The History Of the Most Vile Dimagoras Who by Treachery and Poison blasted the incomparable Beauty of Divine Parthenia: Inter-woven with the History of Amoronzo and Celania. By John Quarles |
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 | The History Of the Most Vile Dimagoras |  |
The first thing represented to his eye,
Was a rare Fountain, whose curiosity
Was known by this Inscription writ thereon,
I'm Made For Wonder Not Description.
Under whose fluent eyes Dame Flora lay
Nursing her off-spring for the Month of May;
Each swelling Hillock gladly seem'd to be
Much pleas'd at their so near deliverie;
Whilst from the Christal Fountain there did flow
Like April showrs, fresh streams to make them grow
Against the general Mid-wife of the earth
Should shew the world a party-colour'd birth;
Nor was this all; for there, the lofty Pine,
The Beech, the Cedar, did as 'twere combine
To in wilderness this Fountain; but yet so,
That the refreshing Sun might come, and go
To court her streams, being welcom'd by a quire
Of warbling Nightingals, who would retire
Into the Thickets, and at every noat
Ravish the Sun, and make him seem to doat
Upon their harmony, and pry about
(As 'twere) to find these feathered Syrens out,
Whilst Zepherus being favourably kind,
Would with a sober, and refreshing wind
Move back the dangling-boughs, whose leaves conceal'd
A pleasure not much fit to be reveal'd;
It was Diana, and her Virgin crew,
Going (as often times they use to do)
To bathe themselves; but being near undrest,
The doors clapt too, and would not let the rest
For modesty be seen, so without stay,
Dimagoras curst the doors, and went away;
By which it does most perfectly appear
His eye was better pleased then his ear;
The sight, and musick ending both together,
Dimagoras knew not what to think, nor whether
'Twere Art, or Nature that had all this while
With sweet delusions labour'd to beguile
His ravish'd senses, neither did he much
Desire to know, for his delights were such,
That he (inspir'd with an enlivening mirth)
Beleiv'd himself in Heaven, and not on earth;
And it had past for current I dare sware
Had he not spy'd his ill-look'd Goaler there
Kalander all this while sate still, and took
A perfect Character of every look;
And so perceiving that his ravisht brest
Inclin'd him to extreams; he thus exprest.
Was a rare Fountain, whose curiosity
Was known by this Inscription writ thereon,
I'm Made For Wonder Not Description.
Under whose fluent eyes Dame Flora lay
Nursing her off-spring for the Month of May;
145
Much pleas'd at their so near deliverie;
Whilst from the Christal Fountain there did flow
Like April showrs, fresh streams to make them grow
Against the general Mid-wife of the earth
Should shew the world a party-colour'd birth;
Nor was this all; for there, the lofty Pine,
The Beech, the Cedar, did as 'twere combine
To in wilderness this Fountain; but yet so,
That the refreshing Sun might come, and go
To court her streams, being welcom'd by a quire
Of warbling Nightingals, who would retire
Into the Thickets, and at every noat
Ravish the Sun, and make him seem to doat
Upon their harmony, and pry about
(As 'twere) to find these feathered Syrens out,
Whilst Zepherus being favourably kind,
Would with a sober, and refreshing wind
Move back the dangling-boughs, whose leaves conceal'd
A pleasure not much fit to be reveal'd;
It was Diana, and her Virgin crew,
Going (as often times they use to do)
To bathe themselves; but being near undrest,
The doors clapt too, and would not let the rest
For modesty be seen, so without stay,
Dimagoras curst the doors, and went away;
146
His eye was better pleased then his ear;
The sight, and musick ending both together,
Dimagoras knew not what to think, nor whether
'Twere Art, or Nature that had all this while
With sweet delusions labour'd to beguile
His ravish'd senses, neither did he much
Desire to know, for his delights were such,
That he (inspir'd with an enlivening mirth)
Beleiv'd himself in Heaven, and not on earth;
And it had past for current I dare sware
Had he not spy'd his ill-look'd Goaler there
Kalander all this while sate still, and took
A perfect Character of every look;
And so perceiving that his ravisht brest
Inclin'd him to extreams; he thus exprest.
| The History Of the Most Vile Dimagoras | |