The poems of George Daniel ... From the original mss. in the British Museum: Hitherto unprinted. Edited, with introduction, notes, and illustrations, portrait, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart: In four volumes |
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| 5. | Idyll 5. |
 | The poems of George Daniel |  |
229
Idyll 5.
If yet an Easie and familiar Draught
Of things be plaine enough, to Speake our Thought,
Well may he fare, whose Candor will Admit,
Our meaning; though he see not, where wee hitt;
The happie Age, has teem'd, & brought a new
Race of Discerners; can be wise, as you;
Can Squeeze an Author, wth a Ioynt; & raise
In Sea's of Præiudice, Mountains of Praise,
By an Imposeing Faith; an Easie Smile
Argues the Ieast; the frowne a Deeper Stile;
And your Attention clawes the Humor, to
A Shrugge; then pause, & Descant as you goe.
Of things be plaine enough, to Speake our Thought,
Well may he fare, whose Candor will Admit,
Our meaning; though he see not, where wee hitt;
The happie Age, has teem'd, & brought a new
Race of Discerners; can be wise, as you;
Can Squeeze an Author, wth a Ioynt; & raise
In Sea's of Præiudice, Mountains of Praise,
By an Imposeing Faith; an Easie Smile
Argues the Ieast; the frowne a Deeper Stile;
And your Attention clawes the Humor, to
A Shrugge; then pause, & Descant as you goe.
Had wee not layd it right, from instances,
(And led them on by Things) wch they may Gvesse
Not easie to another; a fitt Straine
To venture on,) they'd Sent vs home againe.
(And led them on by Things) wch they may Gvesse
Not easie to another; a fitt Straine
To venture on,) they'd Sent vs home againe.
As I'me an honest man, I thought, I'de past
His censure, with Applause; & now, at last
(Sprung-gvilty) he considers, what wee meant
To vse him thus, & Spoyle his Complement;
He slips to his State-forme; & Calls his Eyes
To Councell, ere he Doome ours Levities;
Then with the promist White-Staffe of his Place
He threatens Poetry, like a Strange Face;
The Doore of his Discretion opens but
To very few; indeed Witt, Still Sitts out
Lac'd, his familiar freind; & perfumes, peirce
His Braines; caught more by ye Nose & Eyes, then Ears;
Yet, if a politicke Whisper, beat an Ayre
Vpon his Perucke, he Accosts you bare;
And gives a formall greeting's cautious Hum
To but Name Machiavel; only for Some
Slipt lines, troubles his Conscience; for the fine
Thing, he would be thought, noe ord'nary Devine;
He takes Du Plessis, as his Accidence;
And reads his meaning, though but Spell his French;
The Title, contra missam, hangs his meere
Mouth-Dagger; then I hope you need not feare
Him Orthodoxe, thus weapon'd; for his Sheild
He takes vp Hooker, which he cannot weild;
Rather then want a Target, Perkins Tents
Are Search't vp, for Left-handed Implements;
And fitt him right; or if he chance to feele
Himselfe at worse, with Gerson, he can wheele;
He whips Socinus, Atheist, in his Name
But Cōmends Chillingsworth, lest he Disclaime
Acquaintance, wth Some Persons; that ye word
And his Religion's pinn'd vpon My Lord;
He loves the fatt Presbitery, & Cites
Authenticke Prinne; vnto the Rabbi, writes
Propheticke Dreames; & measures not ye Church
Steeple, by Calvin's Nose, nor's Mouth ye Porch;
Yet not to Suffer in a Dangerous Time
Noe Name affrights him; hee'le as eas'ly clime
The Independent ladder, & at toppe
Grinns, an old Ape to every Eye lookes vp;
Chuses his Name, new-Syllabled to amaze
Some weaker Brother, tir'd in Steps of Grace;
He admires Goshen (better fed then taught)
He takes the Wildernes, with those who Sought
Farre Canaan, but Manna falls soe Scant,
Faces about; hee's now a Protestant,
But lest Religion too much wrong his breeding,
And Revealations take him from his reading;
He comes, the moderne entertains, by Roat;
Takes from Illustre Bassa, Don Quixot;
These passe him, wth the Ladies; where hee'le lard
It Better Langvages, anything that's hard;
He smacks at everie Science; & præscribes
Rules as he had Quarter'd 'em, into Tribes;
Only poore Poesie, affronts him; 'tis
Too Saucy; & the Worthy, to be Wise,
Neglect it; Solid Prose! his owne Discourse
(For he that meanes) Subdues a mind of force.
I'me soe content, & he; we're parted thus
Though hardly freinds; both pleas'd; this tyrānous
Insulter over Manners, would Surprise
Witt Tappast, a Live Quarrey; we're as wise
And Iealous as himselfe; for ere he trace
Vs lodg'd, we're vp, to lead him a new Chace.
His censure, with Applause; & now, at last
(Sprung-gvilty) he considers, what wee meant
To vse him thus, & Spoyle his Complement;
He slips to his State-forme; & Calls his Eyes
To Councell, ere he Doome ours Levities;
Then with the promist White-Staffe of his Place
He threatens Poetry, like a Strange Face;
The Doore of his Discretion opens but
To very few; indeed Witt, Still Sitts out
Lac'd, his familiar freind; & perfumes, peirce
His Braines; caught more by ye Nose & Eyes, then Ears;
230
Vpon his Perucke, he Accosts you bare;
And gives a formall greeting's cautious Hum
To but Name Machiavel; only for Some
Slipt lines, troubles his Conscience; for the fine
Thing, he would be thought, noe ord'nary Devine;
He takes Du Plessis, as his Accidence;
And reads his meaning, though but Spell his French;
The Title, contra missam, hangs his meere
Mouth-Dagger; then I hope you need not feare
Him Orthodoxe, thus weapon'd; for his Sheild
He takes vp Hooker, which he cannot weild;
Rather then want a Target, Perkins Tents
Are Search't vp, for Left-handed Implements;
And fitt him right; or if he chance to feele
Himselfe at worse, with Gerson, he can wheele;
He whips Socinus, Atheist, in his Name
But Cōmends Chillingsworth, lest he Disclaime
Acquaintance, wth Some Persons; that ye word
And his Religion's pinn'd vpon My Lord;
He loves the fatt Presbitery, & Cites
Authenticke Prinne; vnto the Rabbi, writes
Propheticke Dreames; & measures not ye Church
Steeple, by Calvin's Nose, nor's Mouth ye Porch;
Yet not to Suffer in a Dangerous Time
Noe Name affrights him; hee'le as eas'ly clime
The Independent ladder, & at toppe
Grinns, an old Ape to every Eye lookes vp;
Chuses his Name, new-Syllabled to amaze
231
He admires Goshen (better fed then taught)
He takes the Wildernes, with those who Sought
Farre Canaan, but Manna falls soe Scant,
Faces about; hee's now a Protestant,
But lest Religion too much wrong his breeding,
And Revealations take him from his reading;
He comes, the moderne entertains, by Roat;
Takes from Illustre Bassa, Don Quixot;
These passe him, wth the Ladies; where hee'le lard
It Better Langvages, anything that's hard;
He smacks at everie Science; & præscribes
Rules as he had Quarter'd 'em, into Tribes;
Only poore Poesie, affronts him; 'tis
Too Saucy; & the Worthy, to be Wise,
Neglect it; Solid Prose! his owne Discourse
(For he that meanes) Subdues a mind of force.
I'me soe content, & he; we're parted thus
Though hardly freinds; both pleas'd; this tyrānous
Insulter over Manners, would Surprise
Witt Tappast, a Live Quarrey; we're as wise
And Iealous as himselfe; for ere he trace
Vs lodg'd, we're vp, to lead him a new Chace.
Nor blame this Satire, if darke Sava creepe
Into the Danub, and his Colour keepe
Makeing one Current, through the middle Streame;
Allow this Earthy Wave, within the Name
Of our Designe, a quickspring broke of Late
Into the Channell; & runs on with State;
Into the Danub, and his Colour keepe
Makeing one Current, through the middle Streame;
Allow this Earthy Wave, within the Name
Of our Designe, a quickspring broke of Late
Into the Channell; & runs on with State;
232
Now gather in the Odds; Caligula
At Checkstones; & let Xerxes whip the Sea;
Hellespont trembles; as rough Adria, may
Combe her Hair smoother, on ye Wedding Day,
And Smile for Superstition; till the Last
Of Moonéd Gallyes, force her, from her Trust;
The Earth and Sea, are vassal'd; Dædalus
Yet impe out Power; (if 't wer not ominous!)
Stay thy mechanicke hand; patch't vp of late
She flyes; an Eagle flutter'd as a Batt;
The melting Ceruse, Shrinks; Stript Porcupine
May to an Vrchin, of his wants complaine;
Well-thatcht, gainst Winter's Stormes; poore Innocence
Lyes in a Hole, & tumbles Crabbs; yt Prince
Forrageth Snow, & with his Bloodie feet
Betrayes his Gvilt; ye hunters Chase him yet.
At Checkstones; & let Xerxes whip the Sea;
Hellespont trembles; as rough Adria, may
Combe her Hair smoother, on ye Wedding Day,
And Smile for Superstition; till the Last
Of Moonéd Gallyes, force her, from her Trust;
The Earth and Sea, are vassal'd; Dædalus
Yet impe out Power; (if 't wer not ominous!)
Stay thy mechanicke hand; patch't vp of late
She flyes; an Eagle flutter'd as a Batt;
The melting Ceruse, Shrinks; Stript Porcupine
May to an Vrchin, of his wants complaine;
Well-thatcht, gainst Winter's Stormes; poore Innocence
Lyes in a Hole, & tumbles Crabbs; yt Prince
Forrageth Snow, & with his Bloodie feet
Betrayes his Gvilt; ye hunters Chase him yet.
If now a Sober Madnes, may become
Witt; (for all Witt is Madnes vnto some)
Let's Sift the World; & bate yt Proverbe's force,
In Meale, not Mealy-mouth'd; but throw yt Course
Branne, with the Swill of Humors, a Mash made
For Sickly Tirants; when the Steddy head
Surveighs himselfe, Hee reasonably Contemn's
All Power, but hates it most in the extream's.
Nature workes nothing but by perfect Rules;
Wee make her Whirligig, & Sport for Fooles;
And Bladder out her Shell, wth the vaine Breath
Of notions, madly form'd; as wer't a faith—
Cognizance, in Blue-Coat-Philosophy
To prevent her Impossibilitie;
Lest the dire vacuum seize her, Every Mouth
Adds, to the Timpany; & the world Slow'th,
Readie to take the Fillup of a Hand
Must cure her Dropsie; make vs vnderstand
The Error, of our Cure, & draw vs in
To Science, by destruction; wee begin
(Sicke Sinners All) but truly then to Live
When we may live noe longer; I beleive
As God bequeath'd an order to the frame
Of his Creation, & to everie Name
Conferr'd an vse; Man, (ye ill Steward) rack't
The Farme; & double-rented we must tak't
At Second Hand; well if we can advance
With Sweat, rent, for our Inheritance.
Witt; (for all Witt is Madnes vnto some)
Let's Sift the World; & bate yt Proverbe's force,
In Meale, not Mealy-mouth'd; but throw yt Course
Branne, with the Swill of Humors, a Mash made
For Sickly Tirants; when the Steddy head
Surveighs himselfe, Hee reasonably Contemn's
All Power, but hates it most in the extream's.
Nature workes nothing but by perfect Rules;
Wee make her Whirligig, & Sport for Fooles;
And Bladder out her Shell, wth the vaine Breath
Of notions, madly form'd; as wer't a faith—
Cognizance, in Blue-Coat-Philosophy
233
Lest the dire vacuum seize her, Every Mouth
Adds, to the Timpany; & the world Slow'th,
Readie to take the Fillup of a Hand
Must cure her Dropsie; make vs vnderstand
The Error, of our Cure, & draw vs in
To Science, by destruction; wee begin
(Sicke Sinners All) but truly then to Live
When we may live noe longer; I beleive
As God bequeath'd an order to the frame
Of his Creation, & to everie Name
Conferr'd an vse; Man, (ye ill Steward) rack't
The Farme; & double-rented we must tak't
At Second Hand; well if we can advance
With Sweat, rent, for our Inheritance.
The Earth rūns in one Tenure, & we but
Prevent Repeals; Villainage is the Lott;
Tempted with Golden Pills, to tear his Gutts;
And Groanes, State Phisicke, in ye Part; nor Shutts
Nor opens, but knotts vp ye Illiacke Strings;
The Base, strikes flatt, ore the Shrunk Minikins;
How farre from ye first Harmony! a Power
(Impatient in the Tuneing) with a Sower
Rage, will admitt noe tryall, to the Worke
Of Symphony; but as ye thick-Scull'd Turke
(While wee Squeeze notes, & Scrue to reach concent)
It baffles vs, wth our owne Instrument;
Are we not soe well-payd, if when we shall
Trouble such Ears, vpon our owne it fall?
Prevent Repeals; Villainage is the Lott;
Tempted with Golden Pills, to tear his Gutts;
And Groanes, State Phisicke, in ye Part; nor Shutts
Nor opens, but knotts vp ye Illiacke Strings;
The Base, strikes flatt, ore the Shrunk Minikins;
How farre from ye first Harmony! a Power
(Impatient in the Tuneing) with a Sower
Rage, will admitt noe tryall, to the Worke
Of Symphony; but as ye thick-Scull'd Turke
(While wee Squeeze notes, & Scrue to reach concent)
It baffles vs, wth our owne Instrument;
Are we not soe well-payd, if when we shall
Trouble such Ears, vpon our owne it fall?
234
For my part (others may arrest ye Orbes
And fiddle Nature, to their owne fraile Chords
From Gāmut Earth, notes above Ela Ayre;
And Chant their Song, of Soveraigntie there)
I'me better pleas'd to run ye Medley out
Varietie, & gvess at what I thought,
Then thinke what others Gvess; Mankind to Mee
Is an Imposture All; & when I See
Taught Policy creep whineing to Advance
Inspir'd with England & sleep, Spaine or France,
Like Elephants instructed; I am Sicke
Of my expence ere he have Show'd the Tricke.
Hey! for ye King, Lye close, ye Cōmonwealth
Hee's ore your Shoulders ere you turne yor selfe;
Spin out ye Alphabet, & he will Stop
When ere you pause; & give a double Choppe
On the Mouth-fitting Vowel; with your Eye
Hee can bend Excellence, or Kneele Maiestie;
His temper'd Earth, whips (as you Agitate
The Ayre) to Either Magnes, This, or That;
Heare him againe, he hangs; as, if you will
You may thinke Mahomet soe pendent Still.
And fiddle Nature, to their owne fraile Chords
From Gāmut Earth, notes above Ela Ayre;
And Chant their Song, of Soveraigntie there)
I'me better pleas'd to run ye Medley out
Varietie, & gvess at what I thought,
Then thinke what others Gvess; Mankind to Mee
Is an Imposture All; & when I See
Taught Policy creep whineing to Advance
Inspir'd with England & sleep, Spaine or France,
Like Elephants instructed; I am Sicke
Of my expence ere he have Show'd the Tricke.
Hey! for ye King, Lye close, ye Cōmonwealth
Hee's ore your Shoulders ere you turne yor selfe;
Spin out ye Alphabet, & he will Stop
When ere you pause; & give a double Choppe
On the Mouth-fitting Vowel; with your Eye
Hee can bend Excellence, or Kneele Maiestie;
His temper'd Earth, whips (as you Agitate
The Ayre) to Either Magnes, This, or That;
Heare him againe, he hangs; as, if you will
You may thinke Mahomet soe pendent Still.
Well! 'tis an odde fine Cheat; & (wer't not made
From the first Misterie, a Cōmon Trade;)
It might become a Science; & perhaps
(Now Letters ruin'd) it may take the Lapse
At an Advantage; & sett vp free Schoole
To the next Age; who knowes? a Cōmenc't Foole
Is a Dull Afse; & cannot wring the Tith's
Out with his Pains, nor hardly wth his Wife's;
This shall not need; if Buffe & a Bold Face
Be not perswasive, more then Syrplesse was,
I have noe Skill, in Kersey-Hose; you thinke
I ramble; but I'me Chary of my Inke
And thriftily propose lanke Arguments
For you to ravell; Thrumbs of Discontents:
From the large Webbe of Care; if you be Wise
Trafficke in Small Things; nothing lost, t'advise
You to a thriveing Course; knitt vp the Shredds,
And Sell by Pennieworths, what bolder Heads
Rate at a Crowne; if yet their venture, brought
The returne promis't, 't had beene worth their thought
Th' Emprovement, of a Stocke, when Ends set vp
A Walking-Box, a well-clad Tissue-Shop;
But if the Glory of their Merchandize
Yet vnder Hatches, a Raw adventure Lyes;
And the rude wave of Chance, returne 'em in
Bankrupt at last; to the Old Trade agen;
May they gaine Credit, & assay once more
Th' America they long'd to touch before;
And bring that Bird of Paradice (the Light-
Hope of their voyage) Libertie, to Sight;
The Dead Name, & the Purple Feather, runs
Current exchange; to their Demand of Crowns.
From the first Misterie, a Cōmon Trade;)
It might become a Science; & perhaps
(Now Letters ruin'd) it may take the Lapse
At an Advantage; & sett vp free Schoole
To the next Age; who knowes? a Cōmenc't Foole
Is a Dull Afse; & cannot wring the Tith's
235
This shall not need; if Buffe & a Bold Face
Be not perswasive, more then Syrplesse was,
I have noe Skill, in Kersey-Hose; you thinke
I ramble; but I'me Chary of my Inke
And thriftily propose lanke Arguments
For you to ravell; Thrumbs of Discontents:
From the large Webbe of Care; if you be Wise
Trafficke in Small Things; nothing lost, t'advise
You to a thriveing Course; knitt vp the Shredds,
And Sell by Pennieworths, what bolder Heads
Rate at a Crowne; if yet their venture, brought
The returne promis't, 't had beene worth their thought
Th' Emprovement, of a Stocke, when Ends set vp
A Walking-Box, a well-clad Tissue-Shop;
But if the Glory of their Merchandize
Yet vnder Hatches, a Raw adventure Lyes;
And the rude wave of Chance, returne 'em in
Bankrupt at last; to the Old Trade agen;
May they gaine Credit, & assay once more
Th' America they long'd to touch before;
And bring that Bird of Paradice (the Light-
Hope of their voyage) Libertie, to Sight;
The Dead Name, & the Purple Feather, runs
Current exchange; to their Demand of Crowns.
'Tis Doubtfull where that locall Paradice
Was vpon Earth; & our Lost Liberties
Are lock't soe farre to Seeke, the fierie Sword
Must first fall to the Scabbard of his word
Who will vnsheathe it; ere we can expect
T'enioy this obiect of the Intellect.
When Red Earth, readmitted, Shall be led
Thorow the Garden, & noe Tree forbid;
The fruit of Error, lost or left behind
And the Sixth Dayes worke, vnto Sabbath ioyn'd.
Was vpon Earth; & our Lost Liberties
Are lock't soe farre to Seeke, the fierie Sword
Must first fall to the Scabbard of his word
236
T'enioy this obiect of the Intellect.
When Red Earth, readmitted, Shall be led
Thorow the Garden, & noe Tree forbid;
The fruit of Error, lost or left behind
And the Sixth Dayes worke, vnto Sabbath ioyn'd.
| The poems of George Daniel | |