it seem'd, that two fair Rainbows show'd
Above their sparkling Sunnes, without or rain, or cloud.
35
A bed of lilies flower upon her cheek,And in the midst was set a circling rose;
Whose sweet aspect would force Narcissus seek
New liveries, and fresher colours choose
But all in vain: for who can hope t' aspire
To such a fair, which none attain, but all admire?
36
Her rubie lips lock up from gazing sightA troop of pearls, which march in goodly row:
But when she deignes those precious bones undight,
Soon heav'nly notes from those divisions flow,
And with rare musick charm the ravisht eares,
Danting bold thoughts, but cheering modest fears:
The spheres so onely sing, so onely charm the spheres.
37
Her daintie breasts, like to an April roseFrom green-silk fillets yet not all unbound,
Began their little rising heads disclose,
And fairly spread their silver circlets round:
From those two bulwarks Love doth safely fight;
Which swelling easily, may seem to sight
To be enwombed both of pleasure and delight.
38
Yet all these Starres which deck this beauteous skie,By force of th' inward Sunne both shine and move:
Thron'd in her heart sits Loves high majestie;
In highest majestie the highest Love.
As when a taper shines in glassie frame,
The sparkling crystall burns in glitt'ring flame:
So does that brightest Love brighten this lovely dame.
39
Thus, and much fairer, fair PartheniaGlist'ring in arms, her self presents to sight;
As when th' Amazon Queen, Hippolyta,
With Theseus entred lists in single fight,
With equall arms her mighty foe opposing;
Till now her bared head her face disclosing,
Conquer'd the conquerour, & wan the fight by losing.
40
A thousand Knights woo'd her with busie pain,To thousand she her virgin grant deni'd;
Although her deare-sought love to entertain
They all their wit and all their strength appli'd:
Yet in her heart Love close his scepter swayd,
That to an heav'nly spouse her thoughts betraid,
Where she a maiden wife might live, and wifely maid.
41
Upon her steps a virgin Page attended,Fair Erythre, whose often-blushing face
Sweetly her in-born shame-fac't thoughts commended;
The faces change prov'd th' hearts unchanged grace,
Which she a shrine to puritie devotes:
So when cleare ivorie vermeil fitly blots,
By stains it fairer grows, and lovelier by its spots.
42
Her golden hair, her silver forehead high,Her teeth of solid, eyes of liquid pearl;
But neck and breast no man might bare descrie,
So sweetly modest was this bashfull girle:
But that sweet paradise (ah!) could we see,
On these white mountlets daintier apples be,
Then those we bought so deare on Edens tempting tree.
43
These noble Knights this threatned fort defend;These, and a thousand moe heroick Swains,
That to this 'stressed State their service lend,
To free from force, and save from captive chains.
But now too late the battell to recite;
For Hesperus heav'ns tapers 'gins to light,
And warns each starre to wait upon their Mistres Night.
CANT. XI.
1
The early Morn lets out the peeping day,And strew'd his paths with golden Marygolds:
The Moon grows wanne, and starres flie all away,
Whom Lucifer locks up in wonted folds,
Till light is quencht, and heav'n in seas hath flung
The headlong day: to th' hill the shepherds throng,
And Thirsil now began to end his task and song.
2
Who now (alas!) shall teach my humble vein,That never yet durst peep from covert glade;
But softly learnt for fear to sigh and plain,
And vent her griefs to silent myrtils shade?
Who now shall teach to change my oaten quill
For trumpet 'larms, or humble verses fill
With gracefull majestie, and loftie rising skill?
3
Ah thou dread Spirit, shed thy holy fire,Thy holy flame into my frozen heart;
Teach thou my creeping measures to aspire,
And swell in bigger notes, and higher art:
Teach my low Muse thy fierce alarums ring,
And raise my soft strain to high thundering:
Tune thou my loftie song; thy battels must I sing.
4
Such as thou wert within the sacred breastOf that thrice famous Poet-Shepherd-King;
And taught'st his heart to frame his Canto's best
Of all that e're thy glorious works did sing:
Or as those holy Fishers once amongs
Thou flamedst bright with sparkling parted tongues,
And brought'st down heav'n to earth in those all-conqu'ring songs.
5
These mighty Heroes, fill'd with justest rageTo be in narrow walls so closely pent,
Glitt'ring in arms, and goodly equipage,
Stood at the Castles gate, now ready bent
To sally out, and meet the enemie:
A hot disdain sparkled in every eye,
Breathing out hatefull warre, and deadly enmitie.
6
Thither repairs the carefull Intellect,With his fair Spouse Voletta, heav'nly fair:
With both, their daughter; whose divine aspect,
Though now sad damps of sorrow much empair,
Yet through those clouds did shine so glorious bright,
That every eye did homage to the sight,
Yeelding their captive hearts to that commanding light.
7
But who may hope to paint such majestie,Or shadow well such beautie, such a face,
Such beauteous face, unseen to mortall eye?
Whose powerfull looks, and more then mortall grace
Loves self hath lov'd, leaving his heav'nly throne,
With amorous sighs, and many a lovely mone
(Whom all the world would wooe) woo'd her his onely one.
8
Farre be that boldnesse from thy humble swain,Fairest Ec[l]ecta, to describe thy beautie,
And with unable skill thy glory stain,
Which ever he admires with humble dutie:
But who to view such blaze of beautie longs,
Go he to Sinah, th' holy groves amongs;
Where that wise Shepherd chants her in his Song of songs.
9
The Islands King with sober countenanceAggrates the Knights, who thus his right defended;
And with grave speech, and comely amenance
Himself, his State, his Spouse, to them commended:
He last delivers to their valiant hands;
And her to thank the Knights, her Champions, he commands.
10
The God-like Maid a while all silent stood,And down to th' earth let fall her humble eyes;
While modest thoughts shot up the flaming bloud,
Which fir'd her scarlet cheek with rosie dies:
But soon to quench the heat, that lordly reignes,
From her fair eye a shower of crystall rains,
Which with his silver streams o're-runs the beauteous plains.
11
As when the Sunne in midst of summers heatDraws up thinne vapours with his potent ray,
Forcing dull waters from their native seat;
At length dimme clouds shadow the burning day:
Till coldest aire, soon melted into showers,
Upon the earth his welcome anger powres,
And heav'ns cleare forehead now wipes off her former lowres.
12
At length a little lifting up her eyes,A renting sigh way for her sorrow brake,
Which from her heart 'gan in her face to rise,
And first in th' eye, then in the lip thus spake;
Ah gentle Knights, how may a simple maid,
With justest grief and wrong so ill apaid,
Give due reward for such your pains, and friendly aid?
13
But if my Princely Spouse do not delayHis timely presence in my greatest need,
He will for me your friendly love repay,
And well requite this your so gentle deed:
Then let no fear your mighty hearts assail:
His word's himself; himself he cannot fail.
Long may he stay, yet sure he comes, and must prevail.
14
By this the long-shut gate was open laid;Soon out they rush in order well arang'd:
And fastning in their eyes that heav'nly Maid,
How oft for fear her fairest colour chang'd!
Her looks, her worth, her goodly grace, and state
Comparing with her present wretched fate,
Pitie whets just revenge, and loves fire kindles hate.
15
Long at the gate the thoughtfull IntellectStaid with his fearfull Queen, and daughter fair;
But when the Knights were past their dimme aspect,
They follow them with vowes, and many a prayer:
At last they climbe up to the Castles height;
From which they view'd the deeds of every Knight,
And markt the doubtfull end of this intestine fight.
16
As when a youth, bound for the Belgick warre,Takes leave of friends upon the Kentish shore;
Now are they parted, and he sail'd so farre,
They see not now, and now are seen no more:
Yet farre off viewing the white trembling sails,
The tender mother soon plucks off her veils,
And shaking them aloft, unto her sonne she hails.
17
Mean time these Champions march in fit aray,Till both the armies now were come in sight:
A while each other boldly viewing stay,
With short delayes whetting fierce rage and spight.
Sound now ye trumpets, sound alarums loud;
Heark how their clamours whet their anger proud:
See, yonder are they met in midst of dustie cloud.
18
So oft the South with civil enmitieMusters his watrie forces 'gainst the West;
The rowling clouds come tumbling up the skie,
In dark folds wrapping up their angry guest:
With horrid noise tearing the limber mold;
While down in liquid tears the broken vapours roll'd.
19
First did that warlike Maid her self advance;And riding from amidst her companie,
About her helmet wav'd her mighty lance,
Daring to fight the proudest enemie:
Porneios soon his ready spear addrest,
And kicking with his heel his hastie beast,
Bent his sharp-headed lance against her dainty breast.
20
In vain the broken staffe sought entrance there,Where Love himself oft entrance sought in vain:
But much unlike the Martial Virgins spear,
Which low dismounts her foe on dustie plain,
Broaching with bloudy point his breast before:
Down from the wound trickled the bubbling gore,
And bid pale death come in at that red gaping doore.
21
There lies he cover'd now in lowly dust,And foully wallowing in clutter'd bloud,
Breathing together out his life and lust,
Which from his breast swamme in the steaming floud:
In maids his joy; now by a maid defi'd,
His life he lost, and all his former pride:
With women would he live, now by a woman di'd.
22
Aselges, struck with such a heavie sight,Greedie to venge his brothers sad decay,
Spurr'd forth his flying steed with fell despight,
And met the virgin in the middle way:
His spear against her head he fiercely threw,
Which to that face performing homage due,
Kissing her helmet, thence in thousand shivers flew.
23
The wanton boy had dreamt that latest night,That he had learnt the liquid aire dispart,
And swimme along the heav'ns with pineons light;
Now that fair maid taught him this nimble art:
For from his saddle farre away she sent,
Flying along the emptie element;
That hardly yet he knew whither his course was bent.
24
The rest that saw with fear the ill successeOf single fight, durst not like fortune trie;
But round beset her with their numerous presse:
Before, beside, behinde they on her flie,
And every part with coward odds assail:
But she redoubling strokes as thick as hail,
Drove farre their flying troops, & thresht with iron flail.
25
As when a gentle greyhound set aroundWith little curres, which dare his way molest,
Snapping behinde; soon as the angrie hound
Turning his course, hath caught the busiest,
And shaking in his fangs hath welnigh slain;
The rest fear'd with his crying, runne amain;
And standing all aloof whine, houl, and bark in vain.
26
The subtil Dragon, that from farre did viewThe waste and spoil made by this maiden Knight,
Fell to his wonted guile; for well he knew
All force was vain against such wondrous might:
A craftie swain well taught to cunning harms,
Call'd false Delight, he chang'd with hellish charms;
That true Delight he seem'd, the self-same shape and arms.
27
The watchfull'st sight no difference could descrie;The same his face, his voice, his gate the same:
Thereto his words he feign'd; and coming nigh
The Maid, that fierce pursues her martiall game,
Till she lesse carefull did fit time afford:
Then up with both his hands he lifts his balefull sword.
28
You powerfull heav'ns! and thou their Governour!With what eyes can you view this dolefull sight?
How can you see your fairest Conquerour
So nigh her end by so unmanly slight?
The dreadfull weapon through the aire doth glide;
But sure you turn'd the harmfull edge aside:
Else must she there have fall'n, and by that traitour di'd.
29
Yet in her side deep was the wound impight;Her flowing life the shining armour stains:
From that wide spring long rivers took their flight,
With purple streams drowning the silver plains:
Her cheerfull colour now grows wanne and pale,
Which oft she strives with courage to recall,
And rouze her fainting head, which down as oft would fall.
30
All so a Lilie, prest with heavie rain,Which fills her cup with showers up to the brinks;
The wearie stalk no longer can sustain
The head, but low beneath the burden sinks:
Or as a virgin Rose her leaves displayes,
Whom too hot scorching beams quite disarayes;
Down flags her double ruffe, and all her sweet decayes.
31
Th' undanted Maid, feeling her feet denieTheir wonted dutie, to a tree retir'd;
Whom all the rout pursue with deadly crie:
As when a hunted Stag, now welnigh tir'd,
Shor'd by an oak, 'gins with his head to play;
The fearfull hounds dare not his horns assay,
But running round about, with yelping voices bay.
32
And now perceiving all her strength was spent,Lifting to listning heav'n her trembling eyes,
Thus whispring soft, her soul to heav'n she sent;
Thou chastest Love, that rul'st the wandring skies,
More pure then purest heavens by thee moved;
If thine own love in me thou sure hast proved;
If ever thou my self, my vows, my love hast loved.
33
Let not this Temple of thy spotlesse loveBe with foul hand and beastly rage defil'd:
But when my spirit shall his camp remove,
And to his home return, too long exil'd;
Do thou protect it from the ravenous spoil
Of ranc'rous enemies, that hourely toil
Thy humble votarie with loathsome spot to foil.
34
With this few drops fell from her fainting eyes,To dew the fading roses of her cheek;
That much high Love seem'd passion'd with those cries;
Much more those streams his heart and patience break:
Straight he the charge gives to a winged Swain,
Quickly to step down to that bloudie plain,
And aid her wearie arms, and rightfull cause maintain.
35
Soon stoops the speedie Herauld through the aire,Where chaste Agneia and Encrates fought:
See, see, he cries, where your Parthenia fair,
The flower of all your armie, hemm'd about
With thousand enemies, now fainting stands,
Readie to fall into their murdring hands:
Hie ye, oh hie ye fast; the highest Love commands.
36
They casting round about their angrie eye,The wounded Virgin almost sinking spi'd:
They prick their steeds, which straight like lightning flie:
Their brother Continence runnes by their side;
As his hearts liege, this Ladie did adore:
And now his faithfull love kindled his hate the more.
37
Encrates and his Spouse with flashing swordAssail the scatter'd troops, that headlong flie;
While Continence a precious liquor pour'd
Into the wound, and suppled tenderly:
Then binding up the gaping orifice,
Reviv'd the spirits, that now she 'gan to rise,
And with new life confront her heartlesse enemies.
38
So have I often seen a purple flowerFainting through heat, hang down her drooping head;
But soon refreshed with a welcome shower,
Begins again her lively beauties spread,
And with new pride her silken leaves display;
And with the Sunne doth now more gently play,
Lay out her swelling bosome to the smiling day.
39
Now rush they all into the flying trains;Bloud fires their bloud, and slaughter kindles fight:
The wretched vulgar on the purple plains
Fall down as thick, as when a rustick wight
From laden oaks the plenteous akorns poures,
Or when the blubbring ayer sadly lowres,
And melts his sullen brow, and weeps sweet April showers.
40
The greedy Dragon, that aloof did spieSo ill successe of this renewed fray;
More vext with losse of certain victorie,
Depriv'd of so assur'd and wished prey,
Gnashed his iron teeth for grief and spite:
The burning sparks leap from his flaming sight,
And forth his smoking jawes steams out a smouldring night.
41
Straight thither sends he in a fresh supply,The swelling band that drunken Methos led,
And all the rout his brother Gluttonie
Commands, in lawlesse bands disordered:
So now they bold restore their broken fight,
And fiercely turn again from shamefull flight;
While both with former losse sharpen their raging spite.
42
Freshly these Knights assault these fresher bands,And with new battell all their strength renew:
Down fell Geloios by Encrates hands,
Agneia Mœchus and Anagnus slew;
And spying Methos fenc't in's iron vine,
Pierc't his swoln panch: there lies the grunting swine,
And spues his liquid soul out in his purple wine.
43
As when a greedy lion, long unfed,Breaks in at length into the harmlesse folds;
(So hungry rage commands) with fearfull dread
He drags the silly beasts: nothing controlls
The victour proud; he spoils, devours, and tears:
In vain the keeper calls his shepherd peers:
Mean while the simple flock gaze on with silent fears:
44
Such was the slaughter these three Champions made;But most Encrates, whose unconquer'd hands
Sent thousand foes down to th' infernall shade,
With uselesse limbes strewing the bloudie sands:
Oft were they succourd fresh with new supplies,
But fell as oft: the Dragon grown more wise
By former losse, began another way devise.
45
Soon to their aid the Cyprian band he sent,For easie skirmish clad in armour light:
Their golden bowes in hand stood ready bent,
And painted quivers (furnisht well for fight)
Which dipt in Phlegethon by hellish swains,
Bring thousand painfull deaths, and thousand deadly pains.
46
Thereto of substance strange, so thinne, and slight,And wrought by subtil hand so cunningly,
That hardly were discern'd by weaker sight;
Sooner the heart did feel, then eye could see:
Farre off they stood, and flung their darts around,
Raining whole clouds of arrows on the ground;
So safely others hurt, and never wounded wound.
47
Much were the Knights encumbred with these foes;For well they saw, and felt their enemies:
But when they back would turn the borrow'd blows,
The light-foot troop away more swiftly flies,
Then do their winged arrows through the winde:
And in their course oft would they turn behinde,
And with their glancing darts their hot pursuers blinde.
48
As when by Russian Volgha's frozen banksThe false-back Tartars fear with cunning feigne,
And poasting fast away in flying ranks,
Oft backward turn, and from their bowes down rain
Whole storms of darts; so do they flying fight:
And what by force they lose, they winne by slight;
Conquerd by standing out, and conquerours by flight:
49
Such was the craft of this false Cyprian crue:Yet oft they seem'd to slack their fearfull pace,
And yeeld themselves to foes that fast pursue;
So would they deeper wound in nearer space:
In such a fight he winnes, that fastest flies.
Flie, flie, chaste Knights, such subtil enemies:
The vanquisht cannot live, and conqu'rour surely dies.
50
The Knights opprest with wounds and travel past,Began retire, and now were neare to fainting:
With that a winged Poast him speeded fast,
The Generall with these heavy newes acquainting:
He soon refresht their hearts that 'gan to tire.
But let out weary Muse a while respire:
Shade we our scorched heads from Phœbus parching fire.
CANT. XII.
1
The shepherds guarded from the sparkling heatOf blazing aire, upon the flowrie banks,
(Where various flowers damask the fragrant seat,
And all the grove perfume) in wonted ranks
Securely sit them down, and sweetly play:
At length thus Thirsil ends his broken lay,
Lest that the stealing night his later song might stay.
2
Thrice, oh thrice happie shepherds life and state,When Courts are happinesse unhappie pawns!
His cottage low, and safely humble gate
Shuts out proud fortune, with her scorns, and fawns:
No feared treason breaks his quiet sleep:
Singing all day, his flocks he learns to keep;
Himself as innocent as are his simple sheep.
3
No Serian worms he knows, that with their threedDraw out their silken lives; nor silken pride:
His lambes warm fleece well fits his little need,
Not in that proud Sidonian tincture di'd:
No emptie hopes, no courtly fears him fright;
No begging wants his middle fortune bite:
But sweet content exiles both miserie and spite.
4
In stead of musick and base flattering tongues,Which wait to first-salute my Lords uprise;
The cheerfull lark wakes him with early songs,
And birds sweet whistling notes unlock his eyes:
In countrey playes is all the strife he uses,
Or sing, or dance unto the rurall Muses;
And but in musicks sports, all difference refuses.
5
His certain life, that never can deceive him,Is full of thousand sweets, and rich content:
The smooth-leav'd beeches in the field receive him
With coolest shades, till noon-tides rage is spent:
His life is neither tost in boist'rous seas
Of troublous world, nor lost in slothfull ease:
Pleas'd & full blest he lives, when he his God can please.
6
His bed of wool yeelds safe and quiet sleeps,While by his side his faithfull spouse hath place:
His little sonne into his bosome creeps,
The lively picture of his fathers face:
Never his humble house or state torment him;
Lesse he could like, if lesse his God had sent him:
And when he dies, green turfs with grassie tombe content him.
7
The worlds great Light his lowly state hath blest,And left his heav'n to be a shepherd base:
Thousand sweet songs he to his pipe addrest:
Swift rivers stood; beasts, trees, stones ranne apace,
And serpents flew to heare his softest strains:
He fed his flock, where rolling Jordan reignes;
There took our rags, gave us his robes, and bore our pains.
8
Then thou high Light, whom shepherds low adore,Teach me, oh do thou teach thy humble swain
To raise my creeping song from earthly floor:
Fill thou my empty breast with loftie strain;
My notes may thunder out thy conqu'ring might,
And 'twixt the golden starres cut out her towring flight.
9
The mightie Generall moved with the newsOf those foure famous Knights so neare decay,
With hastie speed the conquering foe pursues;
At last he spies where they were led away,
Forc't to obey the Victours proud commands:
Soon did he rush into the middle bands,
And cut the slavish cords from their captived hands.
10
And for the Knights were faint, he quickly sentTo Penitence, whom Phœbus taught his art;
Which she had eakt with long experiment:
For many a soul, and many a wounded heart
Had she restor'd, and brought to life again
The broken spirit, with grief and horrour slain;
That oft reviv'd, yet di'd as oft with smarting pain.
11
For she in severall baths their wounds did steep;The first of Rue which purg'd the foul infection,
And cur'd the deepest wound, by wounding deep:
Then would she make another strange confection,
And mix it with Nepenthe soveraigne;
Wherewith she quickly swag'd the rankling pain:
Thus she the Knights recur'd, and washt from sinfull stain.
12
Mean time the fight now fiercer grows then ever:(For all his troops the Dragon hither drew)
The two Twin-Loves, whom no place mought dissever,
And Knowledge with his train begins anew
To strike fresh summons up, and hot alarms:
In midst great Fido, clad in sunne-like arms,
With his unmatched force repairs all former harms.
13
So when the Sunne shines in bright Taurus head,Returning tempests all with winter fill;
And still successive storms fresh mustered
The timely yeare in his first springings kill:
And oft it breathes a while, then straight again
Doubly powres out his spite in smoking rain:
The countreys vows & hopes swimme on the drowned plain.
14
The lovely Twinnes ride 'gainst the Cyprian bands,Chasing their troops now with no feigned flight:
Their broken shafts lie scatter'd on the sands,
Themselves for fear quite vanisht out of sight:
Against these conquerours Hypocrisie,
And Cosm[os'] hated bands, with Ecthros slie,
And all that rout do march, & bold the Twinnes defie.
15
Elpinus mightie enemies assail;But Doubt of all the other most infested;
That oft his fainting courage 'gan to fail,
More by his craft then ods of force molested:
For oft the treachour chang'd his weapon light,
And sudden alter'd his first kinde of fight,
And oft himself and shape transform'd with cunning slight.
16
So that great river, with Alcides strivingIn Oeneus court for the Ætolian Maid,
To divers shapes his fluent limbes contriving,
From manly form in serpents frame he staid,
Sweeping with speckled breast the dustie land;
Then like a bull with horns did armed stand:
His hanging dewlap trail'd along the golden sand.
17
Such shapes and changing fashions much dismaid him,That oft he stagger'd with unwonted fright;
And but his brother Fido oft did aid him,
There had he fell in unacquainted fight:
And chase that Monster through the sandie plain;
Which from him fled apace, but oft return'd again.
18
Yet him more strong and cunning foes withstand,Whom he with greater skill and strength defi'd:
Foul Ignorance, with all her owl-ey'd band;
Oft-starting Fear, Distrust ne're satisfi'd,
And fond Suspect, and thousand other foes;
Whom farre he drives with his unequall blows,
And with his flaming sword their fainting armie mows.
19
As when bloud-guilty earth for vengeance cries,(If greatest things with lesse we may compare)
The mighty Thunderer through the ayer flies,
While snatching whirlwinds open waies prepare:
Dark clouds spread out their sable curtains o're him;
And Angels on their flaming wings up bore him:
Mean time the guilty heav'ns for fear flie fast before him.
20
There while he on the windes proud pineons rides,Down with his fire some lofty mount he throwes,
And fills the low vale with his ruin'd sides;
Or on some church his three-forkt dart bestowes;
(Which yet his sacred worship foul mistakes)
Down falls the spire, the body fearfull quakes;
Nor sure to fall, or stand, with doubtfull trembling shakes.
21
With Fido Knowledge went, who order'd rightHis mighty hands: so now his scatter'd troops
Make head again, filling their broken fight;
While with new change the Dragons armie droops,
And from the following victours headlong runne:
Yet still the Dragon frustrates what is done;
And eas'ly makes them lose what they so hardly wonne.
22
Out of his gorge a hellish smoke he drew,That all the field with foggie mist enwraps;
As when Tiphœus from his panch doth spew
Black smothering flames, roll'd in loud thunder-claps:
The pitchie vapours choke the shining ray,
And bring dull night upon the smiling day;
The wavering Ætna shakes, and fain would runne away.
23
Yet could his bat-ey'd legions eas'ly seeIn this dark Chaos; they the seed of night:
But these not so, who night and darknesse flee;
For they the sonnes of day, and joy in light:
But Knowledge soon began a way devise,
To bring again the day, and cleare their eyes:
So open'd Fido's shield, and golden veil unties.
24
Of one pure diamond, celestiall fair,That heav'nly shield by cunning hand was made;
Whose light divine, spred through the mistie aire,
To brightest morn would turn the Western shade,
And lightsome day beget before his time;
Framed in heav'n without all earthly crime;
Dipt in the firy Sunne, which burnt the baser slime.
25
As when from fennie moors the lumpish cloudsWith rising steams damp the bright mornings face;
At length the piercing Sunne his team unshrouds,
And with his arrows th' idle fogge doth chase:
The broken mist lies melted all in tears:
So this bright shield the stinking darknesse teares,
And giving back the day, dissolves their former fears.
26
Which when afarre the firie Dragon spies,His slights deluded with so little pain;
To his last refuge now at length he flies:
Long time his pois'nous gorge he seem'd to strain;
From stinking panch a most deformed crue,
That heav'n it self did flie from their most ugly view.
27
The first that crept from his detested maw,Was Hamartia, foul deformed wight;
More foul, deform'd, the Sunne yet never saw;
Therefore she hates the all-betraying light:
A woman seem'd she in her upper part;
To which she could such lying glosse impart,
That thousands she had slain with her deceiving art.
28
The rest (though hid) in serpents form arayd,With iron scales, like to a plaited mail:
Over her back her knotty tail displaid,
Along the empty aire did lofty sail:
The end was pointed with a double sting,
Which with such dreaded might she wont to fling,
That nought could help the wound, but bloud of heav'nly King.
29
Of that first woman her the Dragon got,(The foulest bastard of so fair a mother)
Whom when she saw so fil'd with monstrous spot,
She cast her hidden shame and birth to smother;
But she welnigh her mothers self had slain:
And all that dare her kindely entertain;
So some parts of her damme, more of her sire remain.
30
Her viperous locks hung loose about her eares;Yet with a monstrous snake she them restrains,
Which like a border on her head she wears:
About her neck hang down long adder chains,
In thousand knots, and wreaths infolded round;
Which in her anger lightly she unbound,
And darting farre away would sure and deadly wound.
31
Yet fair and lovely seems to fools dimme eyes;But hell more lovely, Pluto's self more fair
Appeares, when her true form true light descries:
Her loathsome face, blancht skinne, and snakie hair,
Her shapelesse shape, dead life, her carrion smell,
The devils dung, the childe and damme of hell,
Is chaffer fit for fools their precious souls to sell.
32
The second in this rank was black Despair,Bred in the dark wombe of eternall Night:
His looks fast nail'd to Sinne, long sootie hair
Fill'd up his lank cheeks with wide-staring fright:
His leaden eyes, retir'd into his head,
Light, heav'n, and earth, himself, and all things fled:
A breathing coarse he seem'd, wrapt up in living lead.
33
His bodie all was fram'd of earthly paste,And heavie mold; yet earth could not content him:
Heav'n fast he flies, and heav'n fled him as fast;
Though 'kin to hell, yet hell did much torment him:
His very soul was nought but ghastly fright:
With him went many a fiend, and ugly sprite,
Armed with ropes and knives, all instruments of spite.
34
In stead of feathers, on his dangling crestA lucklesse Raven spred her blackest wings;
And to her croaking throat gave never rest,
But deathfull verses and sad dirges sings:
His hellish arms were all with fiends embost,
Who damned souls with endlesse torments roast,
And thousand wayes devise to vex the tortur'd ghost.
35
Two weapons sharp as death he ever bore;Strict Judgement, which from farre he deadly darts;
Sinne at his side, a two edg'd sword, he wore,
With which he soon appalls the stoutest hearts:
Of snakie whips the damn'd souls tortureth:
And round about was wrote, Reward of sinne is death.
36
The last two brethren were farre different,Onely in common name of death agreeing;
The first arm'd with a sithe still mowing went;
Yet whom, and when he murder'd, never seeing;
Born deaf, and blinde: nothing might stop his way:
No prayers, no vows his keenest sithe could stay;
Nor Beauties self his spite, nor Vertues self allay.
37
No state, no age, no sex may hope to move him;Down falls the young, and old, the boy, and maid:
Nor begger can intreat, nor King reprove him;
All are his slaves in's cloth of flesh araid:
The bride he snatches from the bridegrooms arms,
And horrour brings, in midst of loves alarms:
Too well we know his power by long experienc't harms.
38
A dead mans skull suppli'd his helmets place,A bone his club, his armour sheets of lead:
Some more, some lesse fear his all-frighting face;
But most who sleep in downie pleasures bed:
But who in life have daily learnt to die,
And dead to this, live to a life more high;
Sweetly in death they sleep, and slumbring quiet lie.
39
The second farre more foul in every part,Burnt with blue fire, and bubbling sulphure streams;
Which creeping round about him, fill'd with smart
His cursed limbes, that direly he blasphemes:
Most strange it seems, that burning thus for ever,
No rest, no time, no place these flames may sever:
Yet death in thousand deaths without death dieth never.
40
Soon as these hellish monsters came in sight,The Sunne his eye in jettie vapours drown'd,
Scar'd at such hell-hounds view; heav'ns 'mazed light
Sets in an early evening; earth astound,
Bids dogs with houls give warning: at which sound
The fearfull ayer starts, seas break their bound,
And frighted fled away; no sands might them impound.
41
The palsied troop first (like asps shaken) fare;Till now their heart, congeal'd in icie bloud,
Candied the ghastly face; locks stand and stare:
Thus charm'd, in ranks of stone they marshall'd stood:
Their uselesse swords fell idlely on the plain,
And now the triumph sounds in loftie strain;
So conqu'ring Dragon bindes the Knights with slavish chain.
42
As when proud Phineus in his brothers feastFill'd all with tumult, and intestine broil;
Wise Perseus, with such multitudes opprest,
Before him bore the snakie Gorgons spoil:
The vulgar rude stood all in marble chang'd,
And in vain ranks and rockie order rang'd,
Were now more quiet guests, from former rage estrang'd.
43
The fair Eclecta, who with grief had stood,Viewing th' oft changes of this doubtfull fight,
Saw now the field swimme in her Champions bloud,
And from her heart, rent with deep passion, sigh'd;
Limming true sorrow in sad silent art.
Light grief floats on the tongue; but heavie smart
Sinks down, and deeply lies in centre of the heart.
44
What Dædal art such griefs can truely shew,Broke heart, deep sighs, thick sobs, & burning prayers,
Baptizing ever[y] limbe in weeping dew?
Whose swoln eyes, pickled up in brinie tears,
Compast about with tides of grief and fears;
Where grief stores fear with sighs, and fear stores grief with tears.
45
At length sad Sorrow, mounted on the wingsOf loud-breath'd sighs, his leaden weight uprears;
And vents it self in softest whisperings,
Follow'd with deadly grones, usher'd by tears:
While her fair hands, and watrie shining eyes
Were upward bent upon the mourning skies,
Which seem'd with cloudie brow her grief to sympathize.
46
Long while the silent passion, wanting vent,Made flowing tears her words, and eyes her tongue;
Till Faith, Experience, Hope assistance lent
To shut both floud-gates up with patience strong:
The streams well ebb'd, new hopes some comforts borrow
From firmest truth; then glimpst the hopefull morrow:
So spring some dawns of joy, so sets the night of sorrow.
47
Ah dearest Lord, my hearts sole Soveraigne,Who sitt'st high mounted on thy burning throne;
Heark from thy heav'ns, where thou dost safely reigne,
Cloth'd with the golden Sunne, and silver Moon:
Cast down a while thy sweet and gracious eye,
And low avail that flaming Majestie,
Deigning thy gentle sight on our sad miserie.
48
To thee, deare Lord, I lift this watrie eye,This eye which thou so oft in love hast prais'd;
This eye with which thou wounded oft wouldst die;
To thee (deare Lord) these suppliant hands are rais'd:
These to be lilies thou hast often told me;
Which if but once again may ever hold thee,
Will never let thee loose, will never more unfold thee.
49
Seest how thy foes despitefull trophies reare,Too confident in thy prolong'd delayes?
Come then, oh quickly come, my dearest deare:
When shall I see thee crown'd with conqu'ring bayes,
And all thy foes trod down, and spred as clay?
When shall I see thy face, and glories ray?
Too long thou stay'st, my Love; come Love, no longer stay
50
Hast thou forgot thy former word and love,Or lockt thy sweetnesse up in fierce disdain?
In vain didst thou those thousand mischiefs prove?
Are all those griefs, thy birth, life, death in vain?
Oh no; of ill thou onely dost repent thee,
And in thy dainty mercies most content thee:
Then why with stay so long so long dost thou torment me?
51
Reviving Cordiall of my dying sprite,The best Elixar for souls drooping pain;
Ah now unshade thy face, uncloud thy sight;
See, every way's a trap, each path's a train:
Hells troops my soul beleaguer; bow thine eares,
And hear my cries pierce through my grones & fears:
Sweet Spouse, see not my sinnes, but through my plaints and tears.
52
Let frailty favour, sorrow succour move;Anchour my life in thy calm streams of bloud:
Be thou my rock, though I poore changeling rove,
Tost up and down in waves of worldly floud:
Whil'st I in vale of tears at anchour ride,
Where windes of earthly thoughts my sails misguide,
Harbour my fleshly bark safe in thy wounded side.
53
Take, take my contrite heart, thy sacrifice,Washt in her eyes that swimmes and sinks in woes:
See, see, as seas with windes high working rise,
So storm, so rage, so gape thy boasting foes.
Oh if thou anchour not these threatning fears;
Thy ark will sail as deep in bloud, as now in tears.
54
With that a thundring noise seem'd shake the skie,As when with iron wheels through stonie plain
A thousand chariots to the battell flie;
Or when with boistrous rage the swelling main,
Puft up with mighty windes, does hoarsly roar;
And beating with his waves the trembling shore,
His sandie girdle scorns, & breaks earths ramperd doore.
55
And straight an Angel full of heav'nly might,(Three severall crowns circled his royall head)
From Northern coast heaving his blazing light,
Through all the earth his glorious beams dispread,
And open laies the Beasts and Dragons shame:
For to this end th' Almighty did him frame,
And therefore from supplanting gave his ominous name.
56
A silver trumpet oft he loudly blew,Frighting the guiltie earth with thundring knell;
And oft proclaim'd, as through the world he flew,
Babel, great Babel lies as low as hell:
Let every Angel loud his trumpet sound,
Her heav'n-exalted towers in dust are drown'd:
Babel, proud Babel's fall'n, and lies as low as ground.
57
The broken heav'ns dispart with fearfull noise,And from the breach out shoots a suddain light;
Straight shrilling trumpets with loud sounding voice
Give echoing summons to new bloudy fight:
Well knew the Dragon that all-quelling blast,
And soon perceiv'd that day must be his last;
Which strook his frighted heart, & all his troops aghast.
58
Yet full of malice and of stubborn pride,Though oft had strove, and had been foild as oft,
Boldly his death and certain fate defi'd:
And mounted on his flaggie sails aloft,
With boundlesse spite he long'd to try again
A second losse, and new death; glad and fain
To shew his pois'nous hate, though ever shew'd in vain.
59
So up he rose upon his stretched sails,Fearlesse expecting his approaching death:
So up he rose, that th' ayer starts, and fails,
And over-pressed sinks his load beneath:
So up he rose, as does a thunder-cloud,
Which all the earth with shadows black does shroud:
So up he rose, and through the weary ayer row'd.
60
Now his Almighty foe farre off he spies;Whose Sun-like arms daz'd the eclipsed day,
Confounding with their beams lesse-glitt'ring skies,
Firing the aire with more then heav'nly ray;
Like thousand Sunnes in one: such is their light;
A subject onely for immortall sprite,
Which never can be seen, but by immortall sight.
61
His threatning eyes shine like that dreadfull flame,With which the Thunderer arms his angry hand:
Himself had fairly wrote his wondrous name,
Which neither earth nor heav'n could understand:
A hundred crowns, like towers, beset around
His conqu'ring head: well may they there abound,
When all his limbes and troops with gold are richly crown'd.
62
His armour all was dy'd in purple bloud;(In purple bloud of thousand rebell Kings)
In vain their stubborn powers his arm withstood:
Their proud necks chain'd he now in triumph brings,
Upon whose arms and thigh, in golden words
Was fairly writ, The KING of Kings, & LORD of Lords.
63
His snow-white steed was born of heav'nly kinde,Begot by Boreas on the Thracian hills;
More strong and speedy then his parent Winde:
And (which his foes with fear and horrour fills)
Out from his mouth a two-edg'd sword he darts;
Whose sharpest steel the bone and marrow parts,
And with his keenest point unbreasts the naked hearts.
64
The Dragon, wounded with this flaming brand,They take, and in strong bonds and fetters tie:
Short was the fight, nor could he long withstand
Him, whose appearance is his victorie.
So now he's bound in adamantine chain;
He storms, he roars, he yells for high disdain:
His net is broke, the fowl go free, the fowler ta'ne.
65
Thence by a mighty Swain he soon was ledUnto a thousand thousand torturings:
His tail, whose folds were wont the starres to shed,
Now stretcht at length, close to his belly clings:
Soon as the pit he sees, he back retires,
And battel new, but all in vain, respires:
So there he deeply lies, flaming in icie fires.
66
As when Alcides from forc't hell had drawnThe three-head dog, and master'd all his pride;
Basely the fiend did on his Victour fawn,
With serpent tail clapping his hollow side:
At length arriv'd upon the brink of light,
He shuts the day out of his dullard sight,
And swelling all in vain renews unhappie fight.
67
Soon at this sight the Knights revive again,As fresh as when the flowers from winter tombe
(When now the Sunne brings back his nearer wain)
Peep out again from their fresh mothers wombe:
The primrose lighted new, her flame displayes,
And frights the neighbour hedge with firie rayes:
And all the world renew their mirth & sportive playes.
68
The Prince, who saw his long imprisonmentNow end in never-ending libertie;
To meet the Victour, from his castle went,
And falling down, clasping his royall knee,
Poures out deserved thanks in gratefull praise:
But him the heav'nly Saviour soon doth raise,
And bids him spend in joy his never spending dayes.
69
The fair Eclecta, that with widowed browHer absent Lord long mourn'd in sad aray,
Now silken linnen cloth'd like frozen snow,
Whose silver spanglets sparkle 'gainst the day:
This shining robe her Lord himself had wrought,
While he her love with hundred presents sought,
And it with many a wound, & many a torment bought.
70
And thus arayd, her heav'nly beauties shin'd(Drawing their beams from his most glorious face)
Like to a precious Jasper, pure refin'd;
Which with a Crystall mixt, much mends his grace:
The golden starres a garland fair did frame,
To crown her locks; the Sunne lay hid for shame,
And yeelded all his beams to her more glorious flame.
71
Ah who that flame can tell? ah who can see?Enough is me with silence to admire;
While bolder joy, and humb[l]e majestie
In either cheek had kindled gracefull fire:
And griefs ran all away in sliding tears;
That like a watrie Sunne her gladsome face appeares.
72
At length when joyes had left her closer heart,To seat themselves upon her thankfull tongue;
First in her eyes they sudden flashes dart,
Then forth i' th' musick of her voice they throng;
My Hope, my Love, my Joy, my Life, my Blisse,
(Whom to enjoy is heav'n, but hell to misse)
What are the worlds false joyes, what heav'ns true joyes to this?
73
Ah dearest Lord! does my rapt soul behold thee?Am I awake? and sure I do not dream?
Do these thrice blessed arms again infold thee?
Too much delight makes true things feigned seem.
Thee, thee I see; thou, thou thus folded art:
For deep thy stamp is printed in my heart,
And thousand ne're-felt joyes stream in each melting part.
74
Thus with glad sorrow did she sweetly plain her,Upon his neck a welcome load depending;
While he with equall joy did entertain her,
Her self, her Champions, highly all commending:
So all in triumph to his palace went,
Whose work in narrow words may not be pent;
For boundlesse thought is lesse then is that glorious tent.
75
There sweet delights, which know nor end, nor measure;No chance is there, nor eating times succeeding:
No wastfull spending can empair their treasure;
Pleasure full grown, yet ever freshly breeding:
Fulnesse of sweets excludes not more receiving:
The soul still big of joy, yet still conceiving;
Beyond slow tongues report, beyond quick thoughts perceiving.
76
There are they gone, there will they ever bide;Swimming in waves of joyes, and heav'nly lov[ing]:
He still a Bridegroom, she a gladsome Bride;
Their hearts in love, like spheres still constant moving:
No change, no grief, no age can them befall:
Their bridall bed is in that heav'nly hall,
Where all dayes are but one, and onely one is all.
77
And as in state they thus in triumph ride,The boyes and damsels their just praises chaunt;
The boyes the Bridegroom sing, the maids the Bride,
While all the hills glad Hymens loudly vaunt:
Heav'ns winged shoals, greeting this glorious spring,
Attune their higher notes, and Hymens sing:
Each thought to passe, & each did passe thoughts loftiest wing.
78
Upon his lightning brow Love proudly sittingFlames out in power, shines out in majestie;
There all his loftie spoils and trophies fitting,
Displayes the marks of highest Deitie:
There full of strength in lordly arms he stands,
And every heart, and every soul commands:
No heart, no soul his strength and lordly force withstands.
79
Upon her forehead thousand cheerfull Graces,Seated in thrones of spotlesse ivorie;
There gentle Love his armed hand unbraces,
His bow unbent disclaims all tyrannie:
There by his play a thousand souls beguiles,
Perswading more by simple modest smiles,
Then ever he could force by arms, or craftie wiles.
80
Upon her cheek doth Beauties self implantThe freshest garden of her choicest flowers;
On which if Envie might but glance ascant,
Her eyes would swell, and burst, and melt in showers:
Heav'n never such a Bridegroom yet descri'd;
Nor ever earth so fair, so undefil'd a Bride.
81
Full of his Father shines his glorious face,As farre the Sunne surpassing in his light,
As doth the Sunne the earth with flaming blaze:
Sweet influence streams from his quickning sight:
His beams from nought did all this All display;
And when to lesse then nought they fell away,
He soon restor'd again by his new orient ray.
82
All heav'n shines forth in her sweet faces frame:Her seeing Starres (which we miscall bright eyes)
More bright then is the mornings brightest flame,
More fruitfull then the May-time Geminies:
These back restore the timely summers fire;
Those springing thoughts in winter hearts inspire,
Inspiriting dead souls, and quickning warm desire.
83
These two fair Sunnes in heav'nly sphere are plac't,Where in the centre Joy triumphing sits:
Thus in all high perfections fully grac't,
Her mid-day blisse no future night admits;
But in the mirrours of her Spouses eyes
Her fairest self she dresses; there where lies
All sweets, a glorious beautie to emparadize.
84
His locks like ravens plumes, or shining jet,Fall down in curls along his ivory neck;
Within their circlets hundred Graces set,
And with love-knots their comely hangings deck:
His mighty shoulders, like that Giant Swain,
All heav'n and earth, and all in both sustain;
Yet knows no wearinesse, nor feels oppressing pain.
85
Her amber hair, like to the sunnie ray,With gold enamels fair the silver white;
There heav'nly loves their prettie sportings play,
Firing their darts in that wide flaming light:
Her daintie neck, spread with that silver mold,
Where double beautie doth it self unfold,
In th' own fair silver shines, and fairer borrow'd gold.
86
His breast a rock of purest alabaster,Where Loves self sailing shipwrackt often sitteth;
Hers a twinne-rock, unknown, but to th' ship-master;
Which harbours him alone, all other splitteth.
Where better could her love then here have nested?
Or he his thoughts then here more sweetly feasted?
Then both their love & thoughts in each are ever rested.
87
Runne now you shepherd-swains; ah run you thither,Where this fair Bridegroom leads the blessed way:
And haste you lovely maids, haste you together
With this sweet Bride; while yet the sunne-shine day
Guides your blinde steps, while yet loud summons call,
That every wood & hill resounds withall,
Come Hymen, Hymen come, drest in thy golden pall.
88
The sounding Echo back the musick flung,While heav'nly spheres unto the voices playd.
But see, the day is ended with my song,
And sporting bathes with that fair Ocean Maid:
Stoop now thy wing, my Muse, now stoop thee low:
Hence mayst thou freely play, and rest thee now;
While here I hang my pipe upon the willow bough.
89
So up they rose, while all the shepherds throngWith their loud pipes a countrey triumph blew,
And led their Thirsil home with joyfull song:
Mean time the lovely Nymphs with garlands new
His locks in Bay and honour'd Palm-tree bound,
With Lilies set, and Hyacinths around;
And Lord of all the yeare, and their May-sportings crown'd.
![]() | Poetical works (1908) | ![]() |